willie jackson

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  • On quitting: part one

    [Read parts 2 and 3 of this story]

    For three years, I worked as an IT Consultant with Accenture. By almost any metric worth evaluating, it was a great job with tons of perks. The trouble is, I was miserable.

    It wasn’t all doom and gloom at first of course. It was my first full-time job following college, and one that I was extremely excited about. I remember packing my car following graduation in Tallahassee, Florida and heading up to Atlanta to begin my new life.

    When I was assigned to my first project (a gig requiring me to travel twice per week, to one of two cities), I was living the life. A change of scenery, new challenges, travel perks, and tons of extremely bright coworkers.

    After a while, however, disappointment started to set in. Being on an airplane twice a week sounds exciting, but the reality of that lifestyle is far from appealing. Including taxis, airplanes, and shuttles, I used to travel about 40 hours per month.

    Although the grind of the traveling was rough, what really drained my life was the work. It was some of the most unfulfilling, pointless, and tedious work I could have ever imagined. And since I had absolutely no interest in much of it, work that should have taken an hour often took me a day.

    There were times when I could fake the funk and get into things, but those moments were fleeting. I was in a world where the race for promotions and praise was taken very seriously, and I felt like the only person there who absolutely didn’t care.

    So why didn’t I just quit?

    Well, I had no idea what else I would do. I had an IT degree and no real work experience, so my job with Accenture was a critical step in building the experience I needed professionally. And since I did what all brilliant, single 22 year old professionals do when they have no immediate plans on getting married (buy a five bedroom house in an Atlanta suburb), I had a mortgage to contend with.

    I started building websites on the side for others, but I wasn’t making enough to consider it a viable income stream, and free time was always an issue. I remember fixing sites and restarting servers from my hotel rooms at 2am (needing to be awake in a few hours for work) and just feeling utter despair.

    There just wasn’t enough time, and I just wasn’t making enough. I didn’t know how to run a profitable web design operation, and I wasn’t sure if that’s what I really wanted to do in the first place.

    But I kept at it. And slowly, I started getting better, taking on bigger projects that paid better, and developed some real expertise. Meanwhile, I was as miserable as ever on the job.

    So what happened when you finally did quit?

    I remember it pretty vividly: it was a Friday and I had a (side hustle) client meeting scheduled before a remote presentation that I needed to make (day job). I knew it wasn’t the best idea, but I would soon find out how bad it was.

    The thing is, I hadn’t been applying myself on the job. I was supposed be learning this exciting application that had the potential to bring me recognition, promotion, and increased responsibility. I wasn’t too terribly interested in any of those things though.

    So during my presentation to my team, I floundered. It wasn’t just the noisy environment (I was trying to give it from a coffee shop since that was the closest place from my previous meeting location that had wifi). It wasn’t just the snarky coworkers (consulting is notorious for putting you in situations where hostile clients try to make life hell for you).

    It was that I didn’t care.

    And as a result of my apathy, my lack of preparation was on stage very publicly. It was bad but not a complete disaster, as the technology issues conspiring against us (plus the fact that I’m reasonably good on my feet) led to a “let’s try this again on Monday” decision, but the whole situation left me with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

    That’s it?

    That night, I experienced my first anxiety attack. I was shaken up by the day’s events, so I pulled it together and went to bed early. Saturday was uneventful, and Sunday rolled around quickly. As I began thinking about the next week (packing, the work, the unhappiness, etc.) I had another panic attack.

    And this time, I didn’t ignore it. I called my manager, my mentor, and my parents with the news: I can’t do it anymore.

    My manager convinced me to come in the that week (since flights were already booked, etc.), and I agreed. I was to take a week or two off following that, however. I boarded the flight the next morning feeling relieved that I had shared my unhappiness with others, and looking forward to Thursday (more on that later).

    This would be my last week working for Accenture.

    [Read parts 2 and 3 of this story]

  • Listen to me

    When two parties are talking (in the context of a business negotiation, a discussion between a couple, or what have you), a paradoxical relationship exists between the effort put into understanding the other party, and the likeliness that the one will be understood.

    It’s a painful thing to witness. One person earnestly tries to clarify a point or issue as their frustration grows, and the other party responds in the same way, briefly addressing (or subtly undermining) the point made by the first person but doubling their efforts to clarify their point.

    Frustration turns into anger, an impasse is reached, and the conversation goes nowhere.

    I refer back to it often, but How to Win Friends and Influence People is probably the best text I’ve read on the topic of interpersonal communication and conflict resolution.

    There’s an art to saying things without saying them, and no book has more positively impacted my ability to do so than this one. It’s counterintuitive to focus on what someone else is trying to say in order to be understood better, but it’s the only way to communicate effectively.

    Am I understood? 🙂

  • Steve Jobs

    I’ve never felt the loss of someone I didn’t know before. Not like this, at least. The world mourns today for the loss of one of history’s most prolific inventors, engineers, and visionaries.

    The life Steve Jobs lived — seemingly every minute of it — was marked by an intense purpose. A drive and determination that was light years ahead of even the greatest business leaders of our time.

    As I reflect on the life of Steve Jobs, I feel a more intense urgency to harder, faster, and more courageously towards my dreams than I ever have before.

    By the time this post is read, tens of thousands of tribute posts (many prepared months in advance) will have been published. Here’s mine.

    Rest in peace Steve, you changed the world.

  • Say something nice

    [Click through to the site if the video below doesn’t show up in your email or RSS feed.]

    The latest artistic stunt by Improv Everywhere featured a constructed custom wooden lectern with a megaphone attached and a sign that read, “Say Something Nice.”

    The lectern was placed in a public square in New York City and then left alone. See what happens when New Yorkers are given the opportunity to amplify their voices and “say something nice.”

    See the back story and learn more about Improv Everywhere on their website: ImprovEverywhere.com.

    It doesn’t take much. (via)

  • No, you’re not

    I’m a headhunter.

    This is how my friend Georges introduces himself at conferences and events. As a recovering IT Consultant, the very mention of a headhunter elicits memories of awkward phone calls, impersonal emails, and generally unsavory humans.

    I got to know more about what Georges actually does over lunch last week and, it became apparent that he was selling himself short in the way he introduces himself. Georges helps technology professionals live better lives by connecting them with the opportunities they desire and deserve.

    He told me the story of a developer whose salary almost doubled when taking a new offer, resulting in the young man being able to move out of his tiny apartment and plan a better honeymoon following his upcoming wedding.

    Georges also clarified a lot of the issues I experienced with headhunters, and shed some light on the things to which I was oblivious when interacting with his kind (smile) before I quit my job last April. It was an illuminating discussion.

    There’s a stigma attached to being a headhunter, just like there’s a stigma attached to being a marketer and salesman. The challenge is to communicate the art of what we do to others in a way that’s both honest and resonant.

    So tell me.

    What do you do?

  • Situational context

    I moved into a new apartment this past weekend.

    As I sat double-parked and preparing to unload the vehicle (which has a Georgia tag), a gentleman pulled up beside me and motioned for me to roll down my window.

    (I was exhausted, slightly stressed from the move, and a bit concerned that I wasn’t leaving enough room for people to pass on the left, just to give you some context.)

    “Hey man, when are you going back down to Atlanta?”

    I was not in the mood.

    I assumed that he was a stereotypical, quick-tempered New Yorker popping off at the mouth and encouraging me to leave his fine city on account of my stellar parking.

    “In two weeks!” I said, mainly to avoid further confrontation. I’m a generally laid back guy and slow to anger, but my fatigue made him a fabulous candidate for my wrath if I decided to unleash it on someone (smile).

    He muttered something implying that I was blowing him off (which surprised me because I was, for what I thought might have been an obvious reason) and drove forward. As he pulled off, I noticed his Dekalb County license plate, which indicated that he was from a suburb of Atlanta.

    Whoops.

    As it turns out, he was just a nice guy making a genuine inquiry as to when I’d be making another trip back to Atlanta — a very southern thing to do, and something to which I would have responded positively under different circumstances.

    Being a product of the southeast, I have a generally warm and friendly disposition. I haven’t lost that since moving to NYC in January, but I definitely temper it with some skepticism in light of my new fast-paced surroundings.

    I’m glad I didn’t respond more angrily than I did, but I can’t help but wince at how I reacted. Sometimes we make decisions based on the best information available to us, and sometimes we still miss the mark.

    I’ll try harder.

  • Not today (or ever)

    There’s a restaurant near where I live with a sign on the door that says, “Not accepting credit or debit cards today.” The servers even double-check with you before taking your order, ensuring that you knew of their (ostensibly temporary) inability to process non-cash payments.

    As I quickly learned, “today” is a euphemism for “ever.”

    So upon subsequent visits, mainly to be obnoxious and prove a point, I’d respond with, “just today?” when asked, eliciting coy and knowing glances from servers.

    It’s not the fact that I can’t pay with my credit card there (there are thousands of cash only places of business in NYC) that bothers me; it’s the subtle, insulting dishonesty that’s off-putting.

    I haven’t stopped going to the place completely (it’s still a nice place to take friends and visitors unfamiliar with my neighborhood), but everyone gets a version of the above speech whenever I break my temporary boycott and return.

    Not exactly raving fan marketing.

  • Purposeful discomfort

    One of the things that separates those who “do big things” from those who just cruise life on autopilot is the level of discomfort to which each is regularly exposed.

    The best things happen at the exit ramp of your comfort zone.
    -Karen Salmansohn

    On the two projects with which I have been involved this year, the most intense periods of personal growth have come during the times in which I regularly engaged in behaviors that pushed me away from what I was naturally inclined to do.

    Examples: giving visibility to my inefficiencies, making public (internal to the project(s)) my areas for improvement, insisting on public accountability, setting my own goals, and not relying on guidance or oversight for my next moves.

    It’s an unnatural, uncomfortable, and fitful adventure, and the payoff is so massively rewarding that I can’t imagine doing things any other way.

  • What you’re made of

    One of the most exciting things to watch over the past year has been the incredible power of connections. My network now includes some people who I respect and admire and looked up to (from a distance) years ago. The funny thing is, it’s been a completely natural and organic process.

    Under these circumstances (nice events, associating with quasi-celebrities, the opportunity to be seen and noticed by many), you start to seeing what people are made of. The ambitions that lie beneath the surface, and the lengths to which people will go to satisfy them.

    Some people want to be famous. Some people want recognition and honor. Some people want their name in bright lights and the adoration of fans. Me? I’d like to earn the respect of the people I admire, to have enough money never to have to think about it, and to lead a life worth leading.

  • Poor form

    I have a P.O. Box at the UPS Store near my apartment here in NYC, so I’m there pretty frequently. The service is generally good, and being able to walk downstairs (just outside by building) to pick up my mail is nice.

    I went there yesterday and saw a slip in my box indicating that I had a package. Also worthy of note is that a man carrying himself like the manager (who I had never seen before) was in the store.

    He took the slip from me with a look of smug indifference and handed it to another employee. As the manager and employee moved out of sight into the area where packages are logged, I could hear the manager starting to berate the employee for an issue that was obviously being discussed before I entered the store.

    The manager was literally doing everything wrong in providing correction: confrontational chastisement, speaking loudly, saying that it (the resolution for the issue) would have come out of the employee’s paycheck if he (the illustrious manager) hadn’t caught it, etc.

    The specifics of the employee gaffe are immaterial (amounting to less than $100 if you’re interested), but the manager saw fit to humiliate the poor guy for the whole store to hear.

    It just reminded me that there’s an art to leadership and management, and I was bothered to the point of almost saying something as it was taking place. It’s hard to imagine someone getting it so wrong, and it makes me wish that How to Win Friends & Influence People was required reading for anyone in a leadership position.