The Greenhouse

 ...one part personal.  As the flight attendant comes through one last time, I realize that just the week before, I was in Mexico City, and then I pause for a second, reminding myself that Canada, Germany, Japan and Cambodia all wait in the wings…this year!

You may say my travel patterns mimic my client’s desire for global growth, and that would be pretty close to the truth.  I’ve long known traveling is my drug of choice.  In fact, I believe it was predestined to be, as my name actually means, “the traveler”.  Inevitably, as one trip comes to a close, I’m already planning my next high, and if I go too long without a travel fix, I get visibly antsy.  I crave learning.  Culture, cuisine, climate.  Luckily for me, I’m blessed with a career that puts me on a plane quite often to get up close and very personal with culture, cuisine, clients and much more.....

As researchers, we’re trained to come into our surroundings with open eyes and an unbridled curiosity to fully appreciate our context.  We leave our personal beliefs onboard when we deplane and we become sponges to absorb the local’s reality.  Whether we’re around the block or on the other side of the world, we’re ready to learn (and grow) by what we experience and with whom we interact.

Over the coming months, I’ll be reporting in from places all around the globe.  I’ll share stories of people I’ve met and cultures I’ve been dumped into.  I’ll explain what I’ve learned about being a responsible and respectful guest, and I’ll share advice on how to immerse yourself in your environment to get the most out of your experience.

I’ve been very fortunate to meet people all over the world and make friends in far-flung places.  And I’ve found that despite our differences, we’re all very much alike in what we want out of life.  We may look different, have different tastes, and speak different languages, but we all breathe the same air down there.  

But with a little TLC (and a few power tools), the 1x10 boards begin to show their beauty that has been hidden for years.

All this time I’d been using my woodshop as an escape from my working world, but one night when I was working in my shop it occurred to me – my two worlds are much more similar than I originally thought. As an analyst, I swim in data that many would see as “junk” simply because they don’t know what to do with it. But I see a story; a story derived from the experiences of others, hidden within rows and rows of raw data. The creative process that transforms this raw data to a polished, pleasing-to-view story is what we strive to create. The results are a form of function and aesthetics we’re proud to brand with the U30 logo.

And back in my shop, this wood has its own story to tell (although the final chapter is all anyone will know). 

From a seed to a sapling to a mature walnut tree.   From a vertical canopy to a horizontal thud as “timber!” rang through the forest. From a sawmill to a 1x10 plank nailed to the side of a barn.   From a season of sun to a season of snow. From a generation of cattle to the next. From vertical to horizontal (again) as the rusted out nails give way.   From a burn pile to my lumber pile.   From the table saw to the bandsaw. From sandpaper to a hand-rubbed oil varnish finish.

This destined-for-ash, decades old “junk” lumber is transformed from its raw nature to a polished, pleasing-to-view jewelry box I made for my wife and that I am proud to brand with my signature.

Gymnastics was my first great love, and what a love affair it was! It was an all-consuming obsession that left room for little else. For the first 13 years of my life, it’s all I knew and all I really cared about. (You can verify this with my younger siblings, whose existence I barely acknowledged until after I retired from the sport. #badbigsister)

You can’t be “normal” and be an elite gymnast, too. You have to choose.

I made my choice at age 7. This came after five years of gymnastics instruction and multiple coaches telling my parents I had something special. Of course, as a first-grader, the decision wasn’t exactly a conscious one. I didn’t weigh the pros and cons, didn’t sift through all the data, didn’t agonize over it. To the suggestion of 20 hours of practice a week, I probably said something like, “Sure, that sounds great to me!  Can I get a Slush Puppie after my workout?”

During grade school, while my classmates did normal kid stuff like birthday parties and sleepovers, mall trips and movies, I was in the gym six days a week before and after school. So complete was my focus and commitment, however, it hardly registered that I was missing anything. To me, normal was overrated. I wanted to be exceptional.

Gymnastics may be essentially an individual sport, but everyone knows it takes a team of support, whose sacrifices are equally vital. My parents drove me 45 minutes each way six days out of seven – sometimes twice a day. My younger brother and sister got dragged along to hundreds of practices and dozens of day-long competitions over the years. Not surprisingly, they wanted nothing to do with the sport – and who could blame them! Over-exposure to gymnastics turned my sister into a track and field star while my brother became a football player in the NFL. They didn’t have what it took to be gymnasts anyway … they were both too tall!

Thanks to the sacrifices of my parents and (albeit unwillingly) siblings, skilled coaching, and certainly some luck along the way, I did achieve a high level of success as an elite gymnast, winning multiple state all-around titles and competing on the national circuit before a stress fracture in my lower spinal column ended my career. I retired at age 13 with plenty of time left to do all the normal kid stuff.

I never for a moment regretted all those hours in the gym or questioned whether it was time well spent. The pursuit of elite gymnastics gave more than it took. It shaped me and taught me invaluable life lessons. The pursuit of excellence never felt like a sacrifice to me, and I think that’s how it is when you truly love something – or someone, as I learned later in life as a wife and mother. And even as a professional. If you’re really passionate about something, it doesn’t feel like work. You do it because you love it.

The 1996 Olympics came and went, and I was not among the competitors. But along the road, I developed an appreciation for what it must take to get there, in terms of both talent and commitment. So, I’ll be glued to the screen over the next two weeks, freshly amazed and inspired by these extraordinary Olympic athletes. I bet you will, too.

1) Everyone has a story. So you’re the third spear-carrier from the left. You’re a chorus girl. You have a bit part with 3 lines. It’s still your job to come up with an actual character, a back story, a personality, with which to inform your every move and word onstage. That’s because every character matters. Just like every consumer matters. I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t interesting, because each person has a story to tell. That’s what makes my job so fascinating; learning people’s stories and turning them into actionable insights.

2) Acting is reacting. Perhaps you’ve heard this little theatrical adage. It means that most of one’s acting is done when one is not speaking. Actors can’t just stand there and wait for their turn to talk. They have to be in the scene. They have to listen to their fellow actors. They have to react.  As researchers we are often just listening and one of our challenges is to truly hear what’s being said, and to intuit what’s not being said (the “subtext”, for all you theater buffs).  

3) Teamwork is everything. Imagine you’re standing on a wheeled platform in the pitch black (wearing heels). The music swells and it’s time for your entrance. Three eager teenagers dressed in black are responsible for wheeling you out onto the stage safely and to exactly the right spot, while more people are in charge of giving light cues, switching on your mic, and moving an interior curtain out of the way of the platform. This is after someone has made your costume, fitted your costume, gathered the props you need, built the set, and lit the show. Every single one of these people is essential to you appearing effortlessly on the stage to say your line or sing your song. That, people, is teamwork. And that’s how we operate at U30. No one needs any particular recognition; we just support each other and make each other’s lives easier however we can. Because that’s how you put on the show.

4) Act confident even when you’re not. Not that I’m ever nervous while giving a presentation to the CMO of a Fortune 100 company. Of course I’m not. But if I ever am, here’s where my acting background saves me. Despite a racing heart, a dry throat, and a brain that has suddenly forgotten what methodology we used, I stand up. I smile. I look steady and comfortable. And (curtain open, lights up, on with the show!) I begin.  

And when I’m done, that’s when I imagine the applause.  

His father had gotten a new girlfriend and booted him out. He had to sell his car for the money to move to Nashville so he could live with his mother. But not long after he arrived, his mother, an alcoholic and drug addict, attacked him and threw him out of her house. With no home and no car, he had spent over a week sleeping in the woods near us. My daughter heard about his story and brought him home.

I knew right then and there that I could not let him walk out my door. I had no idea how long it would take him to get back on his feet, but it didn’t matter. With no questions asked and no expectations, I offered him a room in my home. My husband, the Director of Facilities at the hospital, got him a job cleaning hospital Operating Rooms at night, and we let him drive our car so he could get there. After a year, he was able to save enough money to buy a car, and he secured a better job with a company that offered health insurance and benefits. We witnessed his transformation from homeless and hopeless to confident and capable, and he in turn reminded us that being “humble and kind” is its own reward.  

I’ve been recruiting consumers at U30 for 15 years for research studies all over the world, and I think I’m a pretty good judge of people. In this case, I learned my daughter’s an exceptional judge of people.

“Don’t take for granted the love this lives gives you. When you get where you’re going don’t forget to turn back around and help the next one in line. Always stay humble and kind.”

Twas a Tuesday p.m. when all through the office Not a worker was stirring, not even a one of us. The reports were all written, reviewed with great care, In hopes that our clients would love what we shared.

When out of my wall there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The sound I had heard, it sounded so low But what could that be???  Where did it go? What is that noise?  What did I hear? There!  Listen again.  It’s ever so near…

I ran from my office, so lively and quick No one believed me…said it was a trick! More rapid than eagles I pulled them with me. I knew what I heard!  They just had to see!

Whatever it is, it can’t live inside! So tear down the drywall and set it aside!

As the wall came apart and the hole grew and grew,  We saw his black face.  We heard one tiny mew. His eyes were still closed, his head was so shaky, We couldn’t believe it, our hearts were just achy.

He was tiny and shaking from his head to his foot, He was black as if covered in ashes and soot. A bundle of love, so tiny and helpless, We knew that we needed a doctor to help us.

We sprang to our feet, to our team gave a call, We had to do more than free him from the wall! What were we to do, to save this sweet baby? The shelter?  A vet?  Our office cat???  Maybe!  

He was fading so fast, he needed some care, Maddie ran to her car, not a second to spare! In a blink of an eye and a twist of her head,  He was off to the vet in a makeshift bed.

And then they were gone.  The hustle died down.  The office was quiet.  Not a peep.  Or a sound. As I sat at my desk and was turning around Down the hall ran Maddie with a call and a bound

She had found him a family!  His life would be good!  She bought him some medicine, droppers and food! We smiled and we hugged, relieved one and all That we’d given new life…to our cat in the wall.

While it ended well, there was a period of time we really weren’t sure what to do and if the kitten would even survive! After being turned down by the vet and the animal shelter, Maddie ran into a family who had just lost their beloved pet. They saw our little guy and without hesitation, took on the responsibility to care and nurture him back to health. It was fate. Maddie went to the store with the family, purchased kitten food and set them up for success; she still stays in touch with them for updates on our sweet little friend, who they named Jasper.

Christmas in July, it’s always better when it’s unexpected!