Brianne Garcia

Today, my friend Christine sent me a link to this Quora post: What are the reasons some people get promoted and others don’t? I was happy she sent it, since I’m only in my second month at my first “real” job, post-startup attempt, but a thought crept up on me: I hadn’t even thought about a promotion.

And then after lingering perhaps a little too long on twitter, I also realized that I think my generation, including myself, is confused about what it means to be accomplished. And I think we’re even more confused about what we want to accomplish… especially when we talk about our careers. I can think of plenty of scenarios in which the verb makes sense: “I accomplished going to the gym 5 times this week” or “I accomplished answering all my emails.” But no one says “I accomplished a career.”

When we use this phrase as a signifier of advancement and/or status in career, we automatically place people on that invisible ladder we all picture in our mind’s little illustrator. But “accomplished”, to me, is a little murky. What do we mean when we refer to other people as “accomplished?” If someone exits his/her company, does that make him/her accomplished? If a woman has three higher degrees, is she considered an accomplished person? Does having certain bylines qualify a writer as accomplished? What separates the rest of us from the accomplished ones?

Good ol’ dependable Merriam-Webster says to “accomplish” is:

1 : to bring about (a result) by effort <have much toaccomplish today

2: to bring to completion :fulfill <accomplish a job

3: to succeed in reaching (a stage in a progression) <would starve before accomplishing half the distance — W. H. Hudson †1922>

That second definition stuck out as odd. I don’t think I’ve ever said or heard other people ever say they “accomplished a job” unless they had successfully followed through on an order for a hit. And yet, most of us –– the lucky ones, anyway –– have jobs, whether corporate, startup, freelance or otherwise. What are we doing there? What is the big End Goal? (And if you say retirement, get up and walk out of whatever job you’re at. NOW). Because that last definition, number 3, is the one that I can’t stop reading. It basically tells us that to accomplish something, we should have arrived at a stage in a progression; somewhere further along or higher above where we were before, on our way to some end result. 

WHAT IS THE END RESULT? That’s the question I’m asking myself and I want to ask you, because I’m genuinely curious. 

What is your End Goal: to make gobs and boatloads of money? To be known and to leave a legacy? To have lots of Twitter followers and get invited to cool parties? To have a title that involves / starts with the letter C? (By the way, I used to think the “C-suite” was a real place). Because back in the 50s, to be “accomplished” meant to settle comfortably into the “American dream”, an illusion that kept everyone coloring inside the lines. Find a spouse, get married, have some kids, work 9-5, buy a car and keep your opinions to yourself. 

Our generation is the antithesis of this, so now we’re all scrambling to redefine success and our path to it. And while some of us are never satisfied, others are quick to look at our Twitter follower counts or reblogs as a quantifier of importance and (the now overused word) “influence”. External validation ≠ accomplishment.

I currently struggle with my own ideas of accomplishment. In fact, I keep trying to materialize lists or ideas of what Success looks like to me, but I honestly just don’t know. I just want to feel like the 3rd definition: I want to accomplish SOMETHING that moves me forward, that pushes me further, that does not exist in a vacuum or a dark corner, but that also involves other people, that advances myself but also other people. ‘Cause counting money in a hammock on an exotic island would be fun for like, a day. So I’m constantly thinking about what this is and how I can do it and who will be there. I probably need to chill out.

I’ve repeatedly lusted after and daydreamed about each of the above example End Goals, but none of them tempt me enough to take action to get there (money, notoriety, a title, a legacy). I want to be so motivated by curiosity and passion and challenge that I have no other choice but to climb, kick, research, ask and force my way up that imaginary rung or next level. And that’s when I realized: a promotion, whether for the accolades or the bonus, just doesn’t get me excited on its own, and I have to be ok with that. There has to be more behind it.But maybe I’m the odd one out. Is a promotion, money, or social cool points enough to get you to NOT press snooze in the morning? If so, please share.

As cliche as it sounds, I do think that being “accomplished” means you get to wake up and go do shit you LOVE. This doesn’t mean your every day is filled with fun and smiles and happy sunshine fuzzy feelings, but that’s the beauty of passion: if you’re motivated to be better at <insert your passion> and solve problems and create, there is no End. There’s just more “stages of progression” to reach, forever and ever, amen. So maybe accomplishment just means you never stop moving. 

These Thursday blog posts are flying by. Summer is on a speedboat. Anyway:

The other day, I happened to visit The Hairpin, a favorite site of mine on which I like to waste lots and lots of time wandering endlessly in Linkback Land. However, I saw an article titled Why Buying From Emerging Fashion Designers Cost More Money, and Why That’s Okay by Of A Kind co-founder Erica Cerulo. The next day, I came across an article titled The Shockingly High Cost of Cheap Fashion in the New York Post, by Elizabeth L. Cline, author of “Overdressed.” And then, while getting lost in Tumblr, I came across a reaction to the Hairpin article from independent designer Anja of Clever Nettle.  

Of A Kind is a fashion/e-commerce startup I’ve followed since its launch in 2010 where members can shop pieces from on-the-cusp and new designers. Each piece is part of a limited number of that item (hence the name, “of a kind”), and the designer and his/her/their stories are a part of every purchase. (Full disclosure: I also have partiality to women from the Midwest – I’m from St. Louis –  and Cerulo hails from Peoria, Illinois, a city not too far from my own). 

For all the coverage of women in tech and the future of fashion, some of which can get a little frothy, this article definitely stirred the online pot of porridge. Reactions leaned towards positive and supportive, but interestingly enough, the negative feedback wasn’t a pushback against the idea of helping fuel local economies, but was about the lack of access to local/emerging designers and/or the lack of funds to splurge to help support these designers. Fast fashion, many commenters argued, wasn’t a choice for them. The H&Ms of the world are more practical not only because of cost, but because of their close proximity at the local mall.

However, in the NYPost article, Alan Ng, who runs a Brooklyn-based garment factory, describes this choice as “wasteful”, and blames fast fashion chains like Forever21 for shortening a trend’s life cycle so much so that any one trend really can’t gain enough traction to last in our closets or memories. But is fast fashion a choice for all? For New Yorkers with access to everything from thrift to luxury, the answer is yes. For those in small towns across America, the answer may be a very realistic no.

Cerulo breaks down for Hairpin readers why emerging designers’ products are more expensive than, say, that neon Zara top you swiped last weekend, while the article in the Post also points out that “polyester is now the world’s most dominant fiber.” Cerulo mentions, of course, that nicer materials cost more, especially if you’re printing patterns and screen printing here in the U.S., and also writes about the benefits of buying in bulk, which emerging designers cannot do, and that U.S. manufacturing costs more, but that these factories “treat people like people.” (On the flip side: Hundreds of workers collapse at Cambodian H&M factory, Zara accused in Brazil sweatshop inquiry, etc.)

As Cerulo points out, independent, local and emerging designers face a disadvantage when it comes to the economies of scale. For those who don’t give a lot of shits about business jargon, this refers to “the reductions in unit cost as the size of a facility and the usage levels of other inputs increase.” In other words, if you can buy boatloads of a fabric from a manufacturer, you’ll get it for a lot cheaper. So cheap, in fact, that you can then turn around and sell your garments and at a ridiculously low price. This carries over into buying 87 rolls of toilet paper from Costco for a fraction of the price that those 87 rolls would cost over the course of several purchases. As an example, Cerulo cites Uniqlo, which can purchase gobs of denim from manufacturers at a cheaper price than an independent designer, who likely only has the clientele for yards in the double digits.

Here’s the thing: I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve purchased a “Saturday night dress” made from cheap materials, and I treated it like the garment version of a one night stand. I know when buying it that, if lucky, I’ll get a few wears before it falls apart and turns into a dust rag. Of course, now that I’m trying to adhere to a strict budget, I have two choices: I can either treat this cheap dress with extra care in hopes of extending its life, OR, as Cerulo encourages, I can purchase less frivolously and treat my closet as an investment, not just investing in the garments themselves, but in the designers who make a living creating quality, (she argues) socially responsible pretty things for me to wear. 

This is where the commenters begin to disagree. 

“I’d love to think that we should all be able to live in cities like New York if we want and produce and consume our goods locally and with care. But I find this article a bit condescending to suggest that the reason we’re still buying cheap is that we don’t understand that it costs a lot to produce things ethically,” writes commenter Mary McKenna. 

“Buying clothes from independent designers more like buying art, in my opinion—a great thing to do if you have the money and interest but not something you should try to put on others as a moral obligation,” writes another commenter, KatieWK. 

And a great point, on the kinds of items created by emerging designers, is made by commenter datalass: “I need black trousers, white shirts, gray suits, nude pumps, brown handbags, tan skirts, gray sweaters. It’s all so workaday and commonplace that I can entirely understand why emerging designers don’t or can’t spend their careers designing and creating these things.”

What does this all mean for me and PARCELD? Well, that’s what I’m trying to sort through. I’m working with two women on brand/retailer outreach who have a really healthy number of relationships with emerging brands and designers, and the more I begin to survey my closet and see that the items I truly cherish and wear often are either vintage or are unique pieces from boutiques, the more I realize that there is a market need and real hunger for access to these unique brands and retailers. Not just for New Yorkers, but for women around the country who hunger for these special pieces, but either don’t have access to them or cannot afford them. 

I’ve always said that one of PARCELD’s biggest missions is to make discovery more authentic and personal, that if I know I want a pair of floral denim, *this* is the point at which I should discover new designers and retailers I didn’t know existed. Now, I need to help work with women like the commenters in the Hairpin article to ensure they have a direct path to these designers and retailers when their budget allows for it, when they’re ready to invest, or, that I can simply help them feel comfortable knowing there are other options without pressuring them into buying at that moment.

I constantly think about the ethical footprint of entering the ecommerce space, and this only makes this adventure that much more challenging and exciting.

I don’t know if “worrying” is the right word, but since leaving the incubator program and beginning the building phase of PARCELD, I can’t shake this feeling. This feeling is the result of crossing things off my checklist, but feeling like I haven’t accomplished anything. it is also the result of feeling like baby steps aren’t enough, like I should be accomplishing great things every day. Of course, we know this is not how companies are built. 

I even have a post-it note next to my work space with a quote from James Dyson (founder and CEO of the Dyson company), that reads: “There is no such thing as a quantum leap. There is only dogged persistence, and in the end, you make it look like a quantum leap.” 

I keep referring back to this quote as I sit down in front of an Excel doc and map out my heat map for brands and retailers, or create a timeline in Asana. These things don’t feel like founder activities, and this is perhaps the result of the somewhat frothy coverage of startups circulating the internet. But I keep referring to this quote because it’s true. Instagram was mediocre as Burbn, Pinterest was stuck at 10k users after almost a year, and Foursquare was Dodgeball. I’m not trying to build any of these companies, but their founders likely all had 12-hour days at cafes only to realize nothing epic happened that day, and that the next day would be similar in its lack of epicness. This is where the dogged persistence comes into play, in knowing this execution and problem solving will hopefully pay off at some hypothetical dot on a timeline in the future…and maybe not even the near future. 

I’m also trying to take less “for-fun” meetings, in which I chat away with someone “interested” in what I’m doing or with someone I’m simply “interested” in, and only take meaningful meetings where the discussion is serious and either helps me and my business, or someone else and their business/life. I realized that one fun coffee meeting was taking up at least an hour of my day, an hour that is precious to me at this time. Which takes me to my next concern…

Time management. Last week I blogged about time management and my goals, and to follow up with that post, let me tell you: this is way more difficult than I imagined. This also proves I have and am wasting way more time than I had ever realized. Once I said I’d work in 90 minute chunks, and instead of turning this on like a switch, I’m working towards that. I realized I am an internet junkie, a social media glutton. If you’re someone who likes to feel plugged in to the world, try NOT opening a new tab and checking facebook, or clicking on Hootsuite when you’re bored in that excel doc. This is and has been so extremely difficult and telling. I also recently referred to a post from Buzzfeed editor John Herrman, called “How Tech is Making Us All Neurotics.” It is. It is if we don’t feel in control of our usage of it. And sometimes I don’t. 

This also has to do with constantly feeling like I should be working, and by working, this usually means sitting down in front of my laptop and doing something. But I also realized that a lot of what I was “doing” was actually not doing at all, but passively consuming, which doesn’t necessarily help me as a founder or as a person. Sure, consuming the news everyday is important and a habit I feel no need to get rid of, but watching my Twitter timeline update or scrolling through my Prismatic feed only makes switching over to that Excel doc or my pitch deck feel less exciting and feel more like another task associated with my laptop. 

Last night (while endlessly browsing), I did stumble upon an article in The New Yorker called The Virtues of Daydreaming. A new study claims that

Creative solutions may be facilitated specifically by simple external tasks that maximize mind-wandering. The benefit of these simple tasks is that they consume just enough attention to keep us occupied, while leaving plenty of mental resources left over for errant daydreams.

…”We always assume that you get more done when you’re consciously paying attention to a problem,” Schooler told me. “That’s what it means, after all, to be ‘working on something.’ But this is often a mistake. If you’re trying to solve a complex problem, then you need to give yourself a real break, to let the mind incubate the problem all by itself. We shouldn’t be so afraid to actually take some time off.

…We think we’re wasting time, but, actually, an intellectual fountain really is spurting

 Music to my ears and the only confirmation I needed to STEP AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER.

When I went to Cape Cod for Memorial Day? I felt guilty the entire weekend. When I spent last Sunday sloth-like, lounging with friends and watching movies? I felt more anxious than ever. I was wondering the whole time how I was going to get new users to test my MVP, and how these as-of-yet unattained users will be incentivized to give me feedback. And what about the two separate build phases I now need to think through when raising money?

And you know what? Worrying about these things does no good. Neither does worrying that what I’m doing at any given time, even if it’s as simple or menial as updating my executive summary or researching customer lifetime value, is not big, grand or exciting. Baby steps are the only steps at this point. What I’m working on now is taking these baby steps in focused, concentrated 90-minute chunks, and using my free time to, well, enjoy being free. No one wants to be a slave to their company, or we’d all end up hating what we do. I’m still excited everyday when I wake up, and I want to keep it that way.