Word: desks
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Your career comes down to chocolate, it seems. "Unless you're Betty Crocker, there shouldn't be home-baked cookies, M&M's, jelly beans or other food on your desk," advised Nice Girls Don't Get the Corner Office (Warner Business), a hit career guide of a few years back. Equating feeding with nourishing and deriding it as "a stereotypically female attribute," author Lois Frankel, a career coach, advised women to leave their girlishness in the parking lot and arrive for work as gender-neutral adults. She cites such tough-minded women, not girls, as Meg Whitman and Anne...
...vastly different philosophy for corporate women that tells them to enjoy being a girl; they can still boss the boys effectively. "Offer a sweet," counsels The Power of Nice: How to Conquer the Business World with Kindness (Doubleday). "Keep a stash of fun-sized candy bars on your desk or nearby. When the people who come to see you seem tense, tired, or cranky, pop open your drawer and pass out the Snickers. (Note: Extra credit for homemade cookies...
...said. “Flowers mellow people out. They lift their spirits.” Around the Yard, flowers are a budding commodity as well. Erica B. Richey ’10 lamented the recent demise of the array of orchids that had previously adorned her desk in Matthews. “Flowers make me think of sunshine in the midst of this dismal fall and the impending winter. When you buy flowers, it’s like treating yourself,” she said, pointing to the vacant area where the orchids once bloomed. Rachel Singh...
...cigarette back in the Square, while sitting outside of Boylston Hall and reading some books in the nice fall weather. Two hours later, when I walked into Dr. S’s office, I greeted the receptionist in Russian and she told me to take a seat by her desk. Her name was Rita, and she was going to explain some things to me. A minute later, another Russian patient walked in, a woman wearing a red and white tracksuit and a Dior hairclip. “If you have trouble afterwards, you call him and he will call...
...Finally, my name is called. I go up to the front desk to see a man called Carlos and say Hi Carlos and wait. And he says Hi Belinda. Of course, he knows my name, because I am the very special 300 millionth American. Or because it's on the form in front of him, just above my picture. Then I shake the hand of a judge. I walk back to my seat. I wait for the fanfare. The marshall eventually tells me I need to leave. But he says it with a wink. Outside the courtroom there...