Working remotely can be hard. But It might be really hard on Your Bosses.

My first taste of remote came in the last century. For real.

I worked remotely in Prineville, Oregon, starting in 1993. I was a newspaper reporter covering two counties about 45 minutes from the The Bulletin main office in Bend, Oregon.

Dial up internet, landlines, the works. Even these little black walkie-talkies when I was out in the field reporting stories and my editors needed to talk to me.

I’ve been a remote worker since then for almost my entire career. So it was nothing new for me when the pandemic hit two years ago and forced employees to work from home.

Like I did almost 30 years ago, we got used to it. We made it work. Companies made money. Employees thrived.

Why go back?

For some it might simple be for control. Or they like to see people working. For others it might be lack of trust. And other reasons, I’m sure. One company claims their culture works best when everyone is in the building.

The remote work/office gig is causing problems for companies demanding their employees come back to the office. A friend of mine has had it with their company. They demand all the employees work in their office, except for a chosen few who are “grandfathered.”

Another friend wants out of their remote work unfriendly company because of the commute. They say they also work less efficiently in an office with lots of distractions who are mainly other employees.

There’s got to be a middle ground. Some people love working in the office. They like the vibe, or the collaboration, or the snacks, or the extroverting playground. That’s great. Enjoy!

There’s room for some give and take. On both sides.

I remember many years ago, 2003, exactly. I was interviewing for a newspaper job but wanted to work at home and asked if I could do that. The editor who was interviewing me thought about it for a few seconds.

“I don’t care where you work,” he said. “Just get your work done.”

Amen.

Don't ghost job hunters and other things I learned applying for jobs

Things I've learned in my recent three-week job search:

--The candidate's time frame and the prospective employer's time frame may be worlds apart. So if you like someone, you like someone. Get them on your team. Like now.

--Benefits are huge. Because it shows you care. That speaks volumes to prospective employees. And trust me, we know firsthand what benefits that suck look like and how great bennies set quality employers apart.

--People want to be a part of something great. Maybe that's stating the obvious. But if your people doing your interviewing can't convey that and equate it to meaningful work, then you get what you deserve.

--If you can't give them a good "why" for why they should join your team, then don't expect to attract solid candidates who will stick around. We want to build something great. With you.

--If you have to tell someone how great you are, you're not that great. We see through that just by going to your website.

--Know some things about us. Not just that we "have a great resume." So do your homework. I make it a point to learn about the people I'm interviewing with because I want to be prepared to ask questions and get to know them before I commit my professional life to them. That makes sense, right?

--Tell us how much money we'll make working with you. It truly is mind-boggling that companies don't do this. Why? How many great candidates are you missing out on because they won't even bother if they don't know the salary you're offering?

--Honesty. Sincerity. Truthfulness. Openness. (Do you see a pattern here?)

--Don't ever, like never, ghost a prospective employee. That's simply cruel. For example, I had five interviews for a job with one company in a position that would have been amazing. I was a finalist for the position but after that fifth interview heard nothing back. Even after sending two emails to the recruiter. In retrospect, why would I want to work for a company that holds its candidates in such contempt?

--Your perfect candidate does not exist. Mostly because your organization isn't perfect. Think about that.

The genius of renowned chef Jose Andres is this one thing. Do you have it?

When renowned chef Jose Andres arrived in Puerto Rico after the devastation of Hurricane Maria, he was driven to feed three million Puerto Ricans.

He had one major problem: He was stuck. Nothing in the devastated country worked.

He could have been overwhelmed. He could have thrown up his hands, or succumbed to what was likely a contagious discouragement in the face of the enormous humanitarian disaster.

But that’s not how he’s wired

He’s wired to get to work. That hurdle in front of him? Jump over it. Again and again if he must.

After landing in Puerto Rico and surveying the situation, Chef Andres made some calls. He put the word out. Got persuasive. Probably cajoled.

Whatever he said was working. Because amazing friends joined him.

They were driven. Frantic. Compassionate.

And united in one goal to feed a hurting, starving nation one meal at a time through ingenuity, creativity, and the sheer force of their will.

“So we began doing what we do best,” Andres said. “We began feeding the people of Puerto Rico.”

The genius of Andres is his calling card: He gets to work. He works relentlessly and creatively, persevering through every challenge.

I take Andres’ genius to heart in the projects I lead and work on. Do you?

Do you get to work? Get creative? How are you at persuading others to join you?

When I approach a project, I like to take action. For example, I might start writing, jotting down ideas, listening, gauging feedback. Who’s the audience? What’s in it for them?

I’ll tweak the messaging with my colleagues, getting it right and figuring out the best ways to reach stakeholders and audiences.

A chef is similar to a content strategist and writer in many ways. Both our audiences are hungry.

So how will you feed them?

White space is your friend. Use it. Ok?

Your reaction is predictable when you come to a web page that’s all text.

It’s negative. You’re overwhelmed. I bet you pass it up.

Big blocks of text are barriers to the reader’s experience. That’s stating the obvious, I know. But making white space your friend when you write text isn’t used enough.

I see it over and over again that people write big blocks of text. Then they wonder why nobody reads what they wrote.

Here’s the simple solution. Break things up.

Think about little chunks. Bit-size morsels. A handful. It’s similar to how you eat, right?

However you want to think about it or put it, do us all a favor. Embrace the white space. Declutter.

I’m also hoping it will help you automatically start writing simpler, cleaner copy. Making it less dense and easier to read and understand.

I believe we call that a win-win.

Your audience wants writing that is easy to read. Make it clear. Simple. Painless. Effortless.

One thing matters the most to your audience. They want to read what you write just once and “get it.”

They don’t want to read something twice to understand it. Especially three or four times.

They don’t want their eyes to glaze over.

Don’t ever forget that. You may feel like a safe play is to repeat the jargon and clunky wording of your client, especially if you work for governments.

You don’t have to use the words “leverage” or “utilize.” Steer clear of writing “cascading messaging” and “value proposition” and “lean in.”

Don’t do it. It’s annoying and unnecessary.

There’s a reason governments are on “plain language” kicks.

The Atlantic magazine even had a March Madness-style playoff of worst corporate buzzwords. Funny stuff … in a sad sort of way.

Don’t try and sound intelligent when you write because chances are you will lose your audience with big words and lots of commas. There’s a reason you like reading “Good Night Moon” or “The Cat in the Hat” to your kids.

You want to help people. You want to make things easy for them.

Short words. Short sentences. Short paragraphs. White space.

Repeat that formula.

Don't ever be busy. Be efficient.

Busy looks like:

—Meetings for the sake of meetings

—Zoom calls to have Zoom calls

—A meeting instead of sending an email

—Sending a five-paragraph email when one paragraph would do

Don’t be busy.

Be efficient. It’s doing things well without waste.

We all have people at work who are professionals at being busy. We also have people who are efficient.

So tell me. Which one do you prefer working with?

Perseverance is a mindset. Just ask NASA's Perseverance.

persevere | pərsəˈvir 

continue in a course of action even in the face of difficulty or with little or no prospect of success

Americans aren’t wired—maybe not trained—to persevere. We want things now.

Immediate gratification. Instant. Drive-thru style. Fast food.

To persevere is a mindset. It’s seeing success when it doesn’t seem imminent. There’s a reason NASA named its Mars rover “Perseverance.” The 7th-grader from Virginia who won the naming contest for Perseverance talks about adapting and persevering through setbacks in why he chose the name.

“We … will not give up,” he says.

Maybe you’re like me. Over the last few months, I’ve had some professional setbacks. Actually, I’m sure you’re like me.

Honestly, it’s been humbling and really discouraging. You know the feeling, right?

Yet I also know one thing to be true: I can persevere.

I’ve done it before. You’ve done it before, right?

And don’t you remember how the success of perseverance tastes sweeter than anything and erases the bitterness of setbacks?

After all, more than a decade after starting the project, Perseverance sends back to Earth stunning photos of Mars.

Do the hard things at work. Because others won't.

I grew up in Bend, Oregon, where the stark high desert meets the piney mountains. It’s got a little bit of altitude at about 4,000 feet of elevation, so the air is a little thinner.

Less oxygen means running is just a little bit harder. We also had lots of hills in Bend.

I was a long-distance runner. So I ran up lots of hills. Then I ran down the hills. Then back up other hills and back down again and sometimes it felt like I was going either up or down.

A really big hill is Pilot Butte, just two blocks from the house I grew up in. It had a paved road that wound around the butte to the top, rising about 500 feet in a mile.

I ran Pilot Butte so much I can still picture it clearly. Especially that last little curve where it got really steep.

I raced cross country for my school, the Bend High Lava Bears. At Bend High, I figured out that those boys from the Willamette Valley, especially the track runners who ran cross country in the fall, didn’t like hills.

So the hills became my calling card in races because I didn’t have the speed to keep up with them on the flats.

Runners generally don’t like hills for obvious reasons. But I embraced them. Attacked them.

I figured I would do the thing that my competitors didn’t want to do.

It paid off. I built strength running those hills. I could take the other runners on the hills and because of all that strength from running on so many hills at altitude I could keep up with them on the flats.

And then I had an epiphany. The place to really separate from the pack wasn’t running up the hill.

It was at the top of the hill when everyone was gassed. Where they least expected someone to really push the pace. Things got even better for me in the races.

Then when I got to the University of Portland, one of my cross country teammates taught how to run down the hill. Yes, there’s an art to it. He was a master at it and taught me well.

So the place on the race course that everyone hated and even feared, became my favorite section. I loved those courses with hills.

Our conference cross country meet was in San Mateo, California. We raced in the steep hills at Crystal Springs and you either were going up or down. I loved it and had a lot of success there.

Running those hills is something I think about often when it comes to work. When things are tough, when I come to those hills, what do I do?

What do you do?

Do you embrace those challenges? Attack them?

Or watch someone else go by you?

Why perseverance is one of those things that should define you

Everyone benefits from this one thing.

Have this one thing and it will be a difference maker for you. So what’s this one thing? 

Perseverance.

Perseverance sets you apart. It carries you through your professional and personal life.

I can’t stress enough how much perseverance pays off.

By definition, it’s “steadfastness in doing something despite difficulty or delay in achieving success.” 

It’s believing in yourself despite seemingly endless setbacks. It’s enduring through exhaustion. It’s patience through frustration. It’s not giving up despite numerous rejections.

Don’t quit. Whatever you do, don’t quit.

Don’t be defined by rejections. Don’t let someone else determine your view of what you’ll bring to an organization. View those rejections as opportunities to learn.

After you as a job hunter, or your idea as an employee, or your pitch as an entrepreneur is turned down, take some time to self-reflect. What can you change or tweak? What can you improve?

Use those lessons to inform your next actions and help shape and guide your future applications, interviews and conversations. 

Be purposeful. Seek out expertise. Read. Study. Get to work!

So how does perseverance look for you? We’re on the cusp of a new year, a time for fresh starts, do overs, new commitments, and new goals.

If it’s not already, make “perseverance” a goal of yours. 

Try it. You have nothing to lose. And everything to gain.

Make your company better. Make the world better.

Several years ago, a boss I worked for decided to have an end-of-year company strategy session to do some brand identity.

Figure out who we were and what we’re about as a company.

It’s all good stuff. But it struck me that this person had launched the company and was running it for five or six years and couldn’t answer that for themself. This person truly needed someone else to do it for them.

That’s not good.

What’s your company about? What’s important to your company?

It should be a big-picture statement. Like, “My company makes the world a better place because we make (products) that help other companies be successful.”

Most importantly, how does what you do help your company do that thing or those things it’s all about?

Finish this sentence: I elevate my company’s brand by _____________________________.

And this one: I make my company better because _________________________________.

Now, try this one: I could make my company better by _____________________________.

Go do it.

I knew I was in trouble when ... (And lessons learned along the way).

I knew I was in trouble when …

I hit send on that email to a faraway corporate boss, even though something inside me said don’t. (I learned not to do stupid things like that anymore.)

As a young reporter, my editor who would go on to win a Pulitzer Prize told me not to write an article like that anymore. (I studied his writing style and technique.)

As a new writer, I asked my manager what kind of style we use in writing our content and she said they don’t follow any particular style in the company. (I got our writing team to adopt AP style and also made a style guide.)

At a small company, my bosses gathered our team, told us how hard things had been financially in the firm and cut everyone’s hours. Then they booked a vacation to the Caribbean. (I left that company shortly afterward for a better gig.)

I was the newspaper’s Saturday reporter and got an eyebrow-raising assignment to go to an inner-city apartment complex for a story about a recent murder victim. Fortunately, I called the regular crime beat reporter—who was incredulous someone would send me there—who referred me to a police sergeant to make sure I had company. (My instincts were right to call our crime writer and double-check the assignment.)

I was sitting in an Oregon coast funeral home covering the death of a fishing boat captain whose chartered boat went down in rough water, costing the lives of several of his passengers. The fisherman sitting next to me stared intently at me and told me twice he was going to break my nose, probably because he didn’t like the stories he read about his friend.. I walked briskly out. He followed me. My photographer across the street saw the fisherman closing in on me and turned his camera on the guy, stopping him in his tracks. I’m forever grateful to the great photographer and my friend Sol Neelman. (Always make good friends with your photographer.)