Who told you business would be clean?

When you started your business (or in business), it’s quite possible that someone told you it would be a white glove affair. College degree in hand, perhaps. Job somewhere posh. If you started your own business, you were surrounded by singing meerkats and triple rainbows (because the double ones are LAME) because you would never, EVER report to The Man again. Let me share a little perspective I got this last weekend on business, down and dirty.

I shuffled off to Winter Park, Colorado for the July 4th holiday with friends and was introduced to downhill mountain biking. Now, it’s possible that your perspective of mountain biking was a lot like mine and it looked like this. Well, the reality of it is that downhilling looks more like this.

If you’ll notice the ever-so-attractive photo of me above, you might understand why I said something to the effect of, “I don’t know if I should be doing anything that requires full body armor.” And for the record, many of the runs in the video above are just where this redhead’s bike ended up on Sunday.

Now, down to the business of business being dirty. I can hold my own on a track bike (one gear, no brakes) and a road bike, but I hadn’t been on a mountain bike since 1999 in Japan. I’ll fess-up that I was scared shitless. Not only was this bike 30 pounds heavier than anything I’d EVER ridden, it shifted differently and…well…you don’t really sit down a whole lot. Oh – and then there are trees, roots, dropoffs and branches waiting to kill you at every turn. So at the top of our first run, I sat there with Tom, Doyle and Jeff and just said “fuck it,” rolling into what I was certain would be my death and a lesson in what this behemoth of a bike beneath me could do.

And ya know what? I did just fine. I kept the rubber side down and was cool as a cucumber until the bottom of that first run where it looked like the trail was designed by a drunk snake on blotter acid.

(insert Erika losing her cool *here* and yelling something to the effect of goddammit, expletive, fuck, another expletive)

Apparently I had been under the impression this would be easy. And yeah – when I collected my proverbial shit and apologized for being a gargantuan pussy and yelling at people who didn’t need to be yelled at, the humbling began. Business is dirty, and you can’t expect to come out of it with those prissy little white gloves you thought were proper attire for downhill mountain biking. And humility? Yeah, that’s a must-have. Humility hurts when you let it in, but the pain turns to a slow, satisfying burn when you decide to let it warm your soul and open some doors your shitty attitude has the potential to close.

And Then…You Crash

Now, not only is the business of being in business not a clean endeavor, you’re going to crash. I’m typing up this blog post with what I’m convinced are two broken fingers and some sprained whatevers in my left hand, the product of four awesome downhill runs followed by one that was not so awesome.

When I started my business, I was in triple rainbow land. Freedom, ownership and a huge middle finger pointed directly at corporate America. I hadn’t come across any of the 19 Things I Wish I’d Known When I’d Started My Business yet. Ignorance was bliss. Downhill mountain biking was much the same way – it’s super terrific until you go from 40MPH to zero in about 3 seconds flat.

Barging down one of my favorite parts of Long Trail or Green World, I came off a dropoff the fastest I’d ever gone that day and realized I’d overshot the immediate right hand banked turn following. Here’s what it sounded like:

This is fucking aweeeeeeeeeeeso -

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

There’s Tom, walking back up the trail towards me. “You okay?” (insert picture of redhead laid over on her right side, still griping her bike)

“Just…gimme a minute,” she whispers.

Let me tell you – thank Christ-shaped popsicles for full body armor. Within a minute, I was back on the bike and headed back downhill to end one of the most epic runs I’d ever had. Yeah, my hand was straight fucked and my elbow was brewing up something bruise-flavored even with the elbow pads, but I fell. And I got back up. And I bombed the rest of the way down the hill.

WE CRASH. You’re going to fail. If you go into business and life expecting to do anything but, you’re only going to end up disappointing yourself way more often than necessary. Fail big, fail fast and fail differently, I say. If I head back to Winter Park and eat it again on that turn, maybe it’s operator error (which it certainly was the first time). Operator Error is a bitch but it’s going to happen. You’re going to get back to your condo and realize that there’s dirt in your bike chamois (for the non-bike riders out there, that’s dirt all up in yer bidness) and you can either bitch about it or wash it off and get back on with business.

You Don’t Have to Bomb Downhill on a Full Suspension Mountain Bike

But you do have to start somewhere. You have to start. Last week, I was honored to be a part of a panel at University of Colorado, Denver that spoke to non-business major students about the business of owning a business. An interesting theme came up in discussions: where do I begin? With so many options facing you, how do you know which one is the right one? The bottom line is that you don’t. But if you pick something and go with it and own the decision (ownership is key), you can then make the next decision. And that next decision can be:

• Fuck this – I’m outa here.
• This ROCKS – more, please!
• I kinda like this, but I’d like it more if it were ______.

The world’s your oyster. But you can’t start making decisions until you decide to begin. If you’re a skier, you know what a black diamond stands for – an expert run. Well, this redhead took a left at Albuquerque on Sunday (on her FIRST DOWNHILL RUN EVER) and ended up on a black run. After a few murmurs of, “Ummm…I don’t think this is a green run. Are we in the right place?” it turned out I was right. But you know what? I survived. I did it. And I decided to get my ass back on the green run.

So where will you start? How will you embrace the filth that is business and will you piss and moan about the dirt in your shorts or will you wash yourself off and get back going again? There’s nothing clean about business, whether you are in it for someone else or yourself. The best business that gets done is the stuff accomplished from getting in it up to your knees and elbows.

You’ll find dirt in places you never knew could get dirty.

You’ll cry when you thought you should be laughing.

You’ll feel the surge of adrenaline when “normal” people are watching you do what you do, thinking you’re a flaming idiot.

And at the end of it all, you’ll be making decisions about what can happen next. What you can start. You’ll be making crazy KA-KAW! KAW! bird noises when you see a baby fur seal — because you CAN.

And in my case, you’ll be looking at your road bike with a bit of disdain because it doesn’t have a full suspension.

Now go. Start something. Get dirty.

Not an *actual* Awesomeapottamus

A day or so ago, someone mentioned my post Access to me. Just over three months old now, it was a post borne from heartbreak (and in some very unexpected ways). And under last night’s full moon, I simply thought…

isn’t it curious what slips through the cracks when your heart breaks?

It takes a lot of energy to keep a heart from breaking – whether you’re driving a business or relationship forward. Shit. It’s exhausting trying to hold an egg shell together with an iron fist. And when it’s exhausting, we look back later (after the carnage) and realize that all that energy we spent trying to prevent heartbreak could have been better spent elsewhere. And there’s much that got neglected.

Hearts break. Lovers, friends, family, pets, jobs…we lose them. Things don’t turn out the way we planned. One of my cycling coaches has an adage that if cycling were easy, it would be called “beer.” If heartbreak was easy, I’m figuring it wouldn’t have “break” as part of the word.

But how often do we look at what seeps through the cracks of a broken heart?

In a mere three months, I’ve managed to put myself and my business first. Dropped a pound or two. Moved my ass in every sense of the word. I’ve fallen in love with me again and am in the process of seeing multiple mind-blowing things come to fruition. I’ve booked the trip of a lifetime. I’ve saved money, made plans.

And all of this…just slipped through the cracks of a broken heart.

When we’re so close to something that’s gone awry, we can’t help it but to get caught up in the fact that my fucking shell just c-r-a-c-k-e-d.  Somehow, we’ve got the energy to go out and buy party hats and beer for our own little pity party, but we don’t have the energy to sit down and deal. We’re more content to shove nomnoms and self-deprecating comments down our throats than get off the couch and start living again. The sucker punch hurts. Sometimes we punch ourselves. Either way, the shell is straight fucked and if we’re not going to cowboy the hell up to pick up the pieces, who is?

I looked at my broken shell this week. Funny – it’s not so broken. A little spit, duct tape and “fuck this” put it back together. But I’m really glad for what seeped through the cracks. I see every broken heart I’ve ever had as a gift. It’s like a herd of pet Awesomeapottamuses (a mythical creature I created yesterday on Twitter). They subsist on a diet of  love and dreams and in the environment you least expected.

You'll get the image when you finish the post.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.’ We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we’re liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

-Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles

I don’t know what to say. I stood in a kitschy shop today and while reading cards ranging from sappy to poignant to irreverent, the tears came. So I paid and got the hell out and proceeded to wonder what the hell had gotten into me. While wandering an outdoor shopping center waiting for my dinner to be ready for pickup, I realized…

I could blame my tears on All I Ever Wanted.

On June 14, 2010, I cried. A lot. June 25 pretty much sucked, too. June 30th blew. July wasn’t so great but getting better, as when you’re trying to mend a broken heart, you find everything from cupcakes to shit in your basement and filing past due taxes to be of the utmost import. If nothing else, I was busy. Busy is good. Finding a way to breathe again – that would be better.

September’s here and my business, clients, projects and friends – it’s All I Ever Wanted. I don’t wake up in the morning feeling as if I lack, and while the other side of my bed remains empty (by design), I can breathe again. Maybe it’s the hot yoga I’ve started taking (while today’s class reeked of stale scrotum and lavender) and the completely relaxed yet periodically pissed-off sensation I get before, during and after each class. Every day I can do something I couldn’t do the class prior but I never fail to find something else at which I’m a complete tard. Like half moon pose. I’ve got chair pose down and can hang there all day while the class seethes like a pressure cooker. Half moon? More like full nimrod. But fuck it. I can breathe and for an hour a few times a week, my only goal is to breathe (a goal I wish I’d set years ago).

So, back to All I Ever Wanted. Two of my best friends are pregnant – sharing their joy is soul food. My inbox is full of current and new business. Some clients are being…well, fired. Others are coming in and pulling up a chair, staying awhile.

I’m on the verge of two ridiculously exciting professional endeavors. My dogs haven’t shit on the rug or peed inside in almost a month and the cats (aged 12) seem to have found a food that flows only one direction. Big Dog hasn’t eaten any more of the fence. Small Dog, while having eaten my entire salad earlier this week, has eased up on the yappy crap barking. If something supposed to be in retrograde, well, I’m missing it.

And now the question: what do I do with All I Ever Wanted? It scares the living shit out of me. Hoping to have it, lamenting because you don’t, commiserating with others who lack – well, that’s a metric fuck ton easier than actually facing measurable success in the face and giving it a proper greeting.

I’m trying to think back to my formative years. Gah – who am I kidding? I’m still in my formative years (and hope to never leave them). My childhood. My parents were epic. Supportive. Congratulatory. Encouraging. I didn’t get paid for reciting Bible verses or bringing home good grades – I got encouraged to do more…do different. So when the hell along the way from 13 to 37-ish did I feel like I didn’t deserve to look success in the face and give it a high five? Maybe it likes Dexter and wants to join me on the sofa for a Netflix Night. So I decided to stare it in the face, hand it a glass of Peach Fresca and white wine and pop in Season 4. And the damnedest thing happened: aside from discovering that the above beverage combination is simultaneously white trash and damn tasty (kinda like those wine coolers that used to come in the 2-liter bottles – you know you got shitfaced on them in high school), All I Ever Wanted stayed right there next to me the whole time. It didn’t get up and leave. It even seemed to settle in – once I let it.

All I Ever Wanted is sitting here next to me on my sofa right now and it’s strangely comforting. Like a lover who brings me flowers when I least expect them and can make me giggle without saying a word. It’s got dimples to die for and spoons me at night while I sleep. It inspires me and most importantly, it reminds me that there’s a difference between resting and losing momentum. That momentum – damn, y’all. It’s crystal meth without all the fucked-up teeth-rotting bullshit action. It’s better than Five Hour Energy Drink shots: it’s the never-waning charge that challenges you to think, regroup, realign and get going. While I haven’t trained it to bring me my morning latte, I’m okay with getting it my damn self. I’m motivated to do so.

If you’ve followed Redhead Writing for any length of time, you know there’s also the “Redhead Riding” side to the equation. I like my bicycles and spend six days a week on one somewhere or another. I have a coach – two, actually (one for the track and one for my overall road and training program). My best ideas come following intervals where I’ve set my body to spontaneously combust through some (ridiculous) painful sprinting effort. Maybe my brain is clearest when my legs are brimming with lactic acid. Whatever the reason, I’ll take it.

This year is the first year I’ve ridden a bike since I was a kid. I fell in love with track and road bikes and decided to see what I could do with it. Hence the coaches and training schedule. Hence the two new bikes (the Tiemeyer and Barbie). And crashes. And days where it would have been much easier to say damn it all straight to H and go grab myself a taco because this whole riding bikes fast thing sucks epic amounts of wooly ass.

But I didn’t. And after one of three ten-minute intervals of pain down at the Colorado Springs velodrome on Saturday, my coach looked at me and said, “You’re really improving, Red. Coming along nicely.” And then I got to sit the motor for the first time.

If you’re not a track cyclist, it’s likely you have no idea what that means. So I’ll tell ya: it means you get to ride your bike with no brakes directly behind the pacing motorbike on the track (a motorbike that has a roller behind it so your front wheel doesn’t ram into the bike and send you crashing into a pile of bike and broken bones). It means you get to use the bike’s draft to go faster and work harder than you could on your own. It’s a workout I’ve watched everyone else do all season. And finally, I got to do it.

While my first attempt was laughable, it reminded me…

There are two kinds of people in this world: ones that get things done and ones that don’t.

If I’d given up because this bike riding think sucks wooly ass, I’d never have had my landmark Saturday at the track. I’d always be scared to descend (a feat at which I’m getting better every day). I’d have hung up my bike the day I crashed this year and scored road rash so bad I couldn’t sleep.

It’s like anything in life: if you’re too afraid to fall, you’ll never even walk close to the edge. But if you begin to realize that every time you fall, you can come back better, stronger and with more resolve – the edge stops looking so scary. Me? I love the feeling that my eyes are welling-up with tears on account of a personal victory. I’ll cry for that shit all day long. It’s a helluva lot better than sitting on your sofa at 3 PM on a Saturday with the curtains drawn, wondering if the sun is going to shine and watching people do thing on TV that you could be doing yourself if you had the gumption to get off your ass.

So today – on a Monday of all days, I’m asking you: what kind of person are you? Do you screw around with excuses, blame and woe-is-me anthologies? Is your legacy one built on harvesting the tasteless low-hanging fruit? Do you kill your victories with self-deprecation instead of celebrating a life well-lived?

Or is it one where you drop a big ol’ f-bomb (or even a little internal one if blue language ain’t yer style) and walk into the world with arms wide open, asking to fail as soon as possible so you can push through towards success? Do you HUG your successes back and after a requisite period of mourning, laugh about your failures? When you jump, do people tell you you’re crazy?

It takes a little “crazy” to get out there and grab life by the man-berries, but hey – a little crazy never hurt anyone. Go find your crazy.

Last I checked, you run a business. I run a business. While some of you run a non-profit business, that doesn’t mean all of us don’t run businesses with a few goals in mind:

• Pursuing our passions
• Earning a living
• Helping others

If you want to run a free clinic, I suggest you head to medical or nursing school. Quit doing it with your business.

You don’t have to be Facebook friends with everyone who’s a fan of your blog or who once bought something from your store. Better yet, if the guy wanting to be your friend is a friend of a once-removed friend, you don’t have to accept his friend request because you see that he’s in a wheelchair.

You don’t have to accept every bit of work that comes floating into your inbox or though the phone line. Stop acting as if you’re lucky to have the work and start looking at the work as if you earned it. If you’re booked and can’t take it, hire a subcontractor or push the start date. Better yet, explain that you’re sorry you can’t help out this time because you’re SLAMMED but to please keep you in mind for future projects.

And you certainly don’t have to accept work that’s below your normal rate because the economy sucks. Seriously? Screw the economy. If a client wants to haggle over price, there are two options to pursue:

• If you truly want to work on the project, offer a Project Discount. 10% is more than fair and 15% if you’re working with a non-profit organization.
• Explain that these are your rates. I’m fortunate that I rarely have to defend my pricing, yet when I do, I say one thing and one thing only: “I’m not the least expensive professional you will find, but you can get work that’s a whole lot crappier for a lot more money.”

The “state of the economy” is no reason to discount what you do for a living. Taxes don’t get any cheaper, gas and groceries cost the same. You can’t haggle with the gas company because the economy is in the shitter.

You. Are. A. Service.

You. Have. Value.

You have no obligation to do anything in your business except treat each and every person who approaches you with respect and professionalism.

You are not in the business of treating a raging case of the clap or bandaging-up victims of a bar room brawl. Pay attention to the fact that you opened a business for a reason and invest your energy there. It’s so easy for us to want to open a conversation and help everyone who shows up on our doorstep. God knows, I have 2 dogs and 2 cats, all from shelters. One more damn animal and I’m going to have to build an ark the next time it rains! My charity has limits, but that doesn’t mean I’m a cold-hearted and uncaring bitch.

It means that I understand I have limits and while I would like to help everyone:

• Not everyone can afford me
• Not everything fits into my production schedule
• There are clients who pay my full rate for my time and energy
• If I delude myself into thinking that clients who pay less for my services will rate the same as those who pay full rate, I’m simply a fool and over time, I’ll under serve those clients.
• If I give away my expertise for free, I devalue myself and what I bring to the table.

So today, step back and take a good hard look at your table. There’s nothing wrong with lending a hand and giving advice, but reassess your milk-and-cow scenario. Mama was right that if you give away one, you’ll never sell the other.

Stop being a free clinic. Be a business. You’re worth it.

You’ve been slapped.

Do you like getting slapped? Check out The Bitch Slap collection – blunt advice, delivered.

Holy hell. Look at your website.

It sucks. No, seriously: it really sucks. The chrome off a Studebaker’s fender type of suckage. The kind that it took someone who knew just enough to be dangerous to achieve.

Houston: we have a crap website. That is confirmed.

The first reason your website sucks? I have no idea what it’s about or what your business does when I get to your homepage. I mean, thank god someone posted a bit.ly link on Twitter or else I never would have come here on my own. All I’m seeing is a boatload of words and a tiny stock image at the top of the screen. I could be reading a pamphlet for interstitial cystitis for all I know. It’s possible you’re in real estate because there’s a little picture of a house and your big, shiny mug all over the screen. Then again, you could be an animal shelter because all I see is pictures of a woman surrounded by dogs. Personally, I’m lost.

The second reason your website sucks? The search engines can’t find you. It’s pretty obvious that when you put your website together you felt that any ol’ words on the page will do. When I pull your site’s source code (go ahead, blink…I know you have no idea what I’m talking about), there’s no meta data, your pages are all named www.mywebsite.com/afbijkaf6^&()^%^#$, or everything on your site is in Flash (which is totally brutal for search engines and site vistiors alike). If Google can’t find you, good luck on generating traffic. Aren’t you glad you paid that cheap (or maybe not-so-cheap) web firm $249 for your site?

The third reason your website sucks? I have no idea what I’m supposed to do when I get to your homepage. Your site’s navigation is so confusing that I would probably be able to come up with a bipartisan-approved solution to the heath care question in this country before I can find your “Contact Us” page. That is, if you even have one. So, I quit. I’m going to work as a lobbyist for the American Medical Association because it’s an easier gig than trying to find anything on this digital abomination you call a website.

But there’s a simple way to fix all that ails you. And it’s called WordPress.

Not WordPress.com…I’m talkin’ WordPress.org. If you’re thinking about redirecting a WordPress.com-hosted blog to your own URL, I’ll issue you a pre-emptive bitch slap now and tell you to read Stop Being a WordPress Whore.

“But that’s for bloooooooooooooooooooooooooogs.”

Really?

RedheadWriting is powered by WordPress. So is RedheadedFury.com.

So are www.copyblogger.com

www.chrisbrogan.com

www.ourayicepark.com

Yup. All powered by WordPress.

The beauty of a self-hosted WordPress-powered website is that everything you need to be successful is available in a simple, easy-to-use, and FREE package! Just think: you can have the website you always dreamed of for your business (or blog, or whatever) and if you have opposable thumbs – YOU can manage your entire website yourself! Soup to nuts.

This blog is the first blog in a series that will cover WordPress as a tool for website development. Here are the topics of the next installments in this series:

• WordPress Themes – Out of the box and onto your site solutions that are more than just pretty pictures. We’ll explore the genius behind DIY Themes’ THESIS theme and those available from Woo Themes and iThemes as well. Themes can single-handedly help you avoid the perils of poor navigation design and are easily tweaked (yes, that IS a technical term) to meet anyone’s aesthetic demands.
• The Power of CSS - What the hell is CSS? My guest blogger, Jason Nelson of Visual Adventures Web Design (and WordPress CSS Style Sheet guru), will tell you in plain English and show you how a friendly web developer can take your WordPress-powered site from blah to BAM!
• Plugins: they’re not just for lamps anymore – WordPress plugins are like Legos for your website. You literally plug them in and watch them go. We’ll cover some of the cool things they can do for your website and how these and wise theme selection will solve that pesky SEO problem once and for all.

Subscribe now via either a reader or email updates (look on the right hand side of this screen) and don’t miss the rest of this awesome series. I hate to see websites that suck and there’s really no reason for them. If you ever wondered about the power of WordPress, here’s your chance to learn the basics…and for FREE.

I never said I was easy, but WordPress is…and my advice is the right price.

I remember as a child the stomach-wrenching glee of birthday gifts. Boxes in all shapes and sizes, wrapped in bright paper in some half-assed attempt to disguise the contents. Parties were clown-laden torture, as you had to endure everyone showing up, then games, then cake and ice cream – and because clowns are just fucking creepy. But finally – THE PRESENTS!

I’d stolen glimpses all afternoon at the table stacked with jubilantly decorated boxes, maybe even sneaking a random shake or sly squint to peer through the thinnest of wrapping papers here and there. Investigation to the Nth degree and conducted (in my young mind, at least) with sniper-like precision and stealth. Once given the go-ahead, the shred-fest would begin (I was a “ripper” as opposed to a “unwrapper’), box after box. And if I’d guessed right to a certain box’s contents…

I was disappointed.

Not always, mind you, but I’d seemed to have found a way to squelch some of my own fun by digging so deep there was nothing left to discover. Even at six-years-old, I wasn’t so good with uncertainty.

Maybe at 36 I’m not much better, but at least I’m developing a sense of how to manage the boxes.

I’m discovering that boxes in life have as many permutations as we give our minds the leeway to conjure – and the uncertainty regarding their contents drives us straight batty. It begins with an excitement – a stimulating thought, person or scenario…a NEW box!

Sometimes we get exactly what we ask for with our boxes. Every time we hit the market and buy a box of Count Chocula, it’s pretty much a sure thing we’re going to get a bowl of chocolatey cereal goodness. We do the same thing with other things in life: jobs, people. Instead of the supermarket, we hit Life Market and fill our carts up with things like:

Six-Figure Job

Ideal Client

Perfect Girl/Boyfriend

Dream Home

And we happily cart them to the checkout, basking in the smug satisfaction of a well-acquired prize. We load up our cars and head home, delighted that we finally got exactly what we’ve always wanted.

But sometimes even the well-labeled box reveals disappointing content. The Ideal Client turns out to be an invoicing nightmare…the Perfect Companion to be more Perfect on Paper than practice…the Ideal Job a soul-sucking ritual at best.

What is it about the new and unknown that drives our minds to needlessly shop for answers? It’s as if we’re searching so hard and fast for a blanket of resolution in Bed, Bath and Beyond that we take a wrong turn and end up in Yonder (and there’s never anything there except those shitty Made for TV products).

Through our never-ending quest for the answers (and answers right-damn-fucking-NOW), we work-up the contents of each new box in life into something either so horrific or exhilarating that we’re left with nothing to appreciate when we really see what’s inside.

Preconceived notions taint the joy of the discovery process.

The concept of uncertainty has popped-up several times as of late – therapy, dishing with friends, a redux after a movie with a date. After all of these conversations, however, what is it I’ve wanted that I didn’t get?  Shockingly enough – more uncertainty. What makes me the giddiest are the surprises and small things in life that come along unexpectedly. The boxes that I took the time to unwrap instead of rip open.

Just think – when something turns out exactly as you’ve planned, there’s no lesson, celebration, high-fives or good cries. There’s just an open box.

But what if we more often embraced the concept of appreciating the boxes before us as gifts and being wide-eyed children about their content-to-come?  The unknown and uncertainties of life – without them, we’d be muddling along in some sort of Gattaca/Minority Report drum line, without any potential of a bad-ass, quirky bass line to turn our worlds upside down every now and then.

I think there’s a time and place for absolutes, but uncertainty’s omnipresence is the only absolute I’m willing to concede at this juncture. With a little shift of the mind (and perhaps opening of eyes and heart), we can see more of the boxes in front of us each day as gifts instead of cubes to shake the living shit out of and kill the surprise that accompanies the contents. Hell, I don’t know much – I’m just a twice-divorced gal who works her ass off and likes a good martini and live jazz. Take it or leave it – these thoughts of mine on uncertainty. But I’m thinking that my time might be better spent on unwrapping my life’s boxes bit by bit – changing those paper-ripping ways of mine and relishing each fold as it comes undone with the flick of a finger.

Just thinking about it brings a sly smirk to my face. There’s a lot uncertain in my life these days and if I had all the answers, my day to day wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. When we can relish each reveal and enjoy the time it takes for whatever we find perplexing/intriguing to become clear – I’m coming to discover that’s a hugely powerful place to be.

Bring on the motherfucking boxes, I say.

***special thanks to Sara for throwing the word uncertainty at me this week and if my therapist is reading this – yeah, I’m working on it.

Face it: sometimes business sucks. Something we’ve put a ton of effort into craps the bed and we’re left with no choice but to scrap everything and…

start over. Go back to square one. Ask our buddy for a “gimme.”

Business (and life as well) is a funny creature that tends to shake foundations juuuuuuust when we’re hitting our stride. It’s the source of locker room grumblings, water cooler gossip and what keeps my massage therapist in business. After getting bitch-slapped by life last week and feeling that I was going to (yet again) have to start over, it finally occurred to me: we never, EVER, start over.

Now, before you all start wondering if my business imploded or I’ve broken-up with someone (no and no), I’ll just say that last week was a series of events that snowballed into one big ‘ol stick-my-head-in-the-sand-and-don’t-want-to-come-out-until-2010.  We all have those weeks on occasion. This one gave me a moment of clarity that’s the topic of this week’s blog.

Starting over is bullshit. Total horse crap. Grade-A fertilizer material and the stuff of which self-help books are made. While I’m sure that I could parlay this blog into a book deal that would fly off the shelves and into the hands of whiny businessfolk far and near, I’ll sum it up in a few sentences. Refill your coffee and have a seat.

We never start over. No matter if you’re a sprinter coming back to the starting line to run yet another race, a businessperson with a company that’s folded, a guy who just broke-up with his gal or a chef in the kitchen ready to make another pecan pie after the first one refused to set-up and resulted in a pie shell of hot pecan soup (not that it’s ever happened to me…whistling). Every experience gives us an invaluable set of tools to bring into the next go-round.

It’s time we start appreciating the tools and quit bitching that they’re in a blue toolbox because we had our heart set on a red one.

While it’s impossible to go through life without a base level of expectations, they really are the mother of all disappointment. Yeah, it sucks that things didn’t turn out the way we planned, but in the Target store of life, we’ve been able to fill-up our cart with a litany of useful thoughts, experiences and feelings. As life throws us those occasional curve balls, we have to watch the cashier scan them one by one and then present us with the damage. I say pay for your mother lode with enthusiasm! Whip out cash and take ownership of it all right there. Then take your baggage, roll it happily to your car and…

hop on the back of the cart and go for a ride.

Hell, you can even yell, “Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” as you scream through the parking lot on your plastic hot rod.

Bottom line: there is no “starting over.” Not in business, relationships or all the other that life brings our way. There are, however, awesome opportunities to take on new tasks and adventures with your loaded-to-the-hilt blue toolbox.

And guess what? No one’s going to even notice it’s not red.

A man who knows when to hold 'em and fold 'em

In every professional’s life, there comes a time where the question is begged: do I keep this client or do I let them go?

Not always a black-and-white scenario, mind you, I mean, its not like you just caught your girlfriend in bed with the top account executive from your biggest competitor. While some might be inclined to rationalize that situation (if you are one of them, I kindly refer you to a useful list of self-help blogs), it’s not always as simple as cold, hard facts in your face.

There are financial considerations, the value of the relationship, and a relationship’s potential to bring you more business down the line. And finally, there’s the question of Who’s Running Who?

Today, we’re going to take a look at some questions you can ask yourself when evaluating your client list. We can all learn a little from the bearded sage when it comes to client retention.

Know When to Hold ‘Em

They’re your favorite clients. They pay their bills on-time (or at least they’re predictably late and still pay). Its’s the work you enjoy, or perhaps enjoy not so much but at the day’s end, the client is happy with your work and sends you referrals.

Or…

They’re a complete pain in the ass. You cringe when you see their number on called ID. They phone you more than an unemployed guy trying to win NASCAR tickets from the local radio station. They’re famous for changes at the 11th hour and will predictably shift blame (to you, of course) when a deadline is missed because they didn’t get you stuff in time. But they pay. And occasionally you share a laugh or two.

Where is the line that lets you feel good about keeping a client? Here’s my own personal metrics and I’d love to hear your thoughts as well.

1. Appreciation (definitely pocket 10’s or higher): I’ll bend-over backwards…hell, I’ll even let ‘em take photos of me doing it…for a client who is appreciative. Piss me off, run me around, make me want to work at Starbucks. But if you pay your bills and say thank you, treating me with common decency, I consider you a keeper.
2. Communication (hard to beat, but pocket Kings at least): They’re the clients/customers that tell us their expectations and are adept at communicating them – conscisely, efficiently and without argument. They’re also known as a rare freakin’ thing. However, if I have clients with whom I’ve established a line of communication, are open to a two-way street and understand that the better I make their product/project look – the better THEY look…those, my friend, are keepers.
3. Volume (a solid pair of Queens): Along with the appreciative client comes the consideration of work volume. Are they a client who sends you dribs and drabs and it’s always a firehose mentality when they call (it’s on, need it yesterday and of course, “within budget”)? Or are they they client who provides you with a predictable workload, adheres to schedules (or something resembling one) and can you establish a rapport with the client that will lead to a better working relationship over the long-term? Volume/predictable workflow clients move up my personal food chain.
4. Referrals (pocket Aces every time and you flopped a set): Huge. No matter what business you’re in, your ability to generate more business is always important. Whether for your company or your own shingle, you’re looking for the endorsement-based marketing of The Referral. A client who is tedious and demanding yet sends me referrals is higher on my food chain than even the nicest of clients who never mention my name to anyone. Just think: you’re happy to refer a co-worker to your vet’s office for Sparky’s annual exam. I take every referral I personally dole-out as a confident endorsement of another professional. Clients who don’t understand this are missing the boat. Down the food chain with you, I say.

Know When to Fold ‘Em

Money’s tight. Every dollar affects your bottom line. How could you possibly consider letting a client go?
Gasp…

FIRE a client?

Good ‘ol Kenny says that there’s a time to fold ‘em and I couldn’t agree more. While you can discern from the above what I think are the qualities of “keeper” clients, here’s a list of complete dealbreakers for me. Again, I’d love your thoughts on your own dealbreakers. And might I say – if you’ve never fired a client…you might want to take a look at your client list!

1. Lack of Appreciation (or a 10-2 offsuit): If a client never says thank you (and believe me, they’re out there), it’s time to consider the future of your relationship whether they pay their bills or not. While personalities vary, there’s a rule in business for expressing appreciation. If you don’t and you consistently make demands on me for my time and services, you’re not so interested in a good business relationship as your project. Possible fold, I might see the turn card though.
2. Poor Financial Responsibility (pocket deuces when the board plays): My mortgage company doesn’t wait. My credit cards don’t wait. A client who consistently pays their invoices/bills late or has to be nagged is a liability in my bookkeeping. I’m human and understand an oversight, an apology, a circumstance out of your control. I’ll work with clients on a case-by-case basis. But it’d better be good. You’d be just as pissed if I paid YOUR bill late. Show me the same courtesy, else you’re off the island when the opportunity arises.
3. Lack of Respect (they guy to your right has Aces up his sleeve): We all work hard. We all, I’d like to think, do our best to deliver a superior product for our clients. When clients choose to berate you, swear at you (and I can swear here ’cause it’s MY blog) or show you anything less than the respect you’re due as a human being, it’s time to tell them to hit the pavement. They might pay their bills, but here’s where you make the conscious choice between being a whore for the paycheck or a respected professional who is IN business and doesn’t NEED just any business.

While the above might seem cut and dry, it’s not. We’re all faced with difficult business decisions each and every day. And we’ve all LOST a client because a relationship deteriorated. I’m advocating being conscious when it comes to analyzing your client list, and it’s likely you’ve got some less-than-optimal ones on your books.

Decide who you are, determine the costs. Recognize the value of the services you provide. We’re all valued professionals, and since I can swear here since it’s my blog: Don’t allow anyone to screw you. Call bullshit on it – and the same goes for your clients. They can call bullshit on you, too.

The best advice from The Gambler? Know when to walk away, know when to run.