Make Every Encounter an Opportunity

As I finished my purchase at our local grocery store, the clerk smiled at me and we wished each other a good day. Our younger son, now taller than I am, chimed in. He looked straight at her (sometimes grumpy) face and said with genuine kindness: "Have a good afternoon!"

Her face brightened. Our boys have that effect on people; there is something about a kind, polite, genuine kid that makes people feel good.

When I was a brand new mother, a friend told me about an interaction with her four year old son. When she disciplined him with a time-out, he told her "you're mean, mommy." Her response has stayed with me for many years:

I'm mean sometimes because I never want you to be the kid no one wants to be around.

That statement is part of why our boys are polite and people enjoy them. As parents, we encouraged kindness and respectful behavior, and also set boundaries with them that made sense -- and followed through with consequences.

I'd like to take the credit for that, but I think it has more to do with their nature and many role models. Because of their observations of the behavior of their father, their grandparents, aunt & uncles, close neighbors and adult friends, and yes, me, they understand that each person must be valued. Even people who are mean, who behave badly, must be treated respectfully. That doesn't mean they are respected; those are two different things.

When our younger son and I walked out of the grocery store, the expression on the clerk's face stayed with me for a while. I was smiling, off in my head, when our son asked me: "Why are you smiling like that?"

It took me a moment to realize I was smiling "like that" and to put my thoughts into words. He knows me -- so he waited. I asked him:

is it fake to act pleasant when you don't feel pleasant?

And then I said:

My friend and I recently had a conversation about the difference between being fake, acting like you're happy when you're really not, and being kind to people despite not being happy at every moment.

Did you see how that woman lit up when you smiled and told her to have a good afternoon? She glowed. What you said, and the way you said it with genuine kindness, changed the flow of her day. If you were having a bad day but still made an effort to do what you did with her, is that being fake? Or is it being kind? For her, that momentary interaction was the difference between slogging through the afternoon, and feeling a small burst of warmth and satisfaction.

You often have that effect on people, Max. They can't help but smile when you're around. I hope you understand that, and that you continue to choose -- that you are intentional -- to be kind toward others. There is something about you that makes people want to be their best selves when you're around. You're magical!

Our conversation turned to something else, and for the moment I was distracted from that introspection.

In the shower the next morning, our conversation came back to me.

We have many opportunities in our days to make that tiny bit of difference in each interaction. We have a choice to say "thank you" to the person in front of us, to wave and smile at the driver who lets us merge into traffic. We have a choice when we hold the door for someone coming in behind us to smile with genuine kindness and care. Why wouldn't we make that effort with every single person in our day? It takes less energy to smile at someone than it does to be angry, or to actively ignore a person.

Being kind doesn't mean letting people treat you like a doormat, sometimes you have to choose confrontation. Being unkind won't change things, so keeping in mind the result you want from the confrontation really helps in keeping emotion out of a conflict. I recently told someone "you're not nice to me." I didn't add any emotion to the comment, just a matter-of-fact observation to explain why I avoided interaction with her. I often use a strategy I wrote about, imagining that if I was recording it, how I would want to see myself years after the confrontation.

Think for a moment about the people you want to be around, the people you enjoy spending time with. I'm a lot pickier these days about where I choose to spend my energy and time, and I choose people who are positive, the ones who are curious, and who choose to learn, grow, and be kind. This doesn't mean we are always happy, real life is often not happy.

We all have choices to make, every day, and I choose kindness. What will you choose?

Send me a message, I love to hear from readers.

Perception Is Weird

I was awkward in high school. I had friends in all of the different cliques but never felt like I belonged anywhere. Totally self-conscious, low self-esteem, the only place I felt real was in my choir classes. That's why I'm often surprised when I hear how my peers perceived me back then -- because it's completely different from how I perceived myself.

In my second year of college, a friend's apartment neighbor was a guy who went to the same high school I attended. One evening my friend asked her neighbor what I was like in high school.

She was one of those girls that could have been popular but just didn't care.

When my friend repeated this back to me, I was stunned. And really disappointed. Of course I wanted to be popular! That's not at all how I knew myself just a few years earlier. I couldn't imagine how he came to that conclusion.

Since then I've been observing the gap between how we are perceived, even by those we believe are closest to us, versus how we perceive ourselves. At this point in my life, I'm very intentional in how I put myself out to the world, so I think that gap is smaller, but there is still a wide gap.

When I hear it said that people don't change, I cringe. I'm so different from who I was in my teens, early twenties, and even 5 years ago! The obstacles, challenges, joys and successes we experience can change us dramatically. A few years ago I was honored to be a guest blogger on Whitney Johnsons's blog; I wrote about how I found my voice when I was 40. People definitely change.

My mother and I were standing in my kitchen a few years ago, making beef jerky. She said:

If you had told me 15 years ago that I'd be standing here in your kitchen, in Montana, helping you make beef jerky, I never would have believed it.

I responded: "If I told myself 10 years ago that I'd be singing in a rock band in gogo boots and vintage mini dresses, I would never have believed it!"

"I'd believe it." Was her answer. That's a big gap in perception.

In a recently published post I described myself in college as being barefoot most of the time. People who knew me then weren't surprised at all, but those who have only known me in the past 20 years were very surprised to read that article. Here's one comment:

Thank you for the belly laugh as I visualized you traipsing around Colorado sans shoes.

And another:

I used the HaHa icon because I never pictured you barefoot . . . not that I've known you long enough for that anyway. Barefoot? Wow.

And one more:

Great article, Sarah. A barefoot past? You have always been a strong, unique individual. 

This set of comments had me considering perception again, and why that gap exists. When we think we know someone, we are often surprised when they step out of the context in which we think we know them. Why do we sometimes underestimate people we know, while we put those we don't have a personal connection with on a pedestal?

It has been about 8 years that I've been singing professionally in this small town; there are still people who have known me for nearly the 17 years we've lived here who have not seen me perform.

One of those people heard me sing at a big event with more than 700 guests. She came over to me afterward, gushing. It was wonderful! A few days later, I ran into her at a shop downtown and as she introduced me to the woman next to her, she said:

This is my friend Sarah, she sings with a band and she's actually really good!

Actually? Why did she say "actually?" I knew she didn't mean to be insulting, so I smiled and thanked her. But the word stuck with me. Why "actually?" Is it because she never knew me to be a singer and her expectations of my singing were low? She knew I sang but had never heard me, so maybe that was it? But why would her expectations be low? What did she know of me that would color her perception that way? What was I putting out there that might give her a different impression?

Yes, all of these are sort of silly questions to consider, but they help me think more deeply about the whole idea of perception and the impact it has on us. Do I see myself differently from how my friend sees me? Definitely. Living in a small town, this gap in perception can impact a career; because so many people here know me in the context of my job history, my music, and my children, it can be tricky -- and impossible -- to earn support when I want to do something significantly different.

When I finished reading an incredible novel, The 13th Clock, I was blown away. I leaned back in my reading chair and thought: "Wow! My BROTHER wrote that book!" It's not that it was surprising that my brother would write a fantastic book, but it definitely caught me in unfamiliar territory in seeing him in a different context.

Why is it that when we know (or think we know) someone well, we are often surprised when they are successful, or when they do something extraordinary? Do you find that people who think they know you underestimate you in some contexts? I'm intensely curious about this gap, and though I'm sure we can't come to any conclusions, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the topic.

Taking Yourself Too Seriously? Choose a Cue to Keep it Real.

It was my first day of my first real job out of college. My paid internship in Washington DC had ended and I spent the summer playing with my sister and roommate, waiting tables and hosting at a couple of restaurants.

When my sister moved back home to Colorado, my roommate convinced me to join a temp agency. Shortly after my first placement, the company offered me a job. My appointment with Lori in the HR department was scheduled at 8am on a Monday morning.

It was December, and it was still dark when I woke up, eager to go to my meeting, fill out paperwork, and start my job with the Meetings Department at the American Chemical Society. I dressed in the dark and popped my head into my roommate's bathroom to say goodbye, she said "good luck, Sarah!"

It was still dim outside as I made my way from the apartment to Union Station to catch the train. I sat for the few stops to the Farragut North station and held my little briefcase, a graduation gift from my dad, on the tops of my feet. In my eagerness and anxiety, the long escalator ride to the surface seemed even longer than usual. As I stepped off the escalator, out from under the awning and onto the sidewalk, I glanced down at my feet.

Oh dear.

I looked back up and took a few more steps. I thought, "Oh no, I wouldn't have done that."

Looking back down at my feet confirmed my initial observation: I was wearing two different colored shoes. One was black, the other was navy. They were identical pumps -- except for the color, which, now in full sunlight, was obvious.

Walking into the first office building on my left, I marched with confidence toward the tall counter as the man at the desk behind the counter looked up.

May I please use your phone?

No ma'am. This is not a public phone.

Please? It's kind of an emergency. I'm going to be late for my first day of a new job and I need to call and let them know! Please? (Insert brightest, sweetest, Colorado-hick-in-the-big-city smile I can muster.)

Oh, ok, I guess.

Good morning, Lori. I'm on my way over now, only a few blocks away, but I have to run home so I'm going to be late. Why? Well... I just noticed... I'm wearing two different colored shoes. ... No, I know I can't come to work like that. ... Yes, just about 30 minutes. ... Yes, I'll be there. Thank you.

I hung up the phone and the man at the counter stood to pull the phone back down to the desk so he could peer down at my feet and grin.

Smiling back and thanking him, I ran back to the Metro station. I found myself grinning, feeling very silly, and trying to cover my shoes with my briefcase when I sat down on the train. I managed to get home, change a shoe, drive back to the office, pay an outrageous price to park the car near the building, and get to the HR office in 30 minutes.

When I told my roommate the story over dinner, we couldn't stop laughing. Our stomachs were sore from the deep belly laughs that night. She reminded me of a few other little details I managed to mess up over the previous few months and came up with a term for those, "Sarah-isms."

Those small details add up in similar ways to what I described in an earlier post about finding multiple Band-Aids on my hands. The difference here is that these little details are silly, not dangerous. Stories like these are great reminders that we are human, we are fallible, and that while it's important to take our jobs and responsibilities seriously, we should never -- ever -- take ourselves too seriously. After all, we are all human, no matter how high the pedestal on which we may stand or be placed.

Just a few years after the two-different-shoes incident, I was in Vancouver, Canada, for work. My colleagues and I took an afternoon to rent a car and drive up to Whistler to explore. It's a beautiful ski resort not far from the city; it reminded me a lot of Vail, Colorado. We were there in the spring and the hills were covered in beautiful green grass and wild flowers. A small boutique store back then, Joe Boxer happened to be open that day. Joe Boxer was the brand that got big and famous, thanks to Forrest Gump and his yellow smiley face. At the time, it was a higher-end brand (now you can find it at KMart) and all the rage. I picked out a watch with a brown leather band and smiley faces in place of the numbers on the face. For my husband, I picked a fancy silver one with the smiley face imprinted in the face of the watch. You could only tell when you looked closely at it.

Wearing that watch as a DC professional, as a consultant implementing a major software program in agencies like the Federal Reserve, World Bank, and NSA, kept me grounded. When I found I was taking myself too seriously, all I had to do was look down at my watch. A smile would begin from my wrist and work its way up to my face, guaranteed. DC has far too many people who take themselves far too seriously. They didn't need one more.

Do you have cues to help remind you not to take yourself too seriously? Share them in comments here!

Post script: Almost every day after that, when I took the Metro and passed the office building, the man at the counter waited by the door to smile, wave, and say hello to me. It's nice to know my little mishap positively changed the flow of the day for someone else for a while. When we take ourselves too seriously, we miss opportunities to connect with others, opportunities to improve our communities simply by connecting in a positive way with the people around us.

It's the Shoes. Trust Me.

I was in high school when I stopped wearing shoes. There was probably a reason, as far as reason goes when you're in high school, but I can't imagine any reason beyond pushing my mother's buttons.

My feet were tough and thick with calluses from the moment the snow melted in Colorado until the first frost hit. I would carry my shoes, just in case I needed them to be allowed into a store or restaurant. From my sophomore year of high school until I graduated from Colorado State University in Fort Collins, I was known for my bare feet. As an exchange student my sophomore year, I even hitchhiked by myself through New Zealand with bare feet. I'm pretty sure I was the only business major with bare feet and cut-off jeans. When I was walking through Moby Gym with my father, getting ready to graduate, we ran into a few of my professors and I was happy to introduce them to my dad.

Oh my! We were just placing bets on whether Sarah would wear shoes to cross the graduation stage.

When I think back on that interchange, I like to remember my dad smiling good naturedly, and not totally embarrassed, but I really don't recall his reaction. I smiled and lifted my graduation robe enough to show some pretty pumps. It was December, I was definitely wearing shoes.

I moved to Washington DC for a paid internship immediately following graduation. My father drove with me across the country in my little Chevette with my cat on the floor under the passenger seat. Of course I wore shoes every day to my job with the US International Trade Commission; as soon as the weather warmed a bit, you could find me wandering on weekends through the District, shoes in hand. I think back on that time and I'm totally disgusted. Really, Sarah? Barefoot in Washington DC? It didn't take long for me to change my ways. Not only is it gross to walk barefoot on the streets and sidewalks in a big city, it gets very, very hot.

Shoes were simply a function of getting dressed back then. I had my basic pumps in black and navy for work, and my casual sandals and tennis shoes for weekends, and that was about it. I absentmindedly put on two different colored shoes on my first day of work at a new job... but that story is all it's own.

Shoes didn't become anything important -- or even more than a passing thought - until I took my first job in sales.

As the director of sales at a downtown boutique hotel, I had the opportunity to dress up and be a little creative in my style. In my time working with clients and staff at the hotel, I noticed a distinct difference in how I was being perceived and treated when I wore shoes with a heel height of two inches or more. Observation has always been a strength of mine, and I took notes about the phenomena for a few weeks; it wasn't a serious scientific study, but the conclusions were obvious to me.

Shoes come with attitude for some of us. When I was struggling with a difficult boss, my dear friend sent me a package with this note in it:

Wear these bright yellow sandals and bring your own sunshine to work this week! - Let the haters hate!

They were three inch platform strappy yellow sandals and yes, I did wear them to work. My attitude was decidedly improved that day. Sometimes a little cue to catch my eye can work wonders on my internal dialogue. It's like a little spark of distraction; a reminder of who I am, and that while I cannot control someone else's behavior, I won't let it define me and my behavior.

Someone recently shared an article describing financial advantages of being tall; there are other studies to show that tall women are generally more successful in business. (I like to point out that I am one of the most comfortable people on any airplane, a distinct advantage when traveling.)

Though my titles haven't included the word "sales" since then, I've continued my observations about the differences when I'm a little bit taller, in how I believe I am perceived based on the treatment I receive by others.

I've come to some conclusions that have helped me over the past few years and I'm hopeful that those observations and strategies will help others. Here's one that I've shared a lot recently and have heard some great reviews following experiences by those who've tried it:

When you are planning your wardrobe for an event, meeting, or other important date, start with your shoes. Your shoes are the foundation of your wardrobe. Find shoes that make you feel good about the way you walk, the way you stand, the way you carry yourself. Invest in shoes that are comfortable AND that offer an indication of your style. Build your outfit around your shoes.

Try this strategy soon, and please comment and let me know your thoughts after you do your own experiment!

I know it sounds like a small detail, and it IS a small detail in the scheme of things. Like many other small details, like the grip of your handshake, the wrinkles around your eyes when you smile, and holding a door open for someone behind you, this one matters.

Sharing stories is a great way to communicate. Listen to my recent podcast to learn more about me and the work I do to help people communicate through storytelling.

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Comments on this post:

Leigh Gathright:

Thank you for the belly laugh as I visualized you traipsing around Colorado sans shoes. Probably made you a more grounded person, though! Putting one's best foot forward is always a confidence booster. As women, we have many ways to add flair and customize our own sense of style and personality to others. For me, it is probably my passion to wear an heirloom or uncommon-type necklace to put my best self out in the world each and every day.

Johanna Flores

Sarah- Fantastic article thank you for sharing. I agree 100'% it's the shoes, I can not leave my house without a fierce pair of stilettos that make me feel like I could take over the world and people always remember me by the shoes

Birthday Introspection

Every year for about a week around my birthday, I find myself being even more introspective than usual. I think about my past, my present, and my future, and dig deeply into who I am and who I want to be.

This year was a little bit different. This year I found a way to clear my head first, and then start to dig into my annual process.

The weekend before my birthday, my husband and I splurged on a trip to Portland, Oregon. We filled our time with music, great food, and catching up with close friends. The long drive together offered a rare opportunity to be with each other with no other responsibilities or agenda. We listened to music, we talked about food, we shared our thoughts about our two boys alone at home for the weekend. All kinds of things came up during that long drive through some beautiful parts of our country, as well as some of the not-so-beautiful parts.

It was bittersweet to drop my husband off at the airport in Portland on Sunday morning for a week-long business trip in Washington DC. I love spending time with him. He's funny, smart and kind, and he treats me with respect and deep love. Spending hours by myself can be very rare and I treasure my alone time. So when I drove away from PDX, I was sad to leave Bob behind, and filled with anticipation for my long drive -- alone -- back to Montana.

The first part of that drive is absolutely spectacular. Leaving the city and driving east took me right into the Columbia Gorge region. the winding road parallels the river, with green curtains of leaves and vines clinging to the walls of the first part of the canyon. It opens into the wide part of the river where it's rare not to see boats, windsurfers, and kayaks along the banks. It was quiet in the car. I didn't turn on music, I didn't start one of my books on CD, I didn't call anyone to visit (hands free, of course) as I drove. The car felt like an extension of my body as I drove along the river and observed the other vehicles and drivers, and the scenery all around me.

I don't remember thinking about anything in particular. It seemed that I could just BE, without my mind racing along as usual. For the first time in months, my mind felt clear. It took more than an hour of driving quietly by myself for me to realize my head was finally open, and not consumed with thoughts of what I needed to do, what I had forgotten, and where I wanted to be in the near future.

After about 11 hours on the road, I pulled into my driveway and unloaded my bags in the house. Our boys were still awake and enthusiastically happy to see me. Big hugs and stories, snuggles with the dog and a short glass of whiskey later, I was ready for bed.

I had forgotten -- or just hadn't remembered -- to take a few hours by myself like that in recent months. Hiking is great, but simply doesn't provide the kind of mind-clearing I need sometimes. Walking up a mountain, breathing heavily, and appreciating the scenery brings me back to the present, but it doesn't clear my head the way a long drive by myself can.

It was another beautiful birthday, filled with love and friendship. I clicked on a link to a video my mother sent to me that day. It's about taking the time BEING rather than spending our days DOING. I can honestly say that while I have some days filled with doing, the majority of my life has been being. Being in love. Being loved, being kind. Being comforted, being comforting. Being nourishing, and being nourished.

I think that's why I enjoy my birthdays so much each year; I am so grateful for every moment I get to spend with my family, my friends, and in nature. I'm not a big fan of regret and avoid it as much as possible. That's part of why I fill my days with BEING.

Now I'm ready for another year of adventures, a roller coaster ride of life. This year I have a plan to spend more time driving by myself, to make it a priority.

What will you do with the precious time you have on this planet?

Here's my theme song for the year.

3 Components of Success: Storytelling, Creativity, Curiosity

I've been advising and coaching a variety of people for years, from tweens to seniors, from every economic and educational background. There are three things that stand out in my mind as being major aspects of personal and professional development: Being able to tell your story, practicing creativity, and curiosity.

Morgan came into my life when she was a pre-teen and our boys were tiny. It was her family that took care of our older son the day and night I was at the hospital when our younger son was born. She has always had the sense of humor of an adult; a funny, sarcastic, somewhat English-style-dark-humor adult. I'm sure that's a big part of why we connected from the moment we met. As she grew up, she spent a lot of time at our house, helping with the boys, babysitting, and helping me with housework, keeping me company. She even took a few road trips with me so I wouldn't have to travel alone with the two little boys. We often laughed so hard we would cry. I had to pull over once in the middle of Nowhere, Why?oming because I was laughing so hard my stomach cramped and I had trouble breathing.

As Morgan moved through those difficult stages of adolescence and young adulthood, she remained consistent in her ability to share stories, even when her self confidence was limited. Her creative sense of humor is a big part of what makes people want to be around her. This is the woman who was able to make me laugh out loud shortly after my father died. And whenever she is afraid, she faces the fear and pushes through it because she's curious about what will happen when she takes the plunge. And I think she doesn't want to live with regret, the question "what if I don't do this?" is the one that pushes her through her hesitation.

While I like to think I've been a significant positive influence in her life, I know she has had as much, if not more of a positive impact on mine. When she asked me for advice through all aspects of life, from mean girls in middle school, to registering for classes in college, she not only listened to what I said, she asked the right questions and followed through when she said she would. She made it clear that when she asked for advice she would really listen when it was given, like accepting a gift. I learned how to present criticism more carefully; I learned to be more sensitive in my actions. I learned how to offer guidance without judgment.

My relationship with Morgan, and many years of providing guidance in the form of "don't do this, because when I did it..." for my sister, are the reasons I found coaching to be a big part of my career. By advising these two creative, curious storytellers, I was able to learn a lot about myself and what makes a successful person - no matter how you define success. They're the reason I came to the conclusion that to be successful in life, you need these three components: Storytelling skills, creativity, and curiosity.

When we tell a good story, we connect with people on a level deeper than just sharing a basic conversation. Stories are what bring people together under the umbrella of humanity. We share vulnerability, humor, and intelligence through our vocabulary, facial expressions and body language.

When we are being creative, we open ourselves to a different set of possibilities. Creativity actually changes the way our brains solve problems.

And when we are curious, we push ourselves to step out of comfort zones and into the unknown.

When I think of the people I respect and admire most, those are the common traits. Truly, I've never met someone with all three of those that wasn't also compassionate and considerate. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Take the Hint - Or Take a Fall

I was in my early 20's when I noticed this pattern. If I look down at my hands and find three or more minor injuries requiring BAND-AIDs, I know I'm missing something. Two are a small hint, three will require serious introspection. When I see three, I know I'm not being present, that my brain is not in full-function, problem-solving mode.

That's my hint to take a long walk, a long drive, or simply find a place to clear my head. Sometimes I go to my clay studio and play with mud for a while; more often than not, I choose to take a long walk. Whatever I do to find my balance again, to center myself, I do it with intention.

Years ago my best friend called me, full of frustration and anxiety as she was between work trips. She traveled a lot back then and as she arrived home at her apartment, she called me to share her anxiety. "I left my sunglasses in the rental car, my phone charger in the hotel room, and my book in the seatback pocket on the plane."

Her voice was angry, with a little sadness at the edge. I told her to sit down. "I have a million things to do before I leave again in two days!" Again, I told her to stop what she was doing and sit. right. where. she. was. I heard her heavy sigh as she slid down onto the floor, legs crossed, purse thrown onto the chair.

"Remember when I told you about the three BAND-AIDs on my hands?"

"No. Seriously, Sarah, I have too much to do to just sit here."

"Trust me. Stay where you are. When I have three BAND-AIDs on my hands I know I'm not present. Those bandages are my hint to stop, take a breath, and re-center myself."

"Ok. So what? Do you have three bandages on your hands?"

No, sweetie, I don't. But you do.
Losing your sunglasses, phone charger, and book are very small hints for something that could be much, much worse. Those are your three bandages, your warning that something much worse can happen if you don't take some time to breathe.

"Now. You are going to slowly get up off the floor, put on good walking shoes, and go for a long walk around your neighborhood. You are going to walk for a minimum of 30 minutes, looking at details of plants, houses, and people. You are going to lose yourself, completely clear your head of your "to do" list, and focus on things outside your own brain. And when you return to your apartment, you will call me and we'll walk through your list."

About an hour later she called me back, a substantially improved tone to her voice. She was back to her old self, confident and calm. We chatted away while she started laundry, cleaned up dishes in the sink, and started a grocery and errand list.

What are your three BAND-AIDs? Are they small physical injuries on your hands? Are they lost items like keys, sunglasses, or wallet?

The next time you notice a few things out of step, stop what you are doing and breathe for a minute. Take inventory of the last few days to see if maybe you're missing something - like being present. Walk, bike, do something creative; do something that clears your head. It must take some time, a minimum of 30 minutes, to be intentional about finding your balance again.

What are the consequences of not being present when you're driving, spending time with your children, cooking with heat & sharp objects? In my experience, if I don't pay attention to those bandages, I'm risking serious damage.

Here's what's being said about this post!

"Sarah, you have eloquently illustrated the need to reset ourselves after a sequence of frustrating events with your great story. It has also been my experience that if I don't the negative outcomes continue to get worse. For me, tennis is my escape. There is something about hitting that yellow ball and transferring all of my energy into every shot that is truly liberating. I can literally feel the stress leaving my body each time I hit the ball. By the end, all the tension is gone from my body. It works every time!" Ben Walker, Founder and CEO at Transcription Outsourcing, LLC