Chronic Fatigue

UnTuckit?? F--k it!!

 

The commercial opens on the Manhattan skyline at dawn. Quick cut to a random close up of some leaves, then a busy New York street scene.

The look is edgy, moody. The earnest piano music in the background signals we are about to hear Something Very Important.

Cut to an intense looking dude striding in slow motion down a gritty New York street. Intense Dude is clearly on a mission. He looks angry. The Dude's name dissolves up on screen: Chris Riccobono. Chris Ricco-what??  Hmm.  His expression is rather scary. And Intense Dude gets even scarier when he opens his mouth. He sounds like a hipster mob boss from Jersey (apologies to my home state). His delivery is flat -- and deadly serious -- as as we hear his voiceover:

"The best ideas come from solving common problems."

Ok. I'll bite. What problem did Mr. Intensity solve? He drones on...

"My problem? Like a lot of other men, I couldn't find a shirt that looked good untucked."

Okay, stop right there. You couldn't find a shirt that looked good untucked?? Dude, THIS is your problem?

As our hero strides purposefully through the city streets in perpetual Slo-Mo, modeling a series of UNTUCKit creations, his voiceover continues:

"So this became my passion..." (Of course, it was just a matter of time before the dreaded "P" word was uttered).

"...to design a shirt that captures the perfect balance between length and fit." (Thank God someone finally tackled this sartorial crisis.)

"Easy to say. NOT that easy to do."  (Really? Can't you just lop off the bottom 3 inches of the shirt?')

"But with some innovative design changes, we did it." (Oh, right, you're an Innovator...)

"OUR problem. MY solution...."

Cut to logo:

"UnTUCKIT.com."  Fade to black.

Dude, you know what OUR problem is? It's pretentious, sanctimonious assholes like you who cloak themselves in self-righteousness while hawking their dubious "innovations".

When this commercial first aired, I honestly thought it was a spoof. But now, with UNTUCKit stores popping up faster than bacne on a teen, I know it's only too real. And I really can't get over it.

For me, this commercial — and the entire UNTUCKit phenomenon — encapsulates everything that is wrong with the world today. Ok, maybe not everything. But our current fetish with "innovation" and "innovators" is way out of control.  And it seems like just about everybody is deep into the punch bowl.

I call it Silicon Valley Syndrome. Today, you can wrap just about anything in a shroud of self-important, self-congratulatory bullshit. The more trivial the idea, the better. As Sam Biddle says in his brilliant take-down of the hypocritical tech culture, "...this is why we have a start-up that mails your dogs curated treats". Bingo.

Chris Riccobono, the genius behind UNTUCKit, is just following in the mold of all those grandiose tech titans and start-up savants. In his "UNTUCKit, the Brand Story" spot, Mr. Riccobono comports himself with an air of grandiosity that would be laughable if it weren't so completely cringe-worthy. His shirts look nice enough. But he looks (and sounds) like a total asshole.

I'm not the only one who reacted this way to the UNTUCKit spot. Some of the comments on YouTube are priceless:

"That right there is some innovation (snicker). This is what happens when everyone gets a trophy...I guess everyone is also an innovator. Maybe they can work on car windows that can be rolled down next?"

"'My problem? I couldn't find a short that looked good untucked.' Hm, I don't think that is your problem."

"Elon Musk, move over."

"He's so brave to come forward with his story."

"So what, you guys made the shirts a little shorter?"

And my favorite:

"Next, he'll tackle world peace."

Clearly, a lot of folks have been snickering at this commercial. There must have been some backlash, because Mr. Riccobono felt the need to follow this spot up with a video explaining how "Sometimes, it's the smallest innovations that make the biggest change." While Mr. R. makes a valiant effort to appear likeable in the video, he can't hide his innate surliness (I can picture a marketer advising him, "Dude, for Pete's sake, lighten up."). 

In another TV interview featured on a website called -- I'm not kidding -- HipNJ.com, Mr. RiccoB explains the genesis of UNTUCKit. He'd always hated how normal length shirts looked sloppy untucked. So he conducted a survey with men in his hometown of Hoboken, NJ. (the undisputed fashion capital of the world). Sure enough, all of these guys agreed with him! I can just picture those dudes sitting around, complaining about how those hideous, long, sloppy shirts had been destroying their carefully cultivated "look".  It was high time someone disrupted this long-standing fashion faux pas. Mr. Riccobono to the rescue! 

During the interview, we also learn that it took one year and 31 prototypes to get the perfect fit ("Everyone told me, 'We can't do it!"). But thank goodness, our intrepid entrepreneur persevered. Thus, after one year and endless design innovations, UNTUCKit was born. Crisis averted.

Like I said, I have no problem with the shirts. They look nice enough. It's the attitude I find so UNattractive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Will Work for Snacks

I admit it. I love reading Glassdoor reviews. On Glassdoor, employees can post anonymous reviews of their respective workplaces. The site offers a tantalizing, voyeuristic glimpse into the work culture of thousands of companies.

Perusing company reviews on Glassdoor is endlessly fascinating and enlightening. After reading hundreds of reviews, I feel like I have
a much better grasp on why certain companies earn glowing 4-5 star ratings, while others barely muster a measly 2-3 stars – or God forbid, the dreaded 1 star.

Clearly, highly rated companies understand what employees want – and deliver.

So, what exactly do employees want? Challenging work? Flexible hours? Generous pay and benefits? Opportunities for professional growth?

Well, sure, all of those things are good.

But what employees want most appears to be…good snacks.

On Glassdoor, even the most heinous company, with a laundry list of “Cons”, can redeem itself, and avoid a poor rating, if said company merely offers tasty snacks (or better yet, free lunches and booze).

To illustrate, here is a sampling of actual headlines from companies with 1-star ratings:

  “Disaster”

 “Worst Place to Work”

 “Game of Thrones Without the Dragons”

 “Very Toxic”

 “RUN!!

However, directly below these damning headlines comes a list of positives:

Pros

The snacks

Bagels on Mondays with 3 tubs of cream cheese

Good selection of cold pressed juice

Free lunches and snacks are awesome!

At times, the juxtaposition of Pros and Cons can be a trifle amusing:

Pros:  Free bagels on Mondays!

Cons: They will find a way to make working here a living hell

Pros:  Cold-brew coffee and craft beer on tap

Cons: You WILL be overworked here

 Pros:  Delicious smoothies and yummy pastries

Cons: Sociopathic behavior is encouraged

 Pros:  3 meals a day, stocked kitchen, and a freaking brewmaster on site!!

Cons: CEO is an easily manipulated doofus who thinks he is a visionary

 Pros:  Catered lunches on Fridays

Cons: Constant layoffs and resignations

But remember, just offering free snacks and other food isn’t enough. You have to provide quality offerings. Don’t think for a moment that you are going to get away with stocking your office kitchen with a few bags of Cheetos, a couple of sad bananas, and cans of Red Bull chilling in the fridge. Heaven help the well intentioned Office Manager who offers a sub-standard culinary experience, as these comments demonstrate:

 Cons:

Wish there were better snacks

Only offer 5  flavors of La Croix water in fridge

Free lunch and dinner, not that good though

The breakfasts were terrible, but free

Today’s employees are a tough audience. And in the food-obsessed Bay Area, where food is oh-so-precious and a healthy sense of entitlement is a job requirement, the bar is even higher. Local employers are under pressure to please the most discriminating palates, as witnessed in this Glassdoor review:

 Pros:

“Free coffee and tea (coffee is small batch and local, none of that big box stuff”)

Imagine…being forced to drink big box coffee? Could be grounds for a  lawsuit (no pun intended).

Now, I like free snacks and food as much as the next person (maybe more, if my BMI is any indication). But I never considered snacks a major factor in accepting a job. Times have changed. Today, it’s all about the food. What started out as free pizza or Thai food delivered to employees who were occasionally required to work late, has now morphed into a mandatory perk. Some companies even boast their own gourmet cafeterias, with menus that rival 4-star restaurants.

No doubt, this feeding frenzy began with Bay Area tech companies and start-ups. These companies quickly discovered that the best way to lure hungry, young talent (and keep them there) was with lots and lots of food. In a USA Today article, Hadley Malcolm writes, “Perhaps to no one’s surprise, food at work is the most important to Millennials, vs other age groups, and they are also the most likely to say they wish their employer offered more snack options.”

What is it with these darned Millennials? Do they not eat except at work? If there were no free snacks in the office kitchen, would they starve? Maybe they’re still living at home, but Mom refuses to feed them? No wonder they are hoarding bagels and Greek yogurt.

Malcolm goes on to elaborate on the reasons for today’s snacking craze: “In recent years, some offices have turned into edible playgrounds, with a never-ending supply of pressed juice, granola, Greek yogurt, chips, cereal, cookies and even beer. And with a growing number of young start-ups and high-energy tech companies that have reimagined the workplace as communities with a shared purpose, rather than offices where a group of people all happen to be from 9-5, free food has become an integral part of the workday.”

“Communities with a shared purpose”? That’s one way to look at it. A more cynical view (such as mine) is that 9-5 has stretched to 9-whenever. A good way to get people to work endless hours is to endlessly feed them.

So it’s not surprising that one often finds a correlation between the Pros and Cons listed in a Glassdoor review. If the reviewer complains about “Zero work-life balance”, it’s a pretty sure bet the next paragraph will include “Awesome snacks and free meals!”.

In other words, you may be killing yourself at a modern day sweatshop, but hey, the Tuesday tacos are to die for.

Once in a while, a clear-eyed reviewer on Glassdoor sees through the food-as-bribery gambit. As one savvy employee said at the end of an especially negative review, “Don’t let the free food and adorable dogs cloud your perspective”. 

That’s a refreshing bit of honesty, but comments like that are rare. More often, employees seem to be eating it all up.

Bad call

I remember when cell phones first appeared on the scene. At that time, I naively believed that people would never, ever talk on their phones in public, especially not while riding public transportation. After all, why would anyone want others to overhear their private conversations? What's more, wouldn't it be terribly rude to inflict your loud, personal phone conversation on other passengers? 

Silly me. I was still operating on the outmoded assumptions that 1) people valued their privacy, 2) people would be considerate of others and 3) there was still such a thing as Manners.

I completely underestimated how ubiquitous bad cell phone behavior would become.

Since then, like many of us, I've had to learn to tolerate (just barely) my fellow passengers' lengthy, loud phone conversations. I hate it, but it's the New Abnormal.

Then, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse -- they got worse.

The other morning on my bus ride to work, I was seated in front of a young guy who was conducting a CONFERENCE CALL. That's right, he was holding a conference call on the bus. And he wasn't merely a participant, whispering, and listening quietly -- he was the Organizer! He was not speaking in hushed tones; he was speaking as if he was in a regular conference room and it was business as usual. Except that he was surrounded by other passengers seated right next to him, in front of him, and in back of him. Not only could we hear every word he said, the people all the way in the back of the bus could hear every word he said.

I listened in horror as the one-way conversation began...

"Hey, Erik? Hi, it's Tom. Yeah hi...I'm on the bus..." (nothing out of the ordinary here...just a statement of fact...of course he's on the bus, why not?)

"So...is Alex on the line yet? Great. What about Katie?  Cool.  And hey, is Simon on? 

Okay! I guess we're all here...awesome! Let's get started!"

And so, they started. And I sat there, flabbergasted, unable to grasp what I was witnessing.

This was wrong on so many levels...where do I even start?

First, this guy was holding a business meeting while he was on the bus. Which either meant that a) he was running late to work, or b)-- and this is entirely possible -- that he scheduled the call for when he'd be riding the bus. So just purely on a professional level, I have to take points off for the fact that either this guy cannot get his ass to work on time, or he's just completely clueless about scheduling calls. (I know some of you may argue that perhaps he had to schedule the call at this precise time, because it was the only option. Sorry, there is always another option).

I was trained to conduct business calls in a business-like environment; someplace quiet, with no interruptions. But that quaint notion has gone the way of the Rolodex and fax machine. Now, people can -- and do -- make business calls from virtually anywhere -- the coffee shop, the car, probably even the toilet.

Background noise during a conference call is a huge distraction. Did it bother the dude on the bus that he would be conducting his call from a crowded, noisy city bus? Apparently not. And we already know it never occurred to him that he might be bothering all of us. That thought never even crossed his mind. Entitled? Maybe. Oblivious? Definitely.

I suppose I should no longer be shocked by this type of behavior. And yet, I am.      I never cease to be amazed by how stupid, and downright rude, people can be these days. Many people in my generation (i.e., older people) feel this way. We're perpetually outraged; but we know our outrage is useless. We can be as grumpy as we want, but it doesn't matter. Etiquette is dead. Manners are obsolete.

When it comes to cell phone use, the line between private and public has blurred in ways that were previously unimaginable. A 2015 Pew Study on public cell phone use showed that many people are ok with cell phone use just about anywhere -- on public transportation, in line, at a restaurant. That's an old study, so I suspect phone calls in public places are even more acceptable now than       ever before. At this point, anything goes.

We live in a world devoid of common courtesy. Or even common sense.

 

 

 

 

LOL? I wish.

By now, we are all familiar with the ubiquitous acronym, "LOL". In case you have been living on the planet Zoltar for the last several decades, LOL is the internet acronym for "laughing out loud". There is also its saucier variation, "LMAO" ("laughing my ass off"), and the ever-popular "LMFAO" ("laughing my fucking ass off"). "ROTFL" -- "rolling on the floor laughing"-- seems to have fallen out of favor.

Given how frequently these acronyms show up in emails, texts, and even conversations, it would seem that just about everyone is laughing their asses off, that hilarity ensues every time someone hits "Send", and a typical day on the job is just one non-stop laugh riot.

If only.

Now, I like to laugh as much as the next person -- maybe even more than the next person. But usually, when I see "LOL" in an email, my immediate reaction is mild confusion, as in, "Really?? You're laughing at THAT?? It's not that funny."

Sorry, but you have to earn my "LOL".

Fortunately, I have come up with a solution for all this faux hilarity.

I propose we add another acronym to the lexicon: "NTF", or "not that funny".

"Not that funny" is an appropriate, honest response to the majority of not-that-funny things people say in emails and texts.

Of course, if that is too bland a response for you, feel free to go with "NLMAO" ("not laughing my ass off"), or -- if you have the energy to type an extra character --  may I suggest "NFWTIF" ("no fucking way this is funny").

In his book "The Language of ICT" (yet another acronym meaning "Information and Communications Technology"), linguistics expert, Tim Shortis, analyzes the deeper meaning of LOL. He writes, "I may not actually laugh out loud, but may use the locution, 'LOL' to communicate my appreciation of your attempt at humor'".

The operative word here is "attempt". However, just because someone makes an attempt at humor does not mean that person should be rewarded with an "LOL", "LMFAO", or any other acronym signaling approval. This merely emboldens the not-that-funny person and encourages him or her to make even more feeble attempts at humor. It's a self-perpetuating cycle. It needs to stop.

I think that the overuse of "LOL" actually speaks to a larger, societal problem; namely, the bar for what passes for funny these days is so pathetically low, just about any comment is worthy of an "LOL". "NTF" is frankly the only suitable response to so much in our popular culture -- movies, tv shows, certain comics -- that aim to be funny, but just aren't that funny.

Some of this can be chalked up to changing styles of humor. And yes, it's a generational thing. I'll be the first to admit that as a bitter, older person, I simply don't GET a lot of the "kids'" humor. I scratch my head, watching commercials that I know were clearly intended to be funny, and think, "I guess some young agency Creative team must have thought this was really funny...they probably laughed their asses over this...but it just isn't funny". (Since I am the ultimate arbiter of what is and isn't funny, I am quite confident when I deem something not that funny).

It's time to call bullshit on not funny.

That is the beauty of "NTF"; it raises the bar for funny. Because it doesn't reward not funny. A simple, well-placed "NTF" instantly tells someone, "Because I'm your friend, I'm not going to pretend that your email has me rolling around on the floor in stitches...when in fact, it barely even warrants a smiley face emoticon." (It may also be time to wean ourselves from our lazy, over-reliance on the Smiley Face, and simply type out, "I haven't got a fucking clue what you're trying to say..but whatever!").

Sure, your brutal honesty may lose you some friends. But what you gain in feeling morally superior is well worth it (and just imagine the fun you can have responding to group emails at work).

Once you get over your initial hesitation, I predict that typing "NTF" will become as automatic as "LOL".

So, repeat after me: "NTF!!!!" 

Now, doesn't that feel good?

 

 

 

 

 

What's in a Namely?

Lately, I've been seeing billboards around San Francisco for a company named...Namely.

But until recently, I never had any idea what, exactly, Namely did.

Then I finally saw their TV spot, and discovered that Namely is...an HR company! (or rather, an HR platform). HR?  Really? Who would have guessed? I certainly never would have guessed from their name.

How about Contextly? What do you suppose they do? Turns out they specialize in "content recommendations for publishers". Why, of course! How could I have missed that?

What about Scopely? They're a "next generation mobile entertainment network". Yep, makes perfect sense.

And Reachly? That's a real-time analytics service (did you really have to ask?).

Which brings us to Vumly. This one is deliciously ironic. Vumly is...a NAMING company! (I hope you are not dumb-ly enough to let Vum-ly brand your business).

And let's not forget Boxly, Bitly, Singly, Yabbly, Seniorly, Leafly, Spokely, Hurdly and Scopely.

These inane, obscure "-ly" names are popping up everywhere, spreading like a virus.

When and why did this inane craze for inane,  'ly" names start? And more importantly, when it will it stop?

Naming has never been more stupid. If this trend continues, it's just a matter of time until Stupidly appears on the scene ("Oh, it's perfect for our new on-line tutoring platform!").

I suppose that some of these names can be blamed on the scarcity of domain names. But that's really no excuse for the current proliferation of 'ly" names.    Let's face it. These  "-ly" names (and their close cousins, the equally annoying "-me" and "-fy" names) are just a lazy attempt at making your company sound creative, silly, kooky, cutting-edge...and just like every other startup out there.

Isn't your company name supposed to differentiate you? The current lack of originality in naming is stunning. Every startup name is indistinguishable from the rest. You would think a completely incomprehensible name (that sounds just like every other name) would be a handicap in the startup world. Instead, it's a prerequisite.

I don't get it. I always subscribed to the quaint notion that a good name should help connote what your business was all about.

Consumers never had to guess what Ford Motor Company, Singer Sewing Machines, Hershey's Chocolate or Pennzoil made. Paramount Pictures...Avis Rent-a-Car...Traveler's Insurance...Walgreens Pharmacy...United Airlines? No interpretation necessary.

Names should be memorable and meaningful. Sure, if you're Apple, Xerox or Google, you can afford an obscure, non-descriptive name. But what if you're not a mega corporation with 100% name awareness? How can your startup succeed if no one even knows what you do?

What if we applied this same naming convention to small, Mom and Pop businesses? Imagine strolling down Main Street, USA and looking at the shop signs...

Instead of Tony's Pizza, we'd have Crustly.

Sally's Sewing Supplies?  Needly.

Joe's Hardware Store?  Warely.

Dependable Plumbing?  Plungely.

Ridiculous? Obvious-ly!

But sadly, those ridiculous, completely abstruse startup names show no sign         of stopping. They have become the New Normaly.

 

 

 

 

Bad Trip: My Journey to Discover Why Everyone is (Still) on a Journey

I originally posted this piece about two years ago.  At the time, I thought that the use of the word "journey", as in, "It's been a journey" or "I'm on a journey",  had reached critical mass.

Oh, how wrong I was.  Since then, the number of people on journeys, and the number of times we hear about those journeys, has increased tenfold.  We are now facing an epidemic of  journey-going.  For that reason (and also because I'm too lazy to write a new post),  I am re-posting the original piece.  Some of the references may be slightly dated.  But I can assure you, the "journey" epidemic is far from over.  In fact, it's more rampant than ever. 

 

Overuse can turn a perfectly good word into a perfectly horrible one.  One word that's currently on the road to linguistic lame-itude is journey.

Have you noticed that suddenly, everyone in America is on a journey?

Just glance at any "People" magazine cover or watch any celebrity interview, and chances are you'll learn about someone who has just completed, is still on, or is about to embark on some kind of journey. 

You can’t turn on the tv these days without hearing about these dramatic, personal journeys.  Piers Morgan asks virtually every guest, “Tell us…what kind of journey has this been for you?” “It’s been a journey” is now the stock answer to describe everything from Kirstie Alley's weight loss battles to Brooke Shield's triumph over post-partum depression.  The subject matter doesn’t really matter —  as long as one has been on a journey, it suggests some sort of profound transformation to a more enlightened state of mind. It's definitely not about the destination, it's all about the journey.

Merely using the word “journey” adds import to anything — no matter how trivial.  So it’s no surprise that Reality TV is rife with journeys.  No episode of "Dancing with the Stars” is complete without the Co-Host, Brooke Burke, injecting the "journey" question into her backstage, post-performance celebrity interviews. "So the judges just awarded you 10's for your Paso Doble", she'll gush...before switching to her Really Serious Voice to ask,  "We know you've worked so hard for these past 8 weeks...can you tell us...what has this JOURNEY been like for you?"  (The answer to that last question inevitably contains the two words most often associated with these sorts of profoundly life-changing journeys: "so" and  "amazing", as in "Oh, it's just been SO amazing!"). 

“The Biggest Loser” is also big on journeys (so I hear, I don’t watch it).  Every contestant is on his or her own journey (“Follow Courtney’s journey”… “Biggest Loser winner Olivia Ward opted for a tummy tuck to remove excess skin after shedding 116 pounds. See her journey and dramatic transformation.” Viewers are also invited to “Watch the final four journeys, or go online to find recipes, advice and support for your own journey.”

(Geesh, I’m so worn out from hearing about all this, I think I’ll journey to the fridge and inhale a quart of Rocky Road).

Of course, these profound, personal journeys are even more ubiquitous in print . Today, no celebrity or politician memoir is complete without adding the requisite “My journey to…”  after the title.  All you need is a colon and a personal journey to make it to the best seller list. A quick perusal on Amazon reveals literally hundreds of such subtitles, including:

Not Afraid of Life: My Journey So Far  (Bristol Palin)

Louder Than Words: A Mother’s Journey in Healing Autism  (Jenny McCarthy)

Herman Cain: My Journey to the White House (Herman Cain)

Invincible:  My Journey From Fan to NFL Team Captain  (Vince Papale)

Just Call Me Mike:  A Journey to Actor and Activist (Mike Farrel)

Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Journey to Change the World…One Child at a Time (Greg Mortenson)

Pink Boots and a Machete:  My Journey from NFL Cheerleader to National Geographic Explorer  (Mireya Mayor)

Then there are the overcoming illness/adversity/addiction journeys…

It’s Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life (Lance Armstrong)

Save Karyn: One Shopaholic’s Journey to Debt and Back  (Karyn Bosnak)

How to Overcome Bulimia: My Journey from Hell to Happiness (Shaye)

Livin La Vida Low-Carb: My Journey from Flabby Fat to Sensationally Skinny in One Year  (Jimmy Moore)

And my personal favorite:

A Raw Life:  My Journey from Cooked to Raw Foods (Nubia I)

Where will it end?  Journey to the Centre of the Earth surely qualified as a journey.  And Eugene O’Neill certainly earned the right to the title, Long Day’s Journey Into Night.  But My Journey from Cooked to Raw Foods?  Seriously?

Not surprisingly, corporations are jumping on the journey bandwagon.  After all, corporations are people, too, and they are quickly co-opting this word for their own purposes.  And why not?  By simply adding “journey” to your company’s website copy, or generously sprinkling the word “journey” throughout your corporate mission statement, whatever actual work you are doing is suddenly imbued with an altruistic, almost religious quality. 

This air of sanctity matters even more today, when many companies are striving to look environmentally responsible.  So we get  Rubbermaid’s CEO  talking about “Making a Difference: Our Journey of Transformation” and Colgate Palmolive inviting us to “...follow our journey from a single store front to global front runner.”

Tech companies, in particular, are all over the journey thing.  For an industry that prizes innovation and originality, their websites all sound surprisingly the same:

The destination of our journey is to build a real-time enterprise and we’re focused on business processes and the end-user to complete this journey.

EMC has traveled a long way on its journey to cloud computing.

The Value of Customer Journey Maps: a UX Designer’s Personal Journey

The founders of Edge Case, a startup, take the journey metaphor to new heights, as witnessed by this inspiring home page copy:

Over five years ago we started on a journey to create a company -- the company we always wanted to work for. Recently, some friends of ours offered to help us continue on that journey and we accepted. We have not yet arrived at our final destination. We continue to hike along. The opportunity to reach our original destination and then continue on to new sites and explore new territory was too much to pass up.  Today we are announcing that Digital Garage has acquired Edge Case. Together we are forming New Context, a company dedicated to bridging the divide between design and technology while helping build new companies and improve the software side of existing ones.

Phew.  Sounds like these kids got some much needed venture capital funding in the nick of time — get those hiking boots on, boys, and let the journey continue!

 I don’t know about you, but if I hear the word “journey” one more time, I may have to make a quick journey to the bathroom to throw up.

Pharmaceutical companies also love the word "journey". Today, every patient is "on a journey".  And, of course, we are here to support you on your Restless Leg Syndrome journey! 

Once upon a time, the word "journey" was reserved for describing actual physical journeys and exotic travel, such as trekking by camel across Outer Mongolia. There were also religious/spiritual journeys.  Then came truly life-changing experiences or dramatic life stories; whether it was an individual's battle with serious illness, or some type of remarkable achievement. Those qualified as "journeys", too.  I get it. 

But now, "journey" can be used to describe — and add faux gravitas to — just about anything, no matter how mundane.  The more trivial the topic, the more profound the “journey”.  Hence this late breaking newsflash about Kourtney Kardashian’s pregnancy:  “We are sure that Kourtney will share her pregnancy journey with fans via her reality show, Twitter and her mommy blog.”(OMG. I can't wait to read Kourtney's mommy blog!).

How did we get here?  I’m not sure.  But as with most loathsome language trends, I suspect Oprah had something to do with it.  “What journey are you on?” has been a staple Oprah-ism forever.  We've also heard ad nauseam about Oprah's “weight loss journey”, her “spiritual journey”, her "career journey", etc. etc.  I’ll bet if Oprah discovered a new shampoo, we'd hear about her "hair care journey".  

Whether or not we can blame Oprah for modern day Journey Syndrome is unclear. All I know is we need to give this word a rest — and soon.  Please, people, can we just STOP with the journeys??

So what have I learned while writing this post? (other than the fact that I clearly don’t know when to use quotes versus italics).  I’m not sure I’ve discovered any definitive answers.  Nor have I found enlightenment.  And I certainly haven't lost any weight sitting here in front of the computer. 

But at least writing about this topic has been somewhat cathartic.  I feel a sense of healing...a surprising, new sense of lightness.

Thanks for being a part of my journey.

When the "Something Old" at Your Wedding is...You.

I recently became something I never thought I’d be:                I became a bride.

To say I “married late” is an understatement.  I'd sooner tell you my Social Security number than admit my age.  But let’s just say the last time there was any estrogen floating around in my system, Mitt Romney was in favor of healthcare reform and Cher still had remnants of her original face.

According to the infamous 1986 Newsweek story about single women, I had a better chance of being hit by a meteor/struck by lightning/killed by a terrorist than of getting married after the age of 40 (I love defying statistics!).  How I met my husband (hint: it was nothing short of a miracle), and the ups and downs of our seven years together before marching down the aisle, is a story for another time.  So is the story of how I assiduously avoided marriage most of my life (hint: I had cornered the market on every unavailable/inappropriate/sociopath).  Or the story of how I panicked after the proposal and suffered a major case of commitment anxiety.

Those stories can wait.  The story I want to tell is what it was like to become a first-time bride at an age when most women are picking out their Mother of the Bride outfits. “Weird” doesn’t even begin to describe it.  “Surreal” comes closer.  And yes, sometimes, it’s also been quite wonderful. 

First came the proposal (it wasn’t a surprise…I’d already been ring shopping for months).  As a newly engaged Woman of a Certain Age, I often felt like a freak of nature.  News of our engagement was greeted with a mix of shock, awe, confusion and delight.  I suppose there’s something sweetly endearing and hopeful about older people finding each other late in life and tying the knot, against all odds.  But it’s definitely not the norm.  It’s kind of like seeing a bear riding a tricycle.      It’s a novelty, but slightly abnormal.

I’m sure every woman, regardless of her age, experiences a whole gamut of emotions when she gets engaged for the first time.  Some of those emotions are universal.  Wedding blogs are filled with comments from young women fretting about their ring/dress/caterer/invitations/flower arrangements, etc. etc. etc.         I shared many of those same concerns.

But as an older engaged woman, I also felt different.  It was hard to relate to 20-somethings bemoaning the fact that their Girls Nights Out drinking Cosmos with their BFFs might be coming to an end.  These girls clearly identified with Carrie Bradshaw.  I felt more like one of “The Golden Girls”.  Besides, I can hardly stay awake anymore past 9:00 PM, so I wasn’t terribly worried about losing my freedom or missing wild nights out with the girls.

On the other hand, many young brides worry about losing something more significant: their identities as independent, single women. In my case, that identity wasn’t something newfound; it had been a core part of my being for decades.  As wonderful as it is to find love, getting married late in life means letting go of one’s lifelong status as a single adult (and a certain perverse pride that goes with it).  At times after I got engaged, I almost felt like I was betraying my other single women friends — abandoning the “club”, as it were. I worried how my longtime single friends would react to my new status (the answer: most of my friends were very supportive and happy for me — but there were some mixed reactions.  After offering congratulations, one friend blurted out, “Oh NO…this means I’m the LAST one!”  I was taken aback.  But frankly, had it been me, I might have reacted the same way).  

Another dismaying discovery: wedding blogs are full of women confessing they “waited a really long time to get married".  From the sound of it, you’d think they'd barely escaped Old-Maidhood.  Then you realize these women are all in their late 20s and early-mid 30s!  There is nary a mention of anyone over 40.  OMG, what would they think of me??  It would be like their Great Aunt Tilly walking down the aisle…like, gross!

So while I was able to feel a certain degree of kinship with my bridal sisterhood,    I mostly felt completely alienated from their ilk.

Even more alienation awaited me in wedding magazines and on wedding blogs.  Naturally, they are all geared towards young women.  Of course, these womens’ perspective is completely different from mine; they are just starting out — their whole lives are stretched out in front of them.  They are planning families, sharing hopes and dreams of the future.  My new husband and I are looking forward to shared AARP memberships and discounts at the local multi-plex.  For us,“Will you still love me when I’m old and grey?” is not just a hypothetical question.

Getting engaged, however, was only the beginning. Then there was the whole question of The Wedding.  Neither my fiancé nor I could even imagine having a wedding.  We were much too old to make a fuss.  We didn’t want all the stress and expense.  We seriously considered running away and eloping.  Either that or just have a really small wedding (a non-wedding).  But…what if it escalated and turned into a much bigger wedding?  My fiancé and I debated all of this for weeks.  The eloping option was looking better by the minute.  But we finally agreed on a very small family wedding at my parents’ home.

Now it was time to plan the wedding.  I would have preferred to have had a root canal. I know a lot of women  dream about walking down the aisle their whole lives.  Some of them fantasize about their Wedding Day from the time they are little girls.  That was never me.  I wasn’t anti-wedding. I was just indifferent.  Ambivalent about marriage in general, and even more ambivalent about weddings.  One thing was for certain: I was not one of those wedding-crazed women obsessed with color schemes, bridesmaids dresses and themed bachelorette parties – ick!!  I was paralyzed over the thought of calling caterers, getting estimates, renting tables and chairs, sending invites, editing the invitation list…ALL of it.

I refused to become yet another victim of the Wedding Industrial Complex.            I scoffed at all those brides and their ridiculous color schemes.  I laughed at all those brides who obsess over flower and seating arrangements.  I ridiculed all those brides who fret about finding the perfect shoes.

And then a funny thing happened:  I became one of those brides.  Seriously.          A month or so before the wedding, something snapped in my brain and I became BRIDEZILLA.  A living, breathing stereotype.  A walking, talking cliché.                The dormant Bride gene had been activated.  There was no hope.

For the first time in my life, I suddenly gained entry into a rarefied world previously off-limits to me.  The sparkly, pastel gates opened and I entered the kingdom known as…ta da! — Wedding World!

Nothing could have prepared me for this strange, new land.  If I had landed on Mars, I could not have found the terrain more foreign.  And yet, I was here.  I was now a member of the elite group known as “brides”.  I had a wedding to plan.  And there was work to be done.

Suddenly, I was spending hours online, pouring over photos, searching for the Perfect Bouquet.  I looked at more bouquets in one evening than I had looked at in my entire life.  I knew I’d hit rock bottom when I discovered Martha Stewart Weddings and it became my new bible.  Martha Stewart Weddings??  Me?              It couldn’t be possible.

It got worse.  For the first time in my life, I picked up a copy of Brides Magazine at the nail salon, and leafed through its glossy pages, staring at photos of dewy skinned, lithe young women in their Size 2 Vera Wang wedding dresses.                   I devoured the stories about hairstyles and honeymoons.  Poured over the photos of floral arrangements and wedding arbors.  And took copious notes on creative ways to fold napkins.  That’s when I knew I was gone.

When the dressmaker told me my wedding shoes were not the exact right shade of ivory, I raced to the shoemaker to have them dyed.  Then, just to be on the safe side, I ordered a backup pair of shoes from an obscure online retailer in Beijing.  (I bought a beribboned, lace-trimmed pair called “Pretty Pretty Lady Wedding Shoes”.  They were pretty pretty, but they hurt hurt).

I went to food tastings.  Agonized over table cloth colors.  Edited and re-edited the guest list.  And hand-picked every song I wanted our pianist to play.  I also dieted like a fiend, in hopes of squeezing my ample Midlife midriff into my wedding dress (ladies, this is why it really helps to get married at 20).

I was completely out of control.  So was my spending.  I knew the security code on my VISA card by heart.  The whole time I was planning my wedding, I felt like I had a neon sign on my forehead flashing, “Go ahead, rip me off — I’m a BRIDE!”.  There were the outrageously expensive catering estimates, the outrageously expensive flower estimates, the outrageously expensive photographer estimates, etc. etc. (in fairness, some vendors were quite nice and very reasonable, but many were clearly rip-off artists).

Overnight, I went from being the woman who didn’t want ANY wedding to the woman who was micro-managing every last detail of a tiny wedding.

And guess what?  It paid off.  The wedding was absolutely perfect.  Sweet.  Lovely.  Really small…relaxed…wonderful.  We are still savoring the memories.

Which brings me to the much-anticipated wedding photos.  Seeing them moves me to tears.  Sure, they bring back beautiful memories.  But mostly, they make me think, “Why the hell didn’t I get married when I was still relatively photogenic?!”  Now I wish I’d saved some money for a much-needed facelift and tummy tuck.      I get it now.  There’s a reason why people get married young.  It’s not because you are naïve and full of hope.  It’s because you look good in your wedding photos and you don’t need hours of Photoshopping.

So that’s my story.  We’ve been married for nearly two months (and they said it would never last).  I can already anticipate the comments to this post.  I’m sure many of you will congratulate me and wish me well (thank you!).  Some of you may remind me how lucky I am to have found true love late in life (better late than never, right?).  I agree.  Honestly, no one is more grateful than me.  Not a day goes by when I don’t marvel that it happened at all.  I still can hardly     believe it.  Sometimes, I just have to pinch myself.  And believe me, these days, there is plenty to pinch.

Unsubscribe me. (From EVERYTHING!)

In those halcyon days before the Internet, I, like all Americans, was inundated with nonstop sales pitches.

Those pitches came in the form of tv and radio commercials, print ads, outdoor boards, direct mail, and the occasional door hanger.

Being bombarded with those traditional forms of marketing was, and still is, annoying (and yes, I'm responsible for writing some of it. Guilty as charged).

But pre-Internet, I operated under the quaint delusion that as bad as it was, things surely couldn't get any worse.

Of course, things did get worse. Much worse.

Who could have imagined a world where in addition to the tv commercials, billboards, plus mountains of junk mail crowding our actual mailboxes, we would now also have to contend with a nonstop barrage of virtual junkmail clogging our email mailboxes?

I, for one, didn't see it coming. That's what surprised (and horrified) me most about the advent of the Internet; how the web instantaneously enabled even more insidious and intrusive forms of marketing on a scale previously thought unimaginable.

The Internet exposed — and spawned — a world of opportunistic marketers more unscrupulous, more unconscionable, and more unrelenting than anything we had previously witnessed. It was like turning over a rock and discovering millions of hideous, slimy, blood-sucking insects scurrying around in the muck. All of them looking to crawl into your in-box (and eventually, your wallet).

The lowest form of life on the marketing foodchain is spam. I still can't fathom the sheer volume of spam that's out there. And it keeps morphing into new, even more evil forms; such as the targeted pop-up ads that seem to scream, "So we see you bought a RED SWEATER today? Well, here's ANOTHER RED SWEATER you should buy!  And maybe you want some RED SHOES to go with it?"

Those are bad. But I am frankly even more annoyed by the innocent looking emails I routinely receive from companies I've done business with — or similar companies who want their slice of the pie and will stop at nothing to get it.

To me, these retailers' methods are even more insidious than the spammers     and scammers. Because these types of emails masquerade as legitimate, friendly "updates" about sales or new merchandise. Updates I never asked for and          don't want.  And yet they keep coming, like toxic waves washing ashore after an oil spill.

Companies refer to this devious practice as "CRM" or "Customer Relationship Marketing". You see, it's not about selling. It's about relationships. It's about connecting.  And sharing.  As in, "We want to share our new Spring lineup        with you...so you will share your hard earned money with us".

Give them an inch, and these sleazy marketers will take a mile. They're like the creepy guy you smiled at once, and then he starts following you around forever. He only needs a minimum of encouragement and then you can't shake him.

It's the same with marketers today.  Just give them a quick glance (in the form of one purchase), and they will glom onto you and stalk you forever online.

The stalking usually begins immediately after I've made a purchase from an online retailer. From that point on, even when I've clearly said, "NO, I don't want to receive promotional emails from you", I start receiving a flood of those promotional emails (plus emails from everyone else they've sold my                          information to).  Because in the Brave New World of online marketing, "No" doesn't mean "No".  The word "No" is not even in their vocabulary. Let alone in their marketing strategies.

Every time I receive one of these unsolicited emails, I have to go through the annoying step of unsubscribing.  Good luck with that.  Most companies pretend to make this process simple.  But if you've ever tried it, you know better.  It's easier to kill cockroaches than to eradicate the endless onslaught of promotional emails that invade your inbox.

The process goes something like this: First, you click on the "unsubscribe" link at the bottom of your promotional email. Next, you receive a pop-up message containing the obligatory, guilt-inducing "Please don't go!" message.  It usually says something like, "We're sorry to see you go.  Are you sure you want to unsubscribe from our email promotions?"  You click "yes".  Another message tells you that you have "Successfully unsubscribed".

But not so fast.  It's not that easy.  Because you typically receive yet another message saying, "Please note that it may take up to 10 days to process your unsubscribe status."  10 days??  It took you all of a nanosecond to ADD me to this frigging list, but now you can't remove me for 10 whole days??

Ok, whatever.  At least you now have a glimmer of hope that the emails from said retailer WILL cease.  In just 10 days, you will be forever liberated from emails about their Big Summer Sale and special savings on corduroy leggings!

Sadly, though, your feelings of hope are short lived.  Because soon you notice that you are still receiving emails from that very same retailer well beyond the 10 day grace period.  Did they not get the message?  Don't they know you broke up      with them?  Apparently not.

Then you proceed to go through the whole goddamn process again: Hit "Unsubscribe", and hope that maybe this time, it will take.  Maybe they will hear your cries of "No!!".

Some companies don't let you off the hook that easily.  Like a persistent, utterly tone deaf suitor, they want you to explain WHY you broke up with them. Ostensibly, under the guise of "responsiveness", they want to know exactly why you unsubscribed.  So after the "We hate to see you go" message, they will ask, "Please tell us why you are unsubscribing".  This is usually followed by a menu of multiple choice answers:

A) I'm receiving too many emails

B) Your emails are not relevant to me

(And my favorite, the wonderfully disingenuous...)

C) I don't recall signing up for emails

Really?  Are those my only choices?  How about "D") "Because I never signed up for your fucking email list in the first place!"

You know how some people say it should be hard to get married and easy to        get divorced?  I feel the same way about email subscription lists.  It should be hard to sign up for them and easy to get out of them.

Wouldn't it be great if, when you first subscribed to a company's email list, they would confirm your decision with questions like, "Are you SURE you want to receive emails from us?" or "I mean, seriously, do you REALLY want to receive a million annoying emails from us?" or "Please don't do anything rash. You might want to reconsider joining this list...before it's too late."

Since that is not going to happen anytime soon, we are stuck with the Sisyphean task of trying to unsubscribe from a tsunami of unwanted emails.

But where there is a need, there is certainly an online service to fill the void. Several companies have sprung up to help you unsubscribe "from everything". One such company, Unroll Me, says "Toss the junk with one click".  Wow, toss ALL the junk?  Sounds great.  Until you realize that in the very next breath, the same people who purportedly want to help you from unsubscribe from junk mail want to sign you up for other annoying services like "The Rollup" ("Combine what you love into one beautiful digest"), which consolidates all your "favorite subscriptions" into one email.  Favorite subscriptions?  I have no favorite
subscriptions.  I want them ALL gone.  Banished to some virtual graveyard for promotional emails.

So you see, there is no end to it.  We've opened the Pandora's Box of online selling and are now dealing with the aftermath.  One annoying email at a time.

Some will say that all of this annoying e-marketing is inescapable and a necessary evil in a free market.

Sorry, but I don't subscribe to that.

 

 

 

One of the most disturbing hallmarks of growing older is the sad and shocking realization that younger people don't relate to your cultural touchstones.

This realization was never more evident to me than this week.  Because this week, Shirley Temple died.

The minute I saw the headline crawl across the bottom of my tv screen, I was stunned. The news hit me like an earth shattering event. Shirley Temple gone?

Immediately, the world was suddenly sharply divided into people who know and care about Shirley Temple and people who don't.  Sadly, I've discovered that I may be in the minority.

Sleeveless in Seattle (and New York, and Atlanta, and Detroit...)

Outside the Today Show studio window, the snow was coming down hard.

Inside, Today Show co-hosts Savannah Guthrie and Natalie Morales were on camera, telling millions of viewers about the latest blizzard that had gripped the East Coast.

"It's the coldest winter in recorded history!" gushed Savannah. "I know, it's just freezing...brrrrr" remarked Natalie, doing a little fake shiver.

Matt Lauer chimed in about the frigid weather, too. But he was wearing a suit.     Both of the ladies were wearing sleeveless, summery cocktail dresses. In the middle of a blizzard. In the middle of January.

I switched channels to MSNBC, only to find "Morning Joe" co-host Mika Brzezinksi sporting a bright cobalt blue sleeveless sheath dress. She looked like she was going clubbing. But instead, she was headed into a heated debate on healthcare reform with Joe Scarborough.

I hit the remote again. There was Kelly Ripa, flaunting her ripa'd biceps in a tight, sleeveless frock.

No need to check on Fox. Every woman on Fox News goes sleeveless.      Fox practically invented the "sexy anchor" look. Foxy Meghan Kelly would sooner come out in favor of gun control than appear on camera in a dress that covered her well toned guns.

Everytime I turn on the tv, I see female reporters and tv hosts of every age wearing the ubiquitous sleeveless sheath dress uniform. Andrea Mitchell shows up for White House briefings in skimpy sleeveless dresses. On CNN, Ashleigh Banfield routinely goes sleeveless, but balances the look with her trademark     Clark Kent glasses that say, "I'm a serious reporter. No seriously, I am."   

Recently on MSNBC, the earnest and professorial Melissa Harris-Perry uncharacteristically showed up in a halter dress so provocative, it gave the network's tagline, "Lean Forward" a whole new meaning.

Sleeveless, and its slightly more demure cousin, the tiny cap sleeve, is the          new blazer. The only holdouts I've seen are Cristiane Amanpour, Rachel Maddow and Candy Crowley. I don't think we'll see any of them rocking the sleeveless and stilletos look anytime soon. But I fear that at this very moment, Candy Crowley is being pressured by some network exec to slim down, hit the Stairmaster, and squeeze into a sexy, plus-sized number by the mid-term elections.

And the sleeveless trend isn't limited to just the gals on the national news.      Even on my local news, our less than glamorous anchorwomen flaunt their arms nightly in sleeveless dresses that scream K-mart more than couture. And needless to say, every female weather reporter would wear sleeveless even in a tsunami. Wearing tight, sexy clothes is clearly a job requirement.

Look, I know it gets hot under tv studio lights. But did the heat just recently become so intolerable that it suddenly necessiated an all-sleeveless-all-the-time wardrobe?

I don't think so.

What I think is that a) producers insist their female on-camera talent dress in an overtly sexy way, showing as much skin as possible, to boost ratings and b) many of those females spend hours in the gym and want to show off their toned upper arms.

Look, if my upper arms were ready for prime time, I might want to show          them off, too. But not every day.  And not all year long.

I still cling to the antiquated notion that some clothes are seasonally appropriate. I know, it's an outmoded concept. But I'm sticking to it. You want to wear sleeveless?  Wait till August. If it's the middle of January, I don't want to see skin. I want to see sleeves. Or better yet, a sweater.

And if you're reporting on a serious news story, sleeveless just doesn't look all      that serious. So why have news outlets traded serious for sexy?  To attract more male viewers?  Or because they can't afford to spring for dresses with sleeves? I'm all for women looking feminine and attractive on tv. But that's different from dressing like the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

Should we blame Michelle Obama for starting the sleeveless trend?  Perhaps.     The First Lady looks great in her sleeveless dresses, and I don't blame her for flaunting her seriously toned arms while she can. But it's gone too far.

Are tv producers so desperate for viewers that they have to turn every female newscaster into a sexy bombshell? And the bigger and more disturbing question is, why are women going along with it? Why do seemingly intelligent women slavishly follow every fashion trend and try so hard to look like Kardashians while trying to sound like Edward R. Murrow?

I don't get it.

We've come a long way, baby. Which is why I long to see long sleeves.