The Syracuse Pen

Making Words Work for You

The robots are coming! What’s your plan?

Look out! The robots are coming! Seriously, they’re coming! And they want your job!

… OK, phew. Your job is safe now from automation. That was a close one.

But look out! Budget cuts and layoffs are coming! Watch out for falling axes! Your job is in danger!

… OK, you dodged that one. Good. You can relax; your job is safe, you have a good thing going, your boss is great, and — what? Your boss just took a new position in Charlotte and your new boss is the guy down the hall who’s had it in for you since day one? 

Panic!

… Or don’t panic, if you have a solid exit plan.

Any of these scenarios can be disastrous, and depending on your career, any of them could happen to you. That’s why it’s vital to have an exit plan in place before you need one.

How to prepare

Your exit plan should include:

  1. Having an updated résumé. It should describe your current job, responsibilities, and recent accomplishments.

  2. Keeping your skills up-to-date. Don’t get complacent because your job only requires you to know version 5 of the software. If version 6 is out, you’d better learn version 6, and mark your calendar for the release of version 7.

  3. Maintaining contact with your network. You know other people in your field who work for different companies; check in with them every now and then, connect with them on LinkedIn, have lunch to trade news from other corners of the industry. Know the environment, get their take on which way the winds are blowing, and start thinking about which direction you should set sail if the waters get choppy.

You never know when you will need your exit plan; it may sit in the back of your mind for years until you retire according to your own schedule. If so, mazel tov!

But if something unexpected does happen to throw you off course, an exit plan will let you start your new career path from a place of preparedness and control instead of panic and desperation. And that’s the best way to leave one job: with a firm focus on the next one.

Never underestimate the value of a fresh set of eyes

I had just finished working with a very important client (henceforth known as “my niece”) to help her fine-tune her college application essay. Upon completion, she was so excited to have it done that she planned to send it out immediately. I had one word for her:

Wait.

I told her to read it again. Think about it. Go to sleep. Get a good night’s rest. Read it again in the morning with a fresh pair of eyes.

You can imagine how thrilled my niece was to take this advice, after working on her essay for weeks and just wanting it to be over with. We all know that frustration; putting so much mental energy into a project that it becomes physically painful to give any more. Who can blame her?

But I inspired her with wisdom from Confucius about patience and education: “The worst colleges are full of kids who rushed to submit their applications” (I’m no Confucian scholar, but it sounds like something he would probably say, so I took a few liberties).

She begrudgingly took my advice, and the next day noticed a major criterion that her essay did not meet. Because she hadn’t yet submitted it, she was able to make the correction before it was too late.

The lesson? Other than listen to your editor/tutor/uncle? Other than always read the directions carefully? Other than don’t trust quacks who make up Confucius quotes to try to sound enlightened? It’s this:

Time is a powerful tool when writing. When you come back to your writing later, your memory isn’t as fresh, but your eyes are. The more time you can put between the writing and the re-reading, the more the memory fades, the less you rely on what you meant to write or what you think you wrote. This is when you have to really look at your writing again, as if for the first time. This is when you’ll notice the typo, or realize you never addressed a key point, or be inspired with a brilliant way to rephrase that one awkward sentence.

So don’t rush. Give yourself plenty of time, take a break, and then go back. Be patient. Your writing will be better for it.

Confucius didn’t say that; I did.

** Follow-up: I re-read this post years after I originally wrote it, and naturally, found an error, so I fixed it. I love when my errors illustrate my point; being wrong proves me right. Confucius said that.

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Greg Marano