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You’re with your spouse at your favorite restaurant after an arduous workday that started pre-sunrise. Understandably, you yawn while your honey shares an eye-opening LinkedIn post. Before you blurt out an apology, something odd happens. Your spouse yawns! They slept in, had a leisurely afternoon and had so much energy

It’s probable that right this moment… A valet parking attendant is inspecting tires and, if any are bald, will alert the car’s owner. A fitness-loving construction inspector is writing an internal blog to help her colleagues adopt healthy behaviors. A safety officer at a chemical manufacturing plant is telling workers

My client, Jane, said “This election has turned me into a pathetic soft sack of emotion. I’m so saddened that I can barely function.” The next day I asked if she felt any better. “Not really. I left work early to get a pedicure. It didn’t help.” It doesn’t take

“You can’t help me. I manage mostly wait staff who only work for the paycheck.” Ron, the owner of several restaurants, tells me this upon hearing that I help companies expand the societal impact of jobs, a practice called job purposing. Ron believes some jobs – like nursing – promote

“Ouch, my knee!” I whine into the, mercifully, empty bedroom. Two days post-surgery, I’ve awoken from drug-induced slumber to the sight of my bandaged leg atop several pillows. I wonder if the eight screws the surgeon inserted into my shinbone are tap dancing. As fond as I am of this

“I was offered a wonderful job promoting ocean restoration!” my beaming Georgetown student, Lisa, tells me. Before I shriek my congratulations, she deflates. “It would be a 30 percent pay cut, so I doubt I can take it.” Lisa was considering a move from a corporate to a nonprofit marketing

“I don’t know what my purpose is,” my friend, Rachel, confesses. She’s uncomfortable admitting this to the person who regularly gives impassioned presentations on workplace purpose. She shouldn’t be. I, a certifiable purpose zealot, don’t know what my life’s purpose is either. And you know what? I’m happy lacking a

Scammer email: I need an investor to invest 300000$ in farming that will yield profit of 6000000$ in eight months [sic] James’ response: What sort of farming are we talking about? Will I need to milk a cow? Scammer: No cow business but snail farm only  James: How are we

“Will this ever end?” Brom’s question, murmured only to himself and maybe the gods, refers to his stonemasonry shift. He studies this cluster of cut stones. It looks meager in the shadow of Dain’s towering pile. This adds to Brom’s frustration from failing the certification test that Dain passed. Dain catches Brom admiring his work, winks

Imagine tomorrow you walk into your office and your furniture has been replaced with frumpy hand-me-downs and your computer with a slower older model. When your system finally springs to life, an email from your direct superior awaits. It says your compensation has been cut 10 percent. Naturally, this downgraded work situation would dampen your