Training Adventures: Albuquerque

I am currently in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I am lucky to work for a company that will fly me to different states in the western United States to train employees of Verizon Wireless. My latest trip brings me to this desert to train the specialized workgroup that I have recently obtained. I am on a team by myself, managed by an amazing woman who also manages 3 training supervisors. I feel important in this role. In order for me to be successful in what I do, I have to feel a sense of importance, integrity and pride in what I do. Without these three fundamental elements in my job, I am unfulfilled. Today was my first day training and I felt a strange sense of importance.

It hasn't always been easy for me to show my true colors when I train. When I first began as a trainer (over 5 years ago) I struggled with being too lax with my participants. I would let them swing from the rafters and fling poo in the classroom to avoid being viewed as a wretched dictator. Little did I know that part of being a good trainer was maintaining control of your classroom. As the years went by, I matured through receiving countless instances of feedback about my rigidity and impatience while training. I came to realize that the key ingredient that I was missing was Emily. So I added a dash of of my sarcasm and wit, a heaping tablespoon of inspiration, a pinch of self control and a colander full of patience. Today, I am comfortable laying down the law, but clever enough to trick people into respecting me, listening to me and being inspired to do the great things I encourage them to do. The patience is still slowly seeping out the bottom of my colander all the time, but everyday is a new day right?

This morning, I arrived at the beautiful Albuquerque call center, well-rested, unrushed, perfectly groomed and feeling confident. I walked into my classroom feeling a little alien (it could have been the fact that the room's name was Roswell, but I don't know) and quickly thought of an icebreaker for the start of class. Icebreakers are a staple in the world of Verizon Wireless training. Every good trainer is equipped with countless icebreakers to begin their classes with to loosen participants up and, essentially, break the ice. On a side note, it seems almost ridiculous to me to think that we actually have to trick adults, with an icebreaker, to open them up to being receptive and participating in a class in which they will learn skills to better their performance in a job that they get paid to do. Anyway, today I thought I would go with my old reliable: Name, How long with VZW?, Favorite TV Show/Movie. I prepared my classroom by arranging all the binders of material on each desk, placing a name tent and ballpoint pen next to each binder, and carefully laying out all my leader's materials.

As each participant walked in, I greeted them warmly looking up from my material-reviewing just long enough to give each one a sincere smile. This is different than my usual brief eye contact, curt smile and eye-darting quickly back to the very important information on my computer monitor. Today, I wanted to make a good impression. I decided that I would begin this class in a very laid back way. I would be their friend. I mean, I know that you guys already know all this stuff and that it is simply a review. In fact, I'm going to rely on you to help direct this class. Twenty-two glazed over, but still attentive faces stared at me as I used self-deprecating tactics to get them to laugh with (at) me and feel comfortable. I had them like putty in my hands.

Until...the phones came out. One by one, approximately one quarter of them began digging their cell phones out of their pockets and purses to begin texting. First it was secretly concealed by hiding it just under the desk or behind a piece of paper on their desk, eyes appearing to be looking down at their keyboards, but secretly texting. Then it became blatant: elbows propped on the table, cell phone supported by both hands, hovering right in front of their noses while they furiously typed their next text message with their stupid little thumbs. What the hell?! How did I lose control so quickly? I gently reminded the whole class to put their phones away...approximately 5 times.

Then there came the class clowns. Yes, in the adult world of corporate America, adult males (and sometimes females) find it necessary to show how clever they can be by spewing out "funny" and sarcastic quips to questions being posed to them. Questions such as, "What are some of the benefits of this product for our customers?" are answered with, "I don't know, they are feeling benefitted by the benefits we give to them?" All the while, stifling an explosive guffaw and looking around for the approval and laughter of his peers. Really? After about the 6th time, this becomes very old and wears on my patience so much that I quip right back, "Oh really, Justin? And what do you mean by that, exactly?" calling him out with equally sarcastic "humor" but really intending to use embarassment to stop the behavior. It works....for about 20 minutes.
By hour 7, I am ready to shred my eyelids off with a metal nail file to spare another second with these fools.

My lesson today? In an effort to feel important, I realize that I am the leader in this situation and that I make mistakes like any leader does. When I try to get on their level, they think I'm like them. I am not. I am a drone trainer who is programmed to train them and drill concepts into their mushy little brains with little to no regard for their opinions, feelings or creative reasoning or problem-solving. I will do this again tomorrow. This time, though...I'm the boss.

Tiffany

I was at work when I called Tiffany. The last time we spoke she was upset and scared. I could relate to her feelings of being alone because I had also felt that way in the past. I thought it was the typical loneliness she was feeling—the kind that independent, successful and single women in their mid to late 20’s experience from time to time.

"I found a lump in my breast,” she said quietly.

“What do you mean?” I questioned, not sure if I’d heard her right.

“I found a lump and had a biopsy on Friday. Friday the 13th!” she exclaimed. “Who gets tested for breast cancer on Friday the 13th?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I thought about all the things you say to people you love when they are faced with a potentially life-altering situation. Of course, human nature kicks in and you naturally say to yourself, That would never happen to anyone that I know, but having two co-workers that I work closely with narrowly dodging the breast cancer bullet, I felt like my response was somewhat realistic.

“You don’t have cancer!” I blurted out, probably louder than I meant, knowing full well that I could be lying to my dear friend of 15 years.

“But what if I do, Em? What if I die and….and I’m alone? What then?”

I could hear her quietly sobbing over the phone and remembered all the times when we were younger, when I heard or saw Tiffany cry. So many times over the years since our adolescence we’d call each other over heartbreak after heartbreak, hoping the consolation of a friend would solve all our lives’ problems.

Tiffany has always been very focused and calculated with regards to her success in life. She earnestly received straight A’s all through junior high and high school. She had a robust social life and was an active member of the student body, joining as many clubs as her academics would allow. She went directly into college after high school to live out her dream of becoming a successful accountant. Tiffany has also always been a hopeless romantic too. The combination of her focus and dreamy outlook on life, I believe, produced the perfect balance of steadfast realism and whimsical romanticism. She dreamed of someday having a purple wedding, with every detail planned out, down to the color of her bridesmaids’ shoes. Tiff's undying spirit is what I believe has led her, today, to have the most friends of anyone I know.

Listening to Tiffany cry like this I remembered her calling me shortly after she’d gotten settled into her dorm at college, 10 years ago. I was living on my own with a boyfriend and she had started her first year at Seattle University. She called me sobbing, similar to the way she was now, lost and scared of the unknown journey before her. She was drawn to reach out to something tangible and familiar. I had told her that what she was feeling was completely natural. I said that in no time she’d be comfortable and happy with where she was, making new friends and looking back on this phone call and fondly recalling her young uneasiness. Of course, I didn’t know if that was the truth, I just knew it was the right thing to say to her at the time…and it was.

The test results came back on Monday to discover that she has breast cancer. As she said the words to me, it was like she was saying them very slowly and very quietly.. I had to have her repeat it, as if something with our wireless connection had caused me to hear something different. Of course in Tiffany's matter-of-fact and optimistic way, she carefully explained as many details as she could to me, promising me that she'd be okay. I wiped the tears away from my eyes and nodded and somehow felt and knew that she was right. Somehow I believed my courageous friend Tiffany that she would pull this miracle out. It reminded me of the miracle of one winter evening in the 12th grade...

Tiffany, Kristina and I were to submit a very important final paper to Ms. Bedtelyon, our AP English teacher no later than midnight on the last Friday of our winter vacation. We strategically called each other to ensure that we were on task as the evening went on. At 11:20pm, we had miraculously finished each of our papers. We'd had just enough time to spare to drive to Ms. Bedtelyon's Burien apartment, carefully place a bribery of peanut brittle and our brilliantly worded papers onto our teacher's doorstep, and scurry away into the wintry night. Of course, we were scolded for waiting until the last minute, but I will never forget how miraculous it felt seeing the twinkle in Ms. B's eye as she recalled hearing what sounded like little mice on her doorstep and finding our papers and wrapped sweets. She went on to say that she was pleased to read our "very, very good" essays...and could give them nothing less than passing grades. It was magical.

I couldn't help but think that nothing less than magic could be surrounding such an amazing and inspirational soul as my friend Tiffany. Over the next few months, Tiffany updated family and friends with her own blog. She visited support groups, had lots of tests and consultations, and was surrounded by an overwhelmingly large group of family, friends, co-workers and fans. Finally in April, Tiffany had a mastectomy of her right breast that thankfully left her completely cancer-free. I have become closer to Tiffany in the last few months than I ever have because I can't imagine not having her in my life. She's my hero now.

Yesterday, Sunday June 7th was my way, as well as dozens of others, to show Tiffany what an inspirational hero she truly is to us. Along with my mom and my cousin Jacy's beautiful 9-year old daughter Abey, I walked in the 16th Annual Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. I raised $210 for cancer research and it felt so amazing to be part of such a cause. Tiffany's team--62 people strong--marched in the Race for the Cure as T.A.-ta's Supporters, because Tiffany sometimes goes by her initials: T.A. The day before the walk, I educated my young cousin on what Tiffany has gone through in her own young life and how what we were doing by walking was helping to find a cure for breast cancer. I asked her if she thought she could walk the 5K and she grinned, nodding emphatically. Abey listened closely to every word I said and nodded with empathy the whole time. When I was finished and I asked her if she had any questions for me, she shook her head and said quietly, "I can't wait to meet Tiffany."

All of Tiffany's dearest friends and closest family members were there. Her co-workers as well as co-workers of past jobs were there. It seemed that every person who was there to support her had been individually touched by her beautiful spirit in some way. My mom told me that she feels that Tiffany has a way of making people feel special. That she touches every person in her life with that feeling and that it is genuine. I could never really put my finger on it before, but that is exactly the way I've always felt about Tiffany too. This is why, I imagine, so many people came out to support her yesterday.

The most emotional part of the whole event yesterday was the Survivors Parade at the very end. Mom, Abey and I stood and watched as women in pink marched proudly past us. Some of them linked arm-in-arm, some without hair, some with wigs, some puffy-faced from chemotherapy, some skipping with joy....all of them wearing proud smiles of triumph on their beautiful faces. The most beautiful face was Tiffany's. She jogged by us in her black TA-ta's Supporters t-shirt, smiling and looking curiously around, new to this special event. I shouted out her name and she waved, gave a big smile and took a picture of us as she passed.

I never thought I could feel such an emotional sense of pride for my brave friend, but standing there with my mom and Abey, I was overcome with emotion. I continued to watch through my tears as the survivors marched by. After awhile, I felt Abey's skinny little arms wrap around my waist. I held her tight to me, wiped the tears from my eyes and knew that Tiffany was going to be just fine.

Twilight Zone

So, when Tiffany got diagnosed with breast cancer in March, I really reconnected with her and two other dear friends from high school, Kristina and her sister Jenifer. On the evening of Tiffany's surgery in April, to have the cancer removed from her body, Kristina, her husband Brian, Jenifer and I went out to dinner. We caught up and talked and laughed. We talked so much that we realized what a good time we could all still have together. We all agreed to go to Tiffany's house within the weeks following her surgery and make dinner and hang out with her. Hence was born what I like to call Dinner Sisters. Every Wednesday or Thursday, Tiffany, Jenifer, Kristina and I meet at one of our houses where we eat a decadent meal prepared by the hostess and yummy desserts, usually made by Jenifer or me. We catch up, talk, laugh, reminisce and drink wine. It's a fabulous time that we LOVE to chronicle on Facebook for all to see by posting pictures of our adventures and what we're eating or drinking that night. The popularity and interest in joining this little group has grown so much that we've welcomed other friends to join us recently.

Last night it was Tiffany's turn to cook for us so we all met at her condo on Alki. This was to be a joyous occasion because it was Jenifer's birthday, however Kristina couldn't join because she was ill with a fever. Heather joined us instead...I mean, not to say that Kristina was replaced, but...yeah....you know what I mean! Heather brought an appetizer of cantelope balls wrapped in pruscuitto and Tiffany prepared a lovely turkey sausage penne pasta with vodka sauce, a yummy green salad and french bread with brown sugar and brie. Yum all around. I had prepared for dessert a batch of coconut macaroons dipped in semi-sweet chocolate, which also turned out divine! After dinner and a few Frangrias and some Prosecco, we decided to walk down to Salty's on Alki to see if our former classmate Ben was bartending.

The walk was pleasant and warm, but there were ominous clouds gathering in the sky, setting the stage for a very strange rest of the evening. When we arrived at the restaurant, we ordered a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, a refreshing choice that we could all sip as we looked out to the Seattle skyline. As our server (a stout, non-descript woman about the same age as the four of us) poured our glasses of wine, the lights in the restaurant flickered and went out. Because it was dusk and there were an abundant amount of candles lit on each table, we weren't thrust into complete darkness, rather a more romantic ambience. We all looked around to see if it was, in fact, the power going out and Heather asked the server, "What's going on?"

Our lovely server replied, "Oh, the wind is blowing really hard. I mean, it's pouring over at Safeco now. There is a storm coming in." We all voiced our surprise, kind of giggling amongst ourselves at the strangeness of the situation and the drastic change in weather. The day had been a 90-degree scorcher and we were now having wine in the virtual darkness of Salty's while a hurricane occurred outside.

"Does the power often go out here?" Heather asked, smirking.

Our server hurriedly poured our remaining glasses and curtly replied, "Oh, West Seattle loses power all the time. Yeah, it happens all the time here, so yeah," and scurried off into the darkness.

We all looked at each other, perplexed by her strange explanation. Both Heather and Tiffany live in West Seattle and had yet to lose their power. So we just shrugged, clinked our glasses together and continued our visit.

As the evening grew darker, I realized that our server had not returned to check on us. Our bottle was diminishing and I was in need of some more water. "Maybe she's huddled in the back, scared of the dark," Heather laughed. We all laughed, in fact, but I was growing increasingly annoyed.

Finally, I stood and marched to the bar where I asked the bartender to please refill my water glass. When I returned to the table, Tiffany declared that the power was out at her house and that her cell phone was dying. We discussed the irony of the situation: that her alarm clock at home couldn't wake her in the morning to go to work, that her cell phone would be dead so she couldn't call in to tell them she would not be able to make it, that if she charged her phone from her car, her car may run out of gas, that the garage door couldn't open if the power was out. Finally we came to the conclusion that the fact that the hair dryer not working would actually be the determining factor in why she wouldn't make it to work in the morning.

Time continued to skip along and still our server was nowhere. I finally flagged down a different waiter named Steve P., who seemed to be very attentive to his guests. I wanted to ask for a manager to report the obvious neligence we were experience from our server. He replied, "Oh sure! That's not a problem at all, what is your name again?" putting his hand on my shoulder.

"It's Emily," I said with a fake smile.

"Great, Emily. Well, I'm Steve and I will get the manager to come see you as soon as he can, but it may be a little bit with all this chaos going on." I wanted to ask him what was going on, since no employee of this fine restaurant had had the courtesy of stopping by to alert us as to what was happening, if we should leave or stay, or what to expect when the bill had to be settled. I bit my lip.

Twenty more minutes went by with no sign of a manager and finally our waitress waddled over to our table, flashlight in hand, and delivered our handwritten check. "Is everything okay here? Good. Ok. Great!" She practically threw the check on our table and ran away before we could even imply that we might want more wine or water. We each deposited our debit cards onto the table and kindly asked (another 20 minutes later when she appeared, blinding us with her flashlight) if she could split the check for us. She disappeared without a word.

While we waited for our check and debit cards to return, a man came by with glasses of wine for all the patrons. We gladly accepted ours and waited another twenty minutes. While we waited, it started to lightly rain outside, so Heather called her husband Shawn to come retrieve us, since Tiffany's condo was about a mile away from where we were.

When we arrived at Tiffany's all the lights were off at her building and there was an eery silence. We crept into the building and found that the silence became even more eery when it was punctured by loud beeping sounds coming from each of the exit signs that were illuminated at the end of each of the hallways we had to creep down to get to Tiffany's unit. The whole scene was reminiscent of any good horror film where all the power is out and a zombie is on the loose, hoping to prey on 4 beautiful girls and eat their brains with no remorse. This did not happen, however.

We made it to Tiffany's unit and Jenifer decided to stay for a bit to make sure Tiffany wasn't too freaked out by the lack of electricity. Heather and I cautiously made our way out of the dark halls to the entryway out to our cars when all of a sudden....a giant raccoon appeared in front of the door. What the HELL?! It stared at us with it's beady eyes as if to challenge us to a staring contest. Heather slowly opened the door and it scampered away. We said and got in our cars.

As I was making my way over the West Seattle Bridge, I pondered all the strange occurences of the evening and began to feel like I was in my own scary movie. My mind began to race with what I'd just experienced on this seemingly standard Thursday night....The strange change in weather, the absence of electricity bathing everything in darkness, the odd behavior of our incompetant waitress, the disturbing bleeping of the exit signs in Tiffany's hallways, the monster killer raccoon with glowing eyes. I was startled out of my daydream when about 7 or 8 emergency vehicles and police cars sped by in the opposite direction. I was feeling increasingly like I was traveling through another dimension--a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. There's a signpost up ahead that reads....Your Next Stop: The Twilight Zone.

...Ok, ok! I'm no nerd, but it was a really weird night. Needless to say, I went home and straight to bed.

I'm Going Back...to Finish

So I've been saying for months and months and months that I am going to go back to school to finish what I started. It all began back in 1999... At the spry young age of 19, I realized that the major that I had proudly declared (life) was not going to result in quite the happy, easy and fruitful ending I'd thought. You see, I was banking on obtaining my degree in life by moving out of my parents' house and into a teensy apartment in the southend with my hippy boyfriend and learning more through my experiences than what could be taught in a college classroom or in some stinky dorm. Wait a second, was I a hippy too? Anyway, I decided to go to school to be an elementary school teacher. I love kids. I love to teach kids. Why not? Well, because elementary school teachers in Washington state don't make jack shit for money, that's why. After 3 semesters of what I imagine is the classic community college experience at Highline Community College, I decided to go to the University of VZW and try for a career there.

After a few years slaving away as a customer service representative at Verizon Wireless, I figured it was a good time to go back to school. I had heard some of my co-workers raving about University of Phoenix, where the philosophy is that working adults with full time jobs can still get a degree...all online!! I was skeptical, but took a few classes there anyway. The premise that I'd have to be buddied up to my own "learning team," a group of oddly mix-and-matched strangers, all from different backgrounds, schooling, even age, was a little daunting to me going in, but it wasn't too bad. I mean, there was an occasional slacker that would ride the coat tails of everyone else on the learning team (usually consisting of about 4-5 people) and not contribute anything at all, but their efforts to fly under the radar were usually unearthed by the end of the class.

Being that I had shifted my focus from Early Childhood Education to Business Management (sounded good) one of my first classes at U of P was Computer Information Science. It was in this class that I joined a learning team in which I was the only non-slacker on my learning team. We were all supposed to research different elements of a 15-page paper we had to compile and turn in. Being the natural leader I have always found myself to be, I divvied up the parts and trusted that my team wanted as good of a grade on this as I did. This was not the case. Not a single person had anything to contribute when it came down to the day before the paper was due. I ended up researching and writing an entire 15-page paper in one long night. This situation really made me reflect on the quality of the education I was actually receiving by this boastful school. Was it truly a university? Why must I be forced to work with strangers and hinge my success on their efforts? Were the credits I was slaving away to earn going toward a degree I even wanted? Was my choice of school being secretly scoffed at? I pondered these questions as I continued my thriving education at the University of VZW, preening my career in corporate America more and more with each year of employment.

My job is great. I have learned so much about myself through tough lessons of politics and office drama, I don't even know if I could learn about these things in a school setting. I have become a training professional at Verizon Wireless. I have trained countless employees to be the best they can be at their jobs as customer service representatives. But I still want to write. So, I have decided to go back to school to finish getting my degree. In what, you ask? Business Management? Seems logical in this dog-eat-dog corporate mecca I have found myself entangled in, right? Nah. I'm going to go for a degree in communications. I would love to be a journalist when I grow up, so here I go.

I am proud to say that I have recently registered for summer classes at Bellevue College. It's no longer considered a community college anymore because you do not have to transfer to get a four-year degree. Sweet! I went to pick up my books the other day, though, and found myself surrounded by youth. A tall boy, early-twenties, wearing a neon green polo shirt with the collar upturned, carrying a notebook and a backpack, sauntering to his next class. A hipster mid-twenties girl, hair in a side ponytail, skinny jeans and a tight halter top skipping to the bookstore. I had just walked into an alternate reality where all my peers were ten years my junior! Augh! I questioned my decision to take the leap to returning to school. Although I'm opting to take online classes, I still shuddered at the thought of competing for the coveted position as teacher's pet with a 21-year old. However, I am still going to do it. I will take the required courses to finally figure out what I want to be when I grow up...I figure I still have a little more time.

Another Beginning

After viewing a few of my close friends' blogs, and reading all the interesting things they had to say, I decided to put my love for writing to work. I talk about it all the time and dream about someday writing a brilliant article for a newspaper or magazine, except I never find the motivation or zeal to actually carry through with it. I figure that this new-fangled blogging is a very elementary and basic way, but it is still a way. In purchasing a new HP 1151 Netbook from my company, I have found the wonder and ease of said blogging. Now, I don't have a family to post updates and photos about. I don't have my own business (yet) to write about. I am not a brilliant photographer or cook who has amazing recipes and pictures to share. I'm just a girl who loves to keep her book wide open and share her day-to-day stories with her friends. Thus, a 2nd beginning for me. Take 2....action!

On Sunday, a very dear friend who I have known since we were preteens, Tiffany, invited me over to her house for a run and some wine. I begrudgingly agreed to it because I love my girl and I love wine. Why, begrudgingly, you ask? To put it simply, I hate running. I ran in high school because I was forced to do so as a requirement for playing soccer. I was on the varsity soccer team and part of preparing for the season each Fall, we would begin conditioning in August. This rigorous process involved sprinting at full speed the length of the soccer field and back...60 seconds of rest...and then back to sprinting....9 more times. We would also be made to run 10 times around the soccer field without stopping, usually in the sweltering August heat. It was during these times that I felt closest to the fiery depths of burning hell, watching my red-faced teammates falling off to the sides of the field, doubled over and clutching their stomachs as they dry-heaved and tumbled to the dusty ground. The thought of these long spells of running still makes me shudder to this day. So when my friend invited me over for a run and some wine, I wasn't sure how my body would react.

We started out at the beginning of Alki and jogged the majority of the way to the very end of the beach area. It was a lovely jog, particularly because the weather was gorgeous. As we jogged in front of the congested beach area we were nearly stopped in our tracks by a guy trying to hand us his demo CD. He loudly proclaimed, "Ladies, ladies, ladies," to which I exclaimed, annoyed, "We are RUNNING!" This made Tiffany giggle as we swept by them, not stopping for a second look. I mean, really. Come on. My face was glistening and redder than a strawberry, we were quite obviously not at the beach to socialize and philander with the locals. We were EXERCISING.

As we neared the end of the beach area, we turned around and started jogging back. To my (and probably her) dismay, I found myself increasing pressure on the outside of my left foot to accomodate a growing blister on the inside of my arch. My overwhelming pride forced me to keep running to keep up with my friend, but the pain took over and I had to stop. By the time we returned to her condo, we had easily jogged/walked 7 miles--the most I had ever ran at one time. I was proud, sore and hungry.

We made some potato salad and halibut to eat for dinner and drank some wine...my reward for a good workout. Despite my pride in completing a feat I thought impossible the day before, my Monday was not very pretty. I felt achy all over, my head was swimming, my throat was scratchy and coughy and I just felt drained. I thought for sure that I had contracted the Swine Flu somehow, but continued my Monday night ritual over a Mariners game and beer with Brian and am completely healed today. I'm certain that I overdid myself, but in my want to share the triumph I felt in completing such a horrifically glorious run, I now have a fun story to share for my second 1st blog.

First Time

I love to write. I have to be inspired before I can write, though. I'm on a sugar high right now which has led me to this site. I think I will document my thoughts here rather than do so on other foolish sites. Before you is my first entry. This is the beginning.