I did it!

It was great. Fantastic. A real high. And would you believe this: nothing went wrong.

The food was the main topic of conversation (in a good way), and nothing burned, spilled, or broke. My plating was awesome, if I do say so myself, and received rave reviews. In fact, at the end of the evening when we were toasting the happy couple, I was given full credit for the food, and–are you ready for this–received a standing ovation! Of course,
everyone was already on their feet for the toast, but still, applause is wonderful.

The best compliment of all came when the hostess of  the party asked me if I’d be willing to cater for her again. And she’d pay me!

A new career? No. I don’t want to do this full time–I don’t want to deal with nasty, picky, fussy clients. I don’t want to be treated as “The help.” (One guest did that at this party, but she was instantly corrected. I was a “Co-hostess”–although I was given a nametag that said “Chef” on it. (I’m not a chef, but it was fun pretending.) I don’t want to have to build a professional catering kitchen that’s up to Colorado’s standards for a commercial kitchen. But I will do it again, once in a while, for friends that I know and like.

It’s hard work, but very satisfying, very creative, and very delicious. I’m so glad I tried something new, challenging and scary. It was really worth sticking my neck out for.

Oh, by the way, Michelle’s fiance, Travis, seems to be a really nice, considerate, sweet guy. And the two of them together are so over-their-heads in love it’s almost disgusting. Well, not really. But after 20 years of marriage, our love has settled down into something comfortable, like a favorite old, soft sweater. It’s reliable. It’s wonderful. But it just doesn’t have that all-consuming (and exhausting) emotional intensity any more. I do miss it on occasion. But all in all, I think I’d rather have what we have now.

Teleclasses can be a real pain. There’s no way of knowing if anyone will show up, and giving a class for just one or two people can be, frankly, a bit embarassing. I used to give two or three classes a month, until I just had enough of having seven or eight people sign up and only one or two show up–and often, no one would show up! So about two years ago, I stopped giving them for a while.

 Finally this year I had enough interest in my Non-Linear Time Management Teleclass that I decided to offer it again. And guess what? Over 58 people, so far, have signed up for it. That’s enough to justify offering two classes, back to back, on March 13th, and possibly another one in April. I’ve also, all of a sudden, had requests for my other teleclasses: Six Steps to Changing a Habit, Courageous Creativity, and You CAN Get What You Really Want. Hurray, but how come, all of a sudden, everyone wants a teleclass?

 I’m happy to give them; I love teaching, but where were you two years ago? I think what I need to do is play the scarcity card. Offer only one class a month, on a different topic each month, with at least six months between topics. But I hate to do that–if someone wants a class, they should have it. On the other hand, I do offer free sample coaching sessions. So if someone really wants the material from a class, they can request a free sample session and tell me they want the course material. I don’t mind giving a teleclass to just one person if that’s how it’s been set up.

I think the bottom line here is that I really don’t like being stood up, whether by seven people for a teleclass or by one person for a sample session. So friends and readers out there, do me (and every other teleclass instructor) a big favor. If you can’t make it, just drop us an e-mail and let us know. We won’t mind–in fact, we’ll be happy to know.

The Internet is such an impersonal place. I’m sure some people think that I’m equally impersonal–some kind of cyber-guru-wunderkind, when really I’m just an ordinary, hard-working woman with a coaching practice. I don’t have an organization of hundreds of people (or even ten). I have two cats, a marketing consultant I meet with 2 hours a month, and (most importantly) I have Charlotte, my VA, who works with me about 20 hours a month. That’s month, folks, not week. Everything else I do myself.

So when you send an e-mail to me, I get it–and respond. When you call, I answer the phone. When you sign up for a teleclass, I get the notice. And when you don’t show up, well, I get that notice too.

Like the majority of people in cyberland, I’m a real person. And a little courtesy goes a long way.

Hey, thanks for listening.

I recently received an e-mail from a long-time Weekly Challenger subscriber about a couple of nasty letters and e-mails she had received from family members. That made me appreciate how fortunate I am. My family and friends would never ever send me anything that poisonous and nasty. They’d never think anything like that either, or try and hurt me, the way those family members hurt my subscriber. I am so grateful to, and for, my friends and family for being supportive and kind and loving, no matter how hard I’ve made it on them. And I can be hard to deal with sometimes. We all can.

It also made me stop and think about the people who are malicious and nasty, and do try and hurt others. They can’t possibly be happy themselves. Happy people don’t try to make other people miserable; in fact, they try to make others happy. It’s like we want to bring the rest of the world to our level, whatever our level is. When we’re unhappy, we (subconsciously) want everyone else to be unhappy too. And when we’re happy, we want the whole world to be happy. When we’re indignant about a perceived wrong, we want others to be indignant too. So when someone is trying to hurt us, it’s because they’re hurting. When someone is mean and nasty, it’s because that’s how their life feels to them.

And yes, we’ll still feel hurt by their slings and arrows. Remember that old childhood chant “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me?” It’s not true. Words do hurt. But perhaps we can look through our hurt and find sympathy and pity for the other person. They are hurting worse than they have hurt us. And they’re hurting like that all the time.

Besides–let’s be honest here and enjoy a second of maliciousness ourselves–just think how annoying it will be to that inflictor-of-pain to be pitied instead of taken seriously. To be seen as pathetic instead of powerful.

And we get to gloat–because we have risen above!

I like to give. I give my time, my home, my cooking, stuff. It’s my “love language.” So when I don’t “get” back, I feel a teeny bit unloved. Unappreciated. Unnoticed. And I’ve been feeling a lot of that lately.

It’s not that I develop relationships in order to “get” from others. In fact, I tend to give–and give too much. But lately I’ve started to feel as though I give and give and give and never get anything in return.

What’s really interesting, though, is that I don’t feel that way when I coach, and it has nothing to do with getting paid. My clients pay me back with trust. They share their journeys with me, and invite me along their path of self-discovery. They give me the gift of themselves–and I need nothing more. Yet they give me more, when they consider my ideas, say “thank you,” tell me something worked. Or didn’t. I think I value that as much as anything–because if they trust me enough to say “you’re wrong,” that’s a gift.

So why am I not just as satisfied with what I get back from my other relationships? Perhaps it’s because those relationships are based more upon doing than being. Perhaps it’s because our roles are less defined. I don’t know.

But I know I love coaching. And my clients. Which is why I’m so picky about who I invite into my practice. And why I love my practice so very, very much.

I just spent nearly thirty minutes carefully crafting an answer to someone who had contacted my through my website. I did some research, thought long and hard about my response, and wrote it as well as I could.

I hit send, and then went on to the next e-mail in my inbox.

I heard the “ping” of new mail. It was a “Mail Delivery System: Delivery Status Notification” message, telling me that “delivery to the following recipients failed permanently.”

And I’m frustrated. Some poor person isn’t going to receive my beautiful answer to her question. She’s going to think I didn’t care enough to respond. She’s going to think I’m some unfeeling, cyber-guru who’s too busy to answer a sincere question.

And I’m not. But I can’t respond if the e-mail address isn’t right. So please, please, please, check your e-mail address when you enter it. If it’s correct, I will answer you. If it’s wrong, I will have anwered you anyway–it’s just that you won’t know.

(This is an exerpt from a response I sent to a potential client, who was confused about the mixed messages in self-help books)

There are a million books and tapes and ideas out there, and each one presents itself as being “the one true way” to happiness or success or . . . But we have to realize that there is “no one true way.”

These books and these speakers want to reach as large an audience as possible, and so they have to generalize. They have to talk about what is usually right for most people (according to how they see most people, and according to their definition of what is right), rather than what is right for one person, for you. They don’t know you. They don’t know your situation, your resources, your strengths and your weaknesses. So don’t fall into the trap of thinking that you need to fit your round self into their square hole.

Some of these self-help gurus are very wise, and have wonderful ideas and concepts. But others, well frankly, they are in it for the fame and fortune, and will adopt whatever approach is necessary to sell books and/or fill lecture halls. People want to believe that they can buy the secret of the Universe, the key to happiness, or the magical panacea for all the world’s ills, for just $19.95 at Amazon. And there are those who will try and sell it to you. Buyer, beware!

I’ve dabbled a bit in the author/speaker world, and I know how tempting it is to present myself as having all the answers. And yet, I don’t. No one does. And as uncomfortable (and unprofitable) as it is, it’s also much more honest to admit that I, too, have questions and doubts. My methods aren’t for everyone. And they shouldn’t be, either.

And that’s the power of coaching: it focuses on the individual. When I’m coaching a client, I’m not applying generalized concepts. I’m working with that one person to discover or create answers or at least approaches that will work for that person, and possibly, that one person only. We try things on. Some we keep, some we discard. Some things work, some don’t–and we keep working, together, until we discover something that does.

No self-help book can offer that.

As a life coach, one of the ways I find the right clients to work with is through free, no obligation sample sessions. I enjoy giving them; I get to work with people I don’t usually work with. I always learn something, and it sharpens my skills. Besides, I so strongly believe in the power of coaching that I love giving people a chance to really change their lives in just one, 45 minute session. I’ve seen it work.

But I also hate some aspects of sample sessions, and that’s the no shows, or the people who just randomly sign up for a session and don’t take it seriously. I could care less about whether someone can afford coaching beyond this one session. But I hate it when someone sends me a sample session request and then never replies to my personal, individually-writtenresonse. It’s rude. It wastes my time and effort.

What I hate even more are those who actually make an appointment for a sample session and then don’t show up, don’t even e-mail or call to cancel. I’ve set that time aside. I’ve read and reread what they’ve written. I’ve thought of possible approaches and strategies. And then they don’t even have the courtesy to cancel. They just leave me sitting there, like a teenager who’s been stood up for the prom.

There is one big difference between me and that teenager though. I know that when someone stands me up for a sample session, it’s actually all about them. It’s not me at all. After all, they don’t know me yet, so it can’t be personal. When I first started coaching, I did take it personally; now, however, I realize that they’re the ones with the issues. Often, they’re afraid. And if they’re afraid to show up for one single, free session, they’ll never be a good coaching client.

And OK, I get the fear. But I don’t get the rudeness or discourtesy. Is it that hard to just e-mail me and say “Sorry, can’t make it?”

It’s interesting, but over the years, I’ve become pretty good at picking out which people won’t show up or respond to my introductory e-mail. In general, they’ve signed up for a sample session quite late at night. They don’t give a real name. And their reasons for being interested in coaching tend to be either really bizarre, or very, very specific. Oh, did I mention spelling and grammar? There’s a difference between “legitimate” errors from typos or English as a second (or third) language, and the errors I see from people who are under the influence of something at the time they write.

And even when I’m quite sure that a person is not going to respond, I still give him or her my best effort. Because what I do is about me. And at the end of the day, I’m the person who has to look herself in the mirror.

It’s going to be a great day! I have no appointments all day, with plenty of interesting things to do. The sky is that dark, bright blue that you only see during a Colorado winter, and while the temperature is in the 20’s, there’s a bright sun, which will warm things up fast. And more importantly, in the land of the Chinook and 50 -80 MPH winds, it’s calm today.

Enough of the weather report. The big news is that today is an NAD.

“NAD” is a term my brother coined, and it stands for “No Alarm Day.” Now often, on NAD’s, I wake up at my usual time and just can’t bring myself to stay in bed. And that’s fine; I’m up by my choice, not the mechanical monster’s. Other NAD’s I’m so tired I sleep right through them, and don’t enjoy them. Well, I enjoy the extra sleep, but I don’t actually consciously experience it. This morning, however, was an absolutely perfect NAD. I just dozed delightfully, aware of the soft warmness of my bed, the slight cool of the bedroom (We like to keep it quite chilly at night in our house; a bedroom temp of about 60? F is quite normal.), the complete relaxation of my back and legs. I drifted in and out of ridiculous and delicious dreams, like the one in which my cold-hating mother and height-hating father bought season ski passes. I was in the wonderful state of being aware but not quite awake.

And then I got up and stood on my scale. If you remember from yesterday, I was quite exhilarated that I’d dropped three pounds. I steeled myself for disappointment, expecting at least one of them to reappear. And it didn’t! Well, the scale wobbled a bit, as if it were considering returning one to me, but it didn’t. So my goal today is to make sure that not-quite-half pound doesn’t consolidate itself and return. Which means a good brisk walk, and continued diligence in the matter of the evening snackage.

So what am I going to do with this unstructured day? Believe me, I have a list. Although I’m not going to be cleaning bathrooms and washing floors, I am planning on finishing up the laundry. I’m going to work on marketing materials for Manage Your Muse. (I hate writing marketing stuff!)  I’m going to try and knock out another month or two of Weekly Challengers. (I enjoy writing those; they’ll be my treat once I get some of the marketing out of the way.)  And then I’m going to cook. Although I’d originally planned today to be Indian, I’m switching the menu around. Today’s going to be Swiss, since it takes longer to cook, and I’m hopefully going to be out of the house on Friday.

So that’s my plan, and so far, so good. Let’s see where the rest of the day takes me!