Phrases to Help You Conquer the Working World, Part 2

Magic Words at Work
by Howard Kaminsky, Alexandra Penney

(Page 2 of 2)

Wrist Power

We've both worked with many successful executives, and almost all of them had one trait in common. Smart? Of course. Hardworking? Obviously. Tough when they have to be? Natch. But the trait we're talking about is the ability to be on time.

When Howard was just starting out in publishing, he met Ned at a booksellers' convention. Ned was only five years older than Howard, but everyone could see he was going to go far. He had taken a small, failing firm and within three years had turned it around, making it one of the major companies dealing in mass-market paperbacks.

Ned and Howard became good friends, and though Howard never worked for him, Ned taught him an important business lesson. Ned was always on time.

"Whether it was meeting Ned for a drink or having lunch or dinner with him, I never got there ahead of him," Howard says. "He'd always be sitting there, his favorite drink, a Kir Royale, sitting in front of him. One day I asked him two questions: How do you always manage to be early? And why does it matter to you?

"Being early is easy," Ned said. "I keep my watch set a half-hour fast. I've been doing it since college." Howard thought about that, and though he didn't say anything

to Ned, he realized that idea wouldn't work for him. "It wouldn't be long before I'd begin to automatically subtract that half-hour. The way I'd see it, my watch was hoarding a little extra time for me, and pretty soon I'd start taking it."

So Howard moved on to "Why?"

"I like to be early because it allows me time to think of what I'd like to talk about. It's also nice to be able to sit here and enjoy my drink and think about how my day has gone.

"I've always called it 'Wrist Power,' " Ned continued. "Being on time is really using time well. Making it work for you. People who arrive late have the mistaken idea that they're making every minute count. They're not. People who show up late for meetings have already given me the edge. They start out apologizing, they're feeling harried because they meant to be just a little bit late and then a truck backed out of an alley and blocked their cab. So, instead of spending the time en route to the meeting thinking about what they want to say, they're thinking about the truck, or about the stoplight. Meanwhile, I'm here, enjoying a drink, thinking about what I want to accomplish in the meeting. I'm not scurrying around distracted by traffic and wondering how late I'm going to be. I'm already here."

Howard confesses that this point of view was new to him. It was also one he found very persuasive. He had left the office at the last possible minute, been held up by the very truck Ned had mentioned, and arrived at the restaurant apologetic and frazzled. Those extra minutes he'd put in at the office had been far fewer than the ones he'd wasted fretting about the slow taxi ride.

"An important part of my dedication to 'Wrist Power' is also courtesy," Ned added. "People who are chronically late are discounting the value of your time. Or they want to be the center of attention, and it's easier to achieve that when they make a grand — and late — entrance. I start meetings on time and I end them that way. Unless my car blows up along the way, I'm at the airport early enough to sit and read the paper before boarding. There's enough stress that we can't avoid. I'm not perfect, far from it, but the one thing I know I can control is being on time."

Although neither of us set our watches ahead a half-hour, we both subscribe to "Wrist Power." Strategically, there is power in being there first, in being calm and prepared when the latecomer hurries in full of apologies for behavior that is every bit as rude as not saying "please" or "thank you." Effective managers may tolerate a flurry of lateness in someone else because they feel it gives them an advantage. Personally, they'll practice "Wrist Power," because lateness doesn't make you look important, it makes you look incompetent.

Let's Pretend

Howard and Alexandra came up with these Magic Words one afternoon after spying a mutual friend walking down the opposite side of the street. Marjorie had just gone back to work after a ten-year hiatus at home with her young family. When Howard and Alexandra spotted her striding up Madison Avenue, she was wearing a thigh-high skirt, chunky wedge-heeled shoes, and a tight short-sleeved sweater that rode up as she walked, exposing an inch or more of midriff.

"I thought you said that Marjorie had gotten a job with a law firm," said Howard, staring at Marjorie's outfit.

"She has," said Alexandra. "Want to bet she won't stay there long?"

Howard refused the bet, but Alexandra was unable to resist telling him why she'd been willing to put down ten dollars on the likelihood that Marjorie was in line for a new career.

"She's playing 'Let's Pretend,' " Alexandra explained. "I think she already knows she doesn't want to work in that law office. She's dressing for the job she wishes she had, not for the one she's got. Here's my bet — contracts for a theatrical agent."

Alexandra was a little off. When Howard ran into Marjorie six months later, she was working as counsel for a large record company. The encounter with Marjorie got Howard and Alexandra thinking about how dress can affect your career. It also made Alexandra a proponent of what she calls the Cary Grant Approach, named for the actor who was a synonym for sophistication and who once confided, "I pretended to be somebody I wanted to be, and I finally became that person."

This was the tactic adopted by a young woman Alexandra knew who worked as a secretary for a fashion magazine. Deborah's dream was to be a fashion editor, and long before she had the job, she had the image. Because she was young, she wisely shunned the stark, sophisticated perfection of a Diana Vreeland, and instead, in her clothes and hairstyle, mirrored the fashion fads of people her age who were making news in the worlds of art, music, and drama. Deborah was never outlandish, but she was always different and completely original. Gradually, senior editors began seeking her advice on styles that were percolating up from the underground. One day, one of the editors asked that Deborah be made her assistant. There is no question in anyone's mind that Deborah will eventually take the step up to editor. To look at her, you'd think she was already there.

Howard saw the same thing happen with a young mail-room clerk at his publishing house. Shunning the casual clothes worn by other gofers, James wore tweeds and loafers and — Howard says this is what first caught his attention — carried a rolled-up copy of a small literary magazine in his jacket pocket. Because James's dress was unusual for his job, people noticed him and treated him differently from the other clerks. The protruding magazine started conversations, and James's earnest desire to have a role in the world of literature made several editors adopt him as a protege. Although editorially James is on the bottom rung, dealing with the unsolicited manuscripts known as the slush pile, he got the part he dressed for. Howard says that if he shows up in scrubs everyone will know that James has decided to switch to medicine.

Dressing the part is what Alexandra calls "Let's Pretend." Sometimes it's a way of convincing other people you're right for the role. But sometimes it's a way of trying on a new profession. When a photographer we know was thinking of giving up the unsettled life of the freelancer for law school, a lawyer friend told her that first she should play "Let's Pretend." "Buy a silk blouse and a tailored suit and wear them for a week. If you can't stand the outfit," he warned her, "I promise you you'll hate the job."

Copyright © 2004 by Howard Kaminsky and Alexandra Penney. Excerpted by permission of Broadway, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

About the Author

Howard Kaminsky was the president and publisher of three major publishing houses: Warner Books, Random House, and William Morrow/Avon. Also the author of several screenplays, four novels (cowritten with his wife, Susan), and numerous magazine articles, he lives in New York City and Connecticut.

Alexandra Penney's four bestsellers include the mega-hit How to Make Love to a Man. In addition to serving as editor in chief of Self magazine, she has written lifestyle columns for The New York Times Magazine and contributed regularly to numerous others. Currently launching a national magazine for women called Real, she lives in New York City.