from rh's blog...

I hate to admit it, but Ross Hollman, author of Strategize, makes an extremely good point about free wireless: we're all out there looking for it, so why not set apart your business by allowing us to get out of the office an hour earlier by providing both cold beer [margaritas, chips & salsa work just as well] AND free wireless. The 9a-5p population is dwindling proportionately with the number of happy hours lasting beyond 6p; if your happy hour is over before I can get my work done, give me a method of simultaneous indulgence and we'll both be much, much happier. Besides, if you can get me there, the traffic will keep me there far beyond your reduced prices.

To get, and keep, me:

1.
2. 3. [BONUS]

more rambling.

If you feel as though something is missing, there's a fair chance you're either looking too hard or not hard enough. Either mistake can cause oversight in even the most obvious of places.

don't forget...

Many years ago, someone to whom I'm very close called my attention to a marquee sign in my hometown. He told me to be certain I noticed on my way home that day, and that I always remember it. Though I've caught myself out of practice, I've never forgotten.

It read: PEOPLE ARE YOUR PURPOSE, NOT YOUR PROBLEM.

It's not always easy, but, slow down, spell it out, and smile.

just keep swimming.

There will almost certainly be an "easy way out."

Don't take it.

It won't reap the greatest reward; the challenge will.

don't judge me.

Generation gaps are everywhere you look. The most obvious is the parent-child gap, but, overall, the most difficult to bridge is inarguably found in the workplace.

When communication is pertinent to reaching your company's goals, it can be exhausting to account for this gap. With text message, email, mobile phones, landlines, voicemail, etc., the mediums are readily available; the obstacle is in the tendency to be creatures of habit. Since no one is technically wrong and we're all advocates of our own said tendencies, a simple solution does not appear to be within sight. Perhaps tolerance is the only workable approach.

I also find it interesting that the overwhelming majority [notice: I did not say ALL] of literature on this topic attempt to categorize, both by year of birth and by character trait, each generation with not-so-vague generalizations which appear to grow increasingly skeptical [fair to say negative] on their way down. This could possibly be a result of vested interest by the respective author in one of the categories, or maybe someone just left-off "bitter" from the baby boomer description. It's slightly appalling that, with respect to my date of birth, I'm categorized by a 'desire for instant gratification' [what I would call motivated to succeed] and seated directly next to those born in 2000; I don't find many 8-year-olds with a developed, and therefore categorizational, personality, nor do I see myself having much in common with one. This brings about the question, are these generalizations self-fulfilling prophecies? Or do we accept these ideas as true simply because an author with the means of publication claims them?

Ultimately, I know very few people whom I would consider 'similar' to me; I certainly do not accept the belief that I can be accurately placed into a bucket of behavioral characteristics based solely on my birth date falling within a common 20-year span.

Here is an older, but semi-accurate USA Today article that's surprisingly unbiased.

Park Meadows, you did it.

Park Meadows shopping center in Lone Tree, Colorado has in its marketing/operations departments either A) young, realistic women, B) annoyed, middle-aged men, or C) both.

As a friend and I walked through the dining area and into the center of the retail stores today (a Sunday afternoon in January), I couldn't help but stare curiously at the southwest corner of the large commons. Seated at more than twenty tables were men, largely between the ages of 25 and 45, accompanied by bags of all sorts -- Victoria's Secret, Ann Taylor, Coach.

I looked for quite a long time before the Ben & Jerry's kiosk was out of my sight-line and the entire scene was revealed: projected on the wall was the Packers v. Giants Playoff Championship game. Utter geniuses.

Congratulations, someone has finally bridged the gap between genders: husband and wife spent their Sunday together, technically, since they left the house in the same vehicle and valet did the only dropping-off; the husband went to the mall and watched the big game, the wife got to shop sans whining husband and still didn't have to carry her own bags. Assuming dinner and wine followed, this could be the beginning of an ideal relationship.

don't have this conversation in public...or at all.

Pertaining ironically to my last post, this afternoon I overheard a conversation that went [generically] something like this:

Complainer: "So I've worked, like, 60 hours this week already. Today was only a 15-hour day though, which is nice."

Reciprocator: "Wow, that's a lot. Don't they, like, call you in every day that you're supposed to be off?"

Complainer: "Oh yea. Like next week I was supposed to have a day off but they already told me I have to work. I basically just live here."

And it only went downhill from there.

I would love to know who it was that told people their hours worked can appropriately serve as a badge of courage that will be overwhelmingly honored by all who encounter it. By advertising the supposed demand for your efforts, you are essentially complaining because it's slightly more socially acceptable than blatantly stating, "I'm so good that they won't let me leave" -- complaining in a manner that you feel people will be impressed.

Well, here's the truth: just because you work A LOT does not mean you work SMART A LOT. The people you want to impress know the difference, and telling them [complaining to them] will likely show your need to compensate with quantity what you lack in quality. So, next time you feel compelled to impress someone through your professional achievements, think of this: SHOW, DON'T TELL.

Workaholics read.

Seth Godin basically summed-up my defense for regular ridicule of my work habits in his morning post. Some people will never understand, but kudos on the attempt.

read:
seth's blog.

Tiger Woods on being better...

Precisely...

"I view my life in a way … I'll explain it to you, OK? The greatest thing about tomorrow is, I will be better than I am today. And that's how I look at my life. I will be better as a golfer, I will be better as a person, I will be better as a father, I will be a better husband, I will be better as a friend. That's the beauty of tomorrow. There is no such thing as a setback. The lessons I learn today I will apply tomorrow, and I will be better."

-Tiger Woods

I couldn't agree more and I wish I knew a few more people who thought this way; the ones that do certainly are contagious.

[In the norm's defense, I'm sure $112 million a year does negate a slice, at least, of natural pessimism.]


found on:
Work Happy

#2

Chuck Klosterman's second question...

2. Assume a fully grown horse is shackled to the ground with head held in place; conscious and upright, but immobile. Every political prisoner on earth will be released if you can kick this horse to death in twenty minutes. Steel-toed boots are allowed. Would you attempt this?

I'm initially inclined to say 'yes' due strictly to nature's pecking order and to the presumption that this horse has much less at stake emotionally. However, the all-encompassing implication of "every political prisoner on earth" would very clearly not exclude my own country's political prisoners, whom I hope [but probably not] are justifiably captive.

Besides, I have a certain amount of respect for natural selection; I don't consider myself qualified to interfere in the process and especially on such a grand level.

Spare the horse and screw politics. There is a chance that the horse may actually contribute more positively to mankind than some politically-involved humans anyway.

chuck's 23.

Heroism is dicey, at best, I think; ultimately, you become awestruck by someone's manufactured fabulousness while they go home to their lackluster life and drink whiskey sours and try to convince themself that they aren't a total detriment to society -- which they sometimes are.

Nevertheless, Chuck Klosterman (above) is essentially my hero. I don't plan to ever meet him, and I have no expectations for his life, but the man writes a damn good book of absolutely no relevance to a structured life, and for this I applaud him, regardless of the number of whiskey sours he requires (or maybe he'd prefer blow).

I hadn't realized my affinity towards him until about a year ago, which was long after I had actually discovered his existence. Ironically, Klosterman wrote for the Akron Beacon Journal back when I lived within the range of its circulation. I may have even walked passed him one day during high school while I was visiting the ABJ's office with a leadership group, but it's also entirely possible that I made that up in wishful hindsight.

One evening, while dining at a spot where I had no business dining with a professional acquaintance turned amazing friend, the topic of conversation became literary-based achievements and I casually mentioned CK. My friend, whom is significantly older than I am and who has been immersed in the entertainment industry for well over 20 years, got his typical puzzled look and tried intently to dig-up from where he knew the name (which he always does, because he knows everyone). I tried to explain that he had probably just read it in the ABJ, but before I finished he said, "Ah, yes! Chuck Klosterman! When he was younger he reviewed events in the area quite frequently. He would always plug-in [his laptop] in my office."

Now, I'm by no means "seasoned" in my line of work; I have, however, been around rock stars and their baggage long enough to know that I couldn't care less about them. This revelation that my friend had not only met Chuck, but had done so on many occasions, is the first time in my life I have come close to being star-struck. Solely for this reason, I consider him my anti-hero, hero.

To get to the point, Chuck has established 23 questions [from Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs] which he asks in order to decide if he can love you. I don't have any intentions of convincing CK to love me, but the series is epically tangent-provoking [with obvious signs of hard-core drug use], which I find fantastic. For this reason, I've decided to answer some [or all].

1. You meet a magician. He can do 5 simple tricks--pull a rabbit out of a hat, make a coin disappear, turn an ace to a joker, and two similar others. These are his only tricks, and he cannot learn any more. HOWEVER he is doing these tricks with REAL MAGIC. No illusions, he can actually conjure a bunny, and move a coin through space. He is legitimately magical, but limited in scope. Is this person more impressive than Albert Einstein?

Absolutely not. I have friends who can win a game of beer pong in one turn; unfortunately, this is not considered ample substance for maintaining a practical, lucrative lifestyle. One could argue that a magician is certainly capable of providing for himself assuming he made it into a career, but society would not differentiate between his "real" magic, and the manufactured kind, which is far more impressive. A.E., on the other hand, had the most beautifully challenging thought processes despite his difficulty with everyday life; he is the epitome of impressive, IMHO.

who's yours?

“Our whole lives, it seems, we are only deciding how often and to whom we should expose ourselves. We learn to make a shell for ourselves when we are young, then spend the rest of our lives hoping that someone will reach inside and touch us–just touch us. Anything more than that would be too much to bear.”

-Bill Russell [from Sports Illustrated, June 8, 1970]

It's mind-boggling to me the lengths to which people will go in their desire to be understood [or, antithetically, to consciously avoid that understanding]. Pre-school teachers ingrain in us that each individual is unique; from there on out, we administer any strategy which will allow us to fall in line, including conforming to the norms of those by which we long to be understood.

Even the supposed extreme non-conformist groups, I think, seem to aim for the same understanding, only their vehicle differing from the rest. Said individuals parade around their alternative lifestyles achieving what? Attention. And attention leads to the dissemination of information -- visually, verbally, contextually -- which ultimately creates an understanding. Do not, however, confuse 'understanding' with 'empathy'; because an individual has the ability to grasp a specific concept does not at all mean he or she can relate, either intellectually or vicariously.

What is it, then, that determines by whom we most desire to be understood? Why do we feel compelled to share our lives with certain individuals while others, to whom many times we don't even provide an opportunity, are left in the dark? Do we inherently know who will make the best company?

I think each of us subconsciously seeks our own real-life character foil. Almost by definition this is true: in matters of romance, we preach to find the one who makes us a better person. I suppose this very dynamic could be responsible for many unsuccessful relationships; rarely is the tie of a character foil a mutually-beneficial situation. It's typically one-sided, with the other being a mere tool by which the first can shine. There is, however, a necessity of understanding, which, to some, may be justification enough to forever stand in the shadow.

Maybe it's just a matter of convenience -- finding someone who understands you -- and not feeling obligated to constantly explain the how and why of what it is we're thinking. Perhaps each of us is intrinsically inclined to ease the burdens of our own lifestyles, and in others that are similar we find a sense of relief.

Although it could just be that the overwhelming majority of us walks around each day pretending to be something we're not, attempting to convince ourselves we're going places when, in reality, we've never even taken the time to look for directions, and that person who genuinely understands is able to serve as our outlet, our home, where we feel comfortable to be what we truly are. In this case, the end can certainly justify the means.

Thoreau

In his 1854 book titled Walden, Henry David Thoreau claimed "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." I 87% agree.

Had I an opportunity to amend, it would read: The mass of respectably intelligent men lead lives of quiet desperation. There are many whose desperation is actually quite deafening: these individuals have left much to learn.