Just Joan

Archive for April, 2010

Gypsy, the pit bull-lab-rottweiler-who know what else-mix

Yesterday I took all four – yes, four – of my dogs to the vet for routine care, like vaccines and wellness exams. They each weigh around 40 pounds and the bill was enormous.  During the exam, the vet asked the same kind of questions your doctor does during a routine physical, trying to determine if there are any issues or problems that need to be addressed.

During the exam of Gypsy, who was rescued from an abandoned crack house in an ugly part of the city of Detroit, it occurred to me that she has never had any physical problems at all.  She has never thrown up on my carpet or floor, never had kennel cough (despite plenty of exposure in closed quarters to other dogs), and never has ugly gunk running out of an eye.  I will admit that she had a genetic defect (luxating patella) when she was very young, which had to be surgically repaired, but that knee has never given her, or me, a stitch of trouble since. Even her teeth looked the best of the pack, per the vet, even though she is the second-oldest.

My other dogs are Border Collies.  BCs, as we are fond of calling them, are premier athletes.  They play silly dog games like agility, disc dog, and flyball (my game of choice).  They are considered the smartest breed of dog in the world.  They are rock stars of the doggie world.

These rock stars can have health issues, though.  Vomit, kennel cough, eye infections, torn or ripped pads and toenails – my dogs have had or done them all.  One dog has a mysterious arthritic condition in his spine that required two MRI tests and means monthly visits to the chiropractor.  Don’t even ask about the costs.

Gypsy doesn’t play flyball or any other silly doggie sport, but she is loving, energetic, and devoted – the perfect companion dog.

So, to the recruiters and HR pros of the world who might read this, I ask a favor:  The next time you need to hire an employee, think about whether you REALLY need to hire a rock star.  I know the market is buyer friendly right now, so you can get big talent for less money.    Rock stars can do amazing things, but at what cost – particularly in the long term – to you and your organization?

Non-rock stars need and deserve good jobs, too. They may come from humble circumstances without a fancy degree, and they may need a little coaching or patience in the beginning as they find their way in your organization.  The long term return on investment will be substantial, though, and you will find yourself with a rock-solid, devoted employee.

Or would you rather have an employee that burns more brightly for a shorter period of time, with substantial upkeep costs thrown in?

Ike the Border Collie playing flyball

I walked out of my hotel room in Madison, Wisconsin, suitcase in tow, preparing to check out and leave town.  I walked about 30 feet to the elevators and abruptly stopped.  I turned around, walked back to the door, and fumbled for my key card.  I found it and went back into the room, set my suitcase by the door, and stopped.

Why did I come back to the room?  Truthfully, I. had. no. clue.

“I must have forgotten something”, I thought to myself.  So I looked in the bathroom, in the closet, opened all of the drawers.  Nothing.

Just when I grabbed the handle of the suitcase, preparing to leave again and kicking myself in my not-insubstantial- butt for being a dotty old woman, I saw it.  My light grey (or gray) blazer, its color washed out by the bright Wisconsin sunshine streaming into the room, lying on the unmade bed sheets.  I picked it up and left the room again, complete.

Losing this blazer wouldn’t have meant the end of my world, or hugely impacted my life,  and I don’t know if it was luck, fate or the divine. I am glad for it anyway, although  I do wish it would help me find my primary set of car keys, which have been missing for 3 weeks now.

Which do you think it is? Do you have a story of luck, or fate, or divine intervention?  Let’s hear it.

This past weekend I played in a flyball tournament with one of my dogs.  Flyball is a sport or game in which teams of four dogs compete against each other for speed and accuracy in a combination relay/drag race.

During a flyball tournament, or at a practice/training session, or even at a flyball club Christmas party, I often hear the human handlers say (in a snobbish or haughty voice), “I don’t care about competition.  I only play flyball to have fun with my dog.”  These people speak as if the idea of engaging in a competition with a dog was somehow negative, and “having fun with a dog” the only lofty goal.

Who are these people kidding?  If they only want to have fun with their pet, why don’t they take him/her to a park or an open field somewhere and play fetch or frisbee flying disc?  Alone – without anyone counting wins and losses?

I think you know why.  The people that claim they don’t care generally do so right after their team has lost a race, or they have made a human handling error, or their dog isn’t properly trained and has made an error (or consistently makes errors).  Instead of admitting, building on, and learning from their mistakes, though,  these people choose to ignore them, pretending that  the “competition” is somehow beneath them or irrelevant.

But if you are not going to try your best and work hard to succeed, why compete in the first place?

This is not my flyball club, but it’s a cool video, and at least I did compete at this tournament.  Just in case you don’t have a clue (like most of the world), what flyball is.

I usually hate “chain-letter” emails or Facebook posts.  You know the ones I mean: “Cut and paste/ forward this message to all of your friends because if you don’t you are a heartless b*tch/ you hate puppies/you will be hit by a bus”.  But I received one of those emails today, and here’s what it said, in part:

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.  As I’ve aged, I’ve become kinder to myself, and less critical of  myself. I’ve become my own friend.. I don’t chide myself for eating  that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn’t need, but  looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be  messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before  they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

It landed in my inbox at a perfect time, because I had already decided that I made a mistake 6 months ago when I started blogging with two different blogs.

When I started blogging, I was really fearful about  mixing personal and business, HR and handicap parking.  I was worried that no one would read what I wrote, because I was either not serious about cutting edge HR, or I was boring those people who don’t give a crap.  So I started two blogs, one for personal musings and one for HR/business.  I wasn’t happy with this format, though. Then I watched this video:

I’m not worried anymore.  Like the quote says, I am old enough not to care. So this is my “new” blog – which just combines what I liked best of both.  HR University is closed; now I’m Just Joan.