I’ve decided that 2016 is the year I’m going to be what blogger Jenny Lawson
describes as “furiously happy.” 16 days into the year, I’m acing the furious
part of the equation but the happiness piece seems to be alluding me. Perhaps
it’s because there is a perpetual arctic breeze blowing up my pant leg and when
I dare to leave the comfort of my home, my snot freezes to my face in less than
half a second. Perhaps it’s because I have regressed and have been caught “shoulding”
on myself more than I care to admit. Perhaps it’s because this is what it means
to be a grown-up. It could be any or all of those things or something else –
bottom line is, furious is well within my reach, happiness is a little
slipperier.
As some of you know, I made an unexpected and serendipitous career
change right around Thanksgiving. I still work for the same behemoth company –
but I am playing a very different role and I am working in an entirely new part
of the business. The learning curve is steep – and I am humbled about twelve
zillion times a day when I realize that I know what to do but not how to do it, and I am forced to ask someone for
help. My workdays feel very different now than they did just six weeks ago.
They are certainly more exhausting but also more fulfilling. I find myself
leaving earlier in the morning and finishing later in the evening, and when I
return to the ranch, it is off with my work clothes and into my loungewear
ASAP.
Ever the optimist (or perhaps I’m just delusional), I miscalculated
how much energy a job transition would require, so I’ve continued in my
attempts to be all things to all people, including my biggest critic (me) at the
same time I’m trying not to get fired from my new job. I will take some
responsibility for this, but not all of it. Oh no. Not this time. I’m only too
happy to find a scapegoat in Wharton School professor Adam Grant. You see, I
had the pleasure of hearing Professor Grant speak at a conference last year –
and his talk was so compelling, I decided to watch his video presentation and read
his book, Give
and Take. Worse, I suggested my entire book club read his book – so I had
plenty of opportunity to absorb the concepts and reflect on ways to apply this
to my life.
“Why has Adam Grant stolen my happiness,” you ask? Pull up a
chair, pour yourself a cup of tea, and I’ll explain. The subtitle of his book
is “why helping others drives our success” and focuses on the importance of our
relationships and networks for our collective success. No one can do it alone
and all that jazz. Sounds reasonable, right? I help others, I am happier
person. What’s the problem? The problem is the concept of the five minute
favor, which was one of my key takeways from the book. I’ve built a house of “five
minute favor” cards and damn if it isn’t crashing down around my ears right
now.
Technically, the five minute favor is not Adam Grant’s
unique invention – that credit goes to a gentleman named Alan Rifkin. (Yet I
admire Alan Rifkin and I totally want to fight Adam Grant. Odd.) The five minute
favor is this – you should be willing to do something that will take five
minutes or less for anyone. Sounds reasonable, right? I mean, surely you can give
someone five minutes to answer a question, edit their paper, give them directions,
or whatever it is. What kind of crazy bitch picks a fight with a Wharton
professor and best-selling author over the notion of putting good karma out in
the world?
That was a trick question. It’s me, the crazy bitch in the
mirror. I adopted this practice of five minute favors after my book club
meeting in October – but really embraced it around the holidays. Here’s what I
discovered, in no particular order:
·
Ever heard the phrase, “death by a thousand
papercuts”? Pretty sure you can achieve rage by a thousand five minute favors.
·
What starts out as a five minute favor often
turns into a series of five minute favors over time that will suck up hours and
hours of hours of your time and energy
·
While I am blaming Adam Grant for this, I think
we all know that the real problem is me and my inability to say no and set a
damn boundary.
If you’ve asked me for a favor recently, don’t worry. This
blog isn’t about you (sung to Carly Simon’s You're So Vain). It’s
about me. I’m tired. I’m cold. I want a gold star for doing things like
remembering to put gas in my car and having dental insurance. I love helping
people, especially when I can find a way to help someone unlock their dreams
and achieve their goals. And I’ve come to realize that there are only 24 hours
in my day and if I don’t manage them a little bit better, I’m going to wind up
furious, fat, and exhausted for the foreseeable future.
Could there be a more opportune time to remind myself of my
mantra? It’s time to give up (on the things that are keeping happiness out of
my grasp); give in (on the things that make me unhappy – it’s part of life and
suck it up, buttercup); and give all I’ve got to squeezing the crap out of the
joy that I find in everyday life. It’s time to stop “kinda, sorta” trying
unless I’m going to be satisfied with “kinda, sorta” results. Spoiler alert: I’m
not.
