Company Culture: The Right Fit

My first post on the Public Relations Society of America’s (PRSA) New Pros blog was published yesterday. It’s all about company culture and the importance of finding the right fit during the job search.

The topic came to me after a friend recently shared a horror story about her current workplace. Her experience made me realize how we young professionals so often focus on getting hired by a company when it’s equally important to discern if we’re the right fit for that workplace.

My parents always told my siblings and I to not only love what you do every day, but to love who you’re working for and the people you’re working with as well. During my short time in the real world, I’ve come to see just how right they were.

If you’d like to read the post, which you obviously should, check it out at prnewpros.prsa.org.

Children’s Classics Gone Wonderfully Wrong

I’ve always been a fan of children’s literature, especially after teaching fourth graders for two years. Kids books take me back to my own childhood when my parents would delight my siblings and I with some Maurice Sendak, Eric Carle and Dr. Seuss.

In the years since my youth, I’ve also (obviously) gained a penchant for the inappropriate. So, when my girl TL clued me into a tumblr called “dirty library” yesterday, I soon found myself slumped over my Mac crying from the absurd titles and faux reviews of the children’s titles gone wrong… or what I’d prefer to regard as oh so right.

My current favorite among the many titles is “Alexander and the Total Fucking Bullshit Hungover Day.” As a kid we all experienced those dreaded Alexander-like days, although I think we adults can all relate to this version of our boy Alex as well.

After having read through the list, I’m now left with the hope that someone soon takes the initiative to pen these bogus versions of our favorite children’s classics. Perhaps this is a new potential career path I should consider…

My Dad, Will Smith and Me

Writing Saturday’s post about the strange cast of characters that I’m proud to call my family served as another reminder of what a fantastic job my parents did raising us Burri over the years. My various life experiences, and perhaps most notably teaching for two years, have made me see how significant and positive a role having an involved father in one’s life can be in who he or she becomes later in life.

When you’re a 20-something like me, you generally start trying to define yourself, often without any awareness or acknowledgement of the whole process. As I approach the big 3-0, I’ve done a bit more reflecting on the person I’ve become and have increasingly come to the see the truth behind the many comments on how similar I am to my dad.

While I don’t profess to share his penchant for napping or (lack of) organization skills, there are many traits that the two of us undoubtedly share. To name a few, we both have a love of the guitar, good music, peanut butter, road trips and technology. More importantly, however, I like to think that I’ve become the compassionate, cultured, inquisitive, driven, fiercely loyal, fun loving, overly sarcastic and accepting person I am today because of him.

I’m proud to say that I see so much of myself in my dad (and Mama Burrus, of course). While there are entirely too many things to list for which I’ll be forever grateful to my parents, one of the most striking at this moment is that they always made sure my siblings and I appreciated and embraced our African-American heritage, and that we never tolerate any form of prejudice because of it. I can safely say that I’m not only the man I’ve become because of my parents, but the Black man I am because of them as well.

Anyone who knows my dad is also keenly aware of his kind heart, ever-chill demeanor and the prudence he exercises in his choice of words and their timing in a given situation. With that said, I recently saw a quote from (the fake Twitter account of) Will Smith that reminded me very much of my dad (and indeed myself) that I wanted to end on here.

And as on Mother’s Day, since the fam and I couldn’t physically reunite for the holiday, we met up on Google Hangout – a pic for your viewing pleasure…

My White Sister Has Got Me Thinking…

My fav middle (and white) sister, Elizabeth, Instagrammed this quote from journalist Erma Bombeck on my birthday this week. Perhaps because of all the birthday wishes or the fact that it’s now Father’s Day weekend, but the quote she shared has increasingly resonated with me these past few days.

I’ve mentioned this to people on and off over the years – and yes, I know it sounds hella cliché – but my family are my best friends. We’re indeed a strange cast of characters who may look nothing alike but share so very much in common – from our winsome smiles and inane senses of humor to our core values and many little quirks. We’re a bunch who’ve each become fiercely independent while still learning to grow together through our individual and common experiences.

No doubt there’s been lots of loving and laughter over the years -two qualities that go hand in hand in our family. We’ve also had our fair share of sharing illnesses (really, the ‘rents are saints for taking care of our sick selves, especially with Mare’s hypochondriac ways), hiding (and breaking) toys, borrowing (and at times stealing) money, among many other challenges, which I view as having only served to further unite us over the years.

As important as loving and laughter are to any functional fam, I’ve also come to find the “defending” component as equally essential to the mix. We’re all quick to call each other out on our shit, but even quicker to defend one another. We may not be fighters (well, except for maybe Annie after that hockey stick incident), but I would caution anyone to mess with the Burri.

Sure, with the six of us (seven if you count our token black sheep or good ol’ Grandma across the street) occasionally comes the selfish diva, moody bitch, annoying vegan, inconsiderate ass, unsought counselor and insufferable know-it-all (often as a result of the blond – ahem, Elizabeth). We’ve seen each other at our best and at our absolute worst – I know I’ve resigned myself to never living down Annie’s wedding reception…

After some solid reflection on that moment and so many others these past few days, I keep coming back to something my dad told us time and again growing up: “You’ve all got to stick together.”

Well, Dad, stick together we certainly have. I believe it’s this that has become the common thread that’s bound us all together.

Do It For Christina!

Those who know me know I’m not one to get emotional or to ask for money (okay, well at least not often, Mom and Dad), but I’m going to do a little of both here.

Before I ask you to donate, though, let me first ask if you recall your response when people ask you about your role models growing up. Our first response is typically a parent or adult relative or sometimes a sports star or other celebrity.

But how often was one of your greatest role models another peer? This was the case for me with my cousin Christina (pictured above – weren’t we precious?), who has long suffered from cystic fibrosis. I have vivid memories of her having to cart around an oxygen tank in middle school and of her experiencing serious shortness of breath during our trips to the mall.

I think back to the hospital visits, and to the night in college when I learned that a match was found and Christina would soon be undergoing a double lung transplant. I remember my mom calling the match a Christmas miracle, which of course it was. Nevertheless, I was used to miracles bringing joy and not precipitating apprehension. Thankfully Christina made it through the surgery and ensuing several months of recovery – almost literally living in a bubble cut off from most family members and friends – as well as anyone could have hoped.

Through it all, Christina has been both a trooper and a fighter. I’ve never met someone who’s been through so much yet remained so implacably positive; more so than anyone else I’ve ever known. She’s always appeared undaunted by her condition; unfazed by her outward differences. I mean, she was a cheerleader and basketball player growing up – to hell with the oxygen tank!

Christina embodies every bit of what a role model should be. And I’m proud to say she continues to impact the lives of others and to live her own life to the fullest as a pharmacist, wife and proud wiener dog owner. Oh, and as one helluva cousin and friend.

I’ve learned many lessons from her, including courage, perseverance, living each and every day to the fullest and always doing your best not to complain because you can always have it worse. Another equally important lesson I’ve learned is the need to fight for those people who have so greatly impacted our lives.

This is why I’m writing this post and why I’ll again be volunteering at the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation’s Great Strides Walk next Saturday, May 18. As I mentioned earlier, I’m not a fan of asking for money, but I’m going to do so here.

Please support Team Do It For Christina! with whatever amount you’re willing and able to give. Seriously, every extra dollar helps to find a cure.

If I meet my goal of $300, which I set in honor of Christina turning 30 this past year, I plan to finally take the plunge and sign up for a half marathon – the Patrick Henry Half Marathon here outside of Richmond in August. Meeting my goal, then, would not only help me cross another item off my bucket list, but to raise money to help give kids with CF more years to complete their own bucket lists as well.

You can find my team page here and learn more about CF here. Thank you in advance if you choose to donate. Thanks also for taking the time to read today’s post.

Embracing My Late Twenties

A wise individual once said, “You’re only as old as you feel.” In that case, then, I  feel like a total 28 year old – caught in between those crazy college years and an extended stay at a senior home.

There are times I genuinely feel like I’m 28 going on born in 1928, with not a day passing at this point that I’m reminded of no longer being twenty-twoooooo (thanks Taylor Swift). I mean, I run and can drive at night, but it’s probably not a good sign that I’ve found myself using phrases like “kids these days,” right?

These geriatric moments and sensations (and frustrations) are a recurring subject and source of humor in conversations with friends. Thankfully we’re not alone, though, as apparently our feelings of old ballness is a “thing,” perfectly encapsulated in a recent BuzzFeed article comparing one’s early twenties to their late twenties.

Scrolling through the gifs (knowing what a gif is… score!), I found myself not only laughing but also finding a lot of truth in (too) many of the examples. The one that rang all too true involves where you’re likely to find me at 1 a.m. on Saturday morning…

The article also made me realize that I’m now at the point where I could give two shits about gossip and clubbing, have hella more confidence than I did five or six years ago (yeah life experiences!) and feel so much older than college kids – the exact same feeling I used to get around high schoolers as an undergrad.

Okay, time to get ready for bed. It’s already past 9 p.m…

Move Over Taylor Swift

If T-Swizzle can play the guitar, then anyone can, right? Learning the guitar has been secretly sitting on my bucket list for some time now, so I recently decided to take the plunge and bought an acoustic guitar. Now mind you that I haven’t played a musical instrument since my middle school days of playing the oboe, which did as little for my social status as it did for my parents’ discretionary income given the countless $8 reeds that I destroyed – sorry again, mom and dad.

In addition to bringing back some unpleasant memories of my overweight younger years, taking up the guitar has helped me recall how learning a new instrument represents the perfect combination of fun and frustration. After a few short weeks, though, I can easily say that the “fun” has totally trumped the occasional moments of frustration. It’s awesome to just get lost in playing and not give a single thought to the real world for a while.

Along with self-teaching out of one of those ridiculously juvenile (but admittedly appropriate) beginner books – we all remember those, right? – to add more fun to the process I’ve begun taking lessons at a local guitar store in my neighborhood.  

Forgive me for the unkosher yet fitting reference, but my teacher is the tits. Just a few minutes into my first lesson, I not only had a good feel for Jay’s exceptional guitar playing, but the way in which he’s able to put himself in his students’ shoes and teach to their individual level as well.

One of the best parts of our lessons is the humor, exemplified by him cupping his hands around his mouth and mocking the roar of an arena crowd after I cleanly played “Ode to Joy”. He also rips on the Taylor Swifts of the world a fair bit, which is cool… until he brings Bieber into the discussion.

For homework this past week, he asked me to devise a list of five songs I’d like to   ultimately learn to play down the road. I mentally tossed around a ton of tunes over the past few weeks and came up with 10 songs (narrowing it down to five was entirely too difficult) that I feel are pretty representative of my musical tastes and who – without the risk of sounding overly precocious – I’d like to consider as influences. I appreciate the fact that he’s already having me learn the chords to a couple of them, too.

I thought I’d share my list here along with links to each considering a few aren’t generally well known. Oh, and I’d also like to thank my parents for having legit tastes in music, as I fondly remember them playing a number of these growing up.

• Bob Dylan – Like A Rolling Stone
• Fleetwood Mac – Go Your Own Way
• John Mayer – No Such Thing
• Lord Huron – Time to Run
• Rod Stewart – Maggie May
• Spoon – The Underdog
• The Beatles – Here Comes The Sun
• The Black Keys – Tighten Up
• Tom Petty – Learning To Fly
• Vampire Weekend – Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa

6.2 Miles and All Smiles

We came. We ran. We actually finished. was our mantra (check my Twitter timeline) after my friend Rachel and I finished Richmond’s Monument 10k on Saturday. The race was my first 10k and only the second run I’ve done in my adult life. The first run was a 5k turkey trot that I ran with one of my fourth graders in Savannah, so needless to say this was my first quasi-competitive run.

I was initially a bit anxious about the race given my inexperience and the fact that 40,000 others were descending upon downtown Richmond for the event. But after a strong 6.5-mile run earlier in the week, creating the perfect playlist and some solid advice from my friend and running guru, TL, any anxieties began to be replaced by growing excitement.

And following a Friday night chalk full of carbs and Arrested Development, I awoke on race day ready to conquer the world. A beautiful morning and spectators beginning to line the street greeted us as we walked to the start line to join the other runners in our wave, which was comprised largely of unseeded runners like myself.

Then, at 9:08 a.m. we were off. It took mere seconds for me to realize how truly the race lived up to all the hype, what with the throngs of chanting folks (many drunk) dotting the streets and median and the sea of motivational signs (“Run Now. Chase Later.” and “Go Random Stranger Go!” topping the list) suffusing your gaze every which way you turned. The incredible atmosphere, along with the simple fact that such a diverse crowd had come out to participate, made the race so much more inspiring and thoroughly enjoyable to run.

I ended up finishing in 52:27 – well under the one-hour goal I had set for myself. I have to admit, however, that just finishing the race was reward enough and the reason for me smiling like some kind of smitten school girl as I met up with Rach afterwards before proceeding to pound a Powerade and wolf down a granola bar.

This euphoric feeling lasted all day and continues to creep up when I smile back on what was one helluva Saturday. I was toying around with the idea before, but now I have no doubt a half-marathon is in my near future. As a few friends have commented, I’m hooked!

As I sat watching the live stream of yesterday’s Boston Marathon, I imagined the sense of euphoria that the marathoners would soon be enjoying after crossing the finish line. It was only hours later, however, that a completely different feeling filled the streets of Boston; one of shock, panic and utter dismay at the senseless bombings that occurred near the event’s finish line.

I was so thankful to find that my friends in the city were safe, and I know I join people all around the world in praying for the victims and their families, the authorities and the people of Boston. I hope justice is soon served and that one of the nation’s greatest sporting events in the Boston Marathon returns in full force in 2014.

Per Usual, I’m in the Minority

I get it. You hate cold weather; a hatred that’s probably been only further magnified by winter continuing to linger like it is now in late March.

I’m sure many of you have recently stepped outside and flashed a McKayla Maroney-esque sneer similar to the one of my sister’s dog Layla in the pic above.

Like you, I’m fully aware that spring has officially arrived, so why isn’t the weather acting like it? Damn Mother Nature and that (Punxsutawney) Phil with his six more weeks of winter. Winter’s the worst, right?

Wrong. Per usual, I’m in the minority. As my friends and family know, I’m one of the seemingly few folks who genuinely loves cold weather. Winter and I are tight. In fact, if it weren’t for it not being light enough for morning runs, we’d be besties. But generally I’m a big fan of rocking my Patagonia jacket, holing up at Starbucks, couch surfing with my mags or a good book and piling on the blankets at night.

While many out here in Virginia don’t mind (but always find a reason to complain about) these soft winters with their lame quasi-cool temps and little to no snow, I personally can’t wait to move up north in the near future (Boston!) so I can bundle up, finally get into cross country skiing and occasionally score a snow day when a massive snowstorm like good ol’ Nemo hits.

Growing up in the Midwest, I miss my authentic winters, a fact I was reminded of this past weekend when my mom group messaged my sisters and I photos of the winter storm that dumped 15 inches on our small central Illinois town. The pics made me reminisce about snowfalls during our childhood and all of the good times we Burri and the neighbor kids had together.

In this spirit, and because my mom braved the snow and cared enough to send these shots, I thought I’d share them here on the blog. Enjoy!

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I Now Pronounce You Work Husband and Wife

I think we’ve all heard of the office husband/wife dynamic, which many of us in our respective workplaces have had the privilege of experiencing. While I was fully aware of the work marriage phenomenon, it wasn’t until I read Seth Stevenson’s article in this month’s GQ that I realized there’s such a clear etiquette to the process.

In his article, Stevenson lays out a number of guidelines to follow when considering your next office marital partner, a task he was suddenly forced to undertake when his office wife unexpectedly up and quit one day. In my limited experience, the most important and applicable rules here are that one partner should be in a relationship, both work partners should remain monogamous and that you should never marry up or down the organizational ladder.

I’ve been fortunate to have a work marriage at essentially every stop in my early professional career, with each undoubtedly helping me maintain some perspective and much-needed sanity in the workplace. I can’t say they’ve explicitly followed Stevenson’s guidelines, but they’ve been pretty damn close which is why they’ve been so successful – no divorces yet! And as strange as it probably sounds, I’m pretty sure that I’ve become a better partner in actual relationships because of my work marriages.

So, if you aren’t currently invested in a work marriage, take a good look around the office and get on it. You don’t know what you’re missing!