by Mary Lloyd,   CEO, Mining Silver

A while ago I wrote a piece on how being good at what you do is the best job insurance you can ever invest in.  Being good at what you do makes you too valuable to let go.   It makes you the best candidate for the new, bigger challenge.  And it makes you want to go to work–and enjoy being there.

Sounds like that should be it, right.  End of helpful suggestion, friendly advice, or whatever you want to call it.  However, most of us assume we are good at what we do without ever bothering to work at it.  And without looking for feedback to confirm our comfortable assumptions.

You don’t want to believe that you’re one of those, right? We all do it.  So the first step toward being really good, instead of just thinking you are, is to adopt an ongoing attitude of wanting to improve.

Perhaps you’re thinking that’s just not worth the effort.  When the economy is sour and pink slips are flying like snowflakes in January, the ”safer” inclination is to keep your head down.  To do what you are told and not try anything more.  Out of sight, out of the axeman’s mind, right? 

Not really.  The more you do to help the company make it through the bad times, the better your chances of being there–and on a fast track–when things improve.  That’s true whether you’re 23 or 63.

So…what can you do to be better at what you’re doing than you are today?  How can you know more–about the product, the customer, the competition?  How can you gain better skills–at telephone communication, writing effective e-mails, calling only essential meetings?  How can you do better with the paperwork?

Even in the perfect job, there are things that aren’t exactly bliss to accomplish.   If you’re good at what you do, you get them done timely anyway–without anyone having to hound you.  People who are good at what they do prepare.   And they follow up.  Are you an ace at all of that?

It doesn’t make any difference if you are the CEO of a Fortune 500 company or the volunteer who gives cookies to donors once they’ve given blood, being good at what you do makes whatever you are involved in better for those you interact with.  That’s one payoff–people like working with you.

It also makes whatever you are doing better for you.  The phrase “half-hearted effort” says it all.  If you don’t care about what you are doing, doing it leaves you with half a heart.  It’s a case of prostitution in a way.  You’re selling your effort to something you don’t care about for some other benefit–money, social acceptance, being considered “holy,”  whatever.  

If you don’t like what you are doing, you need to find something else to do.  Something that you WANT to do–and want to be good at.

There are many aspects to this quest for excellence, but the first one has to be that you WANT TO BE GOOD AT IT.  You can be ten years old with your first paper route or ninety-two and playing roles as a patient for med students at some university–or smack dab in the middle of an “ordinary” career with too much work and not enough resources.  It doesn’t make any difference where you are when you decide to honor yourself by seeking to be outstanding at what you do.  It just means that you have found a path that will sustain you for your entire life.

Being good at what you do gives you traction externally, by being a valuable resource to the compnay and its customers.  It also give you more power internally because it helps you feel competent–and confident.   

So that’s the first step:  WANT to be good at what you’re putting your effort into.  I’ll offer more in the next few weeks on ways to do it–finding good resources, getting accurate feedback, and staying the course after a not-so-stellar performance. 

No matter what your age, being good at what you do is worth the effort.

by Mary Lloyd, CEO, Mining Silver

This article appears in the May 2009 issue of Barbara Morris’s online newsletter, Put Old on Hold.

One of the many sad consequences of our preoccupation with youth is that we don’t pay much attention to wisdom. That’s like worrying about what color to paint the garage and ignoring the Ferrari that’s housed inside.

Wisdom, per Merriam Webster’s is “accumulated philosophic or scientific learning: KNOWLEDGE” or “ability to discern inner qualities and relationships: INSIGHT” or “good sense: JUDGMENT.” Roll it all together and you get “a wise attitude, belief, or course of action.” Wisdom is a key to living well. But aspiring to it is not typically on our lists of New Year’s resolutions or personal goal statements.

That’s probably because to acquire it, you have to accept you’re getting older.

First, let’s face one unavoidable fact. Every single day of our lives, we “get older.” It’s the normal course of events. The only alternative is to die—and I’m not voting for that option. So if we’re going to get older anyway, why not do it gracefully? Why not do it in a way that makes the reality more compelling? Why not work on becoming wise?

Going back to the definition I started with, there are three pieces to this—and then the decision to live that way (which is the attitude part).

Knowledge

Jokes about hiring a teenager because they know it all have been around forever. And we’ve all met precocious ten-year-olds who could go on for an hour on a topic they found interesting. But the knowledge that serves as a basis for wisdom has to be more comprehensive than the knowledge of youth. Becoming wise requires an accurate picture of the real world. And that means you need to have lived there a while. And paid attention.

Too often, we live in the realm of what we assume to be true instead confirming what is. Buying a car—or house—that you can’t afford is an example of that. But so is staying in a dead-end job because you’re telling yourself you’re not good enough for anything better. Not believing in ourselves is the stingiest approach of all to life. But it takes wisdom to see that–and to stop doing it.

Gaining knowledge hinges on paying attention to what’s going on around you. People who have learned “what came next” again and again are more serene about life situations. A wise person knows the bad times will end and can work patiently toward that day. She also savors the good times because they, too, are temporary. What we learn of the ebb and flow of life—by living it consciously—gives us a more solid foundation.

Insight

Knowing about life is important, but you need to find the patterns in it, too–even when they’re hidden in the shadows. Insight is combining information from the disparate sources you’ve observed and drawing astute conclusions about what’s going on.

One of my dearest family members reacts intensely to overwork. Until I understood that pattern, I found myself in the middle of emotional upheavals that left me baffled and hurt. Without a conscious assessment of previous episodes and an effort to extract what was common to them, I believed—as she was prone to insisting in those moments—that I was inadequate as a person and a loved one. Now, I just find the quickest route to the sidelines. Getting out of the way for a bit is a much better solution for both of us. This is wisdom. It’s practical. It’s loving. And it’s not going to show up unless you’re getting older. You have to watch things for a while to see patterns.

Judgment

Judgment is not about deciding you’re better than someone else. The judgment that comes with wisdom is about choosing an effective course of action.

Sometimes, it’s obvious. If the house is on fire, you get out and call 911. But if you’ve been worrying for weeks about whether to go on vacation in June or August, maybe you need to let go of it of it for a while. Wise judgment is knowing when NOT to decide sometimes. Ever spend months feeling awful that you weren’t getting to something that “had” to be done only to discover it didn’t need to be done at all?

Wisdom includes intuition when employing judgment. Knowledge and insight are essential, but so is “gut feel” if you want to really get it right. As we get older, we become more willing to hear—and honor—that “little voice.” We make wiser choices as a result.

Wise as an attitude

We don’t become wise instantaneously. Wisdom comes in small increments. But to get all the way to unflappable, ongoing serenity, we need to decide we want to become wiser now. Becoming wise is the best way to grow older. Every day.

*******

Mary Lloyd is author of Supercharged Retirement: Ditch the Rocking Chair, Trash the Remote, and Do What You Love. She offers seminars on creating a meaningful retirement and consults to businesses on how to use older talent well. She is available as a speaker. For more on how to get the best out of this stage of life go to => http://www.mining-silver.com.

From Mary Lloyd, Mining Silver

This is the third of our year-long series of questions.  And this month’s comes as March goes out like a lion for a lot of us.  Flooding, snowstorms, and other nasty weather are worrying us all over the country.  And globally, we are all still stuck with this mess of an economy.  That’s a lot to get stressed about.  And most of us know all too well what stress feels like.
This month, let’s flip that and look at the opposite.  Let’s consider what “relaxed” feels like.  For April, please give us your comments to the following question:

How do you know when you’re relaxed?

Please take the time to register and leave your opinion.  We’d love to hear what you think!

By Mary Lloyd, CEO, Mining Silver

My washing machine quit–in November.  It’s now late January.  This has been going on a while.   My washing machine quit in August, too.   I bought a new one.  It’s the new one that isn’t working.   It’s still under warranty.  That’s a good thing, right?

Well…

This much hassle on a small problem seems grossly unfair.   On big problems, I know I have to be diplomatic to get things done.  On big problems I’m ready to accept that the outcome might not be exactly what I’d envisioned.  With this?  I just wanted it fixed.  That didn’t  seem all that outrageous.

I e-mailed the manufacturer.   E-mail is the great anonymizer.   You send a note to a nameless, faceless person who’s supposed to care–because they get paid to.   It’s a nice thought.   And it’s a first step because “e-mail never closes.”  You  feel like you’ve made immediate contact when you hit “send”–even if no one gets back to you–which was what happened this time.

So I called.   And left a message.  Someone did call me back and gave me the number of a local authorized repair shop.  I was to call them directly to set up the warranty work.   So I called.  And they said it would be three days before they could get someone out.

An interesting–and toxic–side effect was developing by that point.  I started to tell myself “This should not be this difficult.” It’s 7 weeks later and my washer still doesn’t work.  I might have been right on the assessment, but that doesn’t change reality.    A lot of my frustration could have been avoided if I’d dealt with the reality instead of passing judgment.

When the repairman arrived, he fiddled with the controls and told me the problem was that I needed to use less soap.   I doubted that  since I’ve owned this kind of equipment before and never had trouble.  But I accepted his operator error theory.

A week later, as I was preparing to leave on a two-week trip, it quit again.  With the door locked.  And wet laundry inside.  I called the repair place.    They insisted the  guy who did the first repair had to be the one to come back.  And he was already out on a job.  Sorry.  I should have asked the manufacturer  for a new repair option.  Instead, I was stubbornly thinking they should get this right.

They finally talked with him while he was on the other job.  But no, he wouldn’t be out that day.  He  had to order parts.  I got it to unlock myself.  And expected the parts would be waiting when I got back from the trip.

When I got home, the parts weren’t in.  She didn’t seem too worried about that.  The weather had been affecting travel, and it was still holiday rush.  I asked if she’d checked on the order.  No.

My optimistic  expectation that they actually wanted to fix my washer evaporated.  I asked  the manufacturer to ship the parts directly to me.   At least then I’d know they were in.  I was supposed to have them by the end of the week. But it flooded.  They closed the interstate.

This was nobody’s fault.  So I waited–almost  like a kid for Christmas.  The parts arrived the following Tuesday.   I scheduled an installation appointment.

The same guy came back–but with a worse attitude.   This time, I made him demonstrate that it worked.   It didn’t.  He said it was just “taking time to think.”  I got out a timer.  He gave up on that excuse.  He said he had to order  another part.

My tolerance was gone.  I’d been doing  my laundry at other people’s houses for over a month.  I called the shop while he was still at my house and asked to talk to “the boss.”  I got the customer service manager.  I talked to her, she talked to him, she talked to me again.  They would order the new part and he would get in ASAP.

I called her back after he left and told her if they weren’t willing to send someone else, I was going to have to go back to the manufacturer.  She relented and said she’d send a different tech.  We agreed he’d talk to the first guy in the morning to decide if he had to do more diagnostics before he ordered more parts.

The new tech was  sick the next day.  Then came the weekend and they don’t work.  So my washer is still not fixed.

But instead of more fuming I’ve finally found a way to inner peace with this.  The laundromat.  I’ll keep the pressure on to get my own equipment working the way it should.  But for now, I have clean clothes without bothering my friends.

By Mary Lloyd, CEO, Mining Silver

Of all the things we dream of as retirement, the one that’s probably most consistently a high priority is the desire to slow down.  To stop running around like a chicken on speed trying to get too many things done at once.  Having the time to savor what you are doing, be it drinking your coffee or seeing Alaska for the first time, is nirvana if the pace of your work life is typical of what this culture demands.  The bliss of having total control of what you’re doing with your time once you leave work is irresistible.

But it’s a bad idea to insist on it all the time.

When we have the  option of focusing on only one thing at a time, we risk losing a skill that’s hard to get back–the ability to jump between moving trains.  In career mode, this skill is indispensable.  You move from writing a white paper to mopping up spilled milk in a nanosecond.   It’s is even more important as you advance in whatever field you’ve chosen.   I went from college instructor to internal corporate consultant in one unexpected jump.   And from a staff position to the frenzy of line management in another.

I was moving in one direction at a good pace before I made the jump and moving in a new one, just as fast, once I landed–without ever stopping to figure out where to place my feet, how to angle the leap, etc.

Once we retire, we’re more laid back  about it.    We “think about it.”  We “wait and see” what it looks like next week, next month, next year.

Taking the time to study it, even savor it, usually means it moves on before we’re ready to move at all.  And that means a lot of missed opportunities.   That’s particularly bad news if those opportunities don’t come along as often as they used to.

Just knowing you need to move fast isn’t enough  though.  You need to practice doing it.   Otherwise, you won’t be ready when you need to be.

Five days ago, I learned an important opportunity–to which I’d made a preliminary commitment months ago–was happening in three days.  To take advantage of it, I needed to move fast and do things I’ve been telling myself I don’t have to do any more–FAX a signed document, set things up online to take a required class (which strikes terror into the hearts of most people over 50) and then get on with participating.  Pronto!

Did I leap exuberantly  toward that train?  Nope.  I hesitated–worrying about  not having the textbook,  the online learning environment, and the fact that the timing was bad.  That was smoke–I almost kissed off a key opportunity because  I wanted to keep control of my pace.

That’s when having all the time you want to do whatever you want can become a negative.  It’s easy to forget ,when you direct your own time all day every day, that opportunities usually require surrendering to someone or something else’s pace.   Instead of jumping at the chance, you stand at the platform of the train station ruminating while the engine pulling excitement and challenge chugs off without you.

Let’s not do that.

But let’s not jump onto every train that comes along, either.

Dive at the obvious ones — the opportunities that relate directly to what you want in  your life.  A volunteer slot for a cause you believe in.  The chance for time with someone you’d really like to have a relationship with.  The perfect job opportunity…  Don’t take too much time thinking on the ones that just “feel right” either.  That’s your intuition helping you spring into action.

But the rest?  Maybe you want to go for a few just to keep your train-jumping skills honed.

A key piece of keeping excitement and newness in your life is being able to jump at opportunities–often without time to assess them thoroughly beforehand.  Doing that requires you to let go of control of the pace of your life.   At least once in a while.  Yes, stop and smell the roses.  Appreciate the connection with your canine buddy when you take time to pet the dog.  But when the phone rings and someone offers you the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of, tell Fido you’ll see him later and get going!

Last weekend was Oktoberfest at my local fairgrounds.  It was a bigger deal than I expected–and a much better good time for me personally than you might have guessed.  That Oktoberfest had untold delights.

We got there in the late afternoon when the little kids were still allowed on the premises.  (I live in a state that does not allow children at public drinking sites.)  The music was already oom-pahing along when we arrived–polkas, waltzes, and, of course, the “duck dance” (which no self-respecting adult would do anywhere else).  But the best part about the first two hours was watching the little ones do their thing on the dance floor.  When you reach “grandparent” age, little ones having fun are precious no matter whose they are.  Their dancing is particularly delightful–even when they are just whirling around or plopped in a heap in the middle.

Then there was the tuba player!  A two-time national champion.  He was good.  And I could notice the difference when he played.  I spent eight years in Midwest school bands.  You need that much experience to recognize good tuba playing.

It got better.  The band doing the next set featured an authentic alpenhorn player–a silver-haired sprite of a woman in a dirndl skirt.  How she made 15 feet of wood sound that beautiful was miraculous.  She had experience.

Later in the evening yet a different band, billed as “the Dixie Chicks of the button box,” took the stage. They were good, too.  In a very different way.  They were there for the young adults–who probably didn’t have anywhere NEAR as much respect for the cute little blonde leading the band as I did.  She plays “an accordian”–an instrument scorned by legions even in my home state of Wisconsin.  But she made it hip.  The young dancers had major fun–but so did we.  And yes, they played The Duck Dance–also the Hokey Pokey!

Four days later, I’m still thinking about that good time.  It was a great reminder of what’s good about getting older.  Experience gives you so much more depth to what’s going on right now. Experience reminds you that what was uncool can become cool.  That what seems impossible–like playing sweet haunting notes on a horn designed for goatherds–is indeed possible.  It helps you set wider boundaries and build more solid bridges.

And the best part?  The older you get the more experience you have to work with!  Cool.  So go have some fun–and let yourself enjoy all that it reminds you of all over again.  Life is good!

By Mary Lloyd, CEO, Mining Silver
This article appeared in the September 2008 issue of Barbara Morris’s online newsletter Put Old on Hold.

There are two ways to look at retirement—gray and silver.

So much of what we assume about this stage of life comes from what happened to Mom and Dad or Grandpa. They retired and traveled. They retired and took up woodworking…or quilting….or golf. They retired and took a backseat to what was going on in the rest of the world. They retired and pretty much disappeared. Gray isn’t very noticeable. Or very interesting. Eventually, they were gone but usually long after they’d been forgotten by the culture.

Is this approach unavoidable? Is it what’s going on with people who retire now?

Only if they choose it. There are a lot more options than moving to Tucson or playing bridge five days a week.

The traditional version of retirement is built on the concept of “the Golden Years” which was given to us as a culture by Del Webb in 1960 as part of the inaugural marketing effort for the first Sun City, a retirement community outside of Phoenix, Arizona. It was a way to put a positive spin on a very negative situation. At that time, American workers were required to retire at a certain age and once they did, society pretty much forgot them. Webb and others turned this invisibility into the idea that retirement was time to play—that retirees have earned the chance to have fun all day every day. A life of 100% leisure.

To those still working, this sounds like Nirvana, but as a lifestyle, it can be grim. Not even children play all day every day. Not having a purpose or a way to contribute creates a vast array of health problems–both mental and physical–for individuals and robs society of their talents and skill.

But this mindset continues because many believe:
• People old enough to retire are frail–in poor health, with no stamina, and physically unable to do much of what younger people can.

• They are short-term members of society; they will either die or enter a nursing home (and then die) in a few years or even months.

• They’re inept–“Out of it” the vast majority of the time, with no idea what’s going on in the world and no ability to do much about it anyway.

• They’re irrelevant or worse, a burden–nothing they do has impact beyond their own lives. Many of them can’t even take care of them selves.

This is the GRAY version of retired life. Lifeless, fading, dull. Also WRONG.

NONE of this is mandatory, necessary, or wise. Most of it is just plain false. The truth about people old enough to retire is much less limiting. But to get to where we plan using a better model, we have to embrace a new set of assumptions:

• At this age, we are still robust . The vast majority who elect to retire are at the top of their game. Physically, they are in better shape than their parents were even at ten years younger.

• We are stepping into a long-term stage of life. Those now retiring are likely to be around at least another fifteen years and more likely twenty-five to thirty. Those who retire at 55 could easily spend more time retired than they did in the workforce.

• We are a significant segment of the population. In numbers. In buying power. And if we take the time to plan for it, in the roles we take on and the challenges we step up to for our families, communities, and society as a whole.

• We are energized. The chance to do things we believe in with the flexibility to accommodate all the other things we value is revitalizing. This age group has the potential to recharge both ourselves and our communities—and whatever else we decide to take on. We can have “the good life” and “do good” at the same time. We are in a position to give but also to take the time to enjoy what life has to offer.

This version of retirement is SILVER—sparkling and full of energy. Retirement, using this set of assumptions, is the time of life when we really can have it all.

Why settle for gray when silver is just a matter of mindset? What color attitude are you going to choose?

Mary Lloyd is author of Bold Retirement: Mining Your Own Silver for a Rich Life. She’s about to release a workbook of the exercises from Bold Retirement and is working on her next book, about “work after work.” She’s available as a speaker and for retirement planning seminars. Her website is www.mining-silver.com. She can be reached at mary@mining-silver.com.

By Mary Lloyd. CEO, Mining Silver

This article appeared in the August 2008 issue of the online newsletter Put Old on Hold

We don’t talk much about the cost of fear, probably because it’s so expensive. When we are afraid we don’t take essential risks and we put too much of our time and money into assuring our security. That’s fool’s work. Life turns on the unexpected. No matter how hard we try, what comes is not going to be what we had in mind every time. We will never be able to anticipate all the things that can go very wrong.

Right now we’re spending billions to make us safe from terrorists. Nice thought, but really not achievable. There will be demented souls who do unthinkable things no matter how hard we try to protect ourselves.

Right now we’re spending horrendous amounts on health care in a system that admits half the medical procedures it orders are unnecessary. Many are insisted on by patients “just to be sure” or by doctors afraid of malpractice suits.

Right now, we’re requiring companies to warn us about obvious risks and to carry insurance in case we choose to do something stupid with their products. Higher costs for false safety.

We do these things because we are afraid.

What’s saddest about this is that we live in a nation that’s long been proud of NOT being afraid. As Americans, we’ve stepped up to whatever came along since the country was founded over 200 years ago. Can we do that now?

Not if we are afraid.

When we give in to fear, we’re hoping someone else can guess what bad thing is coming and protect us from it. We look to “the government” as some sort of bureaucratic version of Superman to assure our safety. We expect somebody else to meet the challenge of keeping our world perfectly safe as we cower timidly.

It’s time to face one important fact: Life is tentative. We don’t always get to live tomorrow. Or to live it as we’d hoped. Hiding under the bed today isn’t going to change that. It’s just going to make life today less.

There are things about aging and retirement and moving toward the end of life that are scary as well. We spend a lot of money avoiding those, too. What would happen if we funneled all the resources we put into anti-aging products and services into making things we believe in happen? How about funding a playground with your Botox budget? Or setting up an after school program with the money you typically spend at the spa?

There’s an interesting benefit to this. Since beauty really does come from within, you get a triple whammy when you give to those who are really in need instead of trying to make yourself into a geriatric teenager. YOU LOOK YOUNGER because you’re involved. Someone has a better life because you cared. That will do far more for your complexion than any skin cream.

Plus it makes you own life more interesting. You start to see the bigger picture and find more ways to make a difference. Pretty soon, you’re so wound up in what you’re doing you have no idea whether you’re 18 or 80. And it really doesn’t matter because you are alive and standing tall.

CAN DO. It’s the attitude that made us a strong nation and can make us strong individually. “Yes, I can do that and I will because I believe in it.” Not “I’m scared. Take care of me.” There’s no reason for us to live in this silly, self-imposed prison of fear. Or as Winston Churchill put it, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”

Think about what you’re afraid of. It’s limiting you. Getting old? Not having enough money? A dreaded disease? Can you feel how oppressive that thought is? Now tell yourself “I can deal with whatever comes.” Square your shoulders, lift your head, and say it again.

Stepping up to fear is essential to being fully alive. Eleanor Roosevelt said it well. “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” That’s the only way to confirm that you can. That’s what’s made us strong as a nation–the ability to step up to huge odds and get the job done. Well.

We still have it in us. As a country and as individuals. Say “No” to fear. The odds won’t change but your outlook will.

Mary Lloyd is author of Bold Retirement: Mining Your Own Silver for a Rich Life. She’s about to release a workbook of the exercises from Bold Retirement and is working on her next book, about “work after work.” She’s available as a speaker and for retirement planning seminars. Her website is www.mining-silver.com. She can be reached at mary@mining-silver.com.