6 Habits of Remarkably Likeable People

When you meet someone, after, "What do you do?" you're out of things to say. You suck at small talk, and those first five minutes are tough because you're a little shy and a little insecure.
But you want to make a good impression. You want people to genuinely like you.
Here's how remarkably likeable people do it:
They lose the power pose.
I know: Your parents taught you to stand tall, square your shoulders, stride purposefully forward, drop your voice a couple of registers, and shake hands with a firm grip.
It's great to display nonverbal self-confidence, but go too far and it seems like you're trying to establish your importance. That makes the "meeting" seem like it's more about you than it is the other person--and no one likes that.
No matter how big a deal you are you pale in comparison to say, oh, Nelson Mandela. So take a cue from him. Watch how he greets Bill Clinton, no slouch at this either.
Clinton takes a step forward (avoiding the "you must come to me" power move); Mandela steps forward with a smile and bends slightly forward as if, ever so slightly, to bow (a clear sign of deference and respect in nearly every culture); Clinton does the same. What you have are two important people who put aside all sense of self-importance or status. They're genuine.
Next time you meet someone, relax, step forward, tilt your head towards them slightly, smile, and show that you're the one who is honored by the introduction--not them.
We all like people who like us. If I show you I'm genuinely happy to meet you, you'll instantly start to like me. (And you'll show that you do, which will help calm my nerves and let me be myself.)
They embrace the power of touch.
Nonsexual touch can be very powerful. (Yes, I'm aware that sexual touch can be powerful too.) Touch can influence behavior, increase the chances of compliance, make the person doing the touching seem more attractive and friendly.
Go easy, of course: Pat the other person lightly on the upper arm or shoulder. Make it casual and nonthreatening.
Check out Clinton's right-hand-shakes-hands-left-hand-touches-Mandela's-forearm-a-second-later handshake in the link above and tell me, combined with his posture and smile, that it doesn't come across as genuine and sincere.
Think the same won't work for you? Try this: The next time you walk up behind a person you know, touch them lightly on the shoulder as you go by. I guarantee you'll feel like a more genuine greeting was exchanged.
Touch breaks down natural barriers and decreases the real and perceived distance between you and the other person--a key component in liking and in being liked.
They whip out their social jiu-jitsu.
You meet someone. You talk for 15 minutes. You walk away thinking, "Wow, we just had a great conversation. She is awesome."
Then, when you think about it later, you realize you didn't learn a thing about the other person.
Remarkably likeable people are masters at Social Jiu-Jitsu, the ancient art of getting you to talk about yourself without you ever knowing it happened. SJJ masters are fascinated by every step you took in creating a particularly clever pivot table, by every decision you made when you transformed a 200-slide PowerPoint into a TED Talk-worthy presentation, if you do say so yourself...
SJJ masters use their interest, their politeness, and their social graces to cast an immediate spell on you.
And you like them for it.
Social jiu-jitsu is easy. Just ask the right questions. Stay open-ended and allow room for description and introspection. Ask how, or why, or who.
As soon as you learn a little about someone, ask how they did it. Or why they did it. Or what they liked about it, or what they learned from it, or what you should do if you're in a similar situation.
No one gets too much recognition. Asking the right questions implicitly shows you respect another person's opinion--and, by extension, the person.
We all like people who respect us, if only because it shows they display great judgment.
They whip out something genuine.
Everyone is better than you at something. (Yes, that's true even for you.) Let them be better than you.
Too many people when they first meet engage in some form of penis-measuring contest. Crude reference but one that instantly calls to mind a time you saw two alpha male master-of-the business-universe types whip out their figurative rulers. (Not literally, of course. I hope you haven't seen that.)
Don't try to win the "getting to know someone" competition. Try to lose. Be complimentary. Be impressed. Admit a failing or a weakness.
You don't have to disclose your darkest secrets. If the other person says, "We just purchased a larger facility," say, "That's awesome. I have to admit I'm jealous. We've wanted to move for a couple years but haven't been able to put together the financing. How did you pull it off?"
Don't be afraid to show a little vulnerability. People may be (momentarily) impressed by the artificial, but people sincerely like the genuine.
Be the real you. People will like the real you.
They ask for nothing.
You know the moment: You're having a great conversation, you're finding things in common... and then bam! Someone plays the networking card.
And everything about your interaction changes.
Put away the hard-charging, goal-oriented, always-on kinda persona. If you have to ask for something, find a way to help the other person, then ask if you can.
Remarkably likeable people focus on what they can do for you--not for themselves.
They "close" genuinely.
"Nice to meet you," you say, nodding once as you part. That's the standard move, one that is instantly forgettable.
Instead go back to the beginning. Shake hands again. Use your free hand to gently touch the other person's forearm or shoulder. Say, "I am really glad I met you." Or say, "You know, I really enjoyed talking with you." Smile: Not that insincere salesperson smile that goes with, "Have a nice day!" but a genuine, appreciative smile.
Making a great first impression is important, but so is making a great last impression.
And they accept it isn't easy.
All this sounds simple, right? It is. But it's not easy, especially if you're shy. The standard, power pose, "Hello, how are you, good to meet you, good seeing you," shuffle feels a lot safer.
But it won't make people like you.
So accept it's hard. Accept that being a little more deferential, a little more genuine, a little more complimentary and a little more vulnerable means putting yourself out there. Accept that at first it will feel risky.
But don't worry: When you help people feel a little better about themselves--which is reason enough--they'll like you for it.
And you'll like yourself a little more, too.

The impactful legacy of a 12-year-old girl and the national movement she sparked

Jessie Rees got into the backseat of her parents' car after another grueling round of chemo and radiation and looked back at the hospital through the window.
She wondered aloud: Why did she get to go home from the hospital? What about the other kids? Why weren't they going home?

Her dad, Erik, ventured an answer. It's because they have a different type of treatment, he told his daughter. You get to go home after your treatment, but they don't.

Jessie, then 11, asked another question. It's a question that caused her mom, Stacey, to start crying. It's a question that, in her dad's words, "changed the tapestry of our lives." It also started a movement that has affected tens of thousands of people all over the world.Jessie loved swimming the most. She was straight out of central casting, with blond hair, blue eyes, lightly tanned skin and the easy Southern California smile. She was a junior Olympic swimmer for the Mission Viejo Nadadores, which is where she could be found doing laps and giggling with friends. Swimming is among the most secluded of sports – you hardly see anyone else and you rarely hear them – but Jessie loved being a teammate. She yelled for her friends as they made their flip turns and made a special effort to see them compete. That's what she was doing in February of 2011 when she started complaining of headaches. Not a big deal, her parents thought, but then she started to develop a lazy eye. She had to go in for a checkup.
Doctors ordered an MRI and the result was unthinkable: Two malignant tumors in her brain stem. The cancer was inoperable. It was incurable. Erik sought "47 second opinions," he says, but every doctor told them the awful truth: there was little hope. At the end of February, Jessie was an up-and-coming swimmer. By the end of March, she was going through chemo with a 1 percent chance to live 18 months. Her parents started telling her about heaven.
Then, on the way home from one treatment one spring day, her parents explained the difference between in-patient and out-patient. And Jessie, who had one more birthday left if she was lucky, thought about the kids who didn't get to go home that day and asked:
"What can we do for them?"
What can we do for them? The question broke her parents' hearts. "She's fighting a battle she can't win," Erik says, choking up over the phone as he recalls that moment, "and she just chose to help others."
Jessie returned home that day and started to assemble brown-paper lunch bags. She plucked tiny trinkets and toys from around the house and filled the bags up with little gifts. The presents certainly weren't much, yet the gesture was everything. Her parents figured small jars would work even better, and Jessie's middle name was Joy. JoyJars. Jessie's eyes lit up at the name. That's what they would be called. And so every Monday from then on, Jessie and her dad would fill little JoyJars with toys for sick kids.
The reaction at the hospital was remarkable. "Can I keep this?!" children asked giddily. The answer was yes, of course. All over Jessie's hospital, and soon other hospitals in the Orange County area, hospital rooms of little boys and girls filled up with JoyJars.
Jessie's condition got worse. Her vision ebbed. Her headaches became more severe. Her legs, the same ones that propelled her through the water so quickly, could hardly hold her up. There were nights when Erik had to carry his daughter up the stairs to bed, holding back tears as he prayed the next day would be easier. It often wasn't. Jessie told her dad she felt "lonely and limited." Her friends wouldn't know what to say as her face bloated and she started having to wear a mask. "Her body," Erik says, "got stripped away."
And yet Jessie's power got stronger. Hundreds signed up to follow her on Facebook. Then thousands. Then tens of thousands. The swimming community began to talk about her story, even as the Olympic year drew closer. Soon the Reeses would need a warehouse for all the JoyJars.
On January 4, 2011, the Reeses put their daughter to bed. She was having headaches again. That was somewhat normal by then. But the next morning, at around 4:30, Stacey rushed into the bedroom after checking on Jessie. She couldn't wake her up.

Hospice was called. The nurses came and did everything to make Jessie more comfortable. "At 11:10 a.m.," Erik says, "she took her last breath." She was 12.

Yet as life left her body, a spark caught flame. People across the country had heard about the JoyJars, and Jessie's passing made a wave of news. Kaitlin Sandeno, the former Olympic swimmer, had been in touch with the family and decided she would attend the memorial. She arrived at Saddleback Church and was overcome: 5,000 people were there. Nearly that many watched online. Sandeno started recruiting fellow swimmers and athletes from USC, where she went to school. She had a budding career as a swim coach but she decided to give that up to help the movement. This was more important. "I let go of the swim school and the private coaching," Sandeno says. "This is what I want to do."
Jessie had a motto: "Never Ever Give Up," or NEGU. That became Sandeno's motto and the motto of dozens of athletes across the country. Over the course of 2012, Olympians and NFL players started going to children's hospitals with JoyJars. Three Jacksonville Jaguars, led by quarterback Jordan Palmer, signed up to help. Erik says Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers has shown interest in being a spokesperson.
"There are more than 20,000 children right now in hospital beds fighting cancer," Erik says. "Their parents have to work, so they are entertained by the hospital staff. These kids, if a person comes in with a professional jersey on, they don't care who it is. They feel special."
There are now 35 athletes working with NEGU, and Rees hopes to have 100 by the end of this year. "I feel like we really do bring a sense of joy, and the athletes benefit just as much," says Sandeno, who is now a national spokesperson. "To see the other athletes' reaction – 'When can I do another one?' – this isn't a favor. This is awesome. You're providing a cool thing for people to give back."
There aren't many who give back in a full lifetime what Jessie Rees gave back in just 12 years. What began with a few paper bags and a few toys has now reached 11 countries. In 2012 alone, 47,000 kids received JoyJars.
Christmas was very hard for the Rees family. Erik and Stacey have two other kids, Shaya and J.T., but there was an empty stocking by the tree. This weekend will mark one year since Jessie passed. It will be a difficult moment to bear; what would Jessie have done with her life this year?
Then again, the answer to that question is clear and somewhat soothing. Had she lived, Jessie would have noticed all the kids around her, whether at the pool or in the hospital. She would have considered their situation, be it happy or sad. And then the little voice in her head would have asked, "What can I do to help them?"

'Star Wars' creator George Lucas engaged

LOS ANGELES (AP) — "Star Wars" creator George Lucas is engaged. A spokeswoman for Lucasfilm Ltd. says the 68-year-old director is engaged to 43-year-old investment firm president Mellody Hobson. No other details were provided.
Hobson serves as chairman of DreamWorks Animation and is a financial contributor to ABC's "Good Morning America."
Lucas helped to launch the modern blockbuster age with his "Star Wars" sagas and "Indiana Jones" adventures. The original "Star Wars" still stands as the No. 2 film in terms of tickets sold domestically, behind only "Gone with the Wind." Lucas has three children: Amanda, Katie and Jett. He was previously married to film editor Marcia Lucas from 1969 to 1983.
Disney completed its acquisition of Lucasfilm and the "Star Wars" franchise from Lucas for $4.06 billion in cash and stock last month.

Phil Jackson and Jeanie Buss got engaged

On Thursday evening, Los Angeles Lakers Executive Vice President of Business Operations Jeanie Buss took to Twitter to share with her friends and followers news of a new bauble she'd received:

Twitter family - Phil finally gave me that ring I wanted!:-) twitpic.com/bs8xc5
— Jeanie Buss (@JeanieBuss) January 4, 2013

The piece in question:
Nice manicure. Oh, and also, that other thing. 
Naturally, we wondered if this meant that she and longtime beau Phil Jackson had gotten engaged to be married. Buss told Ramona Shelburne of ESPN Los Angeles that they had, saying that she was "beyond happy" to be getting hitched to the "Zen Master."

Jeanie Buss says there is no date set yet. But since she'd been wearing the ring since Xmas, figured she should let people know. Awwwww
— Ramona Shelburne (@ramonashelburne) January 4, 2013

Ain't love grand?

Jackson, who won two NBA championship rings as a player with the New York Knicks and a record 11 title rings as a head coach with the Chicago Bulls and the Los Angeles Lakers, has been romantically involved with Buss, daughter of Lakers owner Dr. Jerry Buss and the Lakers' executive vice president of business operations, since shortly after he took the Lakers' reins in 1999. Their relationship has persisted through Jackson's dual three-peats five title runs as Lakers bench boss, his somewhat ignominous exit following a four-game sweep by the Dallas Mavericks, and Buss' Lakers' decision to hire Mike D'Antoni rather than their former leader after the firing of Mike Brown in November.
The engagement represents something of a shift in relationship philosophies for the longtime NBA royal couple. In multiple interviews, including a January 2011 Q&A with Forbes, Buss, 51, has said that she and Jackson — who has been married twice before and has five grown children — did not anticipate to ever get married:

You live and work with Phil but have no plans to marry. Why not?
I wanted to get married. That’s who I am. Phil is of a generation that probably would have been happier never getting married. He just doesn’t want to get married again; it’s not that he doesn’t want to marry me. It took me awhile to understand that, and I’m fine with it now. We’ve been together over 10 years. This relationship has been my longest and most successful. So I’m very happy.

We hope that Buss and Jackson will be just as happy as man and wife as they've been as, well, man and woman these past 11 or so years, and we congratulate them both on the impending nuptials. I, for one, can't wait to hear what kind of readings Phil picks out for the ceremony. I hear that's something of a specialty for him.

Ariz teens rescued from tree after lake ice cracks

A firefighter in a waterproof suit crossed a partially frozen Arizona lake to help rescue two teenagers who spent at least two frigid hours hanging onto a dead tree after ice began to crack, authorities said Thursday.

A third teen who had stayed on the snow-covered bank of Fool Hollow Lake near Show Low called for help Wednesday while the other two clung to the tree, authorities said.
Emergency personnel retrieved the boys after firefighter Jack Gessner made his way across the lake with a rope attached to a boat carrying other rescuers.
Gessner said he initially crawled atop the ice then had to make his way through the water after he had covered half of the 200 feet and the ice broke.
His suit and training worked as designed, leaving him dry but tired.
"I thought it went well. It was a really good team effort and everybody did their jobs," said Gessner, a firefighter on the ice rescue team of Lakeside Fire District.
Gessner said the boys didn't seem to be panicking, and they were OK as he swam by the tree to reach the shore and get a foothold to hold the rope.
The boys were taken to a hospital for treatment of mild hypothermia.
"Their hands and feet got pretty cold," Show Low Fire Capt. Brent Mix said. "It was dark by the time we got them to shore."
Each of the two stranded teenagers lost a shoe that stuck to the ice. Bonnie Van Aller said her son Christian told her he took off one of his shoes when a branch broke and it got soaked in the lake as his foot slipped.
An emergency room nurse married to a sheriff's deputy, Van Aller said she knew it was a serious situation. She left work to go to the lake after her husband called to report the boys' predicament.
"'Bonnie, it's not good.' For my husband to say that, I've got to go," Van Aller said.
She said she watched the rescue and was confident the firefighters had the know-how to save her son. Still, she was thankful about the outcome.
"This is by the grace of God, I'm telling you. I woke up this morning saying thank you, thank you, thank you — this is my only child," Van Aller said. "Thank God the tree was there."
Arizona lakes usually don't get cold enough for ice to freeze solidly, said Kirk Webb, a spokesman for the Lakeside Fire District.
"Every once in a while we have kids trying to see how far out they can go," Mix said. "That was pretty foolish. There was probably an inch of ice in the middle of the lake."
It was 27 degrees when the call for help was made, and 22 degrees by the time the rescue was completed after sunset, Mix said.