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Dear employer: I’m not perfect

True story:

I once had an interviewer ask me a question so direct that I had two choices: lie, or tell her an unfiltered, embarrassing truth.

I told the truth.

And I got the job — not in spite of my embarrassing admission but because of it. “That must have been very hard for you,” the interviewer empathized.

“I now know that what I see is what I’m going to get with you,” she said.

Why I share the story

Being imperfect, I suspect, is hard for many of my readers. We didn’t learn imperfection at Wharton. And how can we achieve corporate super stardom if people knew the truth about us?

42 years later, I’m quite comfortable with my imperfections. In fact, I enjoy them. They make me human. Humanity comes in handy when I have an unpopular decision to make.

Dealing with imperfection

My boss Kathleen Horner, then president at StockPot (a Campbell Soup Company), gave me a gift. Before we parted, she gave me an honest assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. “You’re a fantastic individual [Read more...]

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The Art of Living

Every once in a while, someone enters your life and alters your path.

Are you aware enough to know when it’s happening? (It might be happening right now, with this blog posting.)

Shyam Nair altered my path. We met at StockPot, Campbell’s fastest growing division at the time, when I was Director of Marketing there. We made the best soup I have ever tasted for foodservice and retail distribution.

Shyam and I became fast friends after he spoke at a leadership forum we had.

In a thick accent I hardly understood, he gushed about the potential he saw at the company. Then, slowing down, he apologized. “I know I’m hard to understand when I get so excited!” I laughed and sought him out after the meeting.

One day we went for a walk during lunch and I was grousing about some such thing. Shyam put up his hand and said, “Joe, I’m not going to listen to one more complaint until you take a course with The Art of Living.” (Watch this MSNBC video.) He explained it would bring me some peace and help me meditate through my dissatisfaction.

Hey, I’m from Brooklyn. There’s no way I’m taking that class, I thought. I like to sleep. There’s no way I can close my eyes and not sleep. I don’t have the patience to meditate. I’m not sitting in the lotus position and I don’t believe any of that stuff. If it works for you, great, but it’s not for me.

“You will take this class,” he said, undeterred.

Even if I have to pay the $350 myself.”

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