Four PSDA Past Presidents were among 10 industry leaders inducted Nov. 9 in The Ben Franklin Honor Society. George Crump (PSDA President in 2009-10), Michael Fisher (2008-09), Bob O’Connell (2007-08) and Gail O’Roke (2002-03) were honored in a ceremony held at the Printing Industries of America (PIA) Fall Administrative Meetings in Grapevine, Texas.
Things were a bit different when Neil Sedaka recorded “Calendar Girl” in 1961. It was before my parents’ glory days: Woodstock, free love and Vietnam War protests. And I’m guessing at the time there were not many women doing what I do in procurement. I’m not even sure there was such thing as procurement. But I digress. Why am I a “calendar girl”? Read further.
In high school, I compared myself to others. I thought my classmates were smarter, better dressed and happier. I wanted to be just like them. The little voice in my head wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Why don’t you look like a Victoria’s Secret model?”
“Why is math so easy for Brady and so difficult for you?”
“Why does Stephanie have so many friends? Everyone loves her.”
As a freshman and sophomore, the little voice in my head continued to haunt me. It wanted me to be on the dean’s list. It wanted me to be president of my sorority, and it wanted me to find the perfect boyfriend.
As a junior and senior, I wanted to have a successful career and run my own company. I didn’t know in what industry, but I envisioned myself having my own company.
I'm no superhero, but I read. A lot. I block out an hour every day (including weekends) to read about trends, business, marketing and what’s happening in different segments of business. By learning about what’s going on in different industries, I gain insights and ideas that I can implement at my own company. I also learn what I should avoid. It’s a scary world out there; monsters are lurking.
I was a competitive swimmer throughout junior high and high school, and I used to get exceptionally nervous before every swim meet — so nervous that I would imagine injuries that could befall me that would get me out of the meet: a concussion, maybe a few stiches, ideally something just serious enough to get me out of the meet but not too debilitating. How and why I continued swimming for seven years in the midst of this self-inflicted worry is the topic for another column.