The other day, the one whom I adore and I were having an email exchange about what constitutes "cool". A friend had emailed me about a job in Vancouver - the city I dearly love and would move back to in a moment's notice. Said job was the Director of Sales & Marketing at the Opus Hotel, one of the city's uber-hip and swanky luxury hotels in the heart of Yaletown. While I could easily do the tactile work required of a Director of Sales & Marketing for a luxury hotel, because, hey because I've done this very successfully once in my career already, I don't think I would qualify for the opportunity at the Opus because I do not believe I have the one requirement that would likely not be negotiable.
Oh, it's not listed on their job posting. It's one of those unsaid qualifications, like the ability to be both creative and analytical and a warm/fuzzy people person. How many people do you know that are all of those things bundled into one person? My point exactly. In my experience one is either creative or analytical. One is either analytical or a warm/fuzzy people person. You can be both creative & a warm/fuzzy people person, but. But, it is the rare being that embodies all those characteristics, which is why those HR gurus that write job descriptions have to dance a fine line between the "perfect" candidate and the one they'll have to accept.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, the one qualification for this role that I do believe I am lacking in is the Cool Factor. I believe that of all my many attributes, coolness is most decidedly lacking. While it is not specifically stated in the job posting on their website, indeed a key factor for the winning candidate will be their Cool Factor. Let's get real for a second. There is no way the Director of Sales & Marketing for this uber-cool hotel could be anything but cool, because the whole property exudes an air of cool that makes you wonder if you are really still in the lower mainland, or if indeed you've been teleported to say Los Angeles or some such place.
The one whom I adore strongly disagreed. Which, of course, is one of the reasons why I totally adore him. He clearly has no clue, but thinks he does and then tries to convince me of same. Who wouldn't love a guy like that, I say?
Anyhoo - he maintains that "cool" is a state of mind. If you think you're cool, then, ergo, you are cool. I, on the other hand believe that "cool" is a state of being...as in you either are cool or you are not cool. And if you are cool, then everyone knows you're cool. He believes, however, that if you believe you're cool then it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. See the quandry?
Now, don't misunderstand me. There was once a time in my life where I was cool. Not only did I think it, but so did others. It was a long time ago, in a land far, far, away...back when I held a powerful position that swayed much influence and garnered me global recognition as a leader in my industry. So, yeah, I was cool. Or actually, I represented a lot of business that people wanted a slice of and that therefore made me much sought-after and also? Cool.
The one whom I adore believes I still have a Coolness Factor, but if I don't believe, no one else will either. He couldn't be more wrong and I'll tell you why. If you are cool, you seemingly go through life with an air of ease about you. You aren't awkward or sloppy. You are successful at all you do. You have many talents that are abundantly obvious not only to yourself but to everyone around you. You have what other people want. You are the epitome of grace and suave-ness.
I am none of these things. Clearly. You can tell. Just look at my shirt after spending part of my morning yesterday baking a tasty treat for the one whom I adore. Yes, that's right. What you see smeared all over the front of my shirt is a combination of cocoa powder and lord knows what else.
When I discovered it I was mortified. You see, between starting the said sweet treat for my honey and finishing it I discovered I was out of a key ingredient for the recipe. I had no eggs. Ever efficient, I decided that I would make the best use of my time and just go ahead and do my week's grocery shopping while I was out picking up the eggs. So I quickly made my list and off to town I toddled, secure in the knowledge that while I had no make-up on, I still looked pretty darned good for a rural housewife. An hour later I was home, finished whipping up the "from scratch, not a box-mix" brownies, popped them in the oven and set about making some guacamole to accompany tonight's dinner. I followed that up with a quick bite of lunch, a sample of the brownies and washing-up of the dishes. Then, I had to pee. I know, far too much information but it was here that I first discovered the stain-covered mess that was my tank top. It was here - a full two hours AFTER I had used cocoa powder that I discovered I was covered in it. A full two hours AFTER I went to the great Atlantic SuperStore to go grocery shopping. In public. Where people are. With a shirt covered in brown stuff. Stuff so brown, you might mistake it for something else. Sloppy? Oh, yes. Cool? Ummm...not even close.
And he wonders why I don't think I'm cool? Honestly.
