On Managers: the good and the not so good

It's an overcast day, humid and hot, and promising rain. It's a good day for reflection which is what I'm doing instead of bringing in the washing from the line.

I'm reflecting on managers I've had in the past. Those I've loved best trusted me, and in letting me shine, they shone. Those I didn't love at all tried to bully or or victimize or stifle me...they couldn't or wouldn't let me shine and tarnished themselves as a result.

What distinguishes a good manager from a bad? Here's my admittedly simplistic take on it:

A good manager is, simply put: a good human being. She or he...

• communicates the goal, and the work needed to achieve the goal
• trusts you and your abilities to get the job done
• is not threatened by you or your abilities but uses these in a positive way to achieve the organization's goals
• advises or guides but does not to do the work assigned to you
• is constructively critical (but not mean) when necessary to help you redirect or improve your efforts
• recognizes your limitations and encourages ongoing development or change
• appreciates and recognizes your efforts
• has a healthy approach to life in general which in turn is reflected in healthy relationships with others be they above or below him or her in the hierarchy
• has the betterment of the organization at heart
• has a sense of humour to make fun a part of working life and workplace "fun"damentals.

People who work for good managers themselves improve as human beings. They become successful people in their own right, often as well-liked leaders and achievers. They develop others who continue to contribute to the health (and wealth) of the organization or to the world at large.

On the other hand, a bad manager is usually a human being still developing or needing to develop their own self to become a better human being. She or he might...

• not communicate or does communicate but on inappropriate matters, not work-related
• mistrust staff, double-check their work or re-assign work without explanation
• take steps to discredit or remove employees by whom he or she feels threatened
• take credit rightly due to staff
• bullies or victimizes staff due to own feelings of inferiority, vulnerability or importance
• gossips about staff or asks employee's opinions about other co-workers
• offers employees affection (favouritism) or gifts to compensate for his or her own destructive behaviour
• is obviously dysfunctional and lacks a healthy approach to life overall. In other words, is no fun
• creates a noxious or toxic work environment
• has his or her own goals at heart, not the organization's

People who work for bad managers (BMs) can

• experience ill health or setbacks or achieve nil to slow advancement in the workplace as their efforts focus on attending to the stress and negativity of the "bad manager experience" OR
• they become bad managers themselves, not having experienced or learned any better thus continuing to populate the world with BM's OR
• they improve as human beings in resolving not to emulate the bad manager. They too can be successful people in their own right, often as well-liked leaders and achievers, by choosing the good manager profile and rejecting the bad.

As I write this, while I've used the term "manager", I can't help but see this good/bad parallel exists everywhere: parents/children, relatives, coaches, friends, neighbours. How are YOU doing in this good manager/bad manager scenario?

FREE Weight Loss Program!

1. Just say "no" to: ...well, you know exactly what you should "no" to... it's all those things you usually say "yes" to...chips, pie, cookies, big ole hamburgers, fried anything, pop...the list goes on and on and you know it by heart. SAY "NO THANK YOU" TO WHAT YOU KNOW CONTRIBUTES TO YOUR LOVE HANDLES! In my case, it's sweet things.


2. Just say "yes" to all those things you usually say "no" to...vegetables, salad, fruit, fish, chicken, anything on the lower GI list. Shop the outer perimeter of the grocery store. EAT FRESH, NOT PROCESSED!


3. Exercise! Walk the dog, walk yourself, take the stairs, bike, sign up for any kind of class or sport that gets you moving! GET MOVING! You'll enjoy it, and your body will love you for it.


4. Forget the pound or kilogram! If you must measure, then check progress by your waist measurement. Ladies: get your waist under 35 inches! Men, under 40 inches! USE THE TAPE MEASURE, NOT THE SCALE!


5. Remember the rule of opposites: if you say you're on a diet, you and people around you tend to try to feed you more! So don't say you're on a diet, just LIVE AND EAT AS THOUGH YOUR THINNER, HEALTHIER SELF DEPENDS ON IT...because it does!


6. Serve or order smaller portions. Look at your usual plate and half it! At a restaurant, take half home in a doggy bag. At home, use a smaller plate with no refills. It's that easy and is a way to say yes to your progress! EAT SMALL - BE SMALL!


7. Be aware of your posture. This may seem funny but if you stand or sit "tall", you'll work those stabilizing muscles. Hold in that tummy (it's exercise!). Improved posture = improved "look". STAND TALL!


8. While it's laudable to have a goal, what typically happens after reaching a goal is a celebration. Celebrations lead to falling off the wagon. This may go against everything you've been taught but why set a specific goal? Or else, let your goal be simply a new attitude. Now, celebrate your NEW ATTITUDE with something non-food related when and as you need it! A new piece of smaller-sized clothing, a piece of jewellry or art, a contribution to a wonderful charity, a call to a friend. LET YOUR MIRROR BE YOUR REWARD (not your punishment)!


9. Work on your self-esteem, not your weight. Treat yourself: a new hair cut, a new colour (for hair or wardrobe), a mani-pedicure, a new friend, a new spiritual experience, a new world. Focus on something beyond yourself. Throw out your cigarettes. CHANGE YOUR OBSESSION! and learn to accept compliments and attention because they're coming your way.


10. STAY ON THE 1-9 PATH. Never stop, never give up. This is your mantra: This is how I live now...not just for today or this week or this month or this year. This is my life, my journey, and I only pass this way but once. This is the rest of my long and beautiful life! I want to be the best I can be!

You'll be amazed at your own results, the change in you and your life, and the people around you. I know you can do it. Start now!

Not vegan yet but...

Yesterday’s [non-front page] news reported a California meat packer Hallmark/Westland Meat Packing Company is voluntarily recalling 65 MILLION kilograms of beef.

According to the U.S. Human Society, the company workers were abusive in forcing “downer cattle” (cattle who refuse to stand, it is implied, due to illness) up to pass inspection for the slaughter process by way of becoming the meat people eat. The “get up” techniques included using electric prods, forklift blades for ramming, or water-hosing them to simulate drowning (the animal version of the infamous, torturous water-boarding).

The US Department of Agriculture’s laws stipulate, where cattle are down, packers must obtain veterinarian decision whether the animal is healthy enough to continue into the food chain intended for us humans. It is not up to the packers to decide as the rule exists to help prevent human exposure to certain cow-carried diseases, such as BSE aka “mad cow” which is linked to the human variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. But apparently the packers in this case weren't consulting any vets.

Today's news [even more deeply embedded in the newspaper] says USDA officials downplay the risk to Americans; USDA believes people have only a remote chance of adverse health effects.

Why did everyone involved in the process – the packers, the inspectors, the management -- turn a blind eye? Production? Profit? Greed? Stupidity? Fear? Apathy? Ignorance?

Why did no one care about the consumer? Is it so hard to care about people like themselves: families, friends, neighbours, but not least the nation's children, given a portion of the meat was purchased for federal nutrition programs?

Why did no one care about the law?

What bothers me is how strongly this underscores the extent we in North American blindly trust the processes, trust the people, and the laws in place protecting us from this and other questionable practices in the food industry chain. When 65 million kg of beef are being recalled and people’s worries are assuaged by officials declaring a “minor risk of illness from eating the beef,” you can bet a whole lot of people will be reviewing their meat choices. Yes, it's rare, but if you contract vCJB, for example, it's fatal.

At what point does the lack of trust translate into lack of sales and a diminishing market? Not soon enough, in my opinion.

The instance above describes one event happening in the States. For Canadian information, visit these portions of the Public Health Agency of Canada and Health Canada

To My Special Valentines

♥I have relatives and friends who are addicted to nicotine, one of the most potent of addictive substances♥ To those whose lives I care so much about, Nicotine adds nothing to your life but harmful chemicals, and an ever-present worry and fear amongst those who love you.

In our ♥ of ♥♥♥, we daily pray you will find the way to say

“I love myself and those around me enough to control what air I choose to breath.

I will not be captive to a smoldering bundle of tobacco and paper.”

To those who are still in Nicotine’s awful grip, this Valentine♥ is for you♥

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

On this Valentine’s ♥Day, my dear,
I would give you this gift:
Freedom from the fag:
that unceasing nag,
that need to inhale
that smoke doing braille
upon your poor lungs♥
Because
watching you smoke
is like hearing you say
goodbye to us all
--One drag at a time--
But good bye just the same.
Please choose to stay♥

On this Valentine’s Day♥, my dear
I would give you this gift:
A healthy, wholesome you
Sans cigarette♥
Because
Watching you light up
Is like watching you
slowly draw a razor
across your wrist♥


On this Valentine’s Day♥
I would give you this gift:
The h♥art to quit.
To smell and be smelled
fresh and clean, in and out
So your cells can rebound
So your cough disappears♥
So you’ve more time to burn♥
On all the good things Life has to offer.
On this Valentine’s Day

I would give you this gift.

♥

Dodging the Bullet

As I'm just back from galavanting in Northern Ontario, there are emails and voicemails to return. One, from Dr. C. (the colon specialist) had to wait until today as there is no point in trying to reach a doctor on the weekend.

So on Saturday I merely took note he had called, and wrote down his number. On Sunday, I started thinking about the call. Most doctors don't call to tell you good news so...was it possible he had bad news? Most doctors get their receptionists to call on their behalf. Most doctors don't bother calling you if there is nothing to worry about. They only call when it's serious. Dr. C. himself had left the message. I don't like this.

Laying in bed, I wondered how I'd handle bad news. I don't feel any different but then why should I? I thought how it might be possible my body has a cancer. I head off to aquafit class at 9:30am, resolving not to let the call I had to make ruin my day; I'd call when I got home. I try not to think about it while enjoying coffee and socializing with my fellow aquacizers, postponing reality for a few hours.

Back home, I make the call. Dr. C. himself picks up the phone. Sounds a little confused at first then recalls (likely referring to a list) why he called. "No worries. Just to let you know the polyps we removed were benign." My relief is palpable, and I thank him, feeling at the same time like I've just dodged a bullet.

To Dye or Not to Dye

…that is the question. As a soon-to-be 56 year old woman, I am really getting tired of societal pressure to dye my hair. What the Hell is wrong with grey? Or white for that matter?

While I was having my hair cut the other day, the hairdresser kindly suggested it was time to consider a “reverse tint” as my current colour was too “harsh” for my skin tone. I felt insulted yet tempted simultaneously! My hair is dark brown with sprinklings of grey, predominately framing my face. Personally, I like it. The grey sparkles in the light. It makes me feel good. It is, after all, Nature’s dye job. The real McCoy. But the seed was planted. I found myself wondering what I would look like with a little bit of blonde here and there. What would be people’s reactions? Maybe I’ll do it before my next holiday, I found myself thinking.

My oldest sister, a grayophobe who regularly dyes her hair, has sot so subtle ways of hinting it’s time for me to start dyeing too. “I saw Sally the other day and she was sitting beside her sister Kate and you know, Sally looked so old! She’s only a year older than Kate but Kate dyes her hair and it makes her look so much younger than Sally! I wonder why Sally doesn’t dye her hair!” Hint, hint. She goes on, “And haven you seen Travesty lately? She’s let herself go completely. Her hair is totally white! She looks like an old lady!” Big hint.

I admit a dye job can give a woman a more youthful aura but who’s that woman really kidding? There’s not a heckuvalot she can do about her wrinkles unless she’s botoxing or having cosmetic surgery done. So her face or body usually gives her “age” away anyway. Who hasn’t been fooled by a lovely looking blonde who turns around only to reveal the face of an old crony! Aghhh! What is wrong with being and looking your own age? What is wrong with being AUTHENTIC? The REAL deal? YOURSELF?

Let’s look at l’Oreal’s website because a walk down the pharmacy aisle shows they offer a world array of “colour”. L’Oreal exhorts you to discover the beautiful, exhilarating world of colour – and they’re not talking paint. The key words are mood, trends, flattering, a boost, and chasing away grey…as if it’s some kind of predator outside your door. Darlings, it’s implied: age can be a predator so be assertive: chase it away!

L’Oreal says “express the exciting inner me!” Ahhhh. Now we’re getting there. People don’t want to be their true selves; they want to project how they see themselves internally, and a dye job will do just that, along with false fingernails and a few good cosmetics.

Some say it’s simply part of being well-groomed. Does not dyeing your hair imply that you no longer care how you look? I say not. Most men do not dye their hair and opt into the “distinguished look”. Why can’t women be allowed to look “distinguished”? But let’s take a look at the stats. Science Daily says: Around the world, millions of people use hair dyes. More than one in three women over age 18 and one in ten men over age 40 throughout Europe, North America and Japan use some type of hair coloring, the researchers report, and permanent dyes account for about three-quarters of the global use.

Ahh, so here’s another can of worms. Men too are now under the dye gun! One in ten! Are men swallowing the same sales pitches as women? Just for Men is a dye product targeted, duh, just for men. Their site takes a slightly different, obviously masculine approach to promote their product: “When people see all you have to offer, good things happen. Why let gray hair get in the way? Stay in the game.” In other words, your masculinity, your success and your acceptance by other men (supposedly "good things") hinge on avoiding dastardly grey! Grey is getting in your way! Without a dye job, you’re considered too old for the football game, the hockey game or the dating game. Who knew?

The above statistical reference leads us to consider something even a little darker than your current shade of dye: apparently, there is increased risk of bladder cancer for those who use or apply permanent hair dye. These types of dye often contain chemicals called arylamines. When absorbed by your skin (hands or scalp), it’s filtered through your kidney to cleanse your blood then concentrated in your urine which sits in your bladder until expelled. So who wants an increased chance of bladder cancer just to look good? You won’t be looking too good no matter your hair colour when your bladder goes belly-up, so to speak. Do you really want hair to dye for? Maybe my title should have been “To die or not to die, that is the question.”

OK, OK. Let’s rein it in a little. You use a rinse, a non-permanent hair colour. So by all accounts you’re still OK in the health department. But what about damage to our environment? Think what you’re putting down the drain in applying this goop and then shampooing it away every week. What’s in your hair dye anyway? You likely don’t know and don’t care. If you do care, you’ll want to know in 2006 the European Commission banned 22 hair dye chemicals deemed harmful to human health. This is part of their ongoing effort to identify what hair dye substances are actually safe for human use.

So after all this ranting, do I judge others for dyeing their hair? No, I’m as susceptible to the ads as the next person. Am I going to dye my hair? I hope not although I do waver from time to time. I really do want to be authentic. I want to be the real me. I don’t want to be obsessing whether my roots are showing, or having to worry about strange chemicals on my head and in my bladder and who cares if colour is too harsh for my skin. I may be just the teensiest bit jealous when all my sisters look younger than I do but I’m willing to live with it. I want to see what I’ll really look like when my hair turns from salt and pepper to Robin Hood flour white. I hope my youthful countenance and body will make up for the snow on my roof, which after all, I have earned. I hope I live to see that.

Obese! Moi???!!!!

I will always remember my mother relating her shock at a doctor’s description of her: obese. Doc had stepped out of the examining room momentarily and being a nosey parker, Mom snooped into her medical file. Obese. She was as shocked and angry as if she’d been called a four-letter name. But all it really meant was: she had an unhealthy amount of body fat (in other words, excessive) as evidenced by her height and weight.

I too ran into this same shocker at a health fair last year. The medicos there had a little gizmo that took my numbers, measured me and spit out the diagnosis: obese!

All my friends disagreed. “No way you’re fat,” they said. After all, I’m a woman of average height (5’6”) and weight (168 lbs). I feel fit and energetic. I walk, exercise and am likely more active than the norm. From January to November I eat very healthily but I admit December is usually a bust! Would a body mass index (BMI) calculator really put me in the obese range?

According to WebMD, if your BMI is 30 or greater, you're obese. Right now my BMI is 27 so I’m not considered obese, but I am tagged as "overweight." A person with a BMI of 18.5 to 24.9 is considered to be at a healthy weight. To be within that “norm”, I should weigh at most 154.7 lbs which gives me a BMI of 24.2.

Of course, you say, there are variables to consider, and that’s true. We all don’t fit into the BMI chart target zones due to body type, genetic make-up, metabolism, et cetera, but let’s not fool ourselves. If you consider the BMI tool as a good rule of thumb to know where you stand health-wise then, why not assess yourself and see how you’re doing? It just might give you the incentive and the motivation to help you with that annual New Year’s resolution to improve your health. After all, your health is your wealth. Guard it with your (best) life!

Colonoscopized

Today was "C" day. For those of you who are squeamish about body parts, stop reading now. The rest of you nosey people can carry on if you want to know the details of having a colonscopy.
As mentioned yesterday, I took my requisite 2 packages of a purgative, one 8am, the other 6pm, and made regular rabbit runs to la toilette. After a light breakfast of boiled egg, toast and coffee, I dined on every assortment of Gaterade I could find: 180 cal/bottle but who's counting? No lightheadedness, nothing except a little stomach grumbling and yes, hunger, especially when catching the odd TV FOOD commercial last evening!

I made it through the night with only one visit to the salle de bain and managed the hour-long trip into town. Thank heavens! I couldn't picture myself doing the side car squat next to the busy highway. Overall it felt very good to be empty particularly after having over-indulged for the past 30 days.

As I waited at the doctor's office (yes, office; it wasn't done in a medical facility), a large tall man came out, obviously just having had his C done. He looked a little gray and said to me "I'd better sit down for awhile while this wears off..." He sat for 15 minutes before slowly putting on his coat and walking out. Ummm. This didn't inspire confidence. If a big guy like that feels a little grim afterwards, how would I feel?

My health card was checked against a list (nosey parker that I am, I peered at the list to see if I knew anyone who'd preceeded or would follow me -- so much for privacy laws), then I was told to disrobe from the waist down but I could keep on my socks. Good thing; it was bloody cold, lying on a cot with a paper sheet over my nether parts. In no time, the doc arrived, took my blood pressure "Good, good" and I was ushered into the C room, my paper sheet trailing behind my behind. What's the point of modesty when someone is about to insert God knows what up your bottom?

Doc checked my arms. Of course being a little dehydrated despite my case of Gatorade, he managed not to find a vein in my arm but in the back of my hand to give me a little something to make me feel happy. "Happier," I corrected. "Yes, happier," he smiled back. He's an oriental looking man, with an exceptionally kind face and voice and extremely black hair. I was tempted to ask if he dyed it.

Post-valium, I didn't feel any different. My sisterinlaw said it made her feel like a million bucks and she would've like more so I had great expectations. I still felt like a loonie.

I felt a bandage type of sticky thing being slapped onto one cheek (not on my face!) and the anal tour began. I kept my eyes on the screen. Interesting. The walls were a lovely pinkish colour, very tidy, very healthy looking from my perspective. I couldn't see anything nasty. Things got a little crampy as the camera was pushed a little deeper and had to navigate more twists and turns but nothing unbearable. Doc directed his technician, lower, higher, here, stop there. I could see one tiny whitish protuberance, very small. Snip it was gone. I didn't feel a thing as it was cauterized.

"All done," and with that Dr. C. ripped off the bandage or tape or whatever it was; at least he made it quick. I was rolled back in the original room and asked how I felt, was I good to sit up? As I sat, he explained the snipped part would be tested but the likelihood was it was nothing to worry about. I dressed and hubby took me out for lunch.

If having a C meant avgolemono soup, then it was worth it! It's my favourite soup and there's no taste like the mix of chicken, lemon and orzo. Maybe there was something to the something he gave happier me cuz I stumbled entering the Mystiko restaurant (formerly Papagus and worth a visit!) and again, leaving it. My legs simply felt a little heavy.

So there. All done. Life is once again good and if you haven't had a colonoscopy, now at least you know what to expect. Ciao!