The Creative Nest

Let’s talk about one of life’s little delights: someone getting angry with you and deciding that you are apparently the perfect place to dump every ounce of frustration they have been carrying around since 1997. You know the situation. You’re minding your own business, having a perfectly ordinary day, when suddenly someone comes at you with an attitude that makes you wonder if you accidentally wandered into a fight you weren't informed about. And your first instinct is usually very mature. Very reasonable. Very adult. Ninja kick to the shoulders. Obviously, we don't do that. Probably. Instead, we stand there trying to figure out what the hell just happened while our brain cycles through approximately seventeen possible responses, ranging from “I'm sorry, are you talking to me?” to “This conversation has been terminated due to excessive stupidity.” The hard part is knowing what to do when someone lashes out at you without allowing their behavior to drag you into the same emo...

Some people have an imagination. I have a fully staffed risk-management department. I don't know exactly when this happened, but somewhere along the way, my brain decided that simply experiencing life wasn't enough. No. Every tiny questionable detail must be investigated, analyzed, cross-referenced, and presented to a committee that apparently has unlimited funding and absolutely no regard for my peace. I can see one little thing that seems… off, and my brain immediately goes, “Interesting. Let's explore every possible explanation.” Oh, you mean every possible explanation? Apparently. Before I know it, we've gone from “Huh, that's weird” to a 47-page internal report titled Potential Scenarios, Associated Risks, Secondary Risks, and Things That Could Possibly Happen If That One Thing Is Actually Something. Nobody asked for this report. Nobody commissioned this report. And yet here it is. With appendices. The funny thing is, I don't necessarily consider myself a ...

There is something very glamorous sounding about working with people in different time zones. It makes you feel important. International. Connected. Like you're some kind of corporate citizen of the world. Until you actually have to do it. Then it becomes a giant game of, “What time is it where you are, and more importantly, what time is it supposed to be where I am?” Working across time zones sounds easy enough when you think about it. You look at a clock, figure out the difference and move on with your day. At least that's what I used to think. Then you start having meetings with people who are an hour ahead, two hours behind, or several hours away, and suddenly you are doing time-zone math before you've even had coffee. I have discovered that my brain does not appreciate time-zone math before coffee. Or after coffee, for that matter. The real problem is that your calendar may understand time zones perfectly well, but your body does not. Your calendar says, “Meeting at 8:...