The Transition Queen

Next Exit to the Future

Transitioning has become a way of life for many career professionals. This is especially true if you target leadership roles and consulting opportunities in the land of start-ups and working with entrepreneurs.

Some of the negatives of transitioning are summed up in lack of financial security, less control of outcomes and a life full of constant change for you and your loved ones.

The positives of transitions are the experience gained, the continuous learning from success and failures and of course the valuable connections and colleagues who become life-long partners in your professional journey.

For me, transitioning is what I expect and what I know.  It is my way of life.

Coming out of college, it was always suggested that you find a “good” job and stick with it. You ride the elevator up to the top, upgrading your positions and taking on more responsibilities along the way. There are many people that like that steady climb or to even take a job and find sanctuary in the stability of staying put.

I soon learned that riding on the same elevator for very long did not provide me a lot of challenge and was difficult for a pure opportunist.  My accent to leadership was early in my career.  I was fortunate.  It was my belief the more responsibility you gained riding up the chain of command, the more commitment you had to affect change, push for progress and even disrupt the “norms” of cultural beliefs and thinking.

I also learned that if you push too hard for improvements or change, you might soon find a transition in your near future.  It is disruptive and challenging to businesses big and small.

Why have I anointed myself the Transition Queen? It is my career path and my journey.  It is also my value proposition.  I have seen, experienced and learned more through multiple transitions of which most people see in a lifetime.  Transitions from mergers, transitions from completing multiple C-level consulting projects as a business owner and transitions in roles that hit the proverbial end of the road for me — I have experienced them all.

The first decade of my transitions were emotional and met with uncertainty. Today, I wear my transitions as badges of honor. I get to do more, learn more, meet more people, find new ways to make a difference. I realize now that transitions are opportunities to grow and face new challenges.

My honorary Transition Queen title is worthy of the rich experience and expertise gained along the way. Working in multiple industries, driving change in big and small organizations and finding solutions to meet consumer and business needs are immeasurable when collectively stored in one person.

Stacking Up Experience and Expertise

My problem solving skills are keener, my view of what can be done is brighter. I am confident I can help.  I am certain more can be done.  I have worn multiple leadership hats and I know there is always a similar process and methodology that can be applied to increase market share, grow revenues, commercialize products and create solid infrastructure.  

I relish the transition.  I seek it and sometimes even push for it to happen, or as I say to achieve my “self-fulfilling prophecy” to move on.  My ability to help others move faster and achieve more is my driver.  A motivator.  It is my life blood.  Change yes, change now, absolutely.  In the end, I have come to accept I am The Transition Queen.  

Now, on to the next big thing!

Grandma and Her Collections

Posted on April 15, 2012

Grandma Elbertine, who we called “Bertie”, was a fine collector of ordinary things. From clothes to matchbooks, she had boxes and closets full of eras gone by. Each collection gave a different ”window to the world” and also showed off a bit of her creativity and sense of nostalgia.

Her bedroom bureaus were full of jewelry sets and her closets stuffed with matching shoes, purses and hats. Everything she wore was completely coordinated, another personal charm.  Growing up, I spent many hours looking at her precious fashion collections, some of which dated back to the 1940′s, 50′s and 60′s. She loved to unpack small treasures put away for special occasions.  I would try things on under her careful watch.  I even dared to ask to borrow a fur collar or pillbox hat for a special night out with the strict requirement to return it the next week.  I quickly learned, her accessories were a big standout at the discotheque in the late 70′s.

She was her own fashionista and she is still my vintage idol. Beyond her fashions, she had huge collections of middle-America stuff like colored glassware, silver spoons, wall plates, dolls, lace and even buttons. She kept magazines for decades, old toys and drawers of Avon lipstick and perfume samples.  She was a collection pro!

I loved Grandma’s sense of rich style, all which she acquired on department store wages and a little allowance from Grandpa.  From the time when I was a teenager, I have nestled inside me the love for things that remind me of her, from cat eye glasses to broaches.  My soul is stuck in generations past, most of which I only lived through Grandma Bertie and her collectibles.

After she passed, I was given a few of her collectibles by my mom.  I cherish them all.  One of the many Grandman Bertie collections was postcards that spanned travels and vacations across many decades.  They provide another view of the world she experienced. I thought I would share a few of them.  It was hard to choose a few from the hundred postcards I have in a sitting in glass bowl.  Here are a few I thought I would share today.

Suspicious? My Experience of Being Profiled in Florida

As the fight for justice continues in the Trayvon Martin killing, I am reminded of my personal experience of being profiled.  I share this story knowing that this happened to me only one time in my life, while others experience this every day. My experience didn’t result in a tragedy, but it did enlighten me to what it is like to be targeted as suspicious.

I was in Miami on vacation with friends. We were riding in a rental car, a new Cadillac Seville.  We flew in that day from Arizona. It was about 1AM and we were returning from a night out, where we had a great dinner in South Beach and then stopped at a hoppin’ Miami night club. We were sober but tired from dancing.  Not one of us drink, so it was just a matter of getting back to the hotel to get a good night’s sleep before an early morning golf game.

Riding back to our 4-Star hotel, I said to my friend Lloyd, who was driving, “Check out that cop car parked on the other side of the road. He is missing a headlight. Who will pull him over?” Next thing I knew, we were being pulled over.  Stunned, I thought now that’s strange.

Then, I experienced the unthinkable as a 39-year-old white woman – blatant racial profiling.  I was a victim of suspicion by association.  I was riding passenger in a new car with two black men.  My two friends were profiled.  I became witness to freedom, justice and liberty for some, but definitely not all.  Not for my friends that night.

It was a police truck that had a service dog in the back with one working headlight, no less. We immediately stopped. Lloyd unrolled his window. “Yes, officer? What did we do?” Immediately, the officer took a hostile tone. “I don’t have to tell you. Give me your driver licenses?”  Lloyd asked, “Everyone?” The cop said, “Yes!”  Again, Lloyd asks, “Why did you turn around and pull us over?”  The cop said, “I didn’t flip around.  I was following you and I don’t need to tell you anything.”

I thought to myself, why would he lie?  The police officer ignored any other questions and kept looking at our license then walked to the back of our rental car.

There were three people in our car. I was in the front passenger seat. Lloyd was driving and our friend was in the back. I thought it was really strange that we had to all give our licenses. I watched him in my visor mirror as he stood behind our car.  He had our licenses in hand and was smelling each of them.

He returned to the front driver’s window, standing far away.  I asked, “Why are you smelling our licenses?” I knew he was trying to see if it smelled like drugs.  He said his nose itched!  It was then I knew this was more than a traffic stop.

Another officer then arrived at the scene. He was hispanic. He told my friend Lloyd, “Man, you are talking too loud. You are making him nervous.  I’m used to black people talking loud, but you are scaring the other officer.” What did I just hear? Now my heart is racing.

The officer then said, “Please get out of the car.” We all proceeded to get out of the car and then I saw the police dog being unloaded from the back of the truck. I am still somewhat shocked and even more angered now, so I followed the cop and the dog as he opened our trunk of the rental car and walked around the car. I am not sure why he let me follow him.  I really thought he might throw something in the car.  It did kind of seem like a bad cop movie.  I was really frightened.  My two friends stood quietly on the curb.

Two more police officer cars arrived on the scene. I started asking for an explanation. “What is going on?” The officer in charge took us aside and said to us, “You see, there was a gray Cadillac in the county next to ours that was involved in a drive-by shooting. It was a black guy with dreads driving.”

My angered response, “Who has dreads in this car? I am white. Our Cadillac is golden brown. And these two black men are completely bald! So, again why were we pulled over? Why was our car just searched?”

The officer said, “Oh, he didn’t understand the police radio call.  He must of been confused.” Are you kidding me? And then it was over.  We were told we could leave.

I never felt more fearful of my freedom.  My liberty.  I kept thinking my company and my family might not know that I was thrown in jail.  I could just disappear.  Is this how it happens?  I have traveled to many other countries and I felt like I was not in my own — the United States of America.  My heart was racing.

Sadly, I know this takes place all the time.  My friends told me so for years. I hear about it from co-workers, family and close friends that are African American.  They tell me it’s called “DWB – Driving While Black”.  Really!  It has a name!  My black friends would tell stories at work and dinner parties about being pulled over for no reason. They get stopped in the street for walking. They get asked where they are going when walking across a parking lot. Never ticketed, just stopped. They are followed in stores.  People lock doors around them, grab their purses on elevators.  I’ve seen it more than once.  They are suspicious.  One good friend was pulled over because his white godson was in the car with him.  The cop said he was just checking on the boy.  You see, my friend is black.  Sometimes we laugh, but it’s not funny. Not at all.

I left Miami shocked and scared.  And, really mad. This is what my friends experience all the time. No equal rights. Profiling. Assumed guilty of doing something. Suspicious! Until then, I had never thought about those that didn’t get to drive or walk away or boys like Trayvon.  Now I see and hear these real life stories and I’m heartbroken. Ten years later.  More now than ever.

In the call for justice for Trayvon, I am saddened about parents who have to give civil rights reminders and lessons on how to behave in public to avoid suspicion.  Pull up your pants!  Take down your hoodie! Or what, you might be shot?

I was a senior executive at a global company. My friends were both in law enforcement. I told Lloyd to show the officer his badge when this was happening to us. He said, “No. I shouldn’t have to show him my badge. This shouldn’t happen in America.”  But it did.

They never knew they were in law enforcement until I turned to them all as we got in the car and said, “By the way, you just pulled over two law enforcement people from Arizona.” They just starred. No apology.  I knew in my heart, we were lucky.  We drove away.

I am sorry for all those that don’t get to drive or walk away. Those that are profiled every day. I am sorry for the suspicion, unnecessary and unfair. I know it happens to our young black men every day, our sons, and it only happened to me once. Maybe if more people experience what I experienced, they would understand the shame, danger and disgrace of stereotyping in this country. The unjust and unfair suspicion.  The anger.

The killing of Trayvon because he was “up to no good” is a calling to all of us.  Let’s live up to what our country was founded on, “liberty and justice for all”.  Stop the suspicion. It’s not right. Stop it. Now. It’s time. And, let’s make sure we see justice.  A trial. That’s a start.

First posted at http://artfulthinkers.wordpress.com