Roger Wright – Chicago

On a sunny golden October afternoon in Chicago, autumn leaves of promise swirling north on Hermitage Avenue, Rahm Emanuel leaned against his car paging intently through the Sunday New York Times.

He’s in faded jeans, gym shoes and a gray t-shirt. And his head snaps up as I pass on the sidewalk and say to him, “Don’t forget to win.”

He fires back in a blink, “Don’t forget to vote,” winks, shoots his head back into the paper and then looks up again. “Wait. I know you.”

I stop. “The writers project,” I say. “Putting writers to work.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s see. . .tell me again what that was. Just in case I forgot about it.”

“Economic development and jobs creation for writers. Like the WPA Federal Writer’s project of the 1930’s and 1940’s that employed Saul Bellow, John Cheever, Zora Huston, Richard Wright and Jim Thompson. Only updated for today. Here’s the link in case you want it for your blackberry.”

http://chicagoguy14.wordpress.com/2010/05/06/a-national-writers-project-for-2010/

“ I don’t want a link. But tell me about how you updated this from 1936.”

“I made sure that brickbats and stink bombs tossed at the project screaming ‘welfare for artists,’ wouldn’t stick.”

“And you were gonna do that how?” Rahm Emanuel folded up the newspaper and stuck it under his arm.

“Practical outcomes for the books. Fund raising tools for non-profits. Corporate responsibility stories for corporations. Real stories. The voices of the actual people, not the marketing department. Oral history. Like Studs Terkel.”

“Mmmm.”

“All the stuff you got going on,” I said. “Believe me, I understand how you wouldn’t remember.”

“Yeah,” and Rahm Emanuel smiled, “How about I don’t remember this. Your first book on the food pantry is behind schedule. It’s only being read by the editors from your client’s board right now. You ain’t gonna get it out in time for Christmas. Your proofs look good, The book is solid. And that guy you co-wrote it with, he’s good. Real good. But you are late. And you ain’t been pushing your next book on domestic violence at all. Fact is that it’s going nowhere fast. And the oral history of the radio station WXRT, did you really think that was gonna happen?”

“So I guess.” I said a bit quieter, looking down, “You do remember. I had no idea you were tracking this, especially with all you got going on, running for Mayor now and all.”

Rahm Emanuel tossed the folded newspaper into the open window of the car, walked over to where I stood on the sidewalk and jabbed the heel of his hand into my shoulder.

“You figured out a way for writers to find work. Of COURSE I remember. And of COURSE I tracked it! I track everything. I track your friend who helped get the Ford Plant open on Torrence Avenue and all the jobs that came with that. I track EVERYTHING. Whattya think this is? So now you tell me, what’s the next question?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Next question. The next question. The next question is how do we get more jobs to Chicago? Huh? How do we do that? How do we do that now? You know about writer jobs huh? Now tell me about ALL jobs. I want ‘em in Chicago and I want them now.”

“Well I got a friend that works on this.”

“Of course you do. You’re a Chicagoan. We all got friends. And your friend is?”

“Calls himself Dr. Work.”

http://open.salon.com/blog/findingwork

“Uh huh. Stupid name. But I’ll give you 20 seconds. What is a ‘Dr. Work’ and how can he get jobs in Chicago?”

“Here’s how. By asking another question first.”

“Time’s running out kid. I need jobs now.”

“No. You need something else first. You need to connect people with work first.”

“10 seconds,” said Rahm Emanuel.”

“Guys that won the Nobel Prize in Economics this year? One of them from Northwestern? Did you see why he won?”

“OK, this might be worth another minute.”

“Here it is in a second. ‘The way people who need jobs and people who offer jobs CONNECT with each other doesn’t work the way a normal market works.” You could even say it was broken. But you have to say it’s gotta be addressed as the first step in putting people to work.

“Yeah. So?”

‘So the first question is not “How do we get jobs into Chicago?” That’s the SECOND question. The first question is, ‘How do we CONNECT people who need work with people who need work to be done?’ “

“So what you’re saying is, how do we find work when there are no jobs?”

“That’s it. In fact my friend Dr. Work. He even wrote a book with that title. We gotta connect people to the jobs, or as he calls it, the work. Because there is work.”

“This working anywhere else? I can’t have some theory being all I got. You might have ah noticed. I am not a theory guy.

“Neither is Dr. Work. And yeah it works all over the place. He’s got 37 stories in his book about where it worked.”

“Stories are nice kid, but I’m talking public policy. This working anywhere else?”

“I’ll tell you about the stories some other time. But yeah. I been working on this since I ran education for Jobs For Youth Chicago in the 1980’s. Connecting people to work. It comes before the job. Always has. And it’s working today on the public policy level. Here, put this link in your blackberry.

http://www.direct.gov.uk/en/Employment/Jobseekers/programmesandservices/DG_173717

It’s the “New Deal Programme” in the U.K. Look at the goals. This is not just about skills training. God bless health care workers and construction crews, but we gotta connect people with other jobs too!”

‘And this Dr. Work character? Besides needing to change his name. . .he does what?”

“He helps people find work when there are no jobs.”

“OK tomorrow. Bring him with you. 6:00 a.m. You know we start early. We’re gonna bring a jobs program that has some teeth to it to Chicago.”

“Ok, but we gotta win,” I said.

Rahm Emanuel was silent for a moment. He looked up at the clear blue autumn sky and then said, “Look at me kid.”

I looked him straight in the eye and then I said to him, “We’ll win.”

He left without breakfast that morning 3 months ago. Went straight to work in the mine. It was an argument about who would feed the dog.

Then came 69 days without the sun for him. Buried in the cavern.
And 69 days of something ripping inside her. She never once looked up at the sky.

But this morning when they strapped him into that metal coffin, shut the door and the cable started yanking him up through the rock, corkscrewing him up to the sunlight, all he could think of was her.

And when he reached the surface, when they slapped the sunglasses on to protect his eyes, nothing else registered till he saw her,

Something deeper than the mine begin to heal. They were allowed to hold each other for the very first time. They heard the Chilean President, who had been there all night, say to the television cameras, “I have realized that the wealth of this country is not the copper, it’s the miners.”

And for the very first time in 69 days, as the whole world rejoiced, the miner and his wife looked up at the sky.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_8d0DJpbBI]

What if you had lived?
I’m wondering late at night as an autumn rain blows in.
Maybe just a little like a Liverpool rain?

Maybe it was raining when you sat on the bedroom floor of your friend Paul’s house and listened to Buddy Holly, Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins and Elvis and then made up some songs of your own?

Maybe it was raining in Hamburg, those early days when your band would go for 8-10 hours a set. Every day. It really all started from the fact that you guys practiced. You poured the sweat of the hardest working guy on the Liverpool docks into your job. You put your hours in. My God, you guys were good. You worked at being good. And it showed.

Maybe it was raining outside of the Ed Sullivan Theater that first night you came through the tiny black and white Zenith TV in our families basement, I hushed my sisters to listen, they liked Paul but I thought you were the cool one.

On that night that everything changed.

I remember looking at your scribbled handwriting on the ragged piece of paper in the most stately of glass display cases in the British Museum. That piece of paper where you wrote:

“Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I’ve loved you more.”

Maybe it was raining that night in front of the Dakota. That night you were shot down dead.

That night everything changed again.

It’s been what. . .that many years?

Jesus.

Sometimes I forget that you are gone.

But then I remember what you left behind.

I listen and I grin.
Trying to be a bit like you.
As if I knew one or two of your secrets.
And of course I don’t.
But I can sure feel you there when you sing.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aeWIMYVKbLE]

He stands on the front porch of our house in the October winds, punching our phone number into his phone, saying “I’m not sure when we’ll be back so if you’d pull in the mail, keep an eye on the house.”

Of course! Whatever we can do. When did you find out?

She called from New York this morning around 11. Said her headache was really bad and she was going into the hospital. Then a few hours later we got a call saying they told her she might have leukemia. She called at five and said they told her she did have leukemia and she’d be starting chemo tomorrow. So it all happened in about 6 hours. So we’re taking the first plane out.”

She is in her early twenties. Their only daughter.

He says, “I asked her how she felt and she said she felt fine. She had the headache, but she felt fine.” He shook his head. Stared off into the distance.

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way for them. He’d been through his own bouts with cancer. Then came the unemployment. That’s still here. In advertising, you are an old man at 45. You hit 50 and you wonder if that’s it. His wife comes home from work while we’re talking. Trudging up her front steps, looks over at us standing on the porch next door. A light registers dimly in her eyes. She walks in her door without speaking.

I tell him that the only thing I know for sure is that every cancer story is different.

Every cancer story is different.

And in the early evening winds of October, I see dark houses, shattered dreams, the bewilderment of this isn’t how it was supposed to be.

I say a prayer for the smart young girl who grew up next door and all the promises she still could hold. Safe travels and strangers kindness to her lost parents making their way east on the first plane out tomorrow.

A lyric rises up. Born of how you just got to keep trying:

“But now there’s wrinkles round my baby’s eyes
And she cries herself to sleep at night
When I come home the house is dark
She says, baby did you make it alright?
For all the shut down strangers and hot rod angels
Rumbling through this promised land
Tonight my baby and me are gonna ride to the sea
And wash these sins off our hands.”

This time the Bill Ayers story is real. This time there really is a story.

Last time, the story was that the retiring University of Illinois professor and former Weather Underground fugitive plotted with the then Senator Obama to capture the presidency. There was no real story.

This time, there are facts. Professor Ayers asked for emeritus status from the university. The university turned him down. The reasoning, quoted in total below from the Chicago Sun Times, was given by University Board President Chris Kennedy. Son of Robert Kennedy.

This time, there were some actual facts. Mr. Ayers did author a book which he dedicated to Sirhan Sirhan and a list of political prisoners held by the United States.

Sirhan Sirhan who, with a handgun in the kitchen of a Los Angeles hotel, both changed the course of American history and took 4 year old Chris Kennedy’s Dad, Robert Kennedy.

So this time there were facts. A very hard decision. And list of “What if’s” that could go on as long as the coldest dark night of the American collective soul.
Beginning of course with “What if Bobby Kennedy had lived?”

That Professor Ayers was a world class teacher is acknowledged by pretty much anyone who came within 5 feet of him. And on the list of bad things that can happen to a person, being denied emeritus status might clock in pretty close to last. Somewhere above a hang nail.

But there is something larger here. There is Chris Kennedy’s decision. His reasoning, weighing each piece of a much, much larger picture. Being the sum total of who he is, what shaped him, defined him as a person.

And as I read the power and the eloquence in his words I am struck first with the sadness for all that might have been.

But then I think about what he both said and did here, and there is a new thought. Somehow there is hope.

Somehow there is hope.

Because as I read again what he wrote I can’t help but believe how proud his Dad would have been of his son.

Chris Kennedy’s Statement:
There are times like today when we must make difficult decisions and perhaps those that are controversial or simply create a spectacle.
In my decision-making capacities as a trustee, I am not given the luxury of taking a poll on every issue and simply voting with the majority.

Instead, like those leaders of our republic who serve our community in a representative democracy, I must ultimately vote my conscience.
Today we take up the topic of emeritus status.
There are provisions for emeritus status in the university-organizing documents.
The emeritus status is an honorific status.
It is a title that is one of prestige.
It is not earned by right, but it is given as a privilege by the board of trustees.

I need to point out that this is a purely optional act.
While the process of conferring emeritus status may end with the board of trustees, it is important to note that it must begin with the individual faculty member who must request this honorific status for themselves.

Apparently, Mr. Ayers, who has been a teacher at the University of Illinois at Chicago, has asked for this privilege and honor to be bestowed on him.

Our discussion of this topic therefore does not represent an intervention into the scholarship of the university, nor is it a threat to academic freedom.

It is, rather, simply a response to his request.
In my role, I am simply responding to something which has been presented to me.
I am guided by my conscience and one which has been formed by a series of experiences, many of which have been shared with the people of our country and mark each of us in a profound way.

My own history is not a secret.
My life experiences inform my decision-making as a trustee of the university.

In this case of emeritus status, I hope that I will act in a predictable fashion and that the people of Illinois and the faculty and staff of this great institution will understand my motives and my reasoning.
I intend to vote against conferring the honorific title of our university to a man whose body of work includes a book dedicated in part to the man who murdered my father, Robert F. Kennedy.

There is nothing more antithetical to the hopes for a university that is lively and yet civil, or to the hopes of our founding fathers for their great experiment of a self-governing people, than to permanently seal off debate with one’s opponents by killing them.

There can be no place in a democracy to celebrate political assassinations or to honor those who do so.
We are citizen trustees whose judgments should be predictable to the community that we serve, and I would ask anyone who challenges my judgment, “How could I do anything else?”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbnaaz75M4g

Excerpt from:
FINDING WORK WHEN THERE ARE NO JOBS
Part Seven: Pictures of People Finding Work
Copyright 2010. Roger Wright

NOEL’S STORY

Noel did not need the job. No matter what it paid or didn’t pay. He didn’t even need to work. Much less two jobs. Not at age 84.

He had always worked. Since leaving the Royal Air Force as a young man, he had built a successful practice as an architect. And he was still an architect. Still working. That never went away. Perhaps “semi-retired” but certainly not retired. He lived in a small green mountain village in Wales.

In his younger years, there were at least 5 local pubs in the area. Perhaps more. But now, with the changes in the business and the global recession, there was only one. Noel would stop in 2 or 3 times a week. Always on the same days

And Noel always liked to support the locals of course. Especially in hard times. He would take his seat at the bar, near the front door. He knew everyone. He knew the owner well. A hard man. Roughened and cynical by all his years behind the bar. He knew how close the owner was to shutting down. And that didn’t make him any more friendly with the customers either. But there was one thing Noel did not know.

Noel did not know that every time he was in the pub, business went up. Sometimes as high as 10%. But it always went up.

The owner had a feeling that Noel brought in business. Didn’t really know why. But he knew what his books were telling him. On the nights Noel was in the pub, business went up. So he decided he’d pay more attention to the twinkly eyed older gentleman. Find out his secret.

It didn’t take long. As he watched Noel hold forth from his seat at the bar, he realized that first and foremost, Noel almost never forgot a name. And when he did forget, he asked, and then used the person’s name. He ended up addressing everyone by name. It seemed like such a small thing. There had to be more.

As he kept his eye on Noel he realized that he was doing something else. Again, it was so small, one could miss it if one were not careful. Noel was welcoming everyone to walked in the place. Everyone! Even when the owner might have waved or said hello to a patron, Noel would burst out with “In case no one has told you yet, let me be the first to welcome you!”

Could that be it? Calling a person by name and then authentically welcoming them? That was all it took?

After a week of this, the owner was looking at his books one night and he realized it was true. Noel was increasing business in the pub! Astounding.

From that day on, Noel never paid for another drink. Something that of course bothered him at first. “What’s the occasion?” he’d ask. At first the owner would just smile and say “We’re glad you’re here, Noel.” But after one or two quizzical looks, the owner broke down and spilled the secret. “Noel, when you are here, I do better business.”

“Ah,” said Noel. “I am all for better business! I suppose we could do this. Just as long as the work never became a job!”

“Of course, of course,” said the owner. “All you have to do is be you.”

“Well, that happens to be my specialty!” smiled Noel as he raised his glass.

And as he did, some old friends came in the door, “Ah, Marnie and Keith! Welcome! Cold outside eh? Come in!”

The name might not ring a bell. But his ideas touched most all of us.

Jack Goeken, inventor, who died at 80 this week in Joliet IL after a battle with cancer, had the idea, “What if anybody could talk to anybody else on the phone no matter where they were?”

Today, in 2010, that idea might sit along side ideas like, “What if everybody could sit in a car? Use indoor plumbing? Watch television? Go on-line? Grab a cold drink from the refrigerator?”

But none of those ideas would have shape, color, texture weight or smell without an inventor. Somewhere there was an inventor. There were artists, like the brilliant Ray Bradbury, who fueled our collective onward march of creation by envisioning sparkling diamond jewels of wonder like intergalactic space travel. And then there were inventors. People who took an idea and made something important happen.

Jack Goeken was an inventor. I never had the honor of meeting him, but I worked for a company he started, MCI Telecommunications. And even long after he left the company in 1974, the energy of the inventor, fueled and made huge by William McGowan, could still be felt in the day to day business of growing the idea of how anybody could talk to anybody else on a phone no matter where they were.

Oh, that and also not pay AT&T, the nations only phone company until MCI, for the privilege of doing so.

Jack Goeken learned microwave electronics in the US Army. He started an aircraft radio repair business. And then he had this idea.

What if we used microwaves for two-way communications for truckers on a 236-mile stretch of the old Route 66 that ran from Chicago to St. Louis? He and a couple of friends scrapped together $600. They called their company “Microwave Communications Services.” Later that name was shortened to MCI. The company became, at that time, the fastest growing company in the history of American business. Sometimes, when I worked for the company during the time now called its “Classic” period, someone would ask, “What does MCI stand for?” And we’d answer with the proud and crazy wings of youth, “Money Coming In.”

But in being the guy who was there first at MCI, Jack Goeken was just getting started.

Reflecting back on his remarkable legacy from afar, I wonder if he had a connection to the early mornings? Perhaps not literally. But I wonder if early in the morning brought him ideas. Early in the morning, that time when the streets, and the airwaves are most empty, the promise and the coming of a new day, a new chance, a new way to start a question no one had ever asked before with “What if. . .”

Perhaps early in the morning is when his ideas percolated up to the surface. Ideas like, “What if there was a way for florists, those stewards of fragile beauty, to process orders that could span the world?” And then Jack Goeken went and started the FTD Mercury Network that did just that.

Then some other early morning, he thought, “What if people could talk to each other from airplanes?” And started Airfone. Then a few years later started Airfone’s rival, In Flight Phone Corp, adding digital technology, e-mail, stock quotes and games.

Jack Goeken was once quoted as saying, “Everybody comes in and says you can’t do something, so I do it just to prove it.”

Jack Goeken. Inventor.

“Everybody comes in and says you can’t do something, so I do it just to prove it.”

There’s a thought to greet the sunrise and the early morning.

What if more people thought like that?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jE8NSvD7LSE

From “Finding Work When There Are No Jobs.”
Copyright 2010 Roger Wright

Excerpted from Part Seven: Pictures of People Finding Work

In the tightly knit world of the autobody business in Los Angeles, they called Ron “Professor Painter.” Everybody knew him. Respected his skill in the paint booth. Gave him grief about always lecturing somebody on something. Telling stories. Bringing up some obscure fact. When the TV show Cheers was at its height, Ron was often compared to the know it all mailman Cliff Claiban.

Truth told, Ron was just curious. About pretty much everything. His amazing skill as a paint man in the shops had allowed him to make a comfortable living his whole life. He was born to do flawless work. And he did it in LA where the standards were very, very high. But the other advantage of his trade was it allowed long hours of pure thinking time. In the paint boot, Ron’s skill took over while his head circled the universe of all the literature he had read late at night when no one was around, all the music, all the art. Ron had finished high school. And then he’s really started learning.

And then he started learning. Learning was like a giant bag of crispy potato chips to Ron, when he started munching, he just couldn’t stop. And the result of this massive input of fact, fiction and imagination were stories. Some he kept to himself. When he could get someone to listen, he shared them.

But the other thing he did with them is that he used them to help work out whatever problem, whatever challenge he was having. Sometimes he found that if he could just make up a story about a problem, the story itself would bring the solution.

And the fact that body shops were shutting their doors faster than a tricked out 1962 cherry red Corvette Stingray on a desert road when no one was watching was a problem. Even a top tier paint man like Ron couldn’t find work. He’d spend his days going from shop to shop. Ron was a paint man, he was thorough. So he’d hit every shop. And no one said yes.

The Professor was starting to believe that it was true. That there were no jobs.

So he turned to story. And he thought, as he drove on to the next shop, what if 3 of history’s great artists went looking for a corporate job?
Ron had spent some time working for a corporation when he was younger. So he knew a bit about how they worked. In fact he had first discovered that making up stories was a terrific alternative to banging your head against a power point presentation when he worked for a corporation. So Ron had his three artists looking for jobs in corporations.

And as the story unfolded in his head, Ron wondered, “If I can figure out who, among these three, gets work first—maybe I can figure out how I could find work?”

So on that Tuesday morning, driving from one shop to the next, Ron began to say his story out loud,

PICASSO, JANIS JOPLIN AND KAFKA IN THE JOB INTERVIEW

An aging Picasso opens the door that says Human Resources; and peeks into the office. From behind the desk, a young woman of perhaps 23 stands up and motions for him to sit.
“Thanks for coming in Mr. Picasso. My name is Kristie. Any trouble finding the place?”

Picasso shrugs.

“Alrighty then. I’m going to be asking you a few questions about your background and experience. Then it will be your turn to ask me questions on this new role we’ve just put in place here at United Informers Equity. Then we can talk about next steps. “Okey doke?”

Picasso shrugs.

“So, I understand you are some sort of an artist? Do I have that right?”
Picasso reaches for a piece of paper on her desk. Turns it over and quickly sketches a dove. Pushes it over the desk to Kristie. He has yet to say a word.

“I see.” Kristie stands up and says. “Well, as you can imagine, we have lots and lots of people applying for this job. So we’ll be in touch. I don’t think we need to take any more of your time. Can you find your way out? OK then. Have a great day.”

Picasso shrugs and leaves the room.

One door down, in the next Human Resources Office; Janis Joplin knocks and a young man named Timmy, who is also Kristie’s special friend at work, says; “Why yes Ms. Joplin. Thanks for coming in. Any trouble finding the place?

Janis Joplin coughs. Clears her throat and says, “Got any coffee? Rough night last night.”

Timmy frowns, cocks his head and says, “I am so sorry. Fresh out. But if I may? I understand you are some sort of singer? Is that right? Do you have a resume?”

Janis Joplin shakes her head no. then says, “All I brought is this.” She reaches over, runs her hand along the top of Timmy’s monitor, and a video of her singing “Try, Just a Little Bit Harder” begins to play.

“Well,” says Timmy when the video ends. “That certainly was something. We will certainly let you know if anything comes up. These are hard times you know Ms. Joplin. So we’ll let you know.”

And as Janis Joplin leaves the sterile little office here’s what happens.
The lights blaze on bright in every single Human Resources department.
In every country in the world. No matter what time it is.
No matter what year it is. No matter what century.
And a stoop shouldered brooding young man with a very, very old soul named Franz Kafka coughs as he sits down for the first time inside a giant stone building in a Prague of a much earlier time.

Outside the sign on the building reads “The Worker’s Accident Insurance Institute for the Kingdom of Bohemia.”

“Ah Herr Kafka,” says Human Resources Director Getz. So glad you could come in. It says here you are a writer?”

And Kafka replies

“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself in his bed transformed into a giant insect.”

Director Getz slaps his palm on the polished oak top of his desk and says,
“Splendid Herr Kafka! You know that just this morning; we had a man go missing. A writer. Who knew we’d need another one! Herr Kafka? You’re hired!”
——————
Ron laughed to himself, remembering how he always loved that line. Aways loved that line about the guy turning into a bug. Then he started thinking, “How come Kafka found work? Why didn’t Janis Joplin or Picasso?

And that was when it hit him It was so simple, that the Professor never saw it. Not till he started playing, making up stories.

Kafka was replacing a missing person.

Ron was going from shop to shop because he knew people. But mostly because he was methodical. Liked to do things in an organized, logical, thorough manner. He was talking about his experience. Even before he found out of the shop had any missing persons.

Ron skipped the next shop. Pulled over into the parking lot of a Carl’s Jr. hamburger joint. And started punching numbers on his cell phone. In an hour, he had contacted 10 shops. Something that would have taken him a day if he had gone to all 10 in person. One of the shops, a nice operation run by an old friend named Lori who used to train shop owners in East L.A. back when they both had corporate jobs, was in panic mode.

Lori’s painter had just stormed out. She had 5 vehicles to get out right now.

Ron told her not to panic. 15 minutes later he was at her shop. And instead of trolling for jobs, Ron had work.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMwseIJwNao]

Excerpted from “Finding Work When There Are No Jobs”
AFTERWORD: Quick Portraits of People Who Found Work By Thinking Differently

Kristin was a teacher. She had always been a teacher. It’s all she knew how to do.

She had begun teaching in high school. Then special education for emotionally disturbed kids. From there, came the learning that what she was really good at was being a coach.

And as she got better, she realized that coaching adults was where she excelled.

She went into corporate training, talent management, all sorts of different titles that all came down to the same thing, helping someone else get better at what they do. That was it.

To her, it was like a chorus. Or better yet, a duet. Singing together just sounded better. And when she was teaching teachers, managers, or writing the training, or delivering the work, planning or training sessions herself, and she was at her best, it became like a chorus.

She loved every minute of it.

Up until the time when there were no jobs. Teachers were being laid off in every city. And if you worked with adults? In business? To help them reach their goals? That was like being a blacksmith.

So Kristin got in the job search line. And it made her very tired, very fast. She knew the goal was to sell herself. She’d done sales training that had generated millions and millions and millions of dollars for the folks she supported. She’s even sold her training. But selling herself was different.

It was as if she was trying to sing every part in the chorus herself. It just wasn’t working.

So she started thinking. She had spent her life helping others be better singers. Why stop now? So Kristin decided that she’d be quiet.

Perhaps he wisest move by anyone in a helping profession.

She decided she’d be quiet and let the other members of the chorus sing her praises.

Kristin wrote this letter. And in the letter—SHE was quiet. She used other people’s words. She made her own chorus. She used variations of the letter for 50 organizations where there might be work. No jobs. Work.

And in 2 months she had three offers for work.

The letter was successful.

Now Kristin gets to sing in a chorus where everyone is on key. And they are all singing the very same song.
———————————————

Dear Ms. White;

Speaking directly to your three criteria for the Program Manager role; I thought I’d share the words of others on what kind of a fit I’d be:

Collaboration: Beth Ohura.
Chicago Public Schools Director of Professional Development.

I’ve known Kristin Smith for a number of years, Kristin has a success record for building leadership capacity for the full spectrum of educators all over the world, but Chicago is her home. In my role as Chicago Public Schools Director of Principal Professional Development, and later as a CPS principal, Kristin has demonstrated in our interactions a commitment to the children of Chicago above and beyond. Having been in both the private and public sectors, she brings a unique set of talents. As a staff developer, Kristin puts others first. He is enthusiastic and articulate, and sensitive to the people with whom he is working. She has an amazing ability to strategize so his methods match the learning needs and styles of the people in front of her. This is particularly important for reaching CPS teachers, as the various school cultures tend to be so idiosyncratic and unpredictable at times. She will know where to facilitate, where do provoke thinking, and where to push, always with an eye to getting others to develop their own voice and sense of efficacy. I think this makes her a great match for your programs, because what Kristin relishes more than anything else is making other people successful. I strongly urge you to consider her for a position.

Curriculum Development and Delivery: Robert Alexander. Vice President. Southern Data.

Kristin invigorated our leadership development program at Southern Data. She is a thought leader who knows how to implement. She developed programs that were known for pertinent content that challenged status quo thinking. These programs allowed senior leaders to evaluate current leadership skills and to embrace new skills. Her in depth knowledge of this practice area gave her a tremendous amount of credibility with the leaders at Southern Data. I would recommend Kristin to any organization looking to increase their leadership skills.

Delivering the training: Melissa Waller, Vice President. Telecom Inc.

I was privileged enough to have Kristin as an instructor/trainer for a year long leadership candidate program I was involved in at Telecom. Upon initially meeting Kristin, I was immediately drawn to her charisma and approachability.

She is one of the best motivators I have ever been around; she is a very positive and creative thinker who has a very real talent to put context around anything that comes up in discussions. Her knowledge and ability to ‘link the world together’ are a very rare combination. She always promoted an atmosphere of true and honest knowledge sharing among the group involved and never made you feel like any comment was unwelcome.

She genuinely cares about others and I loved to witness her in action. I was in ‘awe’ of her everyday. I’ve never met anyone who is more inspiring and who promotes the growth and development of others like Kristin does. She is one of those people that you just enjoy and you find yourself wanting to be like her – Anyone that meets Kristin will be blessed in many ways. Her spirit, knowledge, enthusiasm and professionalism will benefit any person or any organization he is ever involved with.”
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As you review the mountain of resumes composed of folks talking about themselves; my hope is that you’ll remember this note—composed of other people—not me—talking about what I could bring to your company.

And it would be a true joy if this prompted a conversation with you.

Take Care,

Kristin Sang
312-555-1212