The Blog of a Chronic Content Creator
Last week I was in New Orleans with students for a conference, as I mentioned in my last post. However I left out one of my encounters from that night – a conversation I had with a man named Koolio, which started over a simple question: “How are you doing?”
I’m writing this post, the first in over a month (my bad!) from a hotel room in New Orleans. I’m down here for the Southeastern Psychological Association (SEPA) conference, having brought with me 5 of my undergraduate students from Delta State. The conference seems to be having the desired effect – students are excited to see the very real possibility of themselves presenting material here in subsequent years. What seemed big, ominous, and unknown, is now something they see within reach. It means a lot more work for myself in terms of advising students, but it’s work I’m happy to do.
The topic of this post isn’t about my academic pursuits, or the symposium that we presented on perspectives on a campus shooting. While the symposium was a success, thanks to the lead author Sally Zengaro, and my collaborators George Beals and Franco Zengaro, there isn’t too much I can say about it that hasn’t already been said. And while the academic nature of the conference has been fulfilling (I’ve seen some interesting talks, and gotten some ideas for my own research as well as my students), it also doesn’t merit my putting electronic pen to paper. My topic tonight is the one part observation of human behavior, and one part my own warped philsophy of the world. And it’s best summed up by the title, Defying Classification.
Psychology conferences are interesting places. Scores of undergraduate students looking to get their feet wet, teams of graduate students trying to be noticed on a larger stage, and professors presenting either to fulfill pre-tenure obligations, out of respect for their science, or out of love for their field (Sometimes all 3!). You tend to notice trends in how they walk, talk, and appear. Undergraduates dress in typical teenage and early 20’s style, with some (who were clued in, like my students) dressing slightly nicer and more professional. Graduate students tend to dress in the most professional attire, with professors taking a more laid back approach. Professor standard attire for men tends to be jeans or slacks, with a button down shirt or polo, and occasionally a sport coat. No suits, few ties. We look, more or less, like grown up versions of our undergraduate students. Other conferences differ slightly – the business school crowd dresses more formally, and I assume other professional schools clean up a bit more than us ratty PhDs.
Today I was wearing my standard professor uniform: Khaki cargo pants, black shoes, dark blue Carhartt t-shirt covered by a black polo shirt. On my belt I had my camera in a case and my cell phone in a holster. I like to keep my pockets open during conferences to (a) have a place to put my room key without depolarizing it and (b) have a place for business cards and my conference name badge. After the last session tonight, I went out in the same ‘uniform’, adding in a black 2600 hat. I tend to shy away from logos, but I make an exception for brands I like to show support for, and 2600 is a publication I feel is important to the technology community.
Anyway, I proceeded to ‘take myself out on a date’, (because I’m awesome and I’d date me if I were single). I hit a few shops, watched some dueling pianos, caught the sunset over the Mississippi River, and picked up a gift for Karey and a birthday gift for a friend. On the way back to the hotel, I decided to get some food, but didn’t feel like having anything fancy. When you’re alone, sometimes all you want is something simple. Tonight I thought of something I hadn’t had in awhile: Popeyes Chicken. So I wandered over to Popeyes, walked in, placed my order, and walked back out. Holding my drink and Popeyes bag, I noticed a shorter scrawny gentleman come quickly up to me on my left. “Cocaine man, I got good cocaine”. I shrugged him off, and wandered across the street wondering if dealers with subpar products strategically make fewer promises. As I got nearer to the other side of the street, a security guard from one of the hotels spied me and asked “Hey, are they busy in there tonight?”. I replied “No, they’re pretty open” and she thanked me.
It was then that it hit me: I looked like a security guard or a bouncer. I had things on my belt, I had a black polo on, I had cargo pants, I had a black baseball cap with some strange number on it, and I had just bought food in between two other similarly dressed gentlemen who were off to work at different places according to their polo shirts. The lady who put my food in my bag at Popeyes asked how my day was – I had replied “Busy”. She replied “The more you do the more you make, huh”. I absentmindedly agreed, despite the fact it isn’t too true for me. I am huge, a trait normally found in private security personnel. As I came into the hotel, I realized that absolutely no one on the street would have guessed I was a professor, or a scientist, or a published author, or a computer programmer. I looked like a security guard, and likely New Orleans local.
And I’m just fine with that. The point of this long rambling post is simply that joy can be found – true, unabashed joy – in simply being yourself. If you defy classification, than so be it. If you are the epitome of who you’re supposed to be – own that too. Be the professor with the tweed jacket and elbow patches (on a side note: I hardly see those anymore). Be comfortable in your own skin, and let others think what they may. Honestly I like blending in – it means people are more likely to treat me as a peer and tell me their story (After all, that’s why I got into psychology in the first place). Others prefer to stand out, signaling to the world that they are individuals. Both mindsets are perfectly fine. And switching day to day is allowed. What you shouldn’t allow is yourself to be consumed by the tyranny of the shoulds, to use a term from Karen Horney. Be all the bouncer professor you can be.
(But stay away from cocaine, good or bad!)
Today, many professors share the same responsibilities as our counterparts in other industries. We need to answer emails, attend mandatory HR trainings, and have conversations about recruitment, retention, and image. But one thing we donât usually have is the staple of many in the working world: An ID badge to be worn while at work. At the most, we have something like this, a name badge used during âopen-houseâ events where members of the public, or new students, may be in attendance.
When asked* to wear our badges, we generally grumble and dig them out of our bags or desk drawers, reluctantly put them on, and wander out to the event. Â Most professors consider them a nuisance, however Iâd argue that, when used effectively, they are far more important than we think. They are a visible way we show our affiliation, at a time when higher education (whether it wants to or not) needs not only affiliation, but brand presence.
How does a name badge advance a brand? Well if executed poorly, it doesnât. I’ll give you an example of good execution (in my opinion) first. At Delta State, all of our name badges have the same size, shape, and style: Black lettering on a gold background. Each year there are very subtle differences depending on the shop that we order from, but unless you hold badges side-by-side you wonât really notice the font shift, bolder letters, or 1-2 point size differences in text. When âoutsidersâ come to an event, all Delta State faculty and staff are immediately recognizable about a mile away, which means that people have no trouble asking us questions ranging from âWhere are the bathroomsâ to âDo you teach here?â to âCan you tell me about the XYZ program?â. We appear organized because our badges match, even if sometimes we might not have all the answers. Last week, for example, a new orientation student who was visibly confused flagged me down asking for help understanding her schedule. 2 minutes later and a quick look at her schedule and she was off happily, profusely thanking me.
Contrast that to a previous institution I was at where name badges were a very informal thing. Each year the design changed rather markedly – the background was white one year, red another, white again the next. Sometimes the logo of the school was on the badge, sometimes it wasnât. Folks who had been around 10+ years had a much older design with just a single bar and their name, while newer badges had the same information mine does above. And unless you mentioned it a few times, you might not even get a badge (I never did), even as a full time faculty or staff member. While Iâm sure the administration cared about them in theory, in practice it was a free-for-all. To the public, this sends a message of disorganization (Which at that school was more accurate than desired), and while we had a quality product to offer, we didnât appreciate how the little details mattered.
At DSU, branding seems to be doing itâs job in terms of recruiting students in tough times. Last year we had our first year with increasing enrollment in over a half-decade, and weâre hopeful for another increase this year. When we go to academic / college fairs, our tables look uniform, our faculty and staff are easy to spot, and we project an image of professionalism that many other institutions lack. As academics, our number 1 priority is, and always will be, providing a quality education to our students. But we cannot become so jaded as to believe that appearance, marketing, and branding have no impact on our abilities to do our jobs. People notice if your logos are different, business cards vary greatly, and name badges donât match. And what can admissions folks tell to those people when they ask âWill my son be able to graduate in four years or will an advising error happen like it did to my daughter at ?â. They can assure them that we take advising seriously (and at DSU we definitely do), but if it looks like they canât even coordinate their own letterhead, will they be believed?
** I originally wrote “required”, however if you’ve spent time in academia, you know that there are always a handful of professors that will laugh in the face of such ‘requirements’.
I was born in the forgotten generation – those not quite old enough to be Gen X, but those definitely too young to be a Millenial, an era some have called the Oregon Trail Generation. As such, I share some traits with either generation, and have some unique ones of my own. And sometimes I think Iâm the only one who sees the odd mashups of both.
Hereâs my example for today: The “Aversion to Talking to People” of the Millenials versus the “Computers are Tracking YOU” paranoia of Gen X.
I admit that I do enjoy not having to make awkward phone calls or initiate conversation with strangers – I share that with many millenials raised on instant Google gratification. Iâll do it if necessary (or get someone else to, just ask friends of mine that had to ask someone to take our picture at Graceland last week when I chickened out), but Iâd prefer to avoid dealing with humans for needs, instead dealing with them simply for wants. (In other words, if you want to become friends, Iâm up to chat all afternoon – but if I need to call you to ask what time you close tomorrow, Iâm not that excited).
Now letâs contrast that with the âComputers are tracking youâ paranoia of many Gen Xâers (and older). Iâm not a huge fan of things like loyalty cards that track my purchases, but I begrudingly use them to get small discounts at the grocery store. Recently our local grocery store started sending coupons to us in the mail (I say recently, but it could have been several years ago, my wife would know for sure. I stereotypically leave most of the couponing to her). Upon the arrival of the latest batch, my wife said âI think they track what you buy and send you the coupons you might actually useâ. I agreed that this would be a smart move on their part, and that it actually sets up kind of a win-win situation. Store has a greater liklihood of me buying something because itâs something I like and I have a coupon, and if I was going to buy it anyway, I get a small discount (I suppose if I were a big impulse shopper, this would be disastrous, but thankfully I donât tend to be).
This got me thinking – for many older folks, a local grocer (physical person) who knew them by name, knew their likes/dislikes, and offered them discounts would be a valued shopkeep, something lamented when they were replaced by a big-box grocery chain. Yet those same people find it creepy when a computer tracks their purchases and targets them with coupons or ads, essentially providing the same service. Somehow itâs less creepy if itâs a person doing it. Contrast that with the Millenial attitude that dealing a person is more uncomfortable than a computer, and you have a strange cohort effect. Older generations find it creepy if itâs a computer, younger find it uncomfortable if itâs a person, and vice versa.
I, for my part, shall continue to straddle the two generations, embracing my Oregon Trail-ness while teaching (mostly) Millenials. And continue to notice strange inconsistencies like this one, which I shall report to, no doubt, millions of interested readers!
As someone who knew nothing about college before stepping on a college campus, day 1, I sometimes find that things I take for granted now were completely unknown way back then. This mostly occurs when I see people on social media make comments that I shake my head at and say âUh, thatâs not how it worksâ. So Iâve decided to write up a few of these âAcademia Public Service Announcementsâ.
The first one, below, talks about how one gets into graduate school. I see a lot of comments to my seniors that go something like this:
âOh, you met the requirements – youâll be able to get into any program you want!”
or
âIâm glad you chose where you want to go, theyâll take you for sure”
Both of these statements slyly imply something that isnât true: Graduate admission is NOT like applying to college. Itâs way more traumatic đ
Hereâs what I mean: The typical undergraduate admission process goes like this:
In this scenario, the school is admitting hundreds (or thousands) of students, and unless theyâre very selective, they will take anyone who meets their requirements. Schools want to take as many as possible, thatâs how they get tuition dollars!
Graduate admissions tends to run like this:
This is where people often get confused: They hear that their’s (or someone they know, a son’s, daughter’s, friendâs) application has been forwarded on and assume they have some small level of acceptance – but in graduate admissions, the graduate admission group has very little power over who gets in! They simply check qualifications, gather the paperwork together, and forward it on.
Itâs all about the actual programâs graduate committee and faculty – if they think the student would be a good fit (Most important), and theyâre taking graduate students (Some professors skip years taking new students), then they may offer an interview to the prospective student. Remember, each program is only going to take 5-10 students a year across all faculty members in it. Their goal is NOT to take as many students as possible – especially if they have funding available – most PhD programs do not want to take people they cannot fund (i.e. give a tuition waiver / award an assistantship to)
So in reality, meeting the minimum requirements only means that they could offer you admission. But to gain admission, you must…
So next time a friend of yours tells you theyâve been looking at grad school, wish them good luck, but hold off on any congratulations until they tell you theyâve been offered admission!
22 talks down, but fatigue isn’t quite set in. Great JDM this far
As regular readers of this blog know (Hi Nate⌠and maybe 1-2 other people whoâve stumbled in the door from time to timeâŚ), I collect badges, including name, store security, and Geek Squad varieties. About a year and a half ago, I posted on a counterfeit Geek Squad badge that Iâd come across, and at that time I invited former or current Geeks to fill me in on anything interesting going on in the world of Geek Squad badges. Today a reader sent me some interesting information, and a few photos Iâd thought Iâd share.
First, before I share some interesting badge info, Iâll share the new badge finishing process. If you look at my badges, youâll notice I donât show the back of them. This is because⌠well⌠itâs the back – who wants to see it?!? But it turns out the backs tell an interesting story. Here is the back of an old style badge, the Pre-2012 Blackminton badge that is well known to collectors.
Now take a look at the counterfeit badge back
Itâs hard to see the differences, but you can tell a slight lack of countour, due to the lower quality. Interestingly, a few months after my article, a Twitter user tweeted myself and Robert Stephens taking credit for the fake, claiming he had made it using a CAD tool. If thatâs the case, it may be that his fabrication process, not being based on a mold, had some imperfections.
Anyway, as Iâll detail below, post-2012 badges have a radically different back:
Quite a shift from the Blackminton style, although given the wear scenarios discussed in some of the internal documentation provided to me, it makes sense since overall Geek Squad appears to be favoring a âpocketedâ badge more than a worn. The flat back design is popular with LEOs who will carry their badges in a case as opposed to on a uniform.
The front of the badge remains largely unchanged post-2012:
Youâll notice Iâve sanitized the image to protect the identity of my source (the images are used with permission, however I donât want anyone getting fired!). Obviously this looks a bit less defined than the older style, but is more consistent with a pocket-able badge.
Now for some interesting information on the badges. Previously you had to be a Geek Squad agent in certain positions in order to get a badge. In 2013 and into 2014, the rules were changed along with the badge design. Responding to what was considered an âoutdated badge processâ, Geek Squad Management decided to change the requirements to: 18 cumulative months in a geek squad role to earn the first badge, and six consecutive months in a role for any subsequent badges. Given the high turnover in retail, these benchmarks make a lot of sense.
Along with the changes come a massive reduction in badge titles. Gone are the âfriendlyâ titles like âDouble Agentâ or âDeputy Counter Intelligenceâ. Now all badges will have one of 6 titles: Autotech Agent, City Agent, Covert Agent, Field Agent, Precinct Agent, & Agent Defender. This change was done to reduce the number of âone-off badge titlesâ, which should prevent employees (âagentsâ) in the same position having different badge titles.
Further documentation provides justification for the newer look, addressing criticisms that the ânew badge was worse quality than the current badgesâ by explaining the quality level is the same, the badges are die struck and have a âhand relieved antique patinaâ, and has jewelers lacquer applied to it for protection. New badges are 65% copper, 18% silver, and (ominously) 17% miscellaneous.
So there is your Geek Squad Badge update (for the 1-2 other collectors on the planet). Iâve noticed a few of the newer styles rattling around eBay as of late, and may pick up one or two at some point. I donât want to get into a PokĂŠmon style âGotta Catch âemâ all mentaility though!
Thank you to my source for providing the photos and information below (If he/she would like to be named, Iâll gladly put his/her information here)!
Our generation is an anomaly. We refuse to do things their way, so they call us entitled. We refuse to sit in cubicles, so they call us spoiled. We refuse to follow their plans, so they call us stubborn. What they are slowly realizing, however, is weâre not lazy, stubborn or entitled. We just refuse to accept things as theyâre given to us.
Ran across the quote above from a list entitled â50 Things About Millennials That Make Corporate America Sh*t Its Pantsâ, and while I donât completely agree with the entire list, I think it makes some valid points. Often we evaluate that the current âyoung peopleâ generationâs behavior by previous generationâs standards: If they look like theyâre not working, then theyâre not. They complain but ultimately will do nothing, when in reality they actually might. As someone who is âbetweenâ generations (1982, my birth year, is at the end of Gen X), I see a lot of my beliefs in this list, but also see the value in previous generationâs points of view. Yes, it may seem strange to wear a suit and tie (I donât wear ties), but to previous generations this was the same status symbol message that newer generations crave by ditching them. In other words, your parents and grandparents wanted a job where a suit and tie were required because that meant they were doing well and making decisions that mattered. Today we want a job without one for the same reasons.
Love or hate Millennials, but like every generation before them, theyâre going to change the world. Perhaps not as radically as they (or others) think, but itâs each generationâs job to shake things up a bit!
Because I know everyone cares deeply on this issue, Iâm happy to report that in a survey of 117 students, slightly less than half (46%) believe that they are âcute and cuddly and I lub them so muchâ while 53% feel âTheyâre antisocial and psychotic and I donât trust them at allâ. This difference is not significant (p = .4). Student level (100 versus 300 level class) and time of year (fall versus spring) also do not affect sentiment.
Conclusion: Half the population love little fur balls, fur balls that the other half of the population distrust deeply.
Oh, if youâre wondering why I have this data – I use Socrative to collect quiz data from my classes and as part of the first day of class stuff, I have them take a demo quiz. I ask the cat question there, just for fun. I analyze it because Iâm a big freakinâ geek.