BoomerBlix

"So, You Were Downsized?"

"So, you were downsized?"  Those were the chirpy words from the woman who answered the phone at the Outplacement Service.  My immediate thought:  Downsized?  What does that mean?  No, I'm still the same size. Then I realized she was speaking in euphemisms.  As if that made the reason for the call quite pleasant, like I'd achieved my weight-loss goal. 

So, here it is.  I've been laid off. 

I was getting set to write this week's Blix, about how filthy airplanes are.  Inspired by the mother who brought her lap child onto the plane and let him crawl all over the floor and dig in the seat pockets, I felt both a comment and a warning were in order.  Then, suddenly, it just didn't seem to matter so much.  Let the kid get germs.

If you saw "Up in the Air," you will recall that real people are included in the film, telling their stories of being laid off.  They speak of the struggle to maintain both home and dignity.  It was heartbreaking...and true.  Your world turned upside down in a span of ten minutes.  Just like the movie, my messenger arrived on a plane, neatly dressed, platitudes aplenty.  I was called to a "meeting" in a neutral place and handed a folder.  Good-bye, good-luck.  The only difference was that the news wasn't delivered by a handsome George Clooney.

I debated about where to share this with my steadfast readers.  Although these decisions are always financial, being laid off feels like a failure.  A character flaw.  Of course, friends and colleagues immediately expressed shock and sympathy, but we all know that a nano-second behind the "I'm so sorry!" is the unspoken "Thank god it wasn't me."

When I began Boomerblix, I promised to write about everything.  In fact, at the top of the blog is my statement:  Single Boomer describes life at 60-plus. There are milestones, adventures, and surprises still to be discovered by this brave solo woman...  My situation definitely falls in the "adventure and surprise" category.  Not the good kind, like "Woo-hoo! I've won Mega Millions!" or "Pack your bags!  We're cruising around the world!" Rather, this is an adventure that falls in the category--and I'll toss in another euphemism here--of "opportunity."  Statistics abound regarding the likelihood of anyone over 60 actually getting a decent job.  Somewhere on the scale between dismal and impossible.  Finding an employer who values wisdom and maturity has the chance of "a snowball in hell," as my late father used to say.  I loved my job and won't find anything like it.  If I'm to believe the stories, I'll be fortunate to get hired at all.  Still.  I will declare here and now that I will never be a Wal-Mart greeter.

Remember when you cheered me on when I tackled that month of online dating?  How about we try it again with my job search?  Surely there is humor to be found in the process.  Not to mention a new view of humanity.  Can I count on you?

After a good cry, I did what anyone in my situation would do.  Why, I went to the Apple Store!  I'll need a slick computer to keep you updated and to crank out dazzling resumes.  I write today's Blix on my stunning MacBook Pro.  Surely you can see the difference.

Life is about change.  Things happen for a reason.  Let's get started on the next chapter, shall we?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PowerPoint...Yawn...

I'm off to Corporate Headquarters for a meeting.  I have an assignment, a presentation on "Reports:  To Share or Not to Share."  Normally, I pride myself on my ability to beat deadlines.  But I'm typing this, instead of doing my job.  I can't work up any enthusiasm for the task at hand.  I'll be finishing it on the plane.

Why?  Because it means another PowerPoint.  Perhaps you, like me, have come to dread attending any kind of meeting, seminar, workshop, class, lecture, retreat....any place where information is likely to be shared.  If so, it will be by PowerPoint.  Of course,  my segment will be by PowerPoint, as well.

I recall the olden days when we had to use slides.  Remember those?  It was a hassle just to make slides. I worked at places where it was someone's actual job.  We thought it was so inconvenient to get the slides in the proper order, make sure they were right-side up, transport them, fit the tray into the projector, hope the light bulb didn't burn out, hope the slides wouldn't get stuck, and really hope they wouldn't fall out of the tray.  Click-click, "This is a slide of...." Click-click, "And here we have..."  Click-click.  Kind of a nostalgic sound, when you think about it.

Then came computers.  Remember the pure thrill of watching your first PowerPoint show?  HOW did they do it, anyway?  So slick!  So modern!  So fascinating!  I thought I could watch anything on PowerPoint.  It made any topic credible.

That initial phase of rapture lasted a while.  And there was more!  Before long, the tech-minded among us figured out how to do the animations, the fade-ins, the little bounces.  Clever, and so much better than those dull slides of yesteryear.  I mean, could there be anything more professional than those data points racing across the screen, then screeching to a halt, thanks to sound effects?

At the outset, PowerPoint came with an authentic lesson.  Because it was new, the best way to learn was from a certified Microsoft instructor; entire businesses sprung up, just to provide training.  I can't imagine how many zillions of dollars were spent sending all of us to day-long computer classes, not only for PowerPoint, but also those new-fangled Word and Excel programs.  Now, we just ask each other or figure it out for ourselves. 

The good thing about the lessons were the tips--tips long forgotten or ignored:

• Put no more than three bullets on a slide.  The slides are meant to be talking points, not the entire presentation.
• If you want to use animation, limit it to a few slides.
• A slide or two per minute is a good pace. 

Pretty basic, huh?  And when was the last time you sat through a PowerPoint presentation that actually followed all those?

My own presentation will violate two of those rules.  I'm not a big fan of animation, so I'm okay there;  it goes from amusing to distracting to irritating, pretty quickly.  I think it's more of a male-gadget-preference thing, anyway. 

But, I will certainly jammed plenty of information onto my slides!  This will include spreadsheets, not understandable by anyone sitting more than three feet away.  By putting more on the screen, I don't have to refer to my notes.  Heck, I don't even need notes. Call it laziness.  And, for 15 minutes, I have 23 slides.  Even for a fast talker, that's a lot. And I'm a really fast talker. 

 Everyone does it. Everywhere.  Doesn't matter what the topic or the audience.  Because it's so easy to make a presentation, we can crank out slides like crazy.  We think more equals better, even when we know it's not true.  We put ridiculous amounts of information on a slide, then invariably say, "I know this is hard to read, but..."  [...but, I'm doing it anyway. Because I can.]

And those nifty handouts we can print?  Admit it, in the beginning, we thought they were heavenly. Saved us oodles of time, compared to the outlines we used to have to develop and type.  And admit it again, now you don't even look at them.

I'm sure something will come along to replace PowerPoint.  We'll love it at first, then our eyes will begin to glaze over, and we'll wish we were anywhere else but in yet another presentation.  PowerPoint will become as obsolete as slide projectors.  And everywhere, people will date themselves by saying, "Remember PowerPoint?  Can you believe we thought it was great?"

"Death by PowerPoint" is a fantastic and wonderfully accurate phrase I first heard from my son, Andy.  He's an officer in the Navy, where apparently PowerPoint is a regular practice.  At least, that's Andy's take; to hear him tell it, entire days and weeks are spent in dark rooms getting trained by PowerPoint.  I asked him to tell me a few titles for this post; I thought it would be interesting to share what goes on in the military.  He couldn't remember any. Not a single one.  Our tax dollars at work, folks. 

 

Take Back Your Time Day: October 24

October 24 is the annual Take Back Your Time Day.  A worthwhile cause since 2003, and one I fully support.  Hopefully, you will, too.

The date falls nine weeks before the end of the year.  Nine weeks is significant--the average American now works nine FULL weeks longer than the average Western European worker.  In fact, we work longer hours than Medieval peasants! 

Bet I have your attention now, don't I???

"Take Back Your Time is a major U.S./Canadian initiative to challenge the epidemic of overwork, over-scheduling and time famine that now threatens our health, our families and relationships, our communities and our environment," says the banner on the TBYT home page. (www.timeday.org )

The Official Handbook for TBYT is "Take Back Your Time: Fighting Overwork and Time Poverty in America."  John de Graaf is the editor.  He gathered essays, opinions, and data from thirty experts in a wide-range of areas, including health, family therapy, community involvement, environment. Together, the contributors paint a sad and discouraging picture of the effects of time famine. 

We work too much and too long, neglect our families, shunt our kids off to too many activities, fail to provide to our community, and pollute the environment--all because we think we have to be "productive," whatever that means.  We're working for money and profits, not for society.

How much more do we work than other industrialized countries? (This information is taken directly from the TBYT website; sources are provided for each fact.)
* A third fewer families are taking vacations together than in the 1970s.  (Bill Doherty)
* Only 14% of Americans will take a vacation of two weeks or more this year. (Harris Poll)
* 43% of Americans did not take a single week off last year. (Conference Board study)
* 37% of American women earning less than $40,000 a year receive no paid annual leave. (AFL-CIO "Asking a Woman" poll)
* Americans give back three paid vacation days a year to employers--saving corporations $65 billion in untaken days.
*  The U.S. is the only industrialized nation without a minimum annual leave statute.

Wow, you're saying to yourself.  That's a lot working stiffs, and not much relaxing!  So, you're wondering, how does it affect our health?  Let me give you a few stats:
* In 1980, we ranked 11th in the world in longevity--now we're 42nd.
* Vacations have been found to reduce the risk of heart attacks in men by 30%, and in women by a whopping 50%.  (Gump/Matthews; Framingham studies)
* Vacations have been shown to eliminate burnout, but it takes two weeks for that process to occur. (Hobfol, Shirom)

Then, there's our planet.  You know, Earth, the one that is heating up.  Time famine even affects global warming.  We aren't being careful, we're using up too many resources to fuel our labors--we're simply consuming too much.

Take Back Your Time Day also wants to raise awareness and seek controls on carbon outputs, the goal being to return the earth's atmosphere to 350 parts per million--or less!--the amount necessary for a sustainable human future.  Let me say that again:  a sustainable human future.  Currently, there are about 385 parts per million of carbon dioxide in the air.  Who knew, a little less work would be good for the climate!

It's all good:  less frenzy for working folks, more vacation and time to relax, better health...and a boost for the environment.  It's up to us, regular citizens, to turn things around and demand balance in our lives--for ourselves, our children, and the earth.

When you visit the Take Back Your Time website, you'll find posters and flyers, activities, and much more information than I've provided here.

C'mon...let's Take Back Our Time!!!

P.S.  Many thanks to my friend and colleague, Louis Jares, for introducing me to Take Back Your Time, in 2006.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lost and Found

I rarely lose things.  Sure, I get out of sequence and set things down in goofy places now and again.  But even then, I tend to favor just a few locations, so backtracking isn't all that difficult.  And the really, really important stuff is always in the same spot:  my purse, my phone, my keys.  And my precious Appointment Book.

So, imagine my panic when I returned home from a business trip in California, without my Appointment Book.  It's my lifeline, the keeper of all sorts of vital information.  My frequent-traveler membership numbers, passwords to access such essential sites such as FlyerTalk and Epicurious, the code to schedule conference calls.  It has reminders from business meetings ("Follow up with BZ on the Agreement!"), and notes from personal meetings ("Lunch at Greek Islands--woo-hoo!").  Birthdays, haircuts, gift ideas, flight record locators...everything.  It's the record of my life for a year. 

My love affair with a written calendar began back in the early '90s, when I took a Franklin Planner class.  It was part of the culture at the place I worked, and it was a big deal.  You had to be there a year before they would invest in sending you to the workshop.  I loved my Franklin Planner, and still use the principles now.  Plus, I like being able to both see and write my notes.  Call me old-fashioned, I don't care.  Tapping a note into my iPhone doesn't give me the same satisfaction.  (Although finding  myself without my Appointment Book did make me realize the need to also keep my Outlook Calendar updated.  Lesson learned.)

I was on a layover in Seattle when I discovered my loss.  I reassured myself that the Appointment Book was probably in my suitcase; I'd taken out the business items out of my briefcase for my trip home.  As soon as I got in the apartment door, I unzipped the suitcase.  Nothing.  Now the panic set in.  In calmer moments, I reminded myself that it could be worse:  losing my wallet or laptop would be disastrous.  Still.  I rely on my Appointment Book, and use it every single day.  It was embarrassing, like misplacing a child.

Deep breath, try to remember the last place I saw it.  Okay, that meant I had to account for only one day.  Should be easy.  Hotel?  No.  Car rental?  No.  Oakland Airport?  No.  Seattle Airport?   Then, a  l-o-n-g wait until Monday, when the other places would be open.  My only consolation was that it had absolutely no value to anyone else, so it was more likely to be turned in.  Or, so I hoped.

Monday morning, I began anew.  No one at the organization I'd visited could locate it, although they wished me luck.  Anyone who keeps a business calendar understood my agony.  ("I'm so sorry!!")  Finally, I was down to my last call, the restaurant where I had taken colleagues to lunch.  Max's Deli (thumbs up on the pulled pork sandwich!) put me on hold for a few minutes.  Then, those magical words:  "Yeah, I have something like that.  Black, with lots of papers inside?  Boy, that is one messy calendar, lady!"  

If I could have squeezed myself through the phone to give the guy a hug, I would have.  I thanked him and promised to send someone over right away.  Calling my lunch companion of that day, Allen, I promised him a pastrami sandwich if he'd pick it up.  Sure, he said.  "Glad you found it! I'll overnight it."  Happy ending!

With this temporary loss, I pause to imagine how it is for people who have to manage without more important possessions than an Appointment Book. Fires, earthquakes, floods--suddenly, people are without essentials.  What would it be like to find myself in that situation?  Do I have an inner strength that I could call on?  How does one reconstruct a home and a life?  It gives whining over a lost daily planner a whole new perspective, doesn't it?

Happiness, Three Ways

So.  The Recession has been officially declared over.  Whew!  Now we can be happy again, right?

It depends... What does it take, exactly, to be happy?  Are there metric guideposts to show us the way?  How will we know when we're there? 

Today I refer you to three ways to measure your happiness.  Consider them and decide if it's really possible to determine what makes any of us happy.

The Matter of Money:  Over and over, studies say that money can't buy happiness.  I know I'm not alone here--of course, we think it can!  Or, as the comedian once said, it makes being miserable much, much nicer.  I can see where $100 million might not make me much happier than, say, $90 million.  But my travel addiction takes a chunk of change.  And yet, a recent Associated Press article says otherwise. In 2008-2009, a whopping 450,000 Americans were part of a survey conducted by two economists at the Center for Health and Wellbeing at Princeton University.  The outcome:  Happiness did increase with income, but after $75,000, there wasn't a corresponding rise in satisfaction or sense of well-being.  If that's true, then lots of us should be as gleeful as Bill Gates.  The researchers did concede that more money did make people feel more successful, but "overall...most people were quite happy and satisfied with their lives."

Where We Live:  I first heard Eric Weiner, author of  The Geography of Bliss, on a Rick Steves podcast.  Weiner had one of those enviable assignments of traveling the world to figure out which country was most content.  (Sort of like Liz Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love--only Weiner was interested in something besides himself.)  Ten countries visited, ten stories based on everyday folks.   Weiner is not a social scientist or researcher; but he had done his homework, including visiting the World Database of Happiness.  Perhaps you will--or won't--be surprised to learn that the United States isn't at the top.  Weiner found places like Bhutan, Iceland, and Qatar to be happier than we are. Costa Rica tops the list, followed by Denmark.  America?  Number Twenty.  Weiner ends his book by observing: "Our happiness is completely and utterly intertwined with other people: family and friends and neighbors and the woman you hardly notice who cleans your office.  Happiness is not a noun or verb.  It's a conjunction."

Flat Screen or France?  The New York Times had an interesting article, "But Will It Make You Happy?" discussing the role of possessions in making us happy.  Steadfast readers are already aware of my own struggle to downsize (still in progress, as I write this) and re-evaluate the importance of "stuff."  The article starts with a couple who got off the Accumulation Merry-Go-Round...and moved to a 400 square-foot studio.  The female owns four plates, three pairs of shoes and two pots.  Yikes!  But the best part of the article goes on to say that current research shows that spending money for experiences makes us happier than spending it on more possessions.  We buy a new car or a new pair of shoes, and we're pleased for awhile, then, well...they get old.  But when we use our money for a trip, show tickets, a fabulous meal--it's different for everyone--we create memories.  And those memories tend to get better.  The other cool thing?  Anticipation enhances the experience.  So, when we plan our experiences, we strengthen social bonds, and just feel pretty darned good.  We become happy.

Which will it be?  Money. location, or acquisition?  Of course, it's not that simple.  But worth thinking about.  If you're on a computer or a smartphone reading this, you already have more than 90% of the rest of the world. (I'm making that number up, just to drive home a point.)  Look around and be grateful.  "Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be," said Abraham Lincoln.  Wise man. Especially since he had every reason to be unhappy.

It's Over...When to Walk Away?

I know you've heard this before: "The definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting different results."  When I worked in the field of chemical dependency,  this saying was framed and hanging in every counselor's office. 

People learning to cope without drugs or alcohol aren't the only ones who get caught up in the idea that if they just try harder, they can change things.  In their case, they want to believe that a little more effort will make their willpower stronger, and they will be able to get control of their addiction.  It doesn't take a degree in psychology to know that raw determination isn't the answer.  Thankfully, there are 12 Step programs for people who reach the point of surrender. 

But what is there for the rest of us, those of us who want to stop our own version of craziness?  Take the matter of love.  Maybe it's our relationship, dead and beyond repair.  More than simply being in a rut, no amount of rationalization will ease the painful obvious.  Rigor mortis has set in.  But we deny it, the same way the addict denies that the drug  is the true problem.  With or without a known reason, we just try harder at what worked in the beginning.  Except now, the cute stuff isn't cutting it.  In fact, it's annoying to our partner, who gives every indication of wanting to be somewhere--anywhere--else.

Maybe it's our job, boring and without stimulation.   In our hearts, we'd love to be working for a cool non-profit organization, one that feeds our soul.  Or, we'd jump at the chance to be part of the action at a Fortune 500 company.  Either way, our current daily routine is as exciting and fulfilling as watching paint dry.  We go to workshops or take on new projects, hoping to find that spark again.  We suspect it's terminal burn-out, and that only a career change will be the true solution. But we're stuck as to how to make it happen.

Relationship, job.  And there are other life areas where we know things aren't right.  Friendships. Location.  Religion.  Instead of admitting that it's time to move on, we dig in and continue our self-defeating behaviors.  The effort we muster up is a zillion times more than we'd require than if we  just walked away and started over.  Sometimes, we can even get a tad, shall we say...pathological.   Some scary stuff can begin to happen.  Think "bunny boiler" and "going postal" to get my drift.

Having stayed too long myself in both a relationship and a job--hey, you can jump in here and remind me I stayed too long in a house!--I'm not being critical.  This Blix is more of a musing.  Since we're not in a physical addiction, how come we can't look at our predicaments with a cold eye?  Why do we resist change, and the thrilling possibilities that could be waiting for us?  In fact, the best thing that could ever happen to us might be hovering nearby, begging us to notice, if we'd just release our death grip on the present situation.  Why is it so damned hard to take a deep breath and begin anew? 

Abraham Maslow, the guy who gave us the nifty Hierarcy of Needs, said, "If  the only tool you have is a hammer, then you tend to see every problem as a nail."   That applies here.  We can keep pounding away at our respective situations, frustrated at the lack of progress...or we can go out and get ourselves a metaphorical wrench, screwdriver, and drill.  But no one can do it for us.  No one.  And that is a life lesson in itself.

"Leap and the net will appear."   A fabulous Zen saying.   Just think about it, steadfast readers, and how it applies to your life.  Is there something you need to walk away from?  And leap toward?

 

 

Writer's Weekend: Pitch and Platform

So, I'm just back from the Pacific Northwest Writers Association 54th Annual Conference.  For three days,  I sat in frigid meeting rooms, on straight-back chairs, hanging on every word, waiting for the single moment of enlightenment that would gain me entry into the "real" world of writing.

In other words, I was hoping for some magical shortcut.  But no, it was pretty much the same old mantra:  Write every day.  No matter what.  Then rewrite.  And rewrite again.  While you continue to write every day.

I left the conference early, because I was on overload.  I couldn't take it anymore. Except for a session intended for the Romance genre on "Writing Sex Scenes,"  and another for the Fantasy genre on "World Building," there were no workshops on how to write.  It was all about what to do after you've written.

Agents and editors gave fascinating talks, cheerfully delivering the most depressing news--you wonder how anyone in this business gets out of bed in the morning:

• Agents get 10,000-30,000 queries a year.
• Rejection rates run 98 percent.
• The publishing industry is practically on life support.
• If you aren't uniquely qualified to write your book, don't even pick up a pen.

It turns out that what really matters--once you have written the most incredible, dazzling piece of literature since the Bible or Harry Potter--is whether or not you have the Perfect Pitch (no, not the musical or sports kind) and if you have already built a Platform. 

Your pitch is the 3-5 sentence summary that will capture the imagination of anyone who hears it, and result in immediate curiosity and enthusiasm for your subject.  Your goal:  "Omigod!  That's fantastic!  Here, sign this lucrative contract right now!" It's the equivalent of what we read on a book's back cover, the words that make us choose the book, or put it back on the shelf.   This pitch will be what propels the book forward, from author to agent to editor to marketer to bookstore to reader.  Simple, huh?

Ah, but platform, that's the true challenge. Platform is the following you've established, the credibility in the subject that you are renowned for, the expertise you bring that makes you the only logical person on the planet who can possibly address this topic.  Building platform is tedious; it takes time and effort.  There were many suggestions and tricks provided by the 22 agents.  There is no wiggle room here, or negotiation.  You must have platform.  Period. Got a website?  How many hits a day?  Naturally, you've been blogging since birth.  How many subscribers?  Where do you speak on this topic?  And hurry, because someone else is probably already way ahead of you. In fact, as you sit in this workshop, you are losing ground.

About 700 writers staggered from one meeting room to the next.  We were like zombies, which, by the way, is the newest craze to follow the current vampire-mania.  No matter what the genre (Who knew there were niches for cozy mystery, urban fantasy,  narrative chicklit, paranormal thriller romance?  Certainly not me, with the boring "non-fiction" on my name tag.) the message was the same: write because you love to write, not because you envision your book someday starring Meryl Streep or Johnny Depp in the film version.  And yet, so was the crazy universal hope the same:  that what we have written will find its way, and somehow, make a difference.

How will we know when we are successful?  One agent summed it up in seven words:

"It's good to see you again, Oprah."

 

Death by PowerPoint

Last weekend, I participated in the National Donor Recognition Ceremony and Workshops.  The good news:  it was in Washington, DC, always a great place to spend a few days.  The bad news: I was asked to give a presentation on "New Developments in Eye and Tissue Donation."

It wasn't the topic that put me off.  There is plenty of information for the 15-20 minute segment that I was assigned. (Two other speakers had their own "New Developments" segments on organs and cord blood.  Together, we covered the entire human body.)  Some innovative research has resulted in applications that will provide better treatment options and outcomes.  It was a good workshop, and well-received.

No, it was the PowerPoint.  Perhaps you, like me, have come to dread attending any kind of meeting, seminar, workshop, class, lecture, retreat....any place where information is likely to be shared.  If so, it will be by PowerPoint.  Of course,  my segment was by PowerPoint, as well.

I recall the olden days when we had to use slides.  Remember those?  It was a hassle just to make slides. I worked at places where it was someone's actual job.  We thought it was so inconvenient to get the slides in the proper order, make sure they were right-side up, transport them, fit the tray into the projector, hope the light bulb didn't burn out, hope the slides wouldn't get stuck, and really hope they wouldn't fall out of the tray.  Click-click, "This is a slide of...." Click-click, "And here we have..."  Click-click.  Kind of a nostalgic sound, when you think about it.

Then came computers.  Remember the pure thrill of watching your first PowerPoint show?  HOW did they do it, anyway?  So slick!  So modern!  So fascinating!  I thought I could watch anything on PowerPoint.  It made any topic credible.

That initial phase of rapture lasted a while.  And there was more!  Before long, the tech-minded among us figured out how to do the animations, the fade-ins, the little bounces.  Clever, and so much better than those dull slides of yesteryear.  I mean, could there be anything more professional than those data points racing across the screen, then screeching to a halt, thanks to sound effects?

At the outset, PowerPoint came with an authentic lesson.  Because it was new, the best way to learn was from a certified instructor; entire businesses sprung up, just to provide training.  I can't imagine how many zillions of dollars were spent sending all of us to day-long computer classes, not only for PowerPoint, but also those new-fangled Word and Excel programs.  Now, we just ask each other or figure it out for ourselves. 

The good thing about the lessons were the tips--tips long forgotten or ignored:

• Put no more than three bullets on a slide.  The slides are meant to be talking points, not the entire presentation.
• If you want to use animation, limit it to a few slides.
• A slide or two per minute is a good pace. 

Pretty basic, huh?  And when was the last time you sat through a PowerPoint presentation that actually followed all those?

My own presentation violated two of those rules.  I'm not a big fan of animation, so I was okay there;  it goes from amusing to distracting to irritating, pretty quickly.  I think it's more of a male-gadget-preference thing, anyway. 

 But, I certainly jammed plenty of information onto my slides!  By putting more on the screen, I don't have to refer to my notes.  Heck, I don't even need notes. Call it laziness.  And, for 15 minutes, I had 43 slides.  Even for a fast talker, that's a lot. And I'm a fast talker.  But at least I had some cool case studies, such as the separation of conjoined twins, and how vision looks before and after a cornea transplant.  More than I can say for the other two speakers.

Everyone does it. Everywhere.  Doesn't matter what the topic or the audience.  Because it's so easy to make a presentation, we can crank out slides like crazy.  We think more equals better, even when we know it's not true.  We put ridiculous amounts of information on a slide, then invariably say, "I know this is hard to read, but..."  [...but, I'm doing it anyway. Because I can.]

And those nifty handouts we can print?  Admit it, in the beginning, we thought they were heavenly. Saved us oodles of time, compared to the outlines we used to have to develop and type.  And admit it again, now you don't even look at them.

I'm sure something will come along to replace PowerPoint.  We'll love it at first, then our eyes will begin to glaze over, and we'll wish we were anywhere else but in yet another presentation.  PowerPoint will become as obsolete as slide projectors.  And everywhere, people will date themselves by saying, "Remember PowerPoint?  Can you believe we thought it was great?"

"Death by PowerPoint" is a fantastic and wonderfully accurate phrase I first heard from my son, Andy.  He's an officer in the Navy, where apparently PowerPoint is a regular practice.  At least, that's Andy's take; to hear him tell it, entire days and weeks are spent in dark rooms getting trained by PowerPoint.  I asked him to tell me a few titles for this post; I thought it would be interesting to share what goes on in the military.  He couldn't remember any. Not a single one.  Our tax dollars at work, folks.