The Complete Manager Makeover

Fundamental Philosophy #1: Know When to Pivot To Pursue Your Passion I grew up in Brooklyn, NY. My father was a glazier and owned his own business, this was my first real view of entrepreneurship and I knew at 8 years old that I’d be a business owner one day, but that’s another book. My mother was a legal secretary and I wanted to be just like her too. When I was young and had days off from school, I would often get an opportunity to go with her to work. This was way before any Take Your Child To Work Day was an official thing. Mom had always worked in law offices and I recall being able to staple papers, seal envelopes and file papers that sharpened my alphabetizing skills (mom was crafty to ensure learning with that one). I loved everything about administrative work. I would watch my mother on the IBM Selectric Typewriter (google it for fun), zipping away through her dictation, in awe of how quickly her fingers moved and enjoying the unique sound made by the rattling of the font ball, or whatever that element was called. Mom was an excellent legal secretary and I remember she could type 101 words per minute. It was always my goal to beat that record, I came close at 96 once but never did beat her record. Later I would attend Murray Bertram High School for Secretarial Sciences as I recall it (now called Business Careers), and I thrived at all my core courses like stenography, typing and office administration. I began a legal career right out of high school. I participated in what was called co-op. Students would be let out a little early from school and I would go to work at a court reporting firm to practice all I’d learned during school, I loved it! I loved the sense of accomplishment I received when papers shifted from here to there and tasks got accomplished one by one, with visible proof of the progress being made. In 1992, I moved out of New York to Orlando and quickly found work as a legal secretary. It had long been my vocation in New York yet little did I know that I would take a 50% pay cut due to the relocation. Mom always said, “you pay for the Florida sunshine”. I worked for what I understood to be one of the most prestigious law firms in Orlando albeit a small one in the downtown area of Orlando. The senior partner of the firm was a short burly man, with a thick southern accent and snow-white hair, he always reminded me of Santa Claus without the beard. Unfortunately, he didn’t have Santa’s jovial disposition. This boss was always quite loud and gruff in his communication style and often rough with his employees. He also exhibited behaviors comparable to what you would call somewhat of a bigot, especially towards individuals from “up North”, “Yankees” he’d call us on occasion. I'd worked for him approximately 7 months or so and my mother at the time either followed me there or helped me secure the position, I can’t recall who landed at this unfortunate company first. I had already endured much of his gruff communications for some time and then one day, I was summoned to his office to take dictation, using the exemplary shorthand skills acquired in High School. I finished taking dictation, left his rather impressive office to head into my cubicle where I began transcribing my notes. Shortly thereafter, I returned to his office with the completed letter in hand for his review signature. As I sat across the desk from him, I watched his eyes move from left to right as he read the transcribed letter. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as they glossed over as he suddenly and sternly turned his gaze toward me. He read a few words aloud from the letter with a question in his tone, then, in an aggressive and condescending tone, his heavy southern accent spewed words at me saying, “theyt’s not whuut I sayyd”. It was loud and he’d just plucked my very last nerve. It was the last straw for me. While I do tend to have quite a high tolerance for such nonsense, I had had enough. In the split second after he finished, I decided I would not put up with his treatment any longer. I knew there was a right way to handle a mistake if I’d made one and that WAS NOT IT. I quickly gathered my stenography notebook and pen from my lap, slowly and calmly I stood up from my chair then… I SLAMMED my notebook down on his desk. Then, in the same thick southern accent that I’d learned to imitate, I replied “theyt izz whuut you sayyd”. Now he was the one that looked as startled as I had been just a moment before. For a moment we just stared at each other, I don’t think he’d ever been given a taste of his own medicine before. I ended the silence, calmed my anger and voice and said “You know Mr. So-and-So”, (name withheld to protect the guilty), “I don't think this position is for me any longer, I’ll be tendering my resignation effective immediately”. “Tendering my resignation”, I learned those words in high school. Not only did his continuing maltreatment of me reach its pinnacle, but I must also admit that my pride had taken a hit as I was the highest scoring student in my Stenography class at Murray Bertram High School, what I’d transcribed is EXACTLY what he’d said. Little did I know this incident would change the course of my future and my career.