OPEN UP OR SHUT UP!

AuthorHouse

Contents

Introduction......................................................11Why Me? Why Coach?................................................15What Does Open Up Mean?...........................................23What Does Shut Up Mean?...........................................25Pilot Light.......................................................29The Alien.........................................................31How You Occur.....................................................35Finding Your Competitive Edge.....................................39Calling ... Do You Hear It?.......................................47Interested vs. Interesting........................................51Positive Pain.....................................................55Connecting Authentically vs. Networking...........................61Parallel Thought..................................................67Current Communication vs. Confront................................73My Pilot Light....................................................79The Corporate Disaster Story......................................83Secretary and Goliath.............................................95Bride vs. Mom-Zilla...............................................99The Ups and Downs of Love.........................................101Meet the Moochersons..............................................103Emotional Cleanup on Aisle 11.....................................105Law and Disorder..................................................107Ready for My Close up ... or Not..................................111Son, You're Old Enough to Hear This Now...........................115Tune In to Your Tune Up...........................................117The Dye Job That Wouldn't Die.....................................119What Am I, a Friend or a Taxi Service?............................123The Accountant Who Counted Too Much...............................127Frequent Flier Flies Off the Handle...............................131The Hard Sell Means No Sell.......................................135Dial-A-Date.......................................................137The Curfew and the Kid............................................139Actors, Auditions and Agents, Oh My!..............................143Hey Doc! Whatever Happened to Bedside Manner?.....................147Shark Attack in the Boardroom.....................................151A Lesson for the Teacher..........................................155Gossip............................................................159The Famous Andy Garcia Story......................................167Quick Fixes from A to W (No XYZ)..................................179Now Go Live It ...................................................199Acknowledgements..................................................201

Chapter One

People always ask me when was it that I knew I was meant to be a coach. They expect a story where the sky lights up with skywriting that reads, "Your calling is to help people in their careers," and then I say that I felt woozy and complete. This is not what happened.

Until I really jumped into this world that I'm in, I didn't even know what a calling was and neither did anyone I had ever met. We never talked about calling. We just did it, on the phone, a lot. We did life as it came along. When I pose the question "What's your calling?" to my clients they often look at me like I have two heads. This amuses me because I understand. We tend to only think about goal setting and making plans for the future, not what's deep inside us that's really driving our actions. Actually, I also had to learn to set goals and make plans. It didn't come naturally because my family's vision only went as far as the next weekend.

I did think that I was meant to perform a bit and make a little money but that's only because that's what I was doing at the time.

The skywriting happened like this:

"I want you to be my partner in my business," he said from behind his Sharper Image glass-top desk. "Eventually." He was wearing monogrammed socks: J.C. Who wears monogrammed socks? And he wants me to be his partner? What does that mean? Why me? I'm just an actress trying to get some work out of Hollywood. So I asked him, "Why me?"

"People meet you and love you and trust you," he said simply. "They will do anything you say. I want that, and you, in my business." He looked so calm and, well, cheerful. Convincing. I shifted in the soft leather chair. "Look," I said, "I can't even do a bank deposit."

"I'll do my own bank deposits," he said. "I'm talking about a salary here, for you."

Oh, I get it, I thought. "Is this like a `get people coffee job' because that's not me anymore." He just laughed. His brilliant blue eyes twinkled as he rose, walked around and leaned on the edge of the desk. "I don't drink coffee," he said firmly. "Listen, you nut. You and I can build this business. I know we can." I squinted up at him and said, "Is there something wrong with it now?"

"No," he replied. "As a matter of fact, it's doing really well."

I made one last attempt to get some clarity. "Are you on drugs?" I asked.

* * *

Flashback to two weeks before: I was sitting alone in my car outside of an audition, waiting for my girlfriend, Mimi, who was also auditioning. I had already gone in and bombed. It was hot. My blouse was sticking to my skin. My hair was plastered to my neck. This was the fourth commercial audition that week that I had blown. It was for fat-free cream cheese. All I had to do was bite a bagel and say, "This cream cheese is delicious!" and I couldn't shake off my depression long enough to be happy about a bagel.

My girlfriend Mimi, who was in the room when I bombed, got in the car, handed me my drug of choice, a Diet Coke, and a slip of paper with a phone number on it. "You're out of your mind," she said. "Call this guy and take his workshop."

"No way," I said. "Not now." By this point, I had been everywhere and tried everything; therapy, classes, meditation, you name it. Nothing helped me get over my single-parent, recently-divorced, I'm-a-loser state of mind. All my therapist was interested in was what I ate. It was her favorite topic so I would make things up to entertain her like "fruit sandwich."

Mimi grabbed my phone, called the number and put in an S.O.S. to "her guy." He agreed to see me a half hour later. I couldn't escape. We drove there together because Mimi didn't trust me to go alone and I didn't blame her. I didn't trust me, either. We rode in silence the whole way there, which was unusual because there's never been a silent moment between us. We arrived at the address, a condominium complex in Venice, and she said she'd wait in the car for me.

I rode up to the third floor in the all-glass elevator, catching a glimpse of myself in the reflection. The button on my army green jumper dress was hanging by a thread so I yanked it off, ripping a hole in the dress in the process, which meant I had to keep my pocketbook strap on my shoulder to cover the hole. My green blouse had long sleeves, which was good, but it didn't match my blue socks. You could barely see them, though, because my jumper dress was ankle length and the clogs matched the dress, so I guess I was okay.

I got off the elevator and walked down the hall. I...