The Leadership Chronicles: Now what - Hollywood or Mary Kay?

When I was a little girl, I first wanted to be a ballet dancer. My dad nixed that plan when he told me I did not have the figure for it (haters don’t hate: he was completely right and better that my dream be crushed when it was nascent, before I nurtured such a completely unrealistic goal). Then I wanted to be an actress. I even joined an amateur dramatics club for teens. But I was really, really bad at it. Or at least I thought I was. That was until this course. Because what I did there has made me consider packing up and moving to Hollywood. I tell you, Meryl Streep had nothing on me those three days. So either I head to Hollywood or I start selling Mary Kay, because I faked it ‘til I made it.

At several points during the course I thought I would truly speak my mind and tell everyone what utter BS I thought it all was - and this was going to be full-on, not the passive-aggressive digs I got in now and again. But things kept delaying that reveal. I finally decided to put up and shut up because I realized everyone else was really into it. It mattered to them and I was not going to be the one who let down the team. It was at this point that I decided that I might as well go along with it, because it would be over soon and I would never see any of these people again. So I released my inner Meryl and acted my ass off.

I faked an enthusiasm for taking part in class discussions, and stood up and spouted some buzz word I knew would be popular – Vision! Growth! Effort! Enthusiasm!  As soon as I sat down I had forgotten what I had said, because what I really wanted to say was I am in hell! What a waste of time! Kill me now! Plus by this point I was on to their little games and knew that if I did not stand up I would have been called out for not doing so.

When I had finished a writing assignment, I faked writing more by either making notes for these posts or just simply moving my pen around above the page.

I pretended my tears were because I was so moved by what myself and others had achieved, but really I was dreading what was to come and wishing it were all over.

I got up to do whatever the latest lesson was as early as possible, not because I was keen to do so but because I wanted to get it over and done.

Fortunately I managed to not to have to speak when we had to describe how we were going to apply our newfound skills in our personal life, because what could I have said? They were all going on about how they would be a better sibling, or spend more time with their children. I mean, what was I going to say? Um, I’ll give my cat more wet food? Or I’ll be really nice to the cashier at the liquor store?

And it was a testament to my acting skills, and the aforementioned dramatic board breaking attempts that led to me being voted Most Improved Student! Ha! Oh my poor team mates, little do they know.

The winner of this was announced during our graduation ceremony, which took place in the dining room, the staff sat up front, the team in a half circle around them, with guests at the back. I knew I had won it because of the way the staff decided to present it. Mr. Clean conferred with the Tight-Ass Triplets and decided that one of the students would announce the winner and he chose me to do that. Seriously? Yeah, so I knew right off it was me. And it was. And when I announced my own name (I had to open up and read the name on one of the voting slips we’d filled in) everyone cheered and hugged me and oh my gosh, they were all so into it! Then of course I had to make a speech.

I remembered everything that had impressed the team, everything the staff had said, and brought it all together. I said the first thing I was going to do when I got home was change my name because “I am a different person thanks to this class!” That I would also need to buy a new dictionary because mine had the word “try” in it and I do not try any more, I do. I said I could have taken this class two months ago and I deeply regret not doing so because that would have been two months longer with all this new knowledge and confidence and skill set. I told them that when I walked into this building I only had three friends (not that much of an exaggeration, actually). “But you know what?” I said, “When I leave today I have 15 more!”

But I am going to conclude this series with the lines that concluded my speech. I am most proud of this and even to this day, over three months later, it still cracks me up. And this produced the biggest cheer from the graduation audience because they drank the Kool-Aid I was serving.

“So, as you all know, I complained a lot over the last few days, but my first complaint was about how close together the chairs were. But you know what? Now they are too far apart!”

Now they are too far apart.

The Leadership Chronicles: I’m Board Now

I am sure it will come as no surprise that this course included some physical tests; in this case, having to lift someone and be lifted, and that super-clichéd, karate-style board breaking deal (had this been outside I am sure there would have been that even more clichéd fire walking stuff). Apparently, we were going to learn to get into ka or kee or whatever the hell it is called and achieve some super human feats of strength. Now I did a lot of things at this retreat that made me uncomfortable because I kept reminding myself that my company paid a lot of money to send me here (over $2,000, I think) and I was not going to let them down, but there was no way in hell I was going to subject some poor soul to having to lift up me and my fat ass, twelve chins, and four or so spare tires. And no way was I going to attempt to lift anyone, whatever size they were. So just before this session I marched right up to Mr. Clean and told him that I had a bad back and that I could not do anything that put physical demands on me. I got out of the lifting part, but that excuse did not fly for the board-breaking. My attempts at this produced the most dramatic moment of the entire course and I truly believe it was this that led to my winning the Most Improved Student award (way more about that in the next post). I was the only one who did not break it on the first attempt; in fact, it took me about ten tries, I think.

Oh, so you have to know this before I go on: there was no alcohol or drugs allowed on site, but just before we started this session, Mr. Clean told us that there was wine and beer awaiting us in the dining room, as a treat for all our hard work. To paraphrase Homer Simpson, mmm, wine!

Anyway, so we had to write on the one side of the board what is our biggest block to leadership:

 (Yeah, no shit Sherlock, mine was low self-esteem!)

On the flip side we had to list what we would get if we could break through this block:

 

The words written in green were written before I attempted to break it. Mr. Clean stopped me halfway through my attempts and made me write more (the ones in red). To say this entire ordeal was one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life is no exaggeration. But the team was all rallying behind me, giving me advice on how to position myself, shouting encouragement, etc., but I just could not break that fucker. Until I did. Did positive thinking or getting in ka/kee break that board? Those on the course would say it did but I think the fact that I wanted to get out of there and start drinking may have had something to do with it!

 

The Leadership Chronicles: Someone else hated it too

No, I did not have the best attitude going into this, but – and here is why I do not feel guilty – I went in with an open mind. And I take no pleasure in the fact that it was as Kumbaya as I expected it to be. What did surprise me however is that there was one participant who, whilst his attitude was not as bad as mine, actually had the balls to articulate his displeasure at being on the course. Yes, I made my irritation known early on, but in very passive-aggressive ways; this guy was full-on - we hadn’t even gotten on the bus before he told us how much he did not want to be here. And twice he told Mr. Clean how much he disliked him. This guy was my hero. But he turned. Or did he? Was he faking it as much as I was? I guess I could ask him on Facebook but I think part of me does not want to know the answer. Part of me holds out hope that I was not the only one who thought it all bullshit and could not be turned.

But this guy, wow, he said out loud pretty much everything I was thinking. And sometimes did what I would have liked to have done. Like, at the end, we had to submit the names of those of whom we thought would benefit from taking a class - I made up a fake name, this guy didn’t fill in anything!!! Ironically, he and I were assigned seats next to each other for much of the course, and we partnered up several times. I confessed to him on more than one occasion how uncomfortable I was. But when an incident happened towards the very end, I did wonder if that had not been such a good idea: during one particularly loud session, he gets up and walks out. Now, this was not a bathroom break walk-out, this was full-on, taking the backpack, I am out of here deal. It was so dramatic and resulted in putting into practical use some of what we had been taught when we persuaded him to come back. But then I got all paranoid and I started to wonder if he was a plant and had been instructed to do this to test us. See why I was freaking out because of what I had told him?

The Leadership Chronicles: Watching the Watchers

Of all the cringe-inducing things we had to do, one that really stood out was having to introduce the sessions, which involved learning a short speech in about five minutes and then yelling projecting it to our fellow students. The person was chosen during meal times when one of the Tight-Ass Triplets would walk around the communal table, staring at us, and then stand behind the chosen one, put a hand on his or her shoulder and direct them to be outside the classroom at a certain time, about ten minutes before the rest of us.  

I so did not want to be chosen. I am sure you know what is coming, right? Yep. I was chosen. This was the second-to-last session. By now I had started my acting job (more on that later) and made sure to make full-on eye contact every time the moderator circled us, but I think the staff were not quite yet convinced. So when the hand plopped down on my shoulder I made sure to keep my face completely neutral. But then something strange happened: the moderator told me to escort another person to the classroom at a certain time. Huh? But I did what I was told and when we got there, he was taken into the room to learn the intro. Huh again? But you know what I think it was? I think this was a test and that if I had looked all pissy and sour-faced about it they would have gone ahead and had me do the whole thing. But because I was on to their little games by now I passed. It would have been interesting to see their reaction to my non-reaction.

The Leadership Chronicles: Platitudes with an Attitude

Three things not brought up that I thought might be, but it is a good thing they weren’t because they would have not liked my responses:

You can be anything you want to be if you put your mind to it.

Really? Well, I want to be five-foot-eight, weigh 110 pounds and be married to Anderson Cooper, so why don’t you go ahead and tell me how positive thinking will bring about any of those? OK, no, I am being unfair because I guess with two surgeries for me (spine lengthening and stomach stapling) and one for him (a frontal lobotomy) I could achieve that.

Live every day like it is your last.

Um, no. Because however much I love my job I am not going to go to work on my last day and well, I think I’d probably get fired after a week or so, so, no, not possible. Plus I’d eat a lot of chocolate and bread and fried potatoes and drink a lot of alcohol and… oh, yeah, then I guess as far as this part is concerned, I do live like it is my last day. But the going to work part, no.

There is no “I” in team.

True, but there is a “me” and me hates this.

The Leadership Chronicles: Because eff you that’s why

I truly went into this with an open mind. But that did not prevent me from even attempting to hide my displeasure with things that pissed me off. The very first was the seating arrangements – chairs were set out in a horseshoe shape and really, really close together. Almost as soon as I sat down, I said something about how close together they were and Mr. Clean grunts “There’s going to be a lot of touching over the next couple days.” A little later, we had to write some notes on a particular subject and then get up and make a little speech. Halfway through mine I paused because I had run out of things to say but I did not want them to know that, so I said, “Gosh, well, I did write more on the subject but when I tried to read back my notes I could not understand my handwriting because these chairs are so close together.” (I know, super passive-aggressive of me.)

Then one part, we once again had to go up to the front, this time in pairs, and embarrass ourselves demonstrate our leadership skills by pretending we had won $50 million dollars (after tax). When the last pair finally got up there Mr. Clean told them that they had chosen to go last and made them take a vow that they would never go last again. This royally pissed me off because, no, they had not chosen to go last, they had been beaten out by others who were faster and/or closer. The only way they could have gone before would have been to resort to physical violence and cause bodily harm to their teammates who made it up front before them. Mr. Clean would also tell us all after we had attempted whatever ridiculous thing we had to do that we had chosen to fail. Um, no, it is your opinion that I failed, I did my best, just because you didn’t like it does not make it my choice to fail. And those of us not embarrassing ourselves attempting the task had to vote on whether the person had passed.  Without exception, Mr. Clean said that they were sympathy votes and he dismissed them. It got to the point that I told him I was no longer voting because he would just override our votes anyway.

And a couple of times I could not help but laugh out loud at some ridiculous thing. For example, at the end of each session we had to do a closing circle in which we all linked arms and repeated some sort of positive affirmation. The first time this happened I started to hear music in the background.  It eventually dawned on me it was the Chariots of Fire instrumental. Holy eff. That music is cheesy at the best of times but in this situation it was just ridiculous. Then another time, when we had to stand up and introduce ourselves, one man stood up, said his name and then added, “And I’m an alcoholic.” It took me a second to get it but when I did I could not help but bark out a laugh, it was so funny given the situation. But Mr. Clean obviously did not find it funny, he had a look on his face that could have frozen an ocean.

And at the end of each module, we had to write a report. The paper was returned to us with comments. My first came back with a note saying I had to fill up the lines and marked up like this:

 

WTF? Now, I can understand if someone is using that technique to pad out their report (it had to be a certain length) but in my case it was just where a word ended and it was natural to write the next word on the next line. So the next report I produced, this is what I did:

 

Because fuck them, that’s why.

The Leadership Chronicles: Brought to you by Hallmark

One of the, um, hallmarks of this course is how past participants support and encourage those taking it. The newbie is given a cartoon-themed backpack which is packed with all sorts of things one might need – snacks, gum, tissues (for all the crying one might do); throat lozenges (because all that projecting can get to you), hand cream (oh, there was so much clapping), and a boatload of greeting cards with instructions written upon the envelope as to when that particular card should be opened. So for example, the ones marked “Open at the end of your first day” were filled with sentiments like “You’ve survived the first module – congrats” or ones marked “Open at breakfast” contained notes of encouragement to enjoy the day ahead. These are my cards (about 80% of my co-workers have taken the course):

And these aren’t your two-for-a-dollar, no-name cards from the 99 cents store. These are genuine Hallmark. I received 21 cards with a retail value of over $60. That is why I am convinced the company running these courses is owned by Hallmark.

I really appreciate the support but I found it quite amusing that the cards written by those co-workers whom I like and are not back-stabbing gossips that stay in their little clique and look down on the rest of us wrote the nicest things, genuine, from-the-heart sentiments. The cards from the co-workers I do not like and who do not like me were full of canned responses; you could tell they made no effort whatsoever. Again, not an exaggeration. Look at the inside of this card, for example:

The exact same sentiment, the order just changed a little, one on top of the other. The second writer couldn’t even be bothered to come up with something new (ironically, this writer just happens to be my most despised co-worker). Sigh.

The Leadership Chronicles: Life in a one-elevator town

I feel a little background on the course’s location and staff is needed to fully appreciate my experiences. The company running these classes has its own compound building, located in Alamo, about 90 miles north of Las Vegas. My dearest friend L. grew up there. How she turned out so normal is beyond me (a testament to her awesome parents, I am sure) because Alamo is … well, I don’t want one of its 800 inhabitants suing me so I will just stick to the facts: there are two truck stops, four motels, one Mormon church (yes, that explains a lot), no fast food restaurants, and one elevator. That elevator happens to be in the retreat’s compound building. The grounds were stunning, I will admit; I saw birds and deer and lots of green stuff (there is nothing green in Las Vegas, except money). The grounds were so very green in fact that the tree-hugger in me was concerned about how much water it took to keep it so lush. But the receptionist said something about underground water wells or what have you. I guess I could look it up, but I can’t be arsed. And the food was great (not that I could eat as much as I liked because I was so pre-occupied by the torture sessions classes). The rooms were clean, but there were bunk beds. Fortunately, the CPAP stuff meant I had a built-in excuse to grab a lower bunk.

Then there was the staff. From the grounds keeper to the receptionist, the kitchen staff and the moderators, and the course leader, every last one of them has taken at least one of the courses offered. And, boy, talk about drinking the Kool-Aid: these people were brainwashed engaged! They frequently asked us how we were enjoying the classes, they made sure we had everything we needed, and they held multiple cheerleading sessions that were a part of the meals. I know some of you might think I am exaggerating, but no, I am not making this shit up: towards the end of every meal, out they would trot, still in their uniforms, and perform a little skit for us, like doing the hokey-pokey or singing, all sorts of stuff that just made me cringe.

Then there was the course leader and the class moderators; or as I nicknamed them, Mr. Clean & the Tight-Ass Triplets. Add a goatee to Mr. Clean and you had the leader. Shove sticks up the asses of three regular people and you had the moderators. We later learned their sour demeanors were all an act; I actually never heard why exactly, because I didn’t care, but it might have been something to do with keeping a professional classroom environment.

And then there were my fellow inmates classmates (there were 16 of us). By the end, these people were taking the Kool-Aid intravenously and I had convinced them I was too, but it was all an act. And this is where it gets hard, because writing this series of posts feels like a betrayal to them. These are all genuinely nice people and they all worked so hard and were so supportive of me and were so into it and convinced they learned so much that they would apply to – gag – the “Seventh Module”, i.e., their real life (the course was made up of six modules). We’re all in a private Facebook group now; one of them started making friend requests on the bus ride back to town; another had his assistant reach out to us a few days after the class asking for our mailing addresses because he wanted to send us something (he did - a self-help book (I was hoping it would be chocolates (or wine))); one of them is planning a trip to Vegas next year and I would imagine he could be fun to hang out with and knock back a few; one or two of them I would even like to see naked, if you know what I mean. But maybe they won’t read this; I had mentioned this blog during one particularly torturous session (mainly because I love mentioning this blog!), but I won’t publish a link on my Facebook page like I sometimes do. I have on previous occasions wrestled with whether or not I should publish a particular post because I am concerned it might offend someone whom I know reads this blog. Most times I can disguise the situation enough so as not to offend, but I have spiked more than one post out of deference to my friends or because there are things I do not want some of them to know (this has been less of an issue since I unfriended all my English relatives (they still don’t know I was out of work for 18 months)). I guess if my teammates come across it by reading older or newer links then so be it; maybe enough time will have passed by then that they can forgive me. We’ll see.

The Leadership Chronicles: Two Truthful Two Lie

• Up until this course, in the seven years I have had my cat, I have never been away from him for longer than 15 hours.
• Up until this course, in the nine years I have lived in Las Vegas I have only once left the city limits (and, no, going to Henderson or North Las Vegas does not count, they’re all pretty much the same city).
• I lived in Colorado for 15 years and never once went skiing.
• I am allergic to cinnamon.
• I am still driving the first car I ever bought.
• I have never had a root beer float.
• I have never seen an entire episode of The Sopranos or Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead or Breaking Bad or Mad Men or The Wire or Veep or Orange Is The New Black or Arrested Development (that list goes on – just think of any premium-cable and/or trendy TV show and in all likelihood I have not seen an entire episode).
• I have never been to a prom.
• I have not seen my parents in 17 years.
• I saw Frank Sinatra in concert.

In the weeks leading up to my class, one of my co-workers who had completed the course clued me in on some things that might happen. One of the last things she told me – as she was driving me to the pick-up point, as a matter of fact – was that her team played a game of Two Truths & A Lie. Because this information was so last minute, I spent the majority of the coach ride trying to come up with a believable lie. What I mean is, because of my amazingly boring life, my truths are somewhat out there so I am sure they come across as lies. Add to this the fact that I did not spend my childhood or teenage years in the US and so a lot of stuff Americans take for granted, I have never done – for example, I have never eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Or gone to Disney Land. Or been to a sleepover. I could go on. We never ended up playing that game but had we, the list above is what I could have put out there (and if anyone is interested, hit me up privately and I will tell you which one is the lie (yes, there is only ONE)).

Introducing The Leadership Chronicles

When I first moved to America, it took me a long time to understand and accept certain aspects of American, um, culture and lifestyle choices. Like their fascination with cheese, particularly the melted kind (I call it edible glue), and that they put it on EVERYTHING. And how they elected two Bushes (although that one might be trumped (ha!) in November (but for the love of all things holy please don’t let that be the case)). Or all the commercial breaks on television shows. Or how a sport that features only two countries has a finale called the World Series. But the one uniquely American thing I have never been able to embrace is that positive thinking, cheerleading, you can achieve anything if you put your mind to it, Kumbaya stuff. I hate it. But you Yanks love that stuff. It’s a billion dollar industry. There would be no Oprah Winfrey without it. But I think it is BS.

So imagine my utter discomfort when in the middle of September my company sent me on a three-day leadership retreat. It was three days of positive affirmations and voice projection and team-building exercises and identifying the golden characteristics of a leader (that is a direct quote from the handbook). It was three days of hell. The only positive that came from it is that it provided fodder for this blog. So much so, in fact, that instead of one humongous post, I am going to split it up into several small posts. Stay tuned!