Search Results - flowers

Blog Post: Recruiters need to grow their client base. Yes, even you.

One of the most astonishing responses we encounter when…

Added by Adam Appleton at 3:22pm on March 21, 2017

Blog Post: Teamwork According to The Smurfs: This summer the little blue guys came to the big screen. No, I’m not talking about Blue Man Group. I’m talking about the Smurfs! I remember watching the television show as a kid, thinking to…; Added by Kirk Baumann at 8:57pm on September 5, 2011

Blog Post: 5 Essential Items to Help You Work From Home

Working from home became the temporary norm in early…

Added by Caitlin Purvis at 8:10am on January 18, 2021

Blog Post: Learn To Be Still....As Much a Part of Success as Anything.: I listened to this song by the Eagles on my way home today, and for just a moment, I found peace as I realized, being comfortable in your own skin, is as much a part of success, as anything. A…; Added by Mike Rasmussen at 10:56pm on August 16, 2011

Blog Post: Yes you can – Join the Web 2.0 revolution – Twelve steps to get up to speed with Web 2.0: Article Title: Yes you can – Join the Web 2.0 revolution – Twelve steps to get up to speed with Web 2.0

Author Byline: Susanna Cesar Morton

Author Website:…; Added by Holli Maestas at 11:26am on July 26, 2008

Comment on: Topic 'None of Us is as Smart as All of Us': of view. Just like yours is your point of view. It does not make me right. Nor do I have the motivation to sway others to believe that I am right. Why would I try and attempt something like that? If that was the case, I'd be in politics! And I have no interest in that arena. Therefore, I really don't have a beef with you. I'm merely stating my thoughts on the topic, just as you are. I'm not right. I'm not wrong. Just as you're not right. And you're not wrong. It's all subjective as it relates to our overall recruiting and business experience and what we have learned, observed, and gleamed from those experiences over time. We see what has worked and what hasn't, and based on that it develops our opinions, of which we freely share on this site. And regardless if I have "experience" in the internet online recruiting community (whatever that implies, because I have no idea what you mean by that), I'm sure not going to go tit for tat by attempting to defend "how long I've been at this", etc., etc., etc., That too would be an exhausting waste of time. But to make my point about the ego. Both my ego and your ego are wrapped up in this "right versus wrong" point of view argument, because ultimately in the world, when distracted by our egos, we go for the "kill or be killed" mentality that is just a fact of life. I personally and professionally find no value in that, and unfortunately while even being aware of the ego traps, I do get caught up in it myself. But we're human, right! So it's an honest default position. But this just proves my point. Someone has to win the argument, the point. And someone has to lose. That is the truest and best descriptor of ego motivation. And I don't think that makes us "smart". It doesn't make us dumb either. Perhaps arrogant? I'm also not saying because someone "checks" their ego at the door; their prime "me-me" motivator, does not imply that I'm suggesting as a team member they sit in the corner as a wall flower. Where would that get anyone? No where! But what I am trying to shed some light on, whether we're dependent or independent on the team structure and how we contribute to that structure, we can still make our point, argue our point, stand on a soap box as the voice for reason and provocative thought, all without having to be motivated by a HUGE ego whose voice we believe can only be heard if it's the loudest, or the smartest, or the most innovative, etc., separate and outside the realms of the other team members. I've just never seen that work effectively in my many years in business and that is the ONLY point I've been trying to make. You are a true East Coast contributer. And there is a difference. But don't worry. I don't think we're better on the West Coast. It's just that we're more subtle in the way we go about interacting. I've lived on both (NY area) and LA, but Seattle is my true home. Perhaps it's just the "frontier" point of view we have out here that sometimes surprises us when we're around scary New Yorkers! I love New Yorkers by the way. Actually, most people when first meeting me think I'm from New York! So what's that tell you. Nice banter Steve. I have enjoyed it and I do appreciate your point of view. And I still don't think Senge is the "all" there is to the business world in regards to team synergies, etc. He's smart. Sure. I just don't completely by into his philosophies and methods. But that's just my opinion. Take care! Steve Levy said:Awww what the heck...I suppose common to Pete and Karen means everyone. As far as nothing about nothing, those MIT people sure are a bunch of dumbasses! If you think that way I suppose there's no reason to discuss how in his Fieldbook he offered the types of specific tactics and techniques that could be used by anyone to understand and improve their organizations. Awful, simply awful stuff. If others here have read The Fifth Discipline Fieldbook, please chime in (to Pete's point, The Fifth Discipline - not the Fieldbook - was a bit dry but it was nonetheless a great book on organizations).Karen, once again you play the "woe is me" card; there are no bad boys here whose purpose in life is to cause you harm or to censor what you say. You come to the same kitchen over and over again yet when it gets too hot you cry everything from censorship to harassment to discrimination.Pete...You don't have any history in the online recruiting community so you wouldn't know that my question to Rayanne was in jest. Nothing else needs to be said. And if your underwear is still bunched up, why not spend some time reading up on the content that Rayanne and others - including me - have created here on RBC as well as other recruiting sites. You might even like what we've written.Or is it simply easier to say what Karen tells you to say after her calls to you in which she "detailed" how mean and ignorant the bad boys are? …; Added by Peter Ceccarelli at 12:17pm on June 19, 2009

Blog Post: The Millennial… Coming to an office near you…: Phew, that was close. Too close for words. I was almost one of…; Added by Solutions Driven at 8:14am on February 16, 2017

Blog Post: Subsidizing Failure: How The "Big 3 Paid Billions to Keep Downsized UAW Members on Payroll": By Dave Mendoza, Muckraker at large

SixDegrees Continues it's Commitment to exposing its research: how political hacks, special interests created this Financial…; Added by Dave Mendoza at 6:29am on December 12, 2008

Topic: Sunday BizDev: out the window to see who it was. "Ben," I cried, surprised to see someone I hadn't seen in a couple years - a stone mason who had done work for me in the past, standing alongside a young man that appeared to be heading to his grandfather's (as it turned out) rim-rod straight 6'6" height. "I've been thinking about you! You've been popping into my head lately," I said as I opened the screen door wide and signaled for the two of them to come inside. "I've been wondering if you were back in town yet" I said, knowing that he spends his past-seventy years wintering in Atlanta, avoiding the cold we have up north. "Last week I got back. We just finished a job for the city - we put up a wall over on Compton Rd., and we was out drivin' up here to put a bid in on another job. I thought I'd stop in," he explained. Knowing that his stop was a mixture of pleasure and business, I did not disappoint. I told him my brother had just purchased an apartment complex and needed some masonry work done on the property and I suggested he give Tom a call and gave him my brother’s number. I also told him I had had a tree fall on one of my properties that had done some walk damage and had pulled part of a stone wall down with it in one of September’s storms and could he stop by and look at it. I said it probably wasn’t more than a day’s work for two people but it might fill a hole here and there in his schedule. We talked a bit more before we got down to that particular business above – talk that brought each of us up-to-date quickly with each other. The young man with him was one of his twenty-two grandchildren, fourteen and half of a set of twins that I remember used to ride occasionally in the truck with their grandfather. “My, how he's grown,” I remarked, as many women approaching their dotages might. Seeing the puzzled look on his face about my eighteen month old granddaughter I explained that I was raising her while her mother got it together. “It’s hard, these days,” Ben said. “These young kids have so many temptations…” echoing for me something my mother said to me before she died. “We raised two from the times they was birthed - the girl just turned eighteen and the boy is twenty-two. Their mother had a hard time of it too. But it all turned out okay,” he finished, his voice dropping low and peaceful. I felt his consolation. About the work I had mentioned, Ben said, “Thankye’ – I’ll get right on it,” and that I know he will. Sometime today, or tomorrow, I ‘spect to get a call from Ben telling me the work is finished and what I owe him for it. Whatever he charges will be fine with me. Our friendship goes a ways back and here is how it started. “Ben” is a stone mason from way back. I first met him when he was contracted by the City of Cincinnati to remove and haul away a street that I lived on in Mt. Lookout. I became fascinated by the removal process as the digging out of the street for its replacement unearthed about 4 feet of street levels that included large, flat stones and old cobblestones that had been used as the curbing for one of the older street incarnations. I asked the fast-moving crew one day if they minded if I did some “excavation” myself at night after they knocked off, of those beautiful granite cobblestones. (Cobblestones were often times used for ballast in sailing ships. I have no idea how they ended up here in inland Cincinnati except for the fact that the city is located on the Ohio River and was a major shipping point by water in the past.) There was one thing for sure; I was enchanted by the history and mystery of those stones coming out of the street bed. The crew member working one of the heavy pieces of machinery that I stood at the base of hollering up into the hot mid-day sun told me I needed to talk to the “boss” and pointed me in the direction of a tall black man, giving direction to a group of laborers that appeared stymied by a part of the removal process. As I approached the huddled group intent on some problem they looked up as Ben straightened and took his cap off. I remember how tall he was and how carefully polite he was as he asked me if there was something he could help me with. I told him the malfeasance I wished to commit after his crew had departed for the day and he laughed and told me to “knock myself out,” or somethin’ akin to giving me permission to rob the city of stones that were going to be hauled away and placed into a dump site that was to become a new runway for a small local airport. I guess he thought I would give up after the first thieving attempt, defeated and crushed under the weight of the stones. At the end of the week, as my stash of stones grew ever larger after my midnight raids, I hear a knock at my front door. Opening it I hear an engine rumbling and behind Ben standing in my doorframe and in the street is one of those big yellow scoop trucks, idling like mad, black diesel smoke scurrying away into the wind. “The guys tell me you gotta’ be onea’ the hardest woikin’ white women they’ve ever seen. Where would you like us to dump these stones?” and lo and behold he brought more stones in three short runs with that scoop truck than I could have mustered on my own up the hill in a month. I was oh-so-grateful and offered Ben and his crew something to drink. One of the men said a nice cold beer would be great and Ben interrupted and said Cokes would do just fine. I filled a cooler with ice and Cokes and gave it to Ben, knowing without having to ask him that he would return the cooler. He did a short while later and as he stood there asked me what I was plannin’ on doing with those stones as I was in the process of “washing them down” with a hose. “If you’s gonna be plannin’ on stackin’ them stones you’d best leave that clay on ‘em,” he advised. “There ain’t no better glue to help them dry stack,” he explained. I turned the hose off. I told him I wanted to build short walls around my flower beds and a low retaining wall across the front of my house. He told me he did that kind of work and might he give me a price to do it for me? Excitedly, because it’s my experience stone masons are very hard to come by anymore, I agreed that that would be a wonderful idea. Stone masonry is a lost art and few practice it. There’s an artist’s eye that goes into building good stonework and little did I know I had come across one such artist. He walked around my house and in about fifteen minutes knocked again at my door. “About $800 oughtta get this done for you,” and he handed me a list of what he proposed to do, attached to a rough drawing of the layout. Flabbergasted and expecting much more, I dumbly asked if that price included all the materials. “You got all the materials here,” he pointed out. "All them stones are gonna make some beautiful walls.” I knew then that we spoke the same language. About a week later he and those stones did just that. Why do I tell this story? I tell this story as an example of a simple business development technique that works – building on old relationships by the very simple pleasure of staying in touch. Not a lot of business gets discussed when you circle back to those who’ve been important to you in the past but the business that does get discussed is pertinent, almost each and every time. Stop in and see someone on a Sunday afternoon. You never know what you’ll find. ;)…; Added by Maureen Sharib at 4:41pm on April 20, 2009

Comment on: Topic 'Is Headhunting ethical?': s Maureen and I wrote starting back in 2005. Some on Hysteria Lane Even Poach Their Turkey for Thanksgiving “Visualize the parking space and it will appear,” Joan murmurs to herself as she pulls into crowded Wegman’s parking lot late Wednesday afternoon - the day before Thanksgiving. Superlative customer service aside, if only the customers were as nice as the employees. Pulling carefully past the parked cars, she maneuvers her Bimmer - yes, 35% affords her a nice life - towards the front of the store when she spies a car backing out of the handicapped spot. No, the person is not leaving; just perfecting the blue-line technique, except the driver manages to straddle into the non-handicapped space - and without a permit. “Just great!” “Damn,” she mutters quietly, “this person better have a good reason to park like that.” Yep, she notices the blue parking tag attached to the rearview mirror of the Jag; the driver exits - there s something familiar about the woman Joan thinks to herself. “Harrumph!” she barks to no one in particular and turns into the next row in search of parking nirvana. Finally, Joan notices another car - one of those cute Volkswagen bugs with a flower standing high above the dashboard - zipping impatiently down the lane next to her. Too fast around the curve, the car almost mows down a young mother with a fully-laden grocery cart, a baby in the seat, and a toddler by the hand. So abruptly does the woman have to pull her heavy shopping cart to a halt off the downhill ramp that two of the bags on top spill out in front of her and dump their contents out upon the macadam lot. By this time Joan had parked and left her car, clicking the lock as she approaches the unnerved young family. “Here, here, let me help, everything s going to be okay,” Joan comforts as she scrambles after the creamed corn and the spilled Macintosh apples. Tucking the last grapefruit in one of the bags, she smiles at the woman and asks, “Can I help you to your car?” “No, no, thank you - you've been so kind - that lady almost ran into us!” she exclaimed. “It’s the holidays,” offered Joan and shrugs her shoulders. “Some people get crazy perversely around the holidays - don t let things like this keep you from having Happy Thanksgiving!” “We will - we’re havin turkey!” shouted the toddler who added, “and punkin pie!” Smiling, Joan achingly remembers her children at that age. “Oh, how time vanishes!” she thinks to herself as she enters the brightly lit and festively trimmed store. As she wheels the shopping cart out of the parked lane and enters produce section, a cart clips her heals and nearly causes her to pitch forward. Turning around and two milliseconds from cursing up a blue streak, she hears, “Oh! I’m so sorry - I’m movin too fast, as usual - oh! Joan! How are you?” the offender exclaims as Joan notices it’s one of her Hysteria Lane neighbors - and the woman in the Jag who parked in the handicapped spot outside. Joan s eyes tightened to narrow slits. Joan searched deep inside for the politeness that enabled her to say, “Hello, Anti-Poaching Person; that s okay - accidents happen - how have you been?” As if she really cares… “Oh, I've been so busy! Between my busy recruiting work and all the monitoring I do on the groups - you know the groups, right, Joan? I just love the groups - and I know they loooooove me. I don t have a minute’s peace. I’m finally just now getting to the store for the first time in two weeks - I should have just waited til after Thanksgiving.” she trails off as she looks at the crowded registers. “Are you cooking tomorrow?” Joan asks to which Anti-Poaching Person shoots back with “Me cook? No way! I’ve had so many offers from people wanting me to come to dinner tomorrow but I’m just gonna stay home and catch up on some of my reading - you know how recruiting laws change every minute of every day of every month in this great land of ours. I’m thankful for that!” Knowing better than to ask and risk a forty-five minute inquisition, Joan creeps forward, pushing her cart before her, peering intently at the prices marked on the baked goods offered for sale. “Those pies look good but they want what? $8.99? For a pumpkin pie! Goodness gracious, some people really do go nuts on the holidays,” she thinks to herself. “Well, Anti-Poaching Person I hope you have a nice holiday,” as she ignores Anti-Poaching Person’s groups question, “I better get going, I’m cooking and I’m here to buy a turkey.” Moving off, and thinking aloud, Joan says to no one in particular, “I’m just so tired of roasted turkey - this year I’m going to poach it.” Anti-Poaching Person’s head does a 180 - the only thing missing is a spinning bed and green vomit. “What?” she cries. “Did I hear you correctly??? You’re going to do what?” Caught a bit of guard, Joan offers a weak “Huh?” She also notices the Jaguar logo key chain on the keys Anti-Poaching Person has hanging from her Coach purse. “What did you say?” Anti-Poaching Person demands. “Did you say you’re going to poach a turkey?” “Uhhh, yeah,” Joan stammers as if confronted by a burly police officer, “I was thinkin about it. Might be a nice change - you know; kinda thinkin outside the bird,” as she offers weak smile and a sly wink at Anti-Poaching Person. Like waving a red flag waved in front of a charging bull, Anti-Poaching Person’s face reddens to an equally deep crimson. “But don’t you know, Joan, poaching is just wrong - it’s illegal and unethical - in this state and all others! It doesn’t matter that it’s a turkey - all poaching’s illegal, illegal, ILLEGAL! And to top it off, it’s just plain fowl.” Joan sharply replies. “Anti-Poaching Person we’ve been over this - you know I don’t agree with you on some things, and this is one of them. Let’s leave well enough alone before one of us gets our feelings hurt.” And it won t be me, Joan chuckles to herself. “But Joan!” Anti-Poaching Person is frothing at the mouth and almost screaming, “poaching is illegal - you know it’s illegal - and unethical!” She just can t help herself, the poor thing. Easy, Joan. Somebody ought to get Anti-Poaching Person out of here. “Poultry Roasting Owners For Intelligent Turkey Society - PROFITS - has strict guidelines on how to prepare holiday fowl. I’m certified - and you should be too. It’s a sign that you believe in traditional Holiday food preparation.” “Anti-Poaching Person! Stop! You've made my mind up - I’m going to poach this turkey and you can t stop me! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find the Certified Poultry Purchaser - his name is Frank Clux and he is usually in this store.” “What d’ya need to talk to him for,” Anti-Poaching Person asks, her nose wrinkling upwards as if smelling a foul scent. “Well, if you must know, I want to know just how much he pays for the poultry he buys for this store - I found his name on their store telephone directory and I’ve left messages for him since Monday so I thought I’d come in here and hunt him down in person; I want to know why I have to pay $1.49/lb here when I can get it for 49 cents at Western Beef down the road.” “A pilfered phone directory,” Anti-Poaching Person thinks to herself as a shudder runs across her thin frame. “I heard that before -oh yeah, I guess all of Hysteria Lane s gone to Heck in a Handbasket,” as she remembered the remark that wafted in on the morning breeze earlier in the week. “Joan, we gotta talk,” Anti-Poaching Person blurts out, “You re gonna get yourself in some serious trouble, you have some serious bad habits, girl - did Noreen teach you this stuff?” Joan chuckles louder than normal as Anti-Poaching Person throws her head back like an angry equine and mutters loudly under her breath so all in earshot can hear, “Poaching a turkey is just plain wrong.” Turning to the woman who happens to be eavesdropping in on this juicy conversation, Joan smiles and says, “But it tastes soooooooo good.”…; Added by Steve Levy at 7:28pm on November 19, 2008