The Creative Nest

I have a question. When did tipping become something we are apparently expected to do everywhere? I feel like I blinked and suddenly the little tip screen followed me out of the restaurant and into every corner of my life. I understand tipping at a restaurant. Someone brings me food, keeps my drink filled, clears my dishes, and makes sure I don't have to get up every five minutes. Fine. I understand the arrangement. But lately, I feel like I need to be prepared to tip simply because I had the audacity to purchase something. I walked into a store, picked something off a shelf, carried it to the register myself, stood in line, waited my turn, and handed the cashier my money. The cashier rang it up, put it in a bag, and then spun that little screen around toward me with the tip options staring back at me. Eighteen percent. Twenty percent. Twenty-five percent. Excuse me? A tip for what? I did most of the work here. At this point, I would like a tip for successfully navigating the store...

You know that feeling when you sit down to write an email and actually put some thought into it? I mean real thought. You organize your thoughts, explain the situation, include the important details, provide context, and maybe even reread the whole thing three times because you want to make absolutely certain the person on the other end cannot possibly misunderstand what you're saying. You carefully choose your words, make sure the information is in the right order, and perhaps even add a little background information because you know that without it, your question might not make sense. Eventually, you hit send and sit back feeling pretty good about yourself. “Okay,” you think. “That was clear. There is absolutely no way this could be misunderstood.” And then the response arrives. You open it, read it once, and immediately get that strange feeling in your stomach. You read it again because surely you must have missed something. Then you go back and reread your original email bec...

Let’s settle an important question. When you wake up in the morning and realize you have to be a functioning human being for the next several hours, what’s your weapon of choice? Are you reaching for a steaming cup of coffee, or are you cracking open an energy drink like you’re about to qualify for the Formula 1? Because apparently, there are two types of people in this world: coffee people and energy-drink people. And both sides are absolutely convinced they have discovered the superior method of getting through the day. Coffee people are a special breed. We don’t simply drink coffee. We have a relationship with coffee. There’s a whole ritual involved. Wake up. Stumble toward the kitchen. Start the coffee maker. Stare blankly into the distance while the coffee brews. Pour that glorious first cup and suddenly remember that life may actually be worth living. The first sip is practically a personality reset. Before coffee, it’s “Please don’t talk to me.” After coffee, it’s “Okay, I supp...

Have you ever worked really hard, done your job well, become dependable, and generally made yourself useful? Congratulations! You have just unlocked the next level of your career: more work. And the best part? It may come with absolutely no additional money. What a time to be alive. Apparently, there is a strange little workplace equation that nobody teaches you about when you start your career: Do a good job, become reliable, gain everyone’s confidence, receive additional responsibilities, and continue receiving the exact same paycheck. It’s basically a loyalty rewards program, except instead of earning points, you earn tasks. Lots and lots of tasks. There are certain words in the workplace that should probably come with a warning label. One of them is, “We think you’d be really good at this.” On the surface, that sounds wonderful. It sounds like recognition. It sounds like someone sees your potential and wants to help you grow. And sometimes, that is exactly what it means. But somet...

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:...

There is a special kind of frustration that comes from someone handing you an “opportunity” you never asked for. They are excited. They are enthusiastic. They may even tell you how perfect you are for it. Meanwhile, you are standing there thinking, “That is very sweet, but I would rather be chased through a cornfield by an angry goose.” The problem with a crappy opportunity is that it rarely arrives looking crappy. Oh no. It usually comes wrapped in words like “growth,” “experience,” “exposure,” or “a chance to get involved.” Those words sound lovely until you realize they translate to, “Congratulations! You now have an additional responsibility that nobody asked you whether you wanted.” Naturally, the first instinct is to try to get out of it politely. You explain that you have other commitments. You mention that your schedule is already full. You carefully construct a reasonable explanation that makes it clear you are not available without actually screaming, “PLEASE REMOVE MY NAME F...

Who schedules a three-hour meeting? Seriously. I have questions. Because somewhere out there, a person looked at a calendar, saw an empty three-hour block, and thought, “Perfect. Let’s put a meeting there.” Three hours. That is not a meeting. That is a commitment. Three hours is long enough to drive to another city, have lunch, come back, and still have time to wonder why you went in the first place. Three hours is enough time to watch a movie. It is enough time to start a load of laundry, forget about it, remember it two hours later, and then move it to the dryer while questioning every decision that brought you to that moment. But apparently, it is also an acceptable amount of time to sit in a meeting. I understand that some things require discussion. There are complicated projects. Big decisions. Planning sessions. Important topics. Fine. I will give you that. But three hours? What exactly are we doing in there? Are we solving world hunger? Are we negotiating a peace treaty? Are we ...

Have you ever wanted something accomplished so badly that when someone tells you “no,” your first thought isn't, “Okay, I understand”? Instead, your brain quietly responds, “Hmm. Interesting. So that's the answer you want to give me.” 😂 I'm talking about those moments when you feel strongly enough about something that you suddenly become very creative. Not necessarily sneaky in a devious, mustache-twirling, I'm about to commit a crime kind of way. More like a perfectly innocent little detour around an obstacle that someone else apparently thought would stop you. Because sometimes “no” doesn't actually mean no. Sometimes it means, “You're going to have to figure out another way.” And apparently, some of us take that as a personal invitation. There is something fascinating about what happens when the normal route doesn't work. When someone tells you something can't be done, your brain can go from sitting quietly to suddenly running a full-scale strateg...

Do you ever wake up and somehow just know the day is going to be a rough one? Nothing has actually happened yet. You haven't spilled your coffee, nobody has annoyed you, and your computer hasn't decided it needs to install 47 updates before allowing you to do anything productive. Technically, everything is fine. And yet… there it is. That feeling. You look at the clock, take a sip of coffee, and your brain quietly whispers, “Oh, this is going to be a day.” I don't necessarily mean the kind of day where everything goes catastrophically wrong. Those are easy to identify. I'm talking about the weird days. The days where things are just… off. For me, one of the biggest warning signs is work. There are days when the requests coming in are perfectly normal. You read them, understand what someone needs, take care of it, and move along with your life. Then there are the other days. The days when the requests start coming in and you find yourself staring at the screen thinking...

Have you ever noticed that the people most convinced something is broken are sometimes the very people who haven't read the instructions? I was reminded of this recently when a new website was rolled out at work. Before most people had even clicked around or explored it, one coworker became deeply concerned that everyone needed immediate training. According to him, if we didn't all learn the system right away, mistakes would be made, confusion would spread, and chaos would surely follow. It was a dramatic prediction. The website had barely been introduced, and already it was being treated like a dangerous wild animal that needed to be handled by trained professionals. Training sessions were discussed. Warnings were issued. Concerns were raised. It was all very serious. Then came the plot twist. The same coworker who was sounding the alarm downloaded the wrong data and confidently announced that the website was incorrect. Not "I might have done something wrong." Not ...

Some people are naturally patient. Some people are naturally nurturing. Some people can calmly explain something seventeen times without blinking an eye. And then there are the rest of us.  You know… the people who get irrationally irritated when someone asks a question that was literally just answered three minutes ago. The people whose eye starts twitching when a coworker says, “I didn’t know we were supposed to do that.” The people who somehow become the unofficial manager despite not wanting the responsibility, the stress, or Sharon from accounting asking if she can “pick your brain real quick.” If you are the kind of person who silently reorganizes other people’s workflows in your head because “nobody else seems capable,” there are simply certain jobs you should avoid for the safety of society. For example, customer service may not be your calling if your facial expressions tell the truth before your mouth does. Some people are gifted at handling angry customers with warmth a...

Does anybody else ever ask a very specific question and then receive an answer so painfully obvious that you immediately regret opening your mouth? Because I swear some people respond to questions like they’re being paid by the word but penalized for useful information. For example, if I ask, “Which cars get the best gas mileage?” I am not looking for someone to confidently respond with, “The ones that use gas.” Oh wow. Incredible. Groundbreaking information. Thank you so much for that beautiful contribution to society. I had no idea gasoline was involved in gas mileage. Next thing you know, someone’s going to tell me tires are round. And somehow these kinds of answers happen everywhere. In emails. At work. In casual conversation. Online. You ask a direct question hoping for a direct answer, and instead you get something so vague and unhelpful that you actually end up with less information than when you started. It’s like people hear the question, panic internally, and then just throw ...