Networking Without the Ass-clowns

I hate networking events. I hate coming home at the end of an evening feeling dirty - not quite sure why, but convinced that I have somehow contributed to evil in the world. Don’t get me wrong, I love meeting new people and hearing their stories - I’m fascinated by other people, their experiences, and ideas.

That is not, however, what I’ve experienced at networking events in the past. My views are no doubt colored by spending too much time at networking events with lawyers - many of whom are missing critical social skills. A legal networking event usually consists of tipsy jackasses trying hard to puff themselves up, rather than making a real connection with someone they might have something in common with. The goals are: to collect as many names and cards as possible, to make at least one person feel inferior, to tell an exaggerated tale of your latest win to as many people as possible, and to set up a lunch with a partner at a bigger and better firm than the one you’re currently at.

You can quickly spot the lawyer that has read books on how to build networking skills: she is shooting off rapid fire questions. Unfortunately, the next question is being fired before the listener even gets a chance to respond to the last question. This is her attempt at showing interest in the person she is talking to. All the time, though, her eyes are darting around the room looking for her next victim.

Most lawyers at these legal networking events don’t seem to understand that the best way to build a beneficial network is not to be manipulative, not to make shameful attempts at humor or wit, not to sell yourself as the master litigator - but to be nice. It’s as simple as that. And, you actually have to be interested in someone other than yourself - hard to pull off for far too many lawyers.

I dreaded my first beer industry event, I assumed that all networking was the same. It’s not. There are people out there interested in other people’s stories, rather than how he or she can be used for career advancement. People who want to create lasting relationships, rather than collect a card. It’s like meeting fellow travelers on the road: the conversation is almost always good, the primary goal is not career advancement, and you go to sleep looking forward to the next meeting.

The goal of creating a network should be to make friends, real friends. Friends with whom you can share your interests. Friends to whom you can reveal something significant about yourself, and who can reveal something significant about themselves to you. Meeting people with these goals doesn’t feel like a networking event, at least not what I associate with networking events.

The thrill that I may never again have to attend a networking event with puffed-up ass-clowns confirms my decisions over the past year to follow my version of Plan B.

Fall or winter?

and, we're missing Fantasy Fest in Key West. I do love the snow though.

One Way to Annihilate the Material Beast

I participated in an unintentional experiment this past year: how to tame materialism. We put everything in storage for a year - except what could fit in the back of the Jeep. The brewing equipment, which took up most of the already small space, was apparently a necessity. So, I had very little with me. Four months of the year I lived out of one carry-on duffel bag and a backpack (which really only fit my computer, a book or two, and my camera body and one lens).

Occasionally, I thought back to the storage unit - usually when I was tired of wearing the same outfit for the 5th time in a month. For the most part, though, there was nothing that I really missed. I made due with what was available. I learned what was and was not essential (like a comfortable bed).

Having been living out of what fit in the Jeep, we started to get the idea that we had very little to move. Our house did not need to be de-cluttered to be sold, and being away for so long, we quickly forgot about all the stuff we acquired in our 1800 foot house.

Reality hit us when the two hours we thought we’d spend loading a UHaul turned into the fifth hour. The storage unit employees became more and more obvious about spying on us to see if we could actually fit it all in the truck. This was our worst move ever. Either we have too much shit, or I am getting too old for this shit. Probably a little of both. We have less stuff now than nine years ago when we moved from Phoenix to Portland, but, it still seems like too much.

Certainly, life is slightly more comfortable now. And, I have more outfits to choose from. But, it was nice being able to throw everything into the back of the Jeep and go.

B once suggested driving around the country living out of a Suburban. I hated the idea then - I worried about not having all of my stuff around to make life comfortable. After living out of a duffle bag for a year, I no longer have fear of loosing my comfortable material life. Really, I just don’t need that much stuff to be comfortable and happy. It’s a great thing to have come away with.

I won!

At the risk of sounding like a small child... I won; I won!

Once in a while I enter contests, or even buy a raffle ticket - assuming I don't have to give up too much personal information. I have never, ever in my life won anything. It might simply be an annoying sense of optimism that propels me to keep entering these things. I usually don’t even listen as raffle numbers are called out, because I know it won’t be my number. I am not a winner.

But, the other day I won a jacket and a hat. Imagine that! It wouldn’t have mattered what I won, I'd still be acting like a child. I'm a winner!

I just hope what they send me is what they told me I won. It is free shit, after all.

here are the jacket and the hat - just in time for the snow

Update: I got it - and it is exactly what's on the website. I got the jacket in the red color, as well as the hat. Yay!

Snow!!

New Home

On the drive from Phoenix to Flagstaff, there is a bend in the road where the high desert turns into pine forest. Every time I round that bend, I feel like a four year-old who just found out I am going to Disneyland. I typically try to hold in my giddy clapping at the sight of the pine trees, except when I am with B (which usually results in a “you are so weird” response). What can I say, the mountains make me happy.

It is nice to be so close to the mountains, and in the west again. Key West was like another country in attitude and culture. So is the west compared to the east. Like in Key West, there is no “east-coast action” here. It’s not the island attitude that I loved so much. But, it is the west; rarely are people tightly wound jackasses for no reason. It’s a noticeable difference the further west you drive. The midwest is slightly better than the east, but there is still quite a bit of residual east-coast action. Much more than those heartlanders would have you believe.

One bit of interesting trivia about Fort Collins is that it is the inspiration for Disneyland's “Main Street, USA.” Disney’s designer apparently spent his childhood in Fort Collins. I don’t remember what Disney’s Main Street looks like, but College St. is a main street that is heavily used and crowded with restaurants, bars, and shops. Fort Collins has not been taken over by the glamorati like other old Colorado towns, which makes it a friendlier, less hoity-toity place.

We can do everything we need to do here without moving the car out of the garage. That’s one of the things I loved about living in Portland, Montpelier, and Key West. I can walk or jump on my bicycle and be anywhere in 5-10 minutes. I can shop, eat, and even go to the DMV without getting in my car. Fort Collins also has an extensive trail system all around town, making it even safer to ride a bike to the movies, bookstore, and even dinner. Here’s a link to the map. All the red are paved bike paths, the green is bike lanes, and there are more dirt trails all around town. I love it!

Update

We’ve moved… again. We moved to Fort Collins, CO. Away from the island, the kittens, and the heat. Summer is definitely over here. I am writing this in a wool sweater I bought on Inis Mór (one of the Aran Islands in Ireland). A thick wool sweater. This is a definite shock from Key West, where even a tank top and shorts was sometimes too much clothing.

It snowed in the mountains last night. Snow! The leaves are starting to change color, and there are green chiles being roasted at the farmers’ markets. I am itching to go for a hike, and to snowshoe and ski this winter.

We’re heading to the Great American Beer Festival tomorrow evening. I just downloaded the map today to make my plan of attack. There are going to be something like 400 breweries and 2000 beers to taste. It’s a festival that requires a plan, or else you might not remember it.

This time, last year

Nearly a month in Russia...

... where, as much as things have changed, it's still the same...

Lord of the Kittens

The island is full of kittens (and chickens - that’s a story for another time), and there are some well known serious cat people here - it is a small island after all. The woman everyone unfortunately refers to as the “cat lady” is making a calendar of the island cats, along with each cat’s life story. Since the cats are feral, I wonder how she’s going to figure out each story? The kitten pied piper feeds a group of cats down by the harbor. Each week the group of cats is larger and larger, and the eerie meowling could be straight out of a Hitchcock movie. To feed the island fascination with cats, there is a cat cam devoted to the famous six-toed Hemingway cats. I imagine the cat lady wants cat cams set up all over the island, to give all conch cats a chance at stardom.

We have been contributing to island cat delinquency by feeding the cats that live around our place. You know, to keep the rats away. At least, this is why our neighbor claims she feeds them. I don’t know what our excuse is.

It started with the cat we call Sicky - we’ve named them all sad little names that are more descriptions than anything else: Inky, Fuzzy (who the neighbor calls Charlie), Crockey, and Jazzy. Sicky was hit by a car and is fed by the entire neighborhood. He’s perfected the most pathetic meow; it would be cruelty to let him continue to wreck his little voice box. He’s fine and well fed.

Our cats had kittens. Like the extra toes of the Hemingway cats, these kittens are bread with pleading eyes that no one can resist. I have somehow become the voice of reason on why we cannot adopt all of them, and I am resentful about that (but very happy to know that I won’t have to clean the litter of 4 cats).

Costs of Flexibility

There are more and more location independent and lifestyle design blogs popping up. I read them sometimes for tips (travel, work and encouragement), and other times just to know that it does work for others.

What no one tells you about are some of the wearing costs associated with such a flexible lifestyle. The constant search for reliable internet. Feeling like you’re sleeping at the bottom of a rock quarry instead of a bed. The lack of a sustained routine (more of a problem for me than B). After a year of almost constant travel, this can all get old. One of the hardest things is meeting great new friends and leaving. But, as we’ve already experienced, we’ll see those friends in the future, maybe in another country.

Harder still is leaving paradise before you’re ready to. Opportunities arise, and we have the flexibility to take any and all good opportunities that come our way. Literally, we can pack up the Jeep and leave tomorrow. When you are not ready to go, though, flexibility starts turning into an albatross.

There is just something about Key West. Yes, this is a cryptic post. Yes, we’re trying to decide if and when to leave the island. More later….