木々が真っ白になっていて、とてもキレイ☆☆☆
湖の回りも凍り始めています。
November 24, 2010
November 13, 2010
Be kind to interviewers, they're only trying to do their work
I was interviewing people in Helsinki last Tuesday. It's a part-time job alongside of studies.
People do not think highly of such job, and I can see why. Bothering people with dozens of questions on their spare time in a chaotic shopping mall, just as they have got out from work to do their grocery purchases.
That Tuesday was the worst slump so far. Recalling the event makes my blood still boil, but I can only blame my self.
The idea was to interview anyone who came out of the store, and basically figure out why one chooses to shop in this store and not the other.
The day was almost ending, and I was just checking my phone for messages. On the same moment one quite chubby man who had packed his week's food made an eye contact. He was about to walk away so quickly I put the phone into my pocket, and asked him "How are you doing?" He turned his face away saying, "Why do you ask? You're not interested anyway how am I doing."
Nice start. This guy wasn't obviously in a mood to answer, but I went on replying "I thought asking that would be a nice way to begin a conversation." The guy frowned at me and said, "Well, I'm not interested to have a conversation with you." That made two of us, but as my duty is to get the questionnaire forms filled, I asked him whether he'd be interested to participate anyway.
This man abruptly refused and was about to turn away, but then suddenly he bent down to pick up something from the floor. After a brief moment he got up holding up a 5 euro bill in his hand. "Look at this!" he yelled squeezing the note firmly. "Maybe I can answer your questionnaire after all."
Half of the form was complete, but then he started to get hostile. He was criticizing almost every question. "What is this question, 'is the store socially responsible'? Isn't every store in a way contributing to the welfare?" Who the hell has invented these god damn questions? You? I think this questionnaire is ridiculous!"
All I could do was to explain, "I'm only interviewing, and that's my poor job. If you help me out on this I'd be very pleased." He softened a little and continued to answer. Then as I turned to next page his fury exploded at once. "With how many questions you dare to bother me? I need much more than 5 euro to answer your foolish questionnaire! I've done a marketing research once, and I know how they should be. The hell with it! This is enough!"
His shouts echoed in the mall as he was marching away. You can imagine I felt down, and the fact that interviewer's wage is counted per completed form made the situation even more annoying. Half an hour wasted only to get irritated. Splendid.
I put my hands into my pockets and gathered my wits. A 5 euro note had been in my pocket, but where was it now? Oh dear, it had dropped...
People do not think highly of such job, and I can see why. Bothering people with dozens of questions on their spare time in a chaotic shopping mall, just as they have got out from work to do their grocery purchases.
That Tuesday was the worst slump so far. Recalling the event makes my blood still boil, but I can only blame my self.
The idea was to interview anyone who came out of the store, and basically figure out why one chooses to shop in this store and not the other.
The day was almost ending, and I was just checking my phone for messages. On the same moment one quite chubby man who had packed his week's food made an eye contact. He was about to walk away so quickly I put the phone into my pocket, and asked him "How are you doing?" He turned his face away saying, "Why do you ask? You're not interested anyway how am I doing."
Nice start. This guy wasn't obviously in a mood to answer, but I went on replying "I thought asking that would be a nice way to begin a conversation." The guy frowned at me and said, "Well, I'm not interested to have a conversation with you." That made two of us, but as my duty is to get the questionnaire forms filled, I asked him whether he'd be interested to participate anyway.
This man abruptly refused and was about to turn away, but then suddenly he bent down to pick up something from the floor. After a brief moment he got up holding up a 5 euro bill in his hand. "Look at this!" he yelled squeezing the note firmly. "Maybe I can answer your questionnaire after all."
Half of the form was complete, but then he started to get hostile. He was criticizing almost every question. "What is this question, 'is the store socially responsible'? Isn't every store in a way contributing to the welfare?" Who the hell has invented these god damn questions? You? I think this questionnaire is ridiculous!"
All I could do was to explain, "I'm only interviewing, and that's my poor job. If you help me out on this I'd be very pleased." He softened a little and continued to answer. Then as I turned to next page his fury exploded at once. "With how many questions you dare to bother me? I need much more than 5 euro to answer your foolish questionnaire! I've done a marketing research once, and I know how they should be. The hell with it! This is enough!"
His shouts echoed in the mall as he was marching away. You can imagine I felt down, and the fact that interviewer's wage is counted per completed form made the situation even more annoying. Half an hour wasted only to get irritated. Splendid.
I put my hands into my pockets and gathered my wits. A 5 euro note had been in my pocket, but where was it now? Oh dear, it had dropped...
November 4, 2010
Find your story and tell it
What is a common feature among people with reputation? They all have a story to tell.
Think of someone who left an unforgettable impression to you? How do you remember the person still after years? I claim that an ingredient for deep impact is to have a story to tell - something that the listener will remember you of. Do you have a story? Want to share it?
Storytelling is one of the best ways to remember things. That's why people with great memory rely on narrative rather than repetition.
This all may be self-explanatory, but still I indulge you with an example that happened four years back: Timo Rännäli, an artist whom I met in New Zealand, told me a story how he had ended up to be a painter.
Before coming actually face to face with him, I had seen of his works printed in post cards and as posters around the coastal town of Mt. Maunganui, the place we both resides at the time. His vibrant paintings were sure to catch anyone's eye.
One day on my way home I found out where his studio was. My curiosity rose as I saw the signature "Timo Rannali" in the bottom right corner. It's a quite obvious name for a Finn, though without the dots over the letter 'a'. As I had not met a single Finnish person for about 11 months, I resolved to open the door and walk the stairs up to his neat workroom.
Timo was sitting on a small revolving stool. He was holding a color palette under his thumb, and finishing a large paintwork with a brush that seemed too tiny for the purpose. His back was bent towards the three-stem frame as he was finishing a detailed part of the painting.
Soon he placed the pencil and the palette aside, turned on the stool and stood up. I thought I'd surprise him by opening the conversation in Finnish; so I said "Hei Timo! Mitä kuuluu?" Probably not the best idea, because It made his head flush, and for a moment he seemed totally unsure of what to do. Then in an infallible Kiwi accent he explained that his Finnish is not quite enough to make a conversation.
It takes a while to forget your mother tongue, so how long had he been in New Zealand already? "I immigrated to New Zealand when I was still a young boy," he clarified. "My father lives now in Finland, and several years ago I visited him, and Finland. Now I'm mostly spending my time painting and surfing. If you want to catch some waves, I'll borrow my surfing board to you..." Then Timo changed the discussion to art.
He told that the influence to his work comes from children. "Before becoming a full time artist I was an elementary school teacher. At the art classes I would ask the children to tell about their creations, and always they came up with stories." Timo took the idea and started to illustrate stories on to canvas. The problem was that a long story made him run out of space. To overcome the obstacle, Timo figured to draw through a fish-eye perspective so that the landscapes would curve around, and fit to the original area.
The story about how Timo had ended up as an artist, and how his work was influenced by children was a story peculiar enough to stick in my memory.
Did you already make a story of your own?
(See more of Timo Rännäli's work here)
Think of someone who left an unforgettable impression to you? How do you remember the person still after years? I claim that an ingredient for deep impact is to have a story to tell - something that the listener will remember you of. Do you have a story? Want to share it?
Storytelling is one of the best ways to remember things. That's why people with great memory rely on narrative rather than repetition.
This all may be self-explanatory, but still I indulge you with an example that happened four years back: Timo Rännäli, an artist whom I met in New Zealand, told me a story how he had ended up to be a painter.
Before coming actually face to face with him, I had seen of his works printed in post cards and as posters around the coastal town of Mt. Maunganui, the place we both resides at the time. His vibrant paintings were sure to catch anyone's eye.
One day on my way home I found out where his studio was. My curiosity rose as I saw the signature "Timo Rannali" in the bottom right corner. It's a quite obvious name for a Finn, though without the dots over the letter 'a'. As I had not met a single Finnish person for about 11 months, I resolved to open the door and walk the stairs up to his neat workroom.
Timo was sitting on a small revolving stool. He was holding a color palette under his thumb, and finishing a large paintwork with a brush that seemed too tiny for the purpose. His back was bent towards the three-stem frame as he was finishing a detailed part of the painting.
Soon he placed the pencil and the palette aside, turned on the stool and stood up. I thought I'd surprise him by opening the conversation in Finnish; so I said "Hei Timo! Mitä kuuluu?" Probably not the best idea, because It made his head flush, and for a moment he seemed totally unsure of what to do. Then in an infallible Kiwi accent he explained that his Finnish is not quite enough to make a conversation.
It takes a while to forget your mother tongue, so how long had he been in New Zealand already? "I immigrated to New Zealand when I was still a young boy," he clarified. "My father lives now in Finland, and several years ago I visited him, and Finland. Now I'm mostly spending my time painting and surfing. If you want to catch some waves, I'll borrow my surfing board to you..." Then Timo changed the discussion to art.
He told that the influence to his work comes from children. "Before becoming a full time artist I was an elementary school teacher. At the art classes I would ask the children to tell about their creations, and always they came up with stories." Timo took the idea and started to illustrate stories on to canvas. The problem was that a long story made him run out of space. To overcome the obstacle, Timo figured to draw through a fish-eye perspective so that the landscapes would curve around, and fit to the original area.
The story about how Timo had ended up as an artist, and how his work was influenced by children was a story peculiar enough to stick in my memory.
Did you already make a story of your own?
(See more of Timo Rännäli's work here)
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