Always Dress Professionally

I listened to a taped business call earlier this week, on a friend's recommendation.  I did so reluctantly, and I spent several hours psyching myself up for it.  I was afraid of hearing the same old, same old, and of finger-shaking admonitions to do things that I don't particularly care to do, in order to build my business.  So I listened.  And of all the tidbits proffered by this business leader, what really stuck in my mind, like a grain of sand under my eyelid, was the phrase, "Always dress professionally."

In my travels, I have heard a great deal of banality, misinformation, and foolishness come from the mouths of some very well-dressed people.  I recall telling someone, back in my relatively-powerless-position-so-I-needed-to-make-myself-feel-powerful days, that if I couldn't be intimidating in a sweatshirt and jeans, I wasn't fit for the job.  I also swiftly and instantly boycotted red clothing for eight years or so, after a coworker said, "Oooo, a power suit" to my favorite red suit.  I hated the idea that people might think I was using clothing to disguise some personality flaw or weakness.  Or that I might  be a well-dressed-but-not-terribly-informed individual.  Better to dress down a little and surprise people with wit and acumen, than to appear as if straight from a photo shoot and surprise people with nonsense.  Or so went my reasoning.

I wasn't even completely certain what the person on the call meant by dressing professionally.  Operating-room doctors and nurses dress in scrubs for their profession.  The world's oldest profession has a dress code, of sorts, and its practitioners might be said to be dressed professionally.   Prior to chaperoning a school bowling outing, I wondered how I should dress, in order to be a "professional-looking" ambassador for my business.  A suit seemed a little over the top; plus, there was a foot of snow.  The track suit in which I started the day was obviously the wrong uniform for an ambassador.  Jeans and a sweater?  Jeans and a sweater.  And I fit right in.

Maybe dressing professionally means fitting in, minus one.  "Look cute, but poor" I instructed my children, when I had to take them with me on school-auction-committee errands.  On this same business call, another woman, attempting to explain the importance of good customer service, started her portion of the call with, "I love to shop at Tiffany's."  I immediately stopped listening, as she clearly wasn't talking either to or about me.  At this juncture, I don't accessorize my wardrobe at that establishment.  Maybe those who do would think I can't dress professionally.  

Dressing to engage, or dressing to distance?  The late Princess of Wales was a black belt in not allowing her wardrobe to distance her from the people she wanted to engage.  Expensive always, but rarely a distraction from her personality.  Quite a contrast from "Look at me!  I can afford more expensive clothing than you!"  That is dressing to distance, to separate oneself from the common herd, possibly to promote aspiration.  Perhaps the exact same ensemble, on two different people, could either engage or distance.

It seems to me that the definition of dressing professionally must take the intent into account--whether to fit in, to promote distance and aspiration or to wear the "uniform" of one's position.  If so, fit-in-plus-one makes sense for me.  Being just far enough ahead of someone to still reach back and hold his or her hand feels like engagement with a dash of aspiration, and THAT feels like a truly professional approach to dressing.  I'm still going to be seen out and about in my skating clothes--if I can't be professional in jazz pants and a fleece top, I'm not fit for my job!    


  

Defining Moments

I have received vast quantities of advice from well-meaning people, since I decided to expunge "school psychologist" from my list of attributes (although I'm still licensed) and to add "independent skincare consultant".  I really don't like that job description/title, so I have been playing around with it, each time in reaction to something someone said.  Defining...or redefining...moments.

When the nice border-patrol officer took me to task for not describing my work to his satisfaction, and said"network marketing" with a sneer, I changed my title to concierge skincare consultant and made a mental note to have a snappy job description that would satisfy someone packing heat.  I experimented with "independent contractor", after being reminded by a corporate staff member that that is what I actually am.  In a fit of pique over what I took to be chastening for not working harder, I temporarily left off the name of the company with whom I contract.  Now that I have gathered a group of people whom the company nicely describes as business partners, and I feel like I have some traction, I've decided to be an independent contractor and include the name of the company.

All of these were defining moments, moments that I never had as a school psychologist.  That definition never changed, although the job description did shift under the surface.  I can't help but wonder how I would have viewed myself and the 8 to 3, had I had the option to self-describe as a "school diagnostician" or "mindless testing drone" or "government employee" or  "psycho-educational assessment specialist."  The closest I came to doing that was getting an employee identification that proclaimed me to be a testing teacher, after a parent asked me if that's what I was.  "Sure," I replied.  "Why not?"  That became a running gag for the remainder of my career in the schools, and a defining moment in which I was reminded not to take myself too, too seriously.

Now that I have some freedom to define and redefine my career choice, I'm spotting many other little "defining moments" for other aspects of my life.  These are like little gems, and when I spot them, pick them up and stick them on, the picture of who I am becomes brighter and clearer, both to myself and to others.  I still define myself as a competitive skater, when people ask, although foot surgery has meant months of missed competition and performance opportunities.  When I had the opportunity to purchase a nice coach's coat with my name on it, for teaching basic skills, I gave it a miss.  After eight years of teaching skills, I do not define myself as a skating coach.

My latest defining moment came when I was attending a lunch where another independent skincare consultant was among the guests.  I had heard repeatedly how complimenting and engaging restaurant waitstaff in conversation is a great recruiting opportunity, but I had never seen it in action.  Upon seeing the other consultant with her head close to a waitress and hearing, "Great, I'll be in touch with you soon", I realized instantly that that was never going to be part of my business plan.  A defining moment.

Look for defining moments.  They are everywhere, just waiting to be picked up, and you will may be as amazed as I am to see who you really are!