Sorry, folks, I have been derailed lately with my postings. I am still getting my new laptop outfitted with crucial software, my wife had an unexpected hospitalization last week and, I have started another blog as a side project for work.
I will get back on the horse as soon as I can, as I have much to discuss.
For those who have been pining for a post and cursing me out for laziness, let me tell you there has been a death in the family: our 2001 Compaq Presario 2300, the home computer, finally met its demise this weekend. After repeated attempts to recover from its virus, she was euthanized. She had trips to two different virus doctors since the Christmas holidays accident, including a second follow-up with the latest team, but to no avail. Luckily, I can access the hard drive, so no tragic data loss should ensue. Who knows, if she can still do basic word processing, she might even get a spot on the Travel Team as a fairly disposable road warrior.
Brand loyalty prevailed as we purchased another Compaq this weekend. I have not had time to set up our new toy, especially with the all-important Norton 360 to avoid repeat calamity, so until that happens postings still might be sparse. Through the years, people ragged on Compaq as junky, but my experience has been great. I never called tech support once with that baby. Every computer has to die of something, and nine years is a great run. Comparing the spec’s on the two machines, particularly in light of their prices, is insane. I had 20 GB with the old dame, now I have 250 GB. The screen is larger, better resolution, faster processing speed, and on and on—all out of the box. Our first Compaq we custom built online and had it shipped to us just in time to be christened with three years of law school. It made it through two moves, several vacations, three years of business school, and the usual wear-and-tear of the daily grid.
Considering how my wife and I (and someday our daughter) use our computer now for general computing and home use, this ought to be sufficient, but who knows? Nine years later, Compaq still packs their units with AMDs, which were virtually no name chips back then. I should know: I owned Intel stock up to and through the tech bubble—and then watched AMD eat Intel’s lunch for a few years before I dumped my stock—so I am no chip snob. And our new Compaq cost nearly 66% less than our first. Man, purchasing power is tremendous in a recession. Interestingly, our first was ‘top-of-the-line’ because I paid up for the better AMD chip, higher RAM and a CD / DVD burner upgrade, and if I purchased a similar top-of-the-line model (different brand, equivalently modern bells and whistles) off the shelf, I would almost eclipse the original’s $1100 price tag.
One other note: I did a quick netbook look-see and there is no way I could get one, not at current prices. Other than weight, netbooks have no distinct advantage. The components were like toys. They are products that, if they were about $100 cheaper, I would consider purchasing as a first computer for a pre-high schooler who required one for school. You get so much more in a full-size laptop for only $50 to $150 more that it is no contest.
So do tune in from time to time as I get the new laptop up and running, all the old data transferred or archived, and all the software and presets just so. It will take weeks, but time to move on. I cannot wait to blog on it.
Suggestions for dressing for success are constant, most likely not because acceptable style(s) are in constant evolution, but because the importance of appearance is taken for granted. Luckily for men, the essentials of business attire—shirt, trousers, jacket, suit—are pretty easy to remember. It takes some practice and study to truly master and stand out, but a suit is hard to screw up and most guys look really good in one. Few immutable truths exist in life, but let the suit always carry the gravitas necessary for business, at least for my working career.
With the emphasis on appearance de rigueur for anyone in any industry, I was surprised to see so many individuals—designers, engineers, vendors, contractors—forfeit this opportunity. While at the PDC Conference two weeks ago, an event many in the health care design and construction industry circle on their schedules annually to network and learn, I saw way too many golf shirts and sockless loafers. Yes, this was San Diego. Yes, this was not the office, and for many a virtual vacation and therefore they packed as such, but we have outfits for that. There are times to kick back by the pool in something comfortable, or sidle up to the bar after hours in a less-than-stuffy ensemble. But we had CEOs in attendance, doctors, high-powered executives, men and women making big bucks that did not look the part.
I am not one to push appearance, especially at the cost of substance; companies with eye candy at their booths were discussed and exposed for such ploys. However, it is essential to look the part when you are meeting far more strangers than friends at these conferences. Arguably, only the hospital adminstrators were not actively selling as much as the rest of the attendees, but even they were networking and recruiting future talent for their facilities. By my estimate, fewer than 20% of attendees were dressed in business attire or dressed appropriately for an interview. Every meet-and-greet is an interview. Every continental breakfast. Every coffee break and concurrent seminar people are seeing you and judging you, your company, city and state—everything on your name tag.
I firmly agree you should not pre-judge someone based on appearance, but guess what, most of the human population does, including me. Appearance matters. We pre-judge whether we will like someone before they utter one word…and liking is very important prerequisite to earning someone’s business. I like wishing it did not matter what we wore or the kind of car we drive or where we live. Deep down and among friends, it does not matter, but most conference attendees are not drinking buddies, yet, and they only know what they see. When you can take a relationship to the level of deep friendship, over time the superficial aspects—where you went to school, what kind of car you drive, how much money you make, the brand of clothes you wear—mean little to nothing. You like the person, not the window dressing. You are an equal among peers.
The key to remember at a trade show is, although you may be among professional peers and a handful of true deep friendships, sales skews things. The person doing the selling may be a peer in knowledge, age, experience, etc., but the buyer has the power. In order to make a sale, you must impress the buyer. So much in sales rests on first impressions, appearance, friendliness and trust, that I ask: why would you not want to appear as favorable as possible?
Perhaps most shockingly, we had a lot of designers at the PDC—people who are creative, who care about aesthetics and the way things look from all angles. Yet few cared that they did not look their best or did not stand out. I choose to ignore the style aspect because people have different ideas of what constitutes business attire or dressed up. But too many spent little or no time designing their appearance, and it happens a lot.
I think a man needs to be comfortable to perform his best, and maybe a lot of these folks are not comfortable in dress clothes, specifically when the environment is begging for something else. It is easy to dress down and give in, to blend in with the rest of the polo shirts, jeans and deck shoes in attendance. Still, the salesman in me could not not dress up. Luckily for me, a suit, tie and nice shoes feel good. Even when they do not, at least I can rally for a few days at an important event like the PDC. I am ok knowing I may be overdressed but when the crew heads out, I will never be turned away at a restaurant, forced to wear a loaner jacket, or shunned to a back booth out of sight. Someone might even tell me I look nice, which will elicit a conversation and I might meet someone new. These are not bad things. No, I may not have inked a contract at the PDC because I dressed up, but I sure tried my best. And I like my chances next year.
