Odd Duck

It's sad but true that more people than I care to think about don't give two pins who is left behind, or if someone falls down.  Especially in business.  Seems a lot of folks think that approaching business any other way will mark you for failure. 

Well, I never acted that way in business.  Yes, it did mark me as a bit of an odd duck in Corporate America, but what the heck - no matter what I did, folks always seemed to find me a bit off-kilter, so better be true to my values & beliefs than come across as fake.

Lots of people say you'll never come out ahead if you stop to help out those folks left behind or lend an uplifting hand to someone who's taken a tumble.  

I've found the opposite to be true.  

My success at US Healthcare was based 4-square on finding effective ways to help people find just solutions to problems, even when that meant going out on a limb for clients or for the company.  At Prudential, I finally became a certifiable success - after years of mediocrity - when I decided to put the company's best interests ahead of my own.  And I was named Employee of the Year at BISYS Financial Services due to going the extra mile for clients, even when it meant taking way more time on the phone than the norm - colleagues warned me I'd get bad reviews if I didn't maintain a more "ideal" standard.    


At age 61, I'm proud to be an odd duck, a mixture of Don Quixote & Tigger, with a dash of Paula Deen.  C'est moi.  Guess I've got a bit of Bay Watch babe in me, too, since I could never leave someone floundering in life's tricky undertows, not if I could help.  

The importance of sticking around to help others, was brought  home to me at a very tender age.

When I was around eight or nine years old, my sister & I slept out in a tent in our backyard throughout the summer.  Although I didn't enjoy it like Mim did, I was not going to look like a wimp to my adored big sister.

One dark night, as we lay there in the tent, talking, I felt a cold nose press against the bottom of my bare foot.  I screamed in shock, then fear as something large seemed to thump onto my leg.  

Clawing my way toward the front flap, I can still hear my sister saying, as she rushed past me, "Every man for himself."

Even in the midst of my terror, even at age eight or nine, her words made a huge impression on me.  I knew, even at age eight or nine, that I might have rushed out of the tent, but I would never, not in a million years, have made such a comment.  And I actually doubt that I would have left without making sure the other person was okay.  

Never, ever have I been the sort of person who could say, "Everyone for herself" as I fled a scene where I was needed.  That's not tooting my own horn - it's involuntary, bred in my bones as much as the color of my eyes.  Yes, that might make me an odd duck.  You know what?  I wouldn't have it any other way!