Around the Web: What you missed in Dame Dash's Breakfast Club Interview

Back in March, Dame Dash did an interview on The Breakfast Club. I don't follow the show or Mr. Dash hence this delayed post, but a friend recently brought the interview to my attention. I've reached a place in my career where entrepreneurial thoughts monopolize my days in the office and this interview gave me a lot more to think about. It was interesting. Even if the underlying messages of "be your own boss" and "invest in yourself" are worn out, the delivery and examples of practical applications make the interview worth the watch. Warning: The interview is long, combative and offensive to pretty much every category of person. It is full of many ideas to which I do not subscribe. Watch at your own risk.

Here's what I found when I stepped back to think about Dame Dash's statements:

Diversify your Network. 

Mr. Dash appears on the show with two individuals with whom he has both personal and business relationships with. These men are not in suits, they don't have fancy titles...these are neighborhood dudes from Harlem that challenge him, encourage him and support him. CEO's don't become successful and remain successful by only spending time with other CEO's. One of the biggest mistakes new Corporates (especially new Black Corporates) make is assuming that people who are not in Corporate America don't have anything to teach you or offer you to succeed in Corporate America. Grandma may not have had the opportunities to go to school and succeed in the business world because of a whole host of 'isms, but she probably knows how to hustle in a way your roommate at WhoGivesA University does not.

Messy Moment at Work

I spilled my lunch on my lap and all kinds of drama ensued. I couldn’t go through the rest of the day with sauce-crotch. What if I got called into a meeting? I peeked out of my office to make sure that no one was in the hallway and I scuttled to the individual bathroom. After checking the door three times to make sure it was locked, I took off my pants and rinsed them out in the sink. I was panicking. This made perfect sense…. until I put my pants back on and had a huge wet spot in my crotch (front to back). Now what?        20 paper towels later, I realized I had to make it back to my office without being seen. Leaving the bathroom with wet pants is never a good look. It’s a Friday, no one will see me…My office is right there…Empty hallway and I was relieved. My blazer was strategically positioned in front of my crotch. Just when I thought I was safe, my co-worker came around the corner behind me and I look back to see if she saw the wet spot on my bum. Face red. We don’t make eye contact. Once I hit my office, I closed my door and turn on my space heater. Risking burns and a potential pants fire, I dried my pants with the space heater while wearing them. I couldn’t leave work until my pants were dry. So much for skipping out early on a Friday.

 Moral of the Story: Keep extra clothes at the office.

When Black Lives Don't Matter in the Office

I ran from this post. I fought this post. This post was the reason I created this blog and yet it is one of the most terrifying things I've done.

Seeing people who look like me pour their rage into the streets, onto placards, and up against Facebook walls does something to me. It's like drumming. They are on my television in the morning as I button my blazer and slip on my "walk to work" shoes. They are in the streets at night when I'm walking home after a long day with my laptop slung across my shoulder just in case something comes up. The drumming is getting louder and louder, but no one else in my office seems to hear it. Deals and deliverables. Birthdays and barhopping. Vacations. Nannies. House of Cards.

Are the turmoil and anxiety of an entire group of people shadowing my existence imaginary? Have I fabricated it? And then someone breaks the fourth wall and I know they can all see the drummer even if they cannot hear the music. Murmurs about the inconvenience of protesters disturbing their commutes. Whispers about seeing the riots on the news. Never to me.  But these words float in the corridor. It is a miracle I can hear them over the drums. I stay silent at work. I'm afraid if I start talking it will sound like the loud and oppressive drumming. I'm afraid of not being taken seriously, being ignored or, worse, being pitied.

Black lives don't matter in the office. Deadlines matter. Bottom lines  matter. But color lines, wealth lines, lines that separate Black people from justice don't matter in the office. This piece is for those of us watching the protests from our offices. Meeting deadlines, not leading picket lines. Staying busy, working later, doing all that we can to ignore the drumming. I hope it works for you. It's not working for me. There is an urgency in my spirit that is dangerous to success in Corporate America. Our jobs often depend on the same institutions that perpetuate our oppression.

STRESS!!!

The other day I was on a project that wasn't going well despite my best efforts and I was stressed. I was 10 hours into the workday and my entire body was living the stress. I had a headache, I was nauseated and I couldn't focus. *I might have cried a little bit.*

At some point, I laid my jacket on the floor, crawled under my desk, and called my mom. I was going to be there for a while, the work wasn't going anywhere and I was non-functional. We talked for only a few minutes, but it was long enough to remind me that there was a world outside of my office that doesn't change because I couldn't close a deal or finish a report.

When the project ended successfully, it was all high-fives, but I'm wondering what's going to happen the next time I get to that point. I know all the tips for dealing with stress, but when I'm in it, really in it, most of that goes out the window...The work gets done and that used to be enough for me. These days, I'm more concerned about my mental and physical health.

Do you have a handle on work stress?

Office Survival Kit

The day I was assigned my office, I spent my lunch break shopping.

When making an office your home base whether for an internship or for the long haul, here are a few essential purchases to make things easier:

In general:

1.     Headache medicine of your choice

2.     Box of Tissues

3.     Hand Sanitizer

My Hips Won't Hide

Not all Black women are curvy, thick, round (whatever we’re calling it)…but some are. I am somewhere between a pear and an hourglass (see above). At school this was fine: sweat pants, maxi dresses, stretchy jeans and flowy tops… I could wear what I wanted, no matter how ill-fitting or misguided the choice.

Now, I work in Corporate America. My office is business casual, but even that can be complicated.  My big, Black body is just not corporate.

The Office Holiday Party: Dancing while Black

This past December, we had our office holiday party. It was great! Seeing people from different backgrounds, departments and pay grades come together to break bread and drink was an experience in itself. I had an assignment to finish, so I showed up late. The festivities were in full swing, and I was completely uptight and uncomfortable. The calculus of workplace social interactions began churning away in my head. Not only was I the newest and youngest associate, I was also one of few Black associates. Yes, my race comes to work with me. 

Like most corporate institutions, the people who look like me dominated the support staff and secretarial roles and the people in leadership roles don’t look like me at all. There I was, in my associateness and my blackness, trying to decide whether I would dance at the holiday party. I love dancing at parties. Normally, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but I faced an internal conflict on how I should comport myself.

It started off as a two-step. Harmless. Unassuming. Nothing to write home about. Then I was singing songs at the top of my lungs and full motions took over my body. It was awkward. My inhibitions were at the bottom of my second tumbler. I was on display. I felt my blackness being judged by my dancing prowess and mastery of 90’s RnB lyrics. Would my Black co-workers think I was “white-washed”? Would my White co-workers think I was “so Black”? Those were the irrational fears that an otherwise fun and festive gathering generated. This is a story about the real-time thoughts and feelings of a young, Black associate at a predominately white firm. 

Photo Credit:  http://www.glassdoor.com/blog/dos-donts-office-holiday-party/