Once upon a time, I had a dream to build a particular type of business and it totally blew up in my face.  I have a mentor to thank for that.  And yes, I really mean it.  I thank him all the time…

While countless individuals have inspired me, guided me and/or screwed me over (still learning experiences), my list of professional mentors is quite short.  In fact, only two come to mind.

The first is someone who has asked that he not be named on my blog. Ever. I suppose working with me for seven years has taught him enough to know a safe distance is probably best when I’m given free reign to write whatever I want. I will say, though, that this man has yet to let me down, and that he has been more generous and patient than should ever be expected from anyone who isn’t my husband. If it weren’t for him, I have no idea where I would be today.

The second person is someone I’ve only been working with for five months.  Unlike the first mentor, I pay this one.  I don’t remember how I first found Johnny B. Truant, but I remember thinking that a Mitch Hedberg fan who uses that much profanity on his professional site couldn’t be all that bad.  I quietly subscribed and read his banter for a few months before I ever communicated with him.

It was around the time that Brian Clark’s Teaching Sells program was about to reopen and I was fishing through the free content when I finally dropped JT a note.  I had gotten over the mental hurdle of PAYING for someone to help me with my regular freak-out sessions (I’d never paid for anything like that before) and decided to ask Johnny how he chose his coach.

His response was something along the lines of, “I tried Tim and liked him, but it was a trial and error sort of thing.” Then he wrote (and this is a direct quote), “Come to think of it, I really need to retool my coaching page. It looks like I only do tech help, but that’s not what people are asking me about. Hmm…”

Any normal person would have been put off by his total lack of professionalism, his inability to properly market himself as a coach (I honestly wasn’t even thinking about using him to begin with), his self-deprecating comments regarding his limitations… Of course, I’m not normal.

After acquiring his Zero To Business course and talking a lot more via email, I asked him to find an hour I could buy so he could help me figure out what in the hell I was trying to do.

The first few minutes of that October call were awkward, but it quickly became clear to me that Johnny was exactly what I needed.  I had no idea my business plans needed a therapist, but in that hour he was able to help me inventory what I was trying to accomplish and find some ways to get closer to achieving it.

Fast forward a few more sessions and we’ll find I actually didn’t want what I was trying to achieve.  Does that mean I wasted my money on guidance that didn’t apply to me anymore?  My answer is a resounding HELL NAW.  He saved me.

Working with Johnny actually got me in better touch with who I am and what I want.  I was about to travel down a typical entrepreneur’s path – I found a need and was going to fill it – only that path wasn’t right for me.  It took me six sessions and a lot of crap to truly understand what he’d been telling me all along… I was doing it wrong.

The truth is that none of us came with a manual.  We don’t know what’s going to happen next week, let alone six months from now.  Johnny built an awesome business in under a year that works for him.  I’m still picking up the pieces of my shattered plans, but that doesn’t mean he’s a poor mentor.  I’d argue it’s just the opposite.

Johnny recently wrote about scars and his adoration for Fight Club, but in typical Truant fashion, he was actually writing about something else.  It was one of the best posts I’ve ever read, and not only because it proves my point.

Anything worth having is worth fighting for, and every business I’ve ever admired has had failures in its history.  We fall, we get up, we get our asses back into the game better and wiser players for it.

Yes, I had a plan that fell apart and now I’m just doing whatever I think is the next right thing with minimal concern for developing a new plan.  I’m more confident, self-aware and content than I’ve been in years.  Best of all, I have a faith in business that works for me, which is something I’ve been missing for a while.

I recognize that choosing a mentor is a strange process, but hiring Johnny was really one of the best things I did in 2009.  I needed help, I asked for it and I got it.  Hopefully I’ve done cool things for him, too.  All I know for certain is that I would have never found the confidence to launch this blog if it weren’t for him, so if this post has gone too long, you can thank him for it.  I know I will.

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This post has been inspired by Holly Hoffman (@HollyHoffman on Twitter) of Neovia Solutions.  Holly put out a call to all bloggers about their mentor experiences and we invite you to share your own.  Thank you for reading.

Whenever people find out I worked at a comedy club, they immediately request a joke or otherwise expect me to be funny.  All I can say is that looks aren’t everything.

For the second entry in my now-dubbed Existential Resume expedition, I’m going to bring you to the job I landed immediately following the ever-scary Terror on Church Street: SAK Comedy Lab.

*I’d like to note for any would-be critics that the movie “Monsters, Inc.” wasn’t out when I decided to trade in screams for laughter.  Any further similarities are purely coincidental, and if they’re not, I’m owed some serious dough.

SAK was on the other end of Terror’s block, just off Orange Avenue in downtown Orlando.  They often enjoyed one another’s walk-up traffic, and as I said before, Terror made more money than SAK did.  But unlike Terror, money wasn’t why the performers or house staff were there.

My pay was miserable, but the positives far outweighed the negatives… I made my rent money another block over as a cocktail waitress at the Kit Kat Club, so I could afford to hang out with professional funny people on the side.

Which brings me to my first admission: I’m not a funny improvisational comedienne.  I followed my dream of becoming a world-famous actress and thought that meant I needed to work at a theater, mastering every dramatic challenge that came at me.  As it turned out, I wasn’t good.  At all.  I was an excellent straight gal in a scene, but terrible (I mean really terrible) at on-the-spot hilarity.

I could help grow stories with “yes, and” right with the best of ‘em.  I don’t block others or shut down the forward movement fellow players make in story lines.  I’m actually quite good under pressure, but my full in-character commitment to off-the-cuff concoctions just wasn’t up to par.  This should have upset me.  Thing is, I followed the third most important rule of improv and focused on the present, only to realize that what I really wanted was to be the house tech where I had all the buttons, levers and dials a girl could ask for.

I could have realized that I wasn’t cut out to be a funny girl and stopped devoting my time to an outlet with minimal compensation.  Instead I found something I liked a whole lot more that proved useful down the road when I landed jobs as a DJ and a stage tech at a couple other theaters.

Owning my shortfall ultimately saved me from a path that wasn’t mine, and being at peace with the fact that I won’t be the best at everything gave me the courage to try something completely different.

If I hadn’t adjusted the dreams I kept when I was 18 and ready to take on Hollywood, I’d be a very different and likely miserable person today.  Instead I’m saving the world (one energy efficiency measure at a time) and living the life with my wonderful family.

While theater teching at SAK wasn’t THE pivotal moment for my current reality, revisiting this chapter has reminded me that my aim doesn’t need to be perfect to still be on target.  Perfection is merely a measuring stick. Many times, close is close enough – then it’s up to me to put in the work to get to where I need to be…

You don’t have to work in a theater to know that we don’t need to be under a spotlight to shine.  That said, if we’re in the spotlight and we’re not there because it feels like that’s where we belong, it’s not going to be a stellar experience for any of us.  Shine when it feels right and your light will be impossible to miss…

(Quick plug: If you’re interested in getting a free copy of my theater tech materials and manuals, sign up for my mailing list.  I’ve scanned everything and will give them to those on my list through a super secret subscriber area, where you can access all the free randomness I share.  If nothing else, my tech doodles are worth the two minutes it’ll take to sign up…)

Yes.  It’s true.  I was paid to perform as Leatherface at a year-round Orlando attraction called Terror on Church Street.

I should note that I only performed this once, but I was the first female to take the roll and, after that night, I was the last for a long time…

As you may know, I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do for extra money.  Naturally, this has led me to think about the insane things I’ve done for money in the past.  My job at Terror was by far the most unusual.  I mean, how many people can say they once paid the bills with a job as an acrobatic exorcist or a ghostly bride? Maybe 30.

To give you a better idea about the kind of place we’re talking about (click for video), you need to understand that this wasn’t your average haunted house.  This was a 22,000 square foot historic building with 25 rooms, each themed with a movie-set quality and high-budget effects. The Eternal Dwellers Theatre Company was a professional acting troupe with make-up calls and show times.  Depending on the role, you could be in make-up for as many as three hours.  Every October, we’d scare more than 1,000 people in a weekend.

Terror was the real deal. When you walked through the vampire-infested swamp, you had no idea you were in the middle of an indoor attraction… you were there. And someone was about to suck your blood.

I could wax on about all the things I loved about each of the roles, but I’m not telling you this story to encourage you try your hand at the fine art of horror performance.  Instead I’ll tell you what life lessons I got so you don’t have to go to all the trouble…

Lesson One: Fear is all in your head.

No matter how much you try to scare the guy who is determined to mock your attempts, you’re not going to do it.  You might startle him, but you’re not going to scare him.  Why?  Because he’s already made up his mind he’s not going to be afraid of you.  When you refuse to be afraid, you’re brave, whether it’s a conscious effort or not. This isn’t just a truth reserved for spook houses.  This is everywhere… Think about it…

Lesson Two: Your head doesn’t work right when fear is in charge.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen doting boyfriends run fifteen feet from their scared girlfriends because I popped out of a dark corner wearing fangs.  People who knew it was all lights and make-up have punched me in the face.  The most delightful people do crazy things when they’re afraid.  The reason is simple: people don’t think straight when they’re scared. Not only does it cause physiological changes…it inhibits your ability to make good decisions. No bueno.

Lesson Three: Even scary places have dark corners where you can sneak a smoke or a quick make-out session with Hellraiser.

This has little to do with what I’ve been talking about, but it’s the truth so I thought I should include it.  Seems only fair.

Lesson Four: As fun as it may sometimes be to scare people, you’re the one who ends up scared.

There was this room at Terror that was referred to as “the doll room.”  You dressed up as a clown and waited for people to come through your hall before you made the room come to life.  On slower nights, I hung out with the Exorcist and whoever was working the morgue until the people came. Once you had the rhythm of any given room down, you knew exactly how long the delay would be and just how close the leader should be to your hiding place before you jumped out.

In my opinion, this was the scariest room to work.

On the few occasions I was cast as the clown, I enjoyed the role until it was “showtime.” As soon as we heard Freddy Krueger call out, we knew it was time.  I dutifully waited in a hallway that backed to the hydraulics on the Exorcist bed.  Between the creepy music and the lulling hiss of the pipes, I would often be more scared than the people walking into my room.  I’ve entirely missed groups because I freaked myself out so badly awaiting their arrival (see Lesson One).

In my employment history, I’ve been in a number of positions that could have benefited from fear-based messages, ie. “You’re going to pay too much,” “You’re missing your one big chance,” “Our competitors will make you fat,” “You’re killing baby polar bears,” and so on.  Every time I consider such tactics, that same feeling curls up at the back of my neck and I just can’t do it.

Fear is magnetic and will attract more fear, much like strength attracts strength. If what you’re putting out to your “guests” is a message of fear, fear is what will return to you (see Lesson Two).

Lesson Five: People love to be scared.

When we’re scared, adrenaline is released in huge amounts and directs the oxygenated blood supply to all our muscles to allow us to run away. Our mouths dry, our hands get hot, and our hearts beat out of our chest until we realize it’s all in our heads. And damn, that rush felt fun…

My next job (post coming soon) was at a comedy club where we didn’t have half the paying customers that the spook house had. The people who came into Terror were on edge because they knew what we were going to do.  Comedy customers would come to relax and laugh, but customers who pay for professionals to scare the crap out of themselves are entirely different.  Yet Terror made more money…

Since we’re really nothing more than a collection of experiences recalled as knowledge earned, I’m glad I worked there.  Again, scare-acting is not for everyone…but most jobs aren’t. The one thing I’m walking away with from this employment expedition is that fear is the answer to everything and nothing.  On one hand people love it, yet it renders them unavailable on the other.

Fear creates a one-sided relationship where one delivers and the other eventually runs. Sure, there’s money to be made, but do you want it that badly?

I did once, but I don’t think I could do it again… The exception to this is October 31^st, on which date I’m not satisfied unless at least one person seriously thinks they could pee themselves.  I should allow myself at least one night to unleash my talent, right?

More soon… thanks for reading 

I write this post with a heavy heart.  There is so much sadness in the world right now with tragedies multiplying by the day.  Of course, my topic has nothing to do with those catastrophes.  Mine has to do with sex.

For months now, I’ve been working on a covert project that consumed countless hours of my “spare” time.  Although I’m quite successful in my current career, I had hoped to augment my income through a new product that would help people enrich their sex lives.

After an exhaustive amount of research and market testing, I knew this was poised to be a huge success.  However, instead of approaching this with excitement, I found myself merely going through the motions of building this product, continually plagued with internal resistance.

Like many entrepreneurs would, I passed it off as fear. I continued pressing on, only to find myself dreading new discoveries and mentally shutting down when the content got too deep for my tastes.  It took weeks before I allowed myself an opportunity to take a real inventory as to what was going on.

After finally running through all the reasons I wanted to do this versus the reasons I didn’t, I realized I was building toward a dead-end.  But why? How?

I ignored something so simple, so necessary, so critical to the success of any entrepreneur’s journey…

I forgot to ask myself if I would do it for free.

What I realized is that I was so focused on building what I thought would be a successful source of income that I neglected to ask whether this was a niche I would want to produce, promote or protect. Instead of building a freedom business, I was designing an emotional death sentence.  And no, I’m not insane. In fact, I bet this could happen to anyone…

This business I was building was solely for profit.  I actually convinced myself that I was passionate about something I had no real connection to because I was blinded by my goals of getting out of debt. My drive to succeed in this venture had little to do with the mission and everything to do with the dollar.  For many, the dollar is enough.  For me, I need a reason or I will be miserable.

My niche and I officially called it quits this week and my heart is broken.  It feels like I just ended a relationship that wasn’t bad, but it just wasn’t right.  You know… the kind where kisses are just lips touching and when you look at the other person, all you feel is a sense of longing to feel something other than what you do.  Only now that it’s over, I’m left to figure out how to move on…

Having survived a fair amount of disagreeable events in my life, you might think it’d be easy to pick myself up again after failing a business venture I never even launched.  It sounds so stupid to even say.  But it was real to me, and knowing all the time and effort I put into dotting every “i” and crossing every “t” makes it hurt that much more.  I want to tell myself I made a huge mistake, but the smarter me (yes, on occasion there is more than one “me” in my head) knows that’s not the truth.

I believe this couldn’t have been a mistake.  My coach has been enlightening me with his views on faith in business and according to the Gospel of Truant, things happen for a reason.

So now, as it seems, I need to put away the cosmic chocolate ice cream, turn off the damn Meg Ryan movie and learn the lesson I obviously needed to learn…

Then, with a little bravery or something like it, you may soon see what I’ve found I would do for free… And hopefully you’ll buy some for everyone you know…

I work. I work a lot. Like, more than most people.  That’s why you shouldn’t worry if I haven’t posted on here, especially if it’s a holiday.  In addition to being a mommy, a wife, a program manager, a marketing ghostwriter, and an entrepreneur who is trying to get a new business off the ground, I like to have some downtime.  It should be noted, though, that even in my downtime, I’m thinking about work.  That’s how this lovely song came to be…

This was the content included in my energy program’s holiday email. Of course, it was written by no other than yours truly.

I’m guessing you’ll be able to sing along if you’d like…

I really can’t stay – Baby it’s cold inside
I’ve got to go away – Baby it’s cold inside
This workday has been – Been hoping that you’d drop in
Like eating ice – We’ll get you warmed up with free advice
My engineer is starting to worry – We’ll get you fixed up in a hurry
My operations guy is pacing the floor – Listen to the old boiler roar
So really I’d better scurry – Client dear, please don’t hurry
Well maybe I’ll close all outside doors – Add weather-stripping for a bit more…

The employees might think – Baby, it’s bad in there
We’re now a skating rink – There’s savings to be had in there
I wish I knew how – We’ll make recommendations
To fix our bills – We’ll take those bills and have a look
I ought to say “set that setback,” – Mind if we visit you Tuesday?
At least I’m gonna visit your site – That would be SEDAC.org
I really can’t wait – Neither can we
Ahh, ‘cause it’s cold inside!

Baby, it’s cold inside!

I hope your holidays are bright and your new year is amazing!  Thanks for being a reader…

Before the majority of lights available at any given big box store were LEDs, I was forking out $60 for two strings of blue lights to drape on our son for holiday pictures.  This was three years ago, when they were hard to find and NEVER on sale.

LED holiday lights are everywhere now, and that is fantastic.  According to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, the amount of electricity consumed by just one 7-watt incandescent bulb could power 140 LEDs — enough to light two 24-foot (7.3-meter) strings.  Even better, LEDs produce more light per watt than incandescent bulbs, so you can do more with less.  Check out this neat calculator to figure out what you’d save by switching…

How do they do this?  Light emitting diodes, or LEDs, use electron movement in tiny semiconductors (the same chips that help run computers, only much smaller) instead of filaments like incandescent bulbs.  In plain English, little electrons move around inside the chip and this motion creates the illumination.  If you really want to learn more about how these work, click here…

As a parent, I love these because they don’t get hot.  Anyone who’s ever spent more than a minute with a three-year-old knows that they’re going to touch anything that lights up. At least with LEDs  I can rest easy knowing he won’t lose his fingerprints.  Also, LEDs are encased in hard plastic instead of glass, so they’re more durable and less likely to pop between pinching little digits.

If you’re still using old school lights, pledge to make 2009 their last year of duty.  I’m not even going to get into the environmental benefits of swapping inefficient lights for new ones… you know it’s the right thing to do.  For your wallet and the planet.

And of course… if you EVER have any questions about energy efficiency or related technologies, feel free to contact me directly.  I love helping people realize the sound investment made in an energy efficient future!

Being new to this whole blogging thing, I’ve thought a lot about what I should share and what I should keep to myself. Since my coach, Johnny B. Truant, is of no help regarding what content I release and which topics I hold back, I’m just going to throw my biggest truths at you and see what happens.

Truth #1: The holidays have been a struggle for me for the last nine years.  My mother killed herself in January of 2000 and I’ll never forget looking around the house after the police were done questioning us, taking mental pictures of the holiday insanity she brought forth every year.  We’re talking a few trees (in a Jewish home, mind you), each decorated in theme, an entire winter village set up on tables, about 15 nutcrackers, and a host of other Yuletide odds and ends.  At one time, she had TWO storage units for all her holiday decor. Today, that’s been pared down to four boxes I keep in my attic storage.

Now don’t go getting all, “I’m so sorry for your loss” on me. I’ve spent almost 10 years hearing that. Never has anyone said that they were happy for my loss, so let’s just assume that I know whomever reads this will be sorry for my loss. I am, too. And we move forward…

When your parent (assuming you don’t hate them — I loved my mom very much) dies, you really don’t know how to live without them.  I was fortunate to have had 21 years with motherly support and know that there are a number of people out there (my brothers included) who didn’t even get to have it for quite as long as I did. However, it’s hard to ignore the countless others who get to continue on living with their parents, many times taking them for granted or just not taking them for anything at all.

Holiday season or not, that really pisses me off.

Please don’t misunderstand… I know that we all have our story and we all have our personal histories that dictate how our current relationships operate. That said, it seems for me that, when faced with my own tragic loss, it’s always a struggle not to take on a victim’s point of view, wondering why poor Jess has to live with such horrible circumstances while everyone else gets to ignore such wonderful gifts.

That train of thought pisses me off more than the first issue stated.

There are no victims in life. There are those who pick themselves up and those who stay down. And there are also those who stay down until someone else comes along and picks them up. All too often, when pushed down again, people often become the latter or stay the same. It has always made more sense to me to be the one who picks herself up and moves on.

When discussing my mom, though, all that is easier said than done. It’s hard to pick myself up day after day. I do it. And I’d like to think it’s made me a better person, but then I over-analyze the situation and worry that I’m not sufficiently mourning my mom, feeling good about the person I’ve become since her death. Almost as though a sick little part of me WANTS to roll over and writhe in misery, sadistically insisting that finding a good side to her suicide would only admit she was right to do so.

Not true. But this brings me to the main reason I needed to pour this blog out…

I’ve finally realized after nine years (yes, I know… I’m sometimes a little behind the ball) that tragedy breeds opportunity. Everyone knows that the first law of thermodynamics (perhaps not by name) states that energy does not die, but rather only changes form. Extrapolation of this law tells us that, if emotions are also less calculable forms of energy, there is no sadness diminished that can not potentially produce happiness. Or perhaps it tells us that sadness never dies, but neither does happiness. In either case, there are a number of examples I’ve found, in both science and personal experience, that tell me it’s okay to find reasons to find relief in horrible, miserable memories. Life isn’t black and white… and neither are our hearts.

It’s funny that my mom was around for 45 years, but the one memory that comes back like an axe isn’t a warm and fuzzy one. It makes me wonder if we sometimes are prone to dwell on sadder times because it makes us feel justified in missing them without the guilt of time well spent since their departure. I think, regardless of the case, that we never do know how to live in a world without our missing parent. However, it only makes sense that we allow ourselves to do so without emotional baggage dictating our continued denial that we are, in fact, living while they, in fact, are not.

And this brings us back to the absence of victims in this world. Since I choose to be one of those people who picks herself back up, I believe it only makes sense that I do move on once standing. I will never be able to see my mom pick up my son and watch her face light up as he smiles. She will never meet my husband and tell me how fantastic he is. However, I can light up, knowing she would, too, and be okay with missing her but knowing that, without her death, my son may not have ever been. My husband and I may have never been.

Everything I am today is indirectly a result of that loss. And in being grateful for all I have, I am indirectly grateful for the history that has inevitably dictated where I am today. This doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t do just about anything to be able to hang out with my mom in person just a little more (nine years is a long time), but it does mean that there’s more going on in times of tragedy than just terrible, unhappy things…

Tragedy breeds opportunity. And it really is just as simple as that.

So… for the 2009 holiday season, I’m not going to fight my urge to deck the halls because they remind my Mom is dead.  Instead, I’m making sure our home is filled with the spirit of the season, inviting all the love and peace in the world to join us as we close out another successful year. I’m going to make sure I tell everyone I care about just how important they are to me, and I’m not going to dwell on the past when the present slips away every second of the day.  I’m going to live the life I’m supposed to lead and not take even a minute for granted.

In every moment, we have the opportunity to be happy or sad.  The result depends on which emotion we cultivate.  I choose happy.

“Sing we joyous, all together,  Fa la la, fa la la, la la la.
Heedless of the wind and weather, Fa la la la la, la la la la.”

Last night, the little man and I were talking about jobs.  When he asked what he could be when he grew up, I said he could be anything he wanted.  He responded that he would like to be a large dinosaur.

I’m sure my parental duty at the time was to explain that humans don’t become dinosaurs, but instead I encouraged him to aim high and left it at that.

Before I really understood what it meant to be a consultant, I wanted to be one.

Back at Rollins, I took a graduate level course called Strategic Consulting with the wonderful Dr. Easton.  More than anything, I listened intently to her work history, traveling around and helping a variety of companies with their biggest strategic change issues.  Knowing how hard it was to pin myself down to anything for a prolonged period, this sounded like the perfect option for me.

By design, most college courses prepare you for a rather straight-lined journey into whatever career path you stuck with through your senior year.   The reason only becomes obvious after you’ve been out of college for a while and learn it’s because you can’t predict life.

I earned my scholarship with a business plan I’d developed for my “someday” record label.  This plan was dropped during my college years, when Napster turned the industry upside down and the need for traditional labels or distribution methods followed suit.

Today I earn the bulk of my income managing energy programs and initiatives, and it’s no secret that our industry isn’t exactly hurting for funds right now.  What isn’t covered in the media is that all these “green jobs” being created are flooding the market, making it more competitive than ever before to do what we do.

There are many layers of protection that are afforded to those who work in larger companies.  Sure, they’re subjected to layoffs.  However, there’s only one job to cut when you’re a consultant.  It’s pretty much do or die.  Competition shouldn’t be a concern because you need to be focused on being the best.

Thriving in that kind of environment is what I now know to be the true sign of a promising entrepreneur, which is a suitable term for any successful consultant running her own business.  You can flinch in scary movies or wince at the sight of blood, but if you stop to believe that you can’t keep the work coming in or putting the good work out, you’re going to have trouble paying your bills.

I’ve been doing this enough that I’ve made some fairly big mistakes and a lot of smaller ones.  I’ve found that it’s really not hard to succeed if you just keep getting back up, brushing yourself off and trying one more time.

Aiming high is more than just dreaming big. It’s about giving space to mess up, taking time to learn the lessons and never giving up until your dream comes true. While Joe might have to work a little harder than most to achieve his dinosaur fantasy, I am somehow comforted to know that even the most impossible of goals can become do-able when you compare them to something even more seemingly absurd.

In college I worked as a bartender in the most hipster of all Orlando pseudo-dives.  As part of the opening staff, I was around to see the beautiful trailer the owner bought, all eight or so inches from the side, mounted to our wall.  It still had the windows and door intact, bearing only a few select bumper stickers to represent the camp in a way only bumper stickers can.  I remember the fresh wood-paneled bathroom walls, carefully branded with various images of Elvis throughout his career.  We had holiday lights strung across the room and back again, gently illuminating the 800 layers of lacquer drenched on top of doors repurposed as tables that ran along the stretch of the fairly narrow room.  This was my home for three years.

Despite seeing me through some of the most hilarious and most traumatic events in my life, I’ll never forget what it felt like to be in that room because that was where I really found myself… You might think that I’d have some great story to interject here about some night I got really drunk, but it wasn’t like that at all.  In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Although we had to weather a few months of hardly any business, we developed a cult-like following and soon we were the place to be.  My favorite night of all to work was on Fridays, when I was guaranteed to be in the weeds for at least five hours straight.

To be an awesome bartender, you should provide the following services in addition to the delivery of a decent drink:

• If you serve them, remember their name. Call them by name at least once a night so they know you remember it, preferably in front of other people so that they know that other people know that you know their name.
• If you’ve never served them before, make them feel like they have discovered the best place in town and by all means, do not forget their name.
• You must enjoy listening, though they may seem to bait you into being the conversationalist yourself.  When you’re working, keep talk about yourself to a minimum because people who aren’t on the clock are much more interesting than those who are.

All these things combined with fifteen drinks, their appropriate recipes, which goes with which and who they go to need to be right on the tip of your tongue at any minute.  When you’re working back there with someone else, you’re like a cohesive force that doesn’t end or begin — it just moves.  And in those moments, you can succumb to the weeds and just flow.  It’s the best high I’ve ever tried, and I grew up in Orlando so that’s saying something.

I ended my career behind the bar and chased that chaos for years in jobs that didn’t involve the sale of booze.  It wasn’t until last year that I finally found a similar bliss in my energy work.  At my highest, I was managing up to 50 energy projects.  This year I hope to achieve a new goal, even though it may not be to beat the number of simultaneous projects I carry.

One of these days I’ll post some of my personal program management worksheets for you to download if you’d like… Of course, the real secret to my deliverable-focused success is simple and totally unplugged: live in the moment.

If you’re present, you won’t miss it. If you’re listening, you’ll hear it.  If you’re looking, you’ll see it.  If you breathe it, you’ll live it.  And when you live it, you connect with it and instinctively give it all the things it needs to grow.

Stress doesn’t even enter into the picture when you just allow the moment to be what it is and do your best to move through each moment as it comes.  In fact, there’s a calm that comes when you allow yourself to be exactly where you are, doing exactly what you’re doing, that counteracts stress.

Keeping people happy in my current line of work isn’t too different from my bartending years when it comes down to the basics.  Treating each person as a valuable, contributing member and remembering what’s important to them keeps everything moving smoothly.  Treating myself the same way gives me the chance to be who I am, where and when I am, allowing me to achieve great things without the stress and panic of undone deeds.

I’m so grateful for the years I spent in that little bar, because they taught me how to be my best in spite of seemingly unending demands.  As a result, I’m able to give my all to my energy work today, garnering frequent compliments from teammates who are regularly astounded at what I’ve been able to accomplish by myself.  It’s really not that hard when you’re in the moment, but I’d never tell them that… It’s much too cool to let them go on about how awesome I am.

Before I write anything else on this blog, please allow me to warn you that I’m not a guru.  In fact, I get a lot of my material from the people I work with, the people I help and the countless others I come in contact with on a daily basis.  Quite frankly, I prize myself a fantastic listener with a darker sense of humor who really does like it when you’re doing the talking.

I think this is the main reason I haven’t committed myself to any blog I’ve ever started. Of course, my ability to make excuses like this is also a contributing reason for my non-blogging history.

Other successful excuses I’ve used are:

• I’m too busy making websites (some with blogs!) for other people to make my own.
• I’m too busy writing material for other people to write my own.
• I’m too exhausted with my paid work to come up with unpaid content.
• It’s far more important that I pay attention to my Twitter and Facebook accounts than venture off into ANOTHER blog. (this includes variations where I occasionally tell myself that Twitter is practically the same thing as blogging, only it’s for busy people *like me*)
• I don’t have enough material for this topic.  I mean, you NEED a thematic focus for this, right?
• There are only five people in the world who might want to hear about my daily thoughts and four of them share my DNA.
• I can start a blog any time I want. It doesn’t have to be this week… Maybe next year will be better.

I’m sure there have been others, but you get the point.  I’m awesome at quitting blogs.  But this time, I’m calling myself out, I’m taking my professional site down, using my brand name and I’m putting this thing on wheels.

I began my professional journey in the renewable / energy efficiency field six years ago this month.  In this time, I’ve communicated with thousands of individuals about the sound investment made in energy efficiency.  I’ve heard the horror stories, and I stuck around to find out what was done to fix the situation.  Working with some of the most brilliant minds in the industry, I’ve been fortunate to see history in the making up close and personal, and I hope this blog will help me share these stories with you.

In some other post, I’ll share more about me… but for now, I’d just like to thank you for reading this.  Please subscribe if you’d like, and know that every time I see a hit on here that’s not me, there’s a very happy girl in North Carolina who thinks a Google bot skimmed her prattle.

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