Think about your normal daily experience: if you need to deal with your bank, your insurance company or your utility provider, you call an 800 number, where you are greeted with an automated message, a phone tree that routes you through a series of menus, as much automated information as they can possibly prepare, and then — if you’re problem is too complicated to automate — eventually you may get a person.

And then what happens?

You have to repeat your account number, despite having entered it already (at least once); you have to answer questions to validate your identity (or, worse yet, you don’t, which always begs the question: who else can get into my account?); and then you can get around to your question.

In many cases, by the time you get to speak to a real person you are dealing with a call center on the other side of the planet, non-native speakers (who sometimes struggle mightily with English), and in worst case scenarios, people who are clearly reading from a script with very little real understanding of either the nature of your problem or how best to handle it.

And when it’s all said and done, how often do you go through all of that, and get off the phone feeling totally confident that your issue was resolved? Rarely. More often than not, most of us get off the phone feeling like we just got the run around so badly that we need to double and triple check our next round of statements to make sure no one messed anything up.

All in all, because of the economic needs for businesses to automate and off-shore customer service functions, the general state of Customer Service is often crap.

This is where small business owners can be Superman. Seriously. For most small businesses, we don’t have the volume to go through all of that expense and hassle. Our customers often have our direct phone number. They know where to find us, how to reach us and what our specialty is. And while that may not always be great for our daily productivity (and it can certainly be abused at times), it gives small business owners the chance to leave our customers with a far, far better customer service experience than the one they just had with their credit card company.

We talk so much about business that we often over-look the most important fact of all: business is conducted between two or more PEOPLE. Sure, there are functions that can be automated and there are often good reasons to do it. But when you leave your customer feeling like less than an actual person, you’ve just provided a lousy customer service experience. Small businesses, because of logistics, have a built-in advantage. And it’s one we should all remember to take advantage of.

Since Justin and I are the same age (mid-30′s), it’s probably easy to assume that my source of pissiness was the same as his: Get over yourself, you big babies.

In point of fact, though, my source of pissiness is him being pissy about these survey results. Because, while I may have nearly two decades on the participants of that survey, add me into the group for whom that would make a difference. And while my reasons may not look the same on the surface, I’d venture to say that they probably aren’t as far off as some of my old fart peers might assume.

During my entire career, I have only spend three and a half months working at a company that was neither a startup nor a tech company. You know why I only lasted 3.5 months? Because the 30 year old company had a 30 year old culture that hadn’t seen any modern influences since the Nixon era.

What became crystal clear to me in that environment — an environment, by the way, when even during the NYC public transportation strike, when some of us had absolutely no means of getting to the office at all (depending on where you lived) vehemently prohibited anything as ‘lax’ as working from home — is that the technologies and business practices a company adopts speak to who and what they are as a business. Culture informs everything; and you learn a lot about a company by its rules and policies.

Here is what it says to me about a culture, if a business blocks access to social networks:

• You don’t trust your employees. If you have employees who are abusing the problem, then grow a set, fire them and leave the rest to do their job in the way that makes most sense for them.
• You are not allowing your employees access to valuable tools for business. Whether it’s current events, industry news or general networking with peers in other companies, Twitter is the single most powerful tool I have in my daily arsenal. Facebook is a close second. I get complex questions answered faster, find out industry-specific news more quickly, and generally manage to navigate my knowledge worker day far more effectively with Twitter than I ever did without. If an employer didn’t let me have access to it, I wouldn’t work for that employer.
• You are sticking your head in the sand and may as well paint a great big target on your ass. If you are restricting access to social media, then you are deliberately choosing to ignore changing trends in the marketplace around you. As an employee, any employer who deliberately did that would be someone I would think twice about working for, because I would read that as an indication of their attitude toward change and innovation in general — which has huge cultural implications for where and how I spend my day each and every week.
• You are being capricious. Blogs are as much social media as Facebook is. Are you going to block access to those, too? If so, that would include most major news outlets (after all, NYT is on WordPress), and source of current events. And what about Delicious, Digg, StumbleUpon, Yelp, YouTube, Flickr, Trippit or LinkedIn? They are all social networks. You going to block them, too?
• You are misallocating resources. Does your IT team really have nothing better to do with their time than to lock down the firewall to prevent me from getting to Twitter or Facebook? IT talent is expensive (I know: I’ve spent a well-paid career in that space), if you can’t think of something better for them to do than that, they you are not the type of company I want to work for.
• You are missing the point. Facebook (and text messaging) is how that age group communicates. Cutting them off from that would be like cutting me off from email and expecting me to be as fast, as accurate or as deft at navigating my day. Just because you and I have different preferred methods of communication does not make yours more valid than mine.
• You are setting a bad precedent. If you are summarily blocking social media, what other innovations can I expect that you will dismiss as having no value, despite the fact that your staff could find them profoundly impactful?
• You are fighting an unwinnable battle… which just makes you look lame. Business 101: Pick Your Battles.  The more time goes by, the more of your employees will have the same ability to ‘waste time’ via their smart phone as they do via a web browser. Are you going to confiscate their phones when they come to work, too?

So yes, if I was exploring working for someone, one of the things I’d want to understand was their social media policy. Absolutely. Just like having the ability to work from home when necessary, I consider that essential for my ability to be able to do my job well.

For those of us old enough to remember the internet before the web, I recognize that what is transformative about social networking is that it has made things that used to be hard much, much easier. I, for one, am not going to volunteer to hop in a time capsule and go back to making things harder again. Not if I can help it.

I’ve been lacking an effective metaphor to describe both the process and my present (and potentially future) state.  This has been tremendously frustrating (for both me and my husband), because my state of mind on this journey radically colors the choices that I am (or am not) comfortable making.

I think I finally figured out how to define it more effectively  We often talk about a “career path.” I think this is inaccurate. I think the right phrase is a “career highway.”

Right Lane = Stability-Motivated Employee

• One career and as few employers as possible.
• Stability reigns supreme.
• Even calculated risks are uncomfortable.
• Large enterprises and government positions often appeal most to this category.
• A single employer career with a stable retirment plan and reliable benefits is the Holy Grail, and boredom is acceptable at work in exchange for stability.
• Any necessary excitement can be sought outside of work when needed.
• “Progress” is most frequently measured in proximity to retirement, more than rungs climbed up a career ladder.

Second Lane = Migratory Employee

• The modern normal.
• An employee who will have 2-4 careers in a lifetime, and an average of 12-15 different jobs.
• Stability is important, but not above all else.
• Calculated career risks are worthwhile, if not occassionally exciting.
• Jumping to a new job is always a possibility if a more appealing opportunity presents itself.
• This employee is often heavily motivated by autonomy and new challenge, secondarily by money.

Center Lane = Freelancer

• The newest class of employee, often placing a premium on freedom and flexibility above stability.
• Often easily bored, and prefering variety with risk to stability with stagnation.
• Commonly enjoys being a solo entity, and is disinclined towards growing a business that requires taking on the responsibilities of having employees.
• Collaboration with other freelancers is often a successful and preferential model.
• “Dollars for hours” is the most common financial model, which can cause business development challenges.

Fourth Lane = Self-Employed

• Small businesses, often family or small-team owned/managed.
• Frequently limited in scalability.
• Often heavily reliant on founder(s) for success.
• Lifestyle businesses and brick-and-mortar neighborhood businesses often fall into this category.
• Not uncommon for an owner to discover that they ‘own a job’ rather than ‘own a business.’
• Freedom and wealth-building often started out as core priorities; over time, the realities of business limitations can undermine those objectives if this was not the intended final growth state of the business.

Left Lane = Business Owner

• Scalable businesses of all sizes.
• Owner/founder has decentralized systems, processes and critical knowledge enough to allow for empowerment and delegation among staff.
• Vacations and sick days for the founder are possible and cause little in the way of organizational chaos.
• This business is a strong candidate for potential sale, since success is not wholly dependent on the original founder for success.
• Owners/founders who build this type of business can/do often build more than one over the course of their lifetime.

Obviously this isn’t an entirely clean mapping, and different combinations can blend a bit to create a bit of a hybrid. But I think that the most meaningful part of the highway metaphor is the idea that people can change lanes over time. Different life factors can influence which lane someone chooses.

• I have seen dozens of female Second Laners have children, and then suddenly switch into either Right or Center Laners (depending on both their personality and their skillset).
• I have watched numerous Second Laners get laid off and decide to take on an entrepreneurial opportunity by moving immediately to the Center Lane, sometimes working their way farther over as time goes by.

This has been my path. I was an obsessive, workaholic Second Laner who was finding a ton of meaning and fun in the career that served me well, paid me nicely, stroked my ego constantly and took me on great professional adventures for a decade. When I hopped off the highway to move to a new town, I (arrogantly) assumed that I’d be able to just hop onto the new road in my new town without any trouble, and slide right back into the Second Lane again.

Unfortunately, my timing sucked. We left New York for Texas the week that Lehman Brothers decided to implode under the weight of their reckless decisions, and all of my pre-move job interview work collapsed with it. While not technically laid off, I found myself in the same position as many people who were: I was suddenly at loose ends with an inability to find a company that would let me do what I knew how to do. So, I shifted to the Center Lane.

The reality, though, is that at the time we started our business, I used the language that I knew my husband wanted to hear: and it was all Left Lane language. That’s what he wanted, that’s what he was going for, and that’s how we discussed it. The problem, of course, was that — like many new Center Laners — my hope was to bide my time until I could jump back into the Second Lane.

After a rough few months, I was finally given that chance. And, as luck would have it, it was on a trial basis. My new employer wanted the chance to check me out, and I certainly wanted the chance to check them out. As it turned out, that was the best thing that could have happened to my Career Highway Navigation. Going from the Center Lane back to the Second Lane suddenly felt painfully confining. Stifling, even. I was miserable within a week. I never saw that coming, and was a bit shocked to finally get what I’d wanted only to discover that I didn’t want it anymore.

So, after informing my employer that I didn’t foresee being able to sufficiently fill their needs, I stayed around to help them hire my replacement and then ultimately left. Back in the Center Lane again, I was at loose ends once more, but this time with a purpose. I just had to figure out how to make it work.

During this time, my husband began working on his startup. Everything about my husband is Left Lane. The idea of any other kind of business simply doesn’t make sense. And as a deeply collaborative person, he recognizes that he’ll need help to build a business that fits the bill.

Yet when it comes to me, in my professional life, I’m still in the Center Lane. I know that I don’t want to be in the Fourth Lane. But I’m honestly not sure that I want to be in the Left Lane, either. There are variations of the Center Lane model that are more lucrative and more sustainable than a strictly ‘dollars for hours’ model (which I also don’t want), but I’m not at all convinced that I can’t attain the degree of freedom I am looking for, accomplish the wealth-building I seek and manage to stay in the Center Lane.

But then, that’s part of the point: my A-#1 priority is freedom, above all else. I am not risk adverse (obviously), and I enjoy primarily being an individual contributor who occassionally collaborates on larger projects with others; I also don’t want to go back to managing people, projects, processes or products (been there, done that)… but I also don’t want to go back to working for anyone else. Given that, I don’t really see a solution other than the Center Lane for me.

My husband’s priority is to change the world, build a team of empowered collaborators and inspire the people who come into contact with his business to find creative solutions to large-scale problems. This is a goal he could never accomplish from the Center Lane. To do this on the scale that he wants, he needs to be in the Left Lane.

I always like the way the Left Lane looks. But I am increasingly less convinced that I’ll ever necessarily make my way all the way over there. But I’m also increasingly less convinced that I necessarily need to. With some proper planning and organizing, I could find that the Center Lane is the place that I’m happiest. Only time will tell. I just hope that next time I find myself switching lanes, I’m aware of it in time to turn on my blinker.

But every startup hits a tipping point, and it’s rarely articulated as clearly and beautifully as Steve Blank does in an article posted to VentureBeat today. The transition from a ‘scrappy startup’ to a mid-sized company trying to be more mature is always infinitely more painful a process than anyone seems to think is reasonable.

This surprises me every time I see it. In his story, Steve recounts watching a new CFO to a mid-sized firm implement a ‘no more free soda’ policy and inadvertently spark an exodus of the founding team of engineers. What’s more interesting, though, is that some of the comments posted on the story miss the point: the engineers didn’t leave the company because the company started charging them $.50 for a Coke. The engineers left because being charged $.50 for a Coke was a sign that the company was no longer the same organization that they’d previously been willing to sacrifice for.

That’s a subtle distinction, but a vital one. More than once, I and many of my colleagues, have been willing to take significant pay cuts to work in environments that had a culture (or other intangibles) that made the trade-off worthwhile. Eventually, though, most organizations change enough to where that trade-off ceases to be worth it. The part that is often upsetting, however, is that those changes are frequently sparked by someone coming in the door more intent on shaking things up than on understanding the culture they are walking into.

Steve’s story is one that I can relate to over and over again. It wasn’t until I had a truly remarkable executive come into our organization, and refuse to act precipitously, but instead insist on watching and interviewing the entire staff for his first 60 days, that I had the slightest hope of someone making positive changes without unraveling the cultural elements that held us together, even in the face of the chaos. So now, when I go into startups, many of which are at the transition point between early-stage/founding team, and their second generation, I have a five step approach I follow:

1. Recognize that, for founding teams, everything is personal. The people who build a new organization take on a lot of risk and chaos to do it. They have to believe in it. It’s almost a religious experience, and you can’t come in a year or two later and expect them not to take your changes personally. Because, whether it makes sense to you or not, everything is personal. They’ve sacrificed too much for it not to be.
2. Understand the evolution. You have to be a bit of an archaeologist when you go into a new business. Do not make assumptions about how they got where they are. If you look long and hard enough, talk to enough people, and do your research, you’ll find that even the craziest things you see have a reason for having evolved the way they did. Unless or until you understand that reason, anything you do to try to “fix” the situation runs the risk of alienating people unnecessarily.
3. Respect the sacrifices made by the people who came before you. Unless you know that the people who are there when you walk in the door are dead wood and you want them to quit, make sure you demonstrate some respect to what they were able to accomplish — especially if they did it under tough circumstances. The single biggest source of alienation I have ever seen has been when new people come in, hot-to-trot, making changes and the people who built the company in the first place are treated like morons who simply got lucky.
4. Work on depersonalizing the business. It is reasonable that early stage startups are often personal sacrifices for people — they need to be. But a maturing company has to pass the point where that is no longer true. Not all of the early stage team will be able to handle that transition, but many of them can and will if they do not feel kicked in the teeth by new leadership brought in from the outside. Slowly building in an ethic of, “It’s not personal, but this is where the business needs to go now” is actually often much easier than people assume it to be. Founding teams want the business to be successful. That was the whole point for their sacrifice. If you want or need them to stick around, then help them learn to take a step back and not see the evolution of the business as an emotional affair.
5. Facilitate relationships between the old guard and new guard. Not all of the old guard is (or should) make the transition to the new phase of the business. And not all of the new guard is capable of showing any respect for what the old guard has done. But if you focus on individuals, their talents, and understanding what drives them, it is often possible to help connect people in ways that build strong teams to move the company forward. But you must keep in mind that there is often an automatic lack of trust between both groups, a tendency to point fingers, and a common tradition of resentment that you must work through before you are going to see progress.

Businesses are made up of people. And not every person is right for every business at every stage. Some really do need to move on as an organization grows. But that should be a deliberate, well-considered decision, not a haphazard, expensive mistake spurred by a short-sighted, penny-pinching reason. Unfortunately, that’s the cause I’ve seen most frequently throughout my career. And it’s a bit tragic, because a lot of dynamic organizations have lost a lot of amazing talent that could have helped grow the business and make it successful.

(This post is part of my Entrepreneur Evangelist series and was originally published on WorkingPoint‘s Small Business Blog.)

Family
Universally cited by women who get off the corporate ladder as the biggest reason to start their own businesses, opportunities for stay-at-home parents (mostly targeted at Moms, though also often applicable to Dads) are everywhere. Whether it’s Brazen Careerist founder, author and blogger, serial entrepreneur Penelope Trunk, Forbes magazine’s “Mompreneur,” Lisa Druxman, or dedicated online communities, such as Work-at-Home Moms, opportunities for parents to build a family-friendly business only continue to grow, as does their recognition as truly viable business models.

Geography
As someone who likes to pick up and move a couple of thousand miles away every couple of years, this is one of my biggest motivators: being able to work no matter where I am. In the age of the Internet, a laptop and an Internet connection are a mobile entrepreneur’s best friend. Author of the best selling book, The 4-Hour Workweek, Tim Ferriss, blogs about the his misadventures abroad, while communities like Location Independent offer advice to entrepreneurs building geo-neutral businesses.

Schedule
The single biggest complaint I hear from anyone who has ever worked for themselves and has then gone back to working for someone else is about the schedule: being told what hours to work, not having the luxury of picking your own routine and needing to account for your hours. Whether you are a night owl, a highly social power-networker or just someone who likes to be able to take an afternoon nap, having at least some measure of control over your daily schedule can make all the difference between enjoying your week or dreading it.

For most of us, I think it’s ultimately about time: we have limited time on this planet, limited time to do the things we want with the people we love, and limited time to see and explore all the experiences we want to take in. While there are definitely always times when being your own boss is more time-consuming than working for someone else, knowing that your work is going towards allowing you to have some measure of control over your time so that you can spend it on your priorities is often worth the sacrifice.

I know entrepreneurs who are motivated by a desire to spend time with their grandchildren, those who want to volunteer with their church, some who never want to have to wake up before noon and one (other than me!) who wants to be able to have time to water ski every single day. Whatever the reason, these entrepreneurs want a lifestyle first, and are willing to make the sacrifices necessary to support that goal.

So out of all the lifestyle reasons to be your own boss, which matters most to you?

Between getting settled into the new project and speaking to old friends at former companies (some of whom are now unemployed, while others only wished they were), I’ve been thinking about a number of things that seem to have dovetailed together in a way I wasn’t expecting.

First and foremost is career management. Long a favorite topic of mine, what I’ve been thinking of recently is how sadly common it is for a boss to be totally useless when it comes to helping their employees with career management plans. More than a few of them don’t think it’s part of their responsibility (which I find inexcusably lazy), but even more of them seem to simply not think of it.

This got me thinking of the series I wrote at Christmas, “A Christmas Card to My Bosses: Thanks to Three Very Wise Men.” While I wrote blog posts on the great lessons I learned from each John, Robert and Dave, the thing that I didn’t state explicitly (but which was implicit) was that each of them cared about and was focused on making sure the people on their staff were getting the career development support, encouragement and pushing that they needed. They were all acutely aware of the role they played in developing their people; they took that responsibility seriously and they executed against that.

I see so many talented people who do not have that. And when they finally have someone actually demonstrate some interest and some focus on helping them define and reach their career objectives, they are often so stunned they can hardly believe it.

Why is it so hard? Most people who have been successful enough to be the boss have accomplished that because they know how to manage their own career, so why is it so hard for them to help give guidance and advice to someone else on how to do the same? It shouldn’t be — and I don’t buy that it usually is. I think the reason most people don’t do it is because they don’t make time to do it.

An important thing to keep in mind: statistically speaking, most people do not leave their job, they leave their boss. So are you doing what you need to do to keep your employees engaged and supported so that they stick around? If not, why not?

So that’s my challenge to bosses everywhere: have you worked with each of your direct reports to make sure you understand their career goals (at least as much as they do)? Have you worked on a plan for them that will help them make progress towards those goals? Are you checking in with them regularly to make sure that they are staying focused on at least some of the accomplishments they need in order to stay on track?

Part of being a leader is helping make sure the people you are leading are getting where they need to go. If you aren’t doing that, then where are you leading them?

When the bubble burst back in 2000 it was because speculation had driven realistic performance expectations, sanity and reason out the window (keep throwing endless piles of money at most people, and eventually most of us will get stupid). The industry itself, as well as those watching and investing in it, had bought into its own hype, and then it was crushed under the weight of it’s own hubris and lunacy. (Not unlike what is currently happening to the financial services industry.) Critical lesson: watch the hype and don’t drink the KoolAid. (A caution I would also issue to the current level of hysteria going on in the social media space.)

What this meant, of course, was that companies that had not yet become profitable or did not yet have a self-sustaining business model were S.O.L. VC money evaporated over night. Gone were the massages and catered lunches and lavish holiday parties. Suddenly we were awash in pay cuts, layoffs and absorbing the workloads of people who’d left because we couldn’t afford to replace them.

We were lucky. At that point, we were still a services company (though we were working on our product; it just wasn’t done yet), and that bought us a little bit of time. Not a lot, but — as it turned out — enough. And we sold our asses off. Everything we did for clients was billable. Everything was custom. Everything was a one-off.

Naturally, this presented problems in the scheme of things, because while this was providing us with live-saving revenue, this was not at all scalable. And our leadership knew it. So we continued to push forward with our plans to transition into being a product-based business that offered additional, ancillary services.

The troubles here were strategy, communications, education and execution. For those of us who were living on the services side, we had a culture that was services-centric — not product-centric, and there is a huge difference. In a services-centric culture, your answer to clients is always “yes.” And clients expect your answer to always be “yes.” It never occurs to either of you that the answer could or should be anything else. There is a culture of expectation that must be transitioned, and it must be done thoughtfully and carefully in order to avoid alienating the very people who are keeping you in business.

Now, to be sure, you aren’t going to have a business if you get in the habit of saying “no” to your customers, but there is a big difference between being an order-taking organization whose response to “Jump!” is always, “How high?” and an organization that provides expertise and consultation to customers, as suppliments to a core product offering. The culture, the relationship, the value brought to the table are all very different. And shifting from one to the other is a significant change that needs to be managed carefully in order to keep both your staff and your clients onboard.

Furthermore, our problem was compounded by the fact that the product team was very insulated from the rest of the business. That include socially. They literally sat in a different building. The two groups barely knew each other, so not only did both sides feel misunderstood and taken for granted, but we did not have the opportunity to really find any solid common ground. The services teams thought the product teams were snobs; and the product teams thought the services teams were cowboys. And we were probably all at least a little bit right. But what we weren’t seeing is that each group had a different mission, and that we were each very much in-line with what we needed to be doing at that time.

What we didn’t do was actively execute against a long-term strategy to bring both teams in-line with each other. To whatever degree that did ultimately happen, it was more by brute force of circumstance than by much in the way of active planning or cultivation. Looking back now, so many of the conflicts, headaches, and missteps are painfully clear. And, since hindsight is 20/20, I see so many opportunities that were missed, that would have made all the difference — both when it came to the internal culture, as well as in our relationships with clients.

Of course, looking back, I also now realize that this was one of the early seeds that sparked my interest in change management. This was a big change that had do-or-die implications for the business. The sense of urgency and relevance needed to be truly understood by the services team to get their buy-in, and it simply wasn’t. Without that comprehension, managing client expectations was an endless series of bungled missteps that were constantly needing to be corrected. The services teams needed a roadmap; and we didn’t even have a compass.

Another reason that I love startups is that, given enough time, I know that I’ll have the opportunity to tackle this type of problem again, and be able to apply some of the hard-won lessons from last time to doing it better.

And then I got a job — that ultimately turned into a career — at a start-up. Pay dirt!

The transformation that sparked in me is still an endless source of amusement among my friends. It took me a while to realize why, but eventually it was clear: the problem with school is that there was an upper limit on what I was capable of achieving. It was an artificial cap on how well I could be scored. I found that inherently disincentivizing. In business, however, there is no upper limit. You can take something as far or as high as you can push it (given the right environment, of course).

And, even better, in a scrappy, entrepreneurial, risk-taking startup (especially one trying to survive an economic downturn) someone who is hungry, talented, teachable and willing to dive into the deep end of the pool head first has tremendous opportunity for growth. The first three years of my career were the most educational, exciting and energizing time of my life — all of my years of school combined couldn’t compare to those three years. Everything was new, everything was interesting and I never once had the slightest bit of doubt that I could conquer anything that came my way.

Ah, the hubris of youth!

Of course, there were downsides. Like many young people, I didn’t know my limits and was constantly pushing the envelope in ways that I probably shouldn’t have (and in ways that I’ve since learned not to do). Whereas many 26-year-olds may be more inclined to do that with parties, I did it with work. I ended up missing a lot of important events in the lives of friends and family because of that.

I was also still extremely idealistic about a great many things. Instead of The Pragmatic Contextualist, an appropriate blog title would have been something along the lines of The Snarky Idealist or Bring it On and Get Out of the Way! (Which, ironically, is still how some people tend to view me, though I have toned down considerably with age.)

But that idealism was invaluable to me, because it made me fearless: if anything is possible and I’m extremely capable, then what do I have to be afraid of? I don’t tend to be very risk-adverse in general, but I have become more cautious with age (though, not quite enough for either my husband or father’s tastes). Back then, though, it would never occur to me that I wouldn’t figure out a way to succeed at whatever I did — which meant I was a hopeless volunteer junkie.

My biggest rush came from fixing problems, and in a post-bubble burst start-up, there were plenty of things to be fixed. So I had an endless supply of opportunity, and endless confidence in my own success. Happily, I also had bosses who went from having nothing to lose by letting me try, to truly believing in my ability to make a positive difference.

As was inevitable, a few kicks in the teeth later, and I stopped being quite so cocky. The pragmatist in me was ultimately born of those experiences, and the eternal idealist retreated to the back, only to come out for the occasional political event.

One of the biggest, most valuable lessons I learned was how to deal with chaos. More recently in my career, I had a bizarre moment when a senior IT Director — who was easily 25 years older than me — groused that we were working in “the most chaotic environment” he’d ever experienced in his life.

I wanted to laugh and call him a weenie (I restrained myself — though barely). The environment we were working in at the time was easily the least chaotic environment I’d ever experienced, and his inability to roll with the punches made him a particularly weak and frustrating leader in my opinion, because he got frazzled very easily, whined constantly and was tremendously rigid. It never occurred to me until that moment that my ability to handle chaos was all that unique.

Naturally, one of the dangers of getting a bit too used to high volumes of chaos is that you can become a drama junkie. This did happen to me, and it took me a while (and outside circumstances) to curb it. But what I have seen of most drama junkies (and trust me, I wasn’t the only one I knew) is that, the older we get, the less tolerance we have for that same constant fever-pitch of insanity.

This is another reason that I have often recommended aimless twentysomethings seeking career advice to explore startups: because by the time people are settled in their career, married or have kids, startups can be a bit too rough on the lifestyle. So if you’re going to do them, best give them a shot while you’re young, energetic, single and have as few external obligations as possible.

But when I look back on that time now, I am profoundly grateful. I was drinking from a fire hose, and it never occurred to me there was any other way to work. I got to sample a spectrum of potential opportunities and figure out which ones held some appeal, and which ones didn’t. If I had found myself in a more stable, structured environment back then, I can’t imagine where I’d be now, because the lessons I learned there, and the all-you-can-eat-buffet of opportunities that I had available to me at the time are how I found my way into a career.

In the scheme of things, I look back on the most pivotal, impactful decisions of my life and the day I left the famed O’Reilly Publishing — which is where I thought I’d wanted to work for years — and went to MarketLive (at the time it was still called MultimediaLive) was one of them. And since then, I have found myself encouraging twentysomethings who do not know what they want out of a career to look at startups, because as long as they can develop a bit of tolerance for chaos (which I firmly believe everyone should do), they’ll usually find opportunities they never knew existed.

What do you think? Are startups a good or bad place to start out your career?

Specifically, I’ve been thinking about how early career choices can really set the stage for the directions we take in life. As is often the case, many of the largest influences on our lives are not obvious until many years later. And while I am as likely as anyone to take them for granted, every once in a while something will happen to make me stop and consider the series of events that brought me to where I am now, and what the unintended consquences of seemingly small actions or events have ultimately provided.

There were three defining elements of my early career that I have been noodling on, because they had much larger impacts on me than I ever would have predicted at the time:

• Getting your start in a startup. What is the value to launching a career in a startup environment?
• Being in the ‘wild west’ of a new market space. What does it mean to be in a new space?
• Transforming a company from being “a services company” to “a product company.” What are the differences and why are they important?

Undoubtedly, the first two of those are a bit sexier than the third. However, all three ultimately shaped me in ways I never fully realized at the time. The lessons learned were a bit rough sometimes, but when I compare some of my experience to that of my peers, I realize that I had the opportunity to be involved in some things that have served me extremely well and that I wouldn’t trade in for anything.

Over the next couple of days, I’ll cover each of these topics in a separate post (each one is too long to combine them).

Grant me strength to accept the things that I can’t change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

Since 2003, I have been working really, really hard on changing the things I can change. Everything from my work-over-life habits, to my physical health, to my determination to stay in my hometown because it was too easy to bother doing anything else. “Change” has been my mantra.

But it’s also been my addiction, and this gets me to where I am now. I got in the habit of changing things just because I could. I was enjoying the novelty of that, and was finding it invigorating. I still do a lot of times. But, now I have a husband who likes things to be a bit more stable than that, and I have realized that — much as I like to think otherwise — there are some things that I haven’t really changed, no matter how much window dressing I put up to try to make things look different.

This is particularly true in some of the most frustrating areas of my professional life. In the past, I have been notorious for being passionate, a bit volatile (a “bit”! Ha!), inclined towards taking things personally, having no boundaries, etc. Since late 2003 I have been working on all of those things, and some of them have been harder than others. But there is one area that no matter how much effort I put into it, my internal needle doesn’t seem willing to budge. And that is my ability to fake how I feel about something.

One of my strengths is that, when I feel strongly about something, I am a force of nature. My commitment level is unparalleled, my ability to motivate anyone is unmatched, and my energy level is uncontainable. My husband, my former bosses and co-workers and my friends all tend to enjoy seeing me this way, because my energy and enthusiasm is contagious, and they all have found themselves swept up in my tidal wave of excitement.

Of course, it is the other side of that coin that tends to be a problem. When I am unhappy in a given situation, I have a near impossible time containing it. I really try, but I could never be an actress, because the one thing I can’t do convincingly is fake emotion on demand. And the more unhappy I get, the less I can contain it. This gets me into huge, huge amounts of trouble. It has caused me to leave jobs, even when it was not necessarily in my long-term best interest. It has caused me to burn bridges I didn’t necessarily need to burn.

But, because it is something that I have been adamant I need to control, I have spent years trying to convince myself that it is only a sheer force of will that stands between my normal patterns and new ones. And now I’m not so sure.

I look around me at the people who make awesome consultants. They are people who can fake interest and enthusiasm so well they deserve an Oscar. Because I have spent years wanting to be a consultant, I have tried convincing myself that I was capable of that, too. But the more time goes one, the less convinced I am of that.

I have some dear people in my life — husband, mentor, friends, father — who have ridiculously challenged relationships with time. And no amount of effort fundamentally changes that. So the shift moves from CHANGING it, to MANAGING it.

I think this is where I am when it comes to my ability to fake my emotions. After years of trying to convince myself I could CHANGE this about myself, I think I have now arrived at the conclusion that the best I can hope to do is to MANAGE it, instead.

So what does this mean? First and foremost, this means that I start listening to my gut and not trying to convince myself that, by sheer force of will, my brain will be able to over-ride all of my emotional reactions. When I feel that familiar feeling that I am setting myself up for a disaster by trying to force a situation that fundamentally makes me unhappy, I need to stop and GET OFF the bus. For years I have continued to let myself be boxed in tighter and tighter, and then eventually, I end up exploding. And when that happens, I make a bigger mess than I ever needed to.

If I had walked away when I first noticed the signs, an amicable parting has always been possible. It’s only waiting too long, until tempers are running hot and patience is running out, that things become unsalvagable.

So, now I find myself in a strange position: because, like I’ve written before, I don’t like to quit, am I being a quitter by accepting that I may not be able to change this about myself, and focusing instead on management? Or am I being a pragmatist who is owning her short-comings and recognizing that some things really aren’t ever going to change?

Probably a little bit of both. I know I’m not going to give up and just universally accept that just because it’s hard that I can’t change something; but I also need to recognize that some things just need to be managed, and deluding myself into thinking that I can bulldoze my way through something is arrogant and impractical — and tends to make life more complicated than it needs to be.

So, for now I focus on management. And, the truth is, when there is something that I get truly excited about, my inability to fake my emotions serves me very well. And I’d be afraid that changing one side of that coin could have an adverse impact on the other, too.