The Dog was recently asked to "speak" to a group of young professionals, whose group's Mission Statement includes the words Live, Learn, Lead, Link. Obviously with words like that to draw on, the talk wrote itself. So, in true ego-blogging fashion, here's the drift.
Live. We should encourage that. One of the requirements to work with us is to live. Seriously, work-life-family balance is just so much psychobabbly buzzword rhetoric unless we actually practice what we preach. Do you think it's good for your career advancement or an example of how hard you work if you send e-mails before 6 a.m. or after 6 p.m. and on weekends? I don't.
If you think your value is measured by the number of hours you put in, I'm sorry for you. You're in the wrong place or working with the wrong "boss". Your value is in what you do, how you relate to your work, your colleagues, and your environment. The difference you make is your value.
If you are in a place where you're measured by the number of hours you put in, ask yourself if you REALLY WANT to come to work everyday. Be honest.
At this point, the Dog also suggested that if you're having a meal, or socializing, or visiting, or in a meeting, put down your damned iPhone, iPad, Android, or whatever and pay attention. Don't be rude and don't think it's funny. Unless you're a physician on-call, you're not that important. But, of course, I'd never say that publicly.
Lead. Leading in any business, ladies and gentlemen, is not about giving speeches, or telling people what to do, or sending e-mails or directives, or writing mission statements or 99% of the trendy things you read about in whatever management journal you read. I've been reading those journals for a long time. If you ask me what is the one message I get out of them every month, I would say all the clever thoughts have been thought before, what matters now is to think them anew.
The ability to lead comes through an understanding of where both you and your organization have come from. You need to know that, and appreciate it, in order to know where you want to go, and how you want to get there. Tradition became tradition for a reason, and if you ignore it, or denigrate it, you will fail.
Leadership is knowing yourself and your organization personally. We call that Personal Mastery. (Google it.) Leading is not talking one way in front of a group and another way when you're off the stage. There is no "off stage" in leadership. Leading is living your life with a vision in your mind of what you want to create, and having the courage in yourself, your convictions, your competencies and your capabilities to ask people to follow you... and to help you along the road.
Leadership is very often taking people where they don't want to go, because in your heart, you know it's the right way to go.
Not everyone can do that. It makes leaders...and it breaks leaders.
Lead with integrity above all else. Authentic transformation of energy comes from integrity. Integrity means that you come from a place of inner truth to relate to a similar place in other people. The end never justifies the means if the means are not infused with integrity. How you create the future is just as important as its creation.
Learn. We encourage that too. Where I work we try very hard to be a learning organization, and we know that there is no end point in that quest. By its very nature learning never stops and there is no end. One of my favorite descriptions of this phenomenon comes in the words: "in a time of drastic change, it is the learners who will inherit the future. The learned find themselves equipped to live in a world that no longer exists." Eric Hoffer said that. He was a longshoreman. (Google him.)
All the degrees in the world won't make you smart. Learning is not just taking in information. Learning is not reading a book and then reporting on it. Learning is not performing for approval or getting a good grade or a good performance review. Real learning gets to the heart of what it means to be human. Through learning we re-create ourselves. We learn to do things we were never able to do. We re-perceive the world around us. We learn to understand the pre-conceived ideas that all of us have, which affect what we hear. (Google Mental Models.)
If you are looking at a leadership development program, ask the person in charge of it about why it was created. Ask about its purpose. If the answer is, "to develop good managers/leaders" or some such rhetoric. Look deeper into what it's all about. Look for the difference between a program that is built on "teaching" and one that is built on "learning'. The best programs are rooted in developing people, not employees.
1
Link. The thing that pulls it all together. (Google Systems Thinking.) A necessity for any success is knowing and understanding how your actions affect others. Find a book by Meg Wheatley called "Leadership and the New Science". It was written in 1992, but more than still relevant. You'll like it. You'll remember it. AND, you'll be able to use the word "fractal" in an understandable sentence.
Two final thoughts, because the Dog's out of coffee.
First, the key to success in business, and in your life, is in your relationships. That's not just playing golf or having happy hours (although those aren't bad facilitators...). Relationships are built the same whether they're business or personal. Trust. Honesty. Communication. All of those soft and fluffy things that were formerly shunned in the world. We finally realized that those aren't the soft things, those are the hard things... and not everyone can do those either.
Last thought to take with you.
Live your life like you're writing a story for the next generation.
Don't be afraid to share your life's learnings with others. Through that linkage of the past, the present, and the future, you really can make the world a better place.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Ambushed Again -- The Struggle To Let Go
The Dog and a buddy went to the local university to see a public lecture on Music and the Vietnam War. The evening was a regular trip down memory lane in many ways as Mr. Doug Bradley, (a Vietnam Vet himself and self-described "REMF" (look it up)), took a SRO group through his top 10 tunes of the jungles, rivers, paddies, and villes, of the great state of confusion called Vee-ett-namb; accompanied by his annotated comments on each song, and some pretty memory invoking video clips. Mr.Bradley and another gentleman are putting together a book on the topic titled, "We Gotta Get Out of This Place"; and the Dog is looking forward to pawing through it.
Anyway, our trip to class was more than we anticipated, as was Vietnam.
Our evening began with Mr. Bradley asking all of the Vietnam Vets in the audience to rise and be acknowledged for their service. A spattering of about 5-8 people rose up and rec'd. applause and a "Welcome Home" from the speaker. Nice touch.
The event was progressing like most classes would, with a smattering of comments and off-the-wall questions by well meaning students, until a man in the back raised his hand. His appearance was best described as an aged radical, with shoulder length frizzy gray hair set on a balding pate, accented with a sort of beard, and the requisite slept in clothes of a child of those years long ago. His comments began with a "thanks" for the nostalgia, and then he brought the room to attention when he asserted that "Vietnam Veterans should not be called heroes or thanked for anything. In fact, some of them should be tried as war criminals."
He then went on to give the group a rendition of the "war here in Madison", the bombing of Sterling Hall, and how happy he was that Leo Burt (one of the bombers) had escaped and never caught.
In a perverse sort of way, it was a good addition to the class for those youngsters who didn't live it all before. Mr. Bradley handled the situation remarkably well, cutting the man off and asking him to sit down. Everyone could also see that Mr. Bradley's thoughts were not the words coming out of his mouth.
The Vietnam Vets in the room did not over react to this sad old man, which was a great compliment to all of them. They showed a lot of dignity, and they should all be proud.
The Dog couldn't help but feel that many of them felt ambushed once again; and that the cycle of the Vietnam experience went full cycle in one evening. From the memories and music, to the homecoming welcome that too many of them received when they came back.
The Dog knows that more than one of them probably didn't sleep well last night as the memories and demons came for yet another visit.
To close this piece, I want to share a journal entry, written by one of them many years ago. This vet was wounded in combat, spent some time in various hospitals along the way back, and then was deposited at the San Francisco airport, alone, to catch a plane home.
His journal:
Hit Man
Anyway, our trip to class was more than we anticipated, as was Vietnam.
Our evening began with Mr. Bradley asking all of the Vietnam Vets in the audience to rise and be acknowledged for their service. A spattering of about 5-8 people rose up and rec'd. applause and a "Welcome Home" from the speaker. Nice touch.
The event was progressing like most classes would, with a smattering of comments and off-the-wall questions by well meaning students, until a man in the back raised his hand. His appearance was best described as an aged radical, with shoulder length frizzy gray hair set on a balding pate, accented with a sort of beard, and the requisite slept in clothes of a child of those years long ago. His comments began with a "thanks" for the nostalgia, and then he brought the room to attention when he asserted that "Vietnam Veterans should not be called heroes or thanked for anything. In fact, some of them should be tried as war criminals."
He then went on to give the group a rendition of the "war here in Madison", the bombing of Sterling Hall, and how happy he was that Leo Burt (one of the bombers) had escaped and never caught.
In a perverse sort of way, it was a good addition to the class for those youngsters who didn't live it all before. Mr. Bradley handled the situation remarkably well, cutting the man off and asking him to sit down. Everyone could also see that Mr. Bradley's thoughts were not the words coming out of his mouth.
The Vietnam Vets in the room did not over react to this sad old man, which was a great compliment to all of them. They showed a lot of dignity, and they should all be proud.
The Dog couldn't help but feel that many of them felt ambushed once again; and that the cycle of the Vietnam experience went full cycle in one evening. From the memories and music, to the homecoming welcome that too many of them received when they came back.
The Dog knows that more than one of them probably didn't sleep well last night as the memories and demons came for yet another visit.
To close this piece, I want to share a journal entry, written by one of them many years ago. This vet was wounded in combat, spent some time in various hospitals along the way back, and then was deposited at the San Francisco airport, alone, to catch a plane home.
His journal:
Hit Man
When I came home from Vietnam an event occurred which affects me to this day. As I was walking through the San Francisco airport, the resplendent disabled veteran, in my Marine Corps uniform, medals worn proudly, a woman approached me.
I saw her coming well in advance. Call it jungle awareness, call it noticing the obvious, the point is that I knew she was directed at me and was on a mission.
She was in her late 20's, shoulder length dark hair and large brown eyes which showed the passion and fire of someone who was following her heart. She was carrying a brown leather shoulder bag and wearing a long navy blue wool coat. She moved toward me with the grace of the cat.
When she was within fifteen feet of me, I stopped. My instinct and reflexes told me to watch her hands, her bag, her coat. My sense told me to watch her eyes.
She came right up to me, stopping within a foot of me and I could feel her energy, I could smell her scent.
She grabbed me with her eyes, pulling my focus there and initiating the shaking and nervous stomach of apprehension.
We stood there, locked in an optic connection, for what seemed like a long time --- then she blinked and I noticed the tears. Tears had filled eyes and were beginning to move onto her high cheekbones. The passion she was sending to me was filled with pain, with sorrow, with hatred.
Her right hand came up quickly, index finger extended and her mouth opened, but she was struggling to find words. When they finally came, the voice was throaty, raspy, hoarse.
Her finger touched me at the point of my chest. Firmly, but not striking.
"You're nothing but a hit man for the U.S. government."
With that she moved to my left and away.
Physically out of my life. Mentally, forever a part of my spirit.
This Vet suffered that, and other memories, for years until he was introduced to a story about two Buddhist monks named Tanzan and Ekido.
They were travelling down a muddy road during a monsoon rain. When they reached an intersection, they found a beautiful young girl there, in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the mud.
"Come on girl," said Tanzan, and he lifted her into his arms and carried her over the mud.
Ekido did not speak again until later that evening when he couldn't restrain himself. "We monks do not go near females," he told Tanzan. "Especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that ?!"
"I left the girl there," replied Tanzan. "You are still carrying her."
The Dog called the old radical Ekido, and left the class feeling sorry for him. He carries more baggage than he should.
And, at the end, all-in-all, it was a night to remember.
Kinda like Vee-ett-namb.
Keep the faith.
This Vet suffered that, and other memories, for years until he was introduced to a story about two Buddhist monks named Tanzan and Ekido.
They were travelling down a muddy road during a monsoon rain. When they reached an intersection, they found a beautiful young girl there, in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the mud.
"Come on girl," said Tanzan, and he lifted her into his arms and carried her over the mud.
Ekido did not speak again until later that evening when he couldn't restrain himself. "We monks do not go near females," he told Tanzan. "Especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that ?!"
"I left the girl there," replied Tanzan. "You are still carrying her."
The Dog called the old radical Ekido, and left the class feeling sorry for him. He carries more baggage than he should.
And, at the end, all-in-all, it was a night to remember.
Kinda like Vee-ett-namb.
Keep the faith.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Dog Sense in Choices
In the Dog's job, I hear how people feel they are overworked, frustrated, stressed, and all sorts of other things, and that troubles me. A lot of the stresses of our daily work come and go, and are expected. They come with the job, that's why they call it "work".
But how often do we ask ourselves if the good outweighs the bad, and do we really enjoy our work, our life?
What truly troubles me is when I hear someone say, “I've been here ___ years and I hate my job”, “I’m only here for the paycheck”, and I know they mean it.
What truly troubles me is when I read comments from our front line staff saying that work would be great if it wasn’t for the people… or the receptionist who said, “I can’t stand working with the people who come in here”.
WHAT??????????
My God, how tragic is that for someone’s life? If you are willing to spend half of your waking hours in a place you don’t like, doing a job you “hate”, with people you can’t stand, something is seriously wrong with you.
And, yes, I know all of the “reasons” people need to keep a job, but I wonder if they’re not really just “excuses” with better dressing? “I need to pay my rent!” “I need to feed my family”. “I need to pay my bills”.
Well, yeah, but so do all of us. So, if we are really so unhappy, should those reasons stop us from looking for something better?
Dog Rule: Don’t mistake a reason for an excuse.
And, yes, I know people need to vent and complain, and that’s fine, but all the time and in every conversation? I’m often reminded of Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion commentary, “People here are miserable and they like it that way. When they wake up in the morning and the sun’s shining and the birds are singing and they’re feeling just dandy… they’re not worried because they know it’ll get worse.”
To be brutally honest, I think it’s too easy to sit around and complain than to actually take any action to improve things. We all get trapped in the complacency of the status quo.
Before you write me off as someone who doesn’t know anything about “real life”, let me explain my thought process. The only relevant point of reference for my work and life load capacity is me, myself, and I. That’s true for anyone, by the way. My belief is that I cannot expect more of anyone than I do of myself.
I grew up with parents who both worked for the railroad. I was a latchkey kid living in an ethnically diverse neighborhood (before we even knew what “ethnically diverse” or “latchkey” meant). I got my first real job (meaning not McDonald's or a paper route) when I was 15. I went in the Marines after high school, because college was not even a remote possibility for our income level (or my interest). I grew up and saw the reality of life and death before I could legally have a beer.
During my 22nd and 23rd year, I started a newspaper, got married, and bought my first house.
During my 25th year, I lost my paper and my income. So I started college and found a job in a hospital (I needed to feed my family, pay my mortgage and my bills…;-). Four years later I graduated with a degree in Economics, and a large student loan. During those four years of college, I also held that full-time job and even got promoted.
Does that make me special? Not even remotely close, are you kidding? In fact that story says just the opposite. It tells me that if I can do it, so could most other people. If they actually want to.
I really never thought about being "over worked" or having too much to do. I never worried about money. I guess, in hindsight, I learned what Michael Todd said, “I’ve been poor, but I’ve never been broke. Being broke is a state of mind. Being poor is only a temporary condition.”
Seriously, I never did think about it. Maybe that was a mistake or my own stupidity? But the thought never crossed my mind, as I think back. I just did it. If I hadn't liked what I was doing, I wouldn't have done it. I would have found something else. How dumb was I?
And, I have had my serious failures and losses too, personally and professionally. I learned from all of them. And, I do take it all personally. If you don't take your life, and your work, personally, you're wasting it. It is all personal, and at times painful, but it is all part of living, isn't it?
So, the point of all of that is why would you want to stay in a job you hate? Is the “money” really worth the time and toil on your life? Do you actually enjoy being miserable? Again… seriously… do you? Ask your family… your friends… to tell you honestly if they think you’re happy.
Think about all the pains and problems you have in your life and think of the one thing that all of them have in common (hint: YOU). But you don’t have to be nasty about it. Fix it.
Yeah, you are.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Friday's Revolutionary Dog Speech
Revolutions start not when conditions are at their worst, but only after they have begun to improve, changes have been instituted, leadership has developed, and the people have come to have a new vision of what might be. Real revolutions are not begun in the streets or with guns and bombs. People who have changed the universe have never accomplished it that way.
Think about it… Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Mother Theresa, Nelson Mandella, a guy called Jesus, and others...they’ve done it by inspiring the people.
And once that inspiration is there, once people have seen what "can" be, there is no going back. It is only when peaceful revolution is made impossible, that violent revolution becomes inevitable. John F. Kennedy said that. Syria is living it right now.
Revolutions are begun – and won - in the minds and hearts of people – and they are not always violent. Revolutions are as simple as changing minds and looking at life in new ways.
Revolutionaries realize that they can’t change their world at once – they can only change the way they look at it and deal with it. They can only change the ways they deal with the people around them and the world they live in. They realize that the big change comes that way. One person at a time…beginning with ourselves. And that, my friends, is the hardest change to make.
One of Martin Luther King's lesser known quotes is one of my favorites, because speaks to the need for change to come from within, not from outside or above:
“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”
Whatever you choose to do with the rest of your life, remember one thing. It is all up to you. You are where you are because you choose to be there. Don’t let someone tell you “you can’t do that”. The biggest thing I have learned in my 60 years of life, is that there is will never be enough money, time, available resources or helpful people to do anything we want to do. Success is in finding ways to do it anyway.
Go be successful peaceful revolutionaries.
Think about it… Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Mother Theresa, Nelson Mandella, a guy called Jesus, and others...they’ve done it by inspiring the people.
And once that inspiration is there, once people have seen what "can" be, there is no going back. It is only when peaceful revolution is made impossible, that violent revolution becomes inevitable. John F. Kennedy said that. Syria is living it right now.
Revolutions are begun – and won - in the minds and hearts of people – and they are not always violent. Revolutions are as simple as changing minds and looking at life in new ways.
Revolutionaries realize that they can’t change their world at once – they can only change the way they look at it and deal with it. They can only change the ways they deal with the people around them and the world they live in. They realize that the big change comes that way. One person at a time…beginning with ourselves. And that, my friends, is the hardest change to make.
One of Martin Luther King's lesser known quotes is one of my favorites, because speaks to the need for change to come from within, not from outside or above:
“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”
Whatever you choose to do with the rest of your life, remember one thing. It is all up to you. You are where you are because you choose to be there. Don’t let someone tell you “you can’t do that”. The biggest thing I have learned in my 60 years of life, is that there is will never be enough money, time, available resources or helpful people to do anything we want to do. Success is in finding ways to do it anyway.
Go be successful peaceful revolutionaries.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Law Dog Not
The previous ramble alluded to the fact that the Dog, at one time, aspired to be a lawyer. The back story on that exercise may be interesting, if not too perceived as whining, because it truly isn't.
As previously noted, I lost my newspaper dream and was continuing on my learning journey to find out what I didn't know. One of my best friends was a lawyer and had this wild idea that I would be a good one and, perhaps, we could practice together into the great unknown future. That vision only had one obstacle, I had to get into law school.
So, after completing my BA in Economics at the University of Colorado, I dutifully took the LSAT and applied to law school. The only school that I really could attend at the time would have been the University of Denver, since it was the only one in driving distance offering night classes - and I had a full-time job.that couldn't be put on hold. On a lark, I also applied to Notre Dame.
I got accepted at Notre Dame. I got put on a waiting list for Denver.
While I was commiserating with my friend, the attorney, about this travesty, we were interrrupted when his paralegal came bounding into the office announcing that she just got accepted at Denver.
Hmm. Not being able to pass this inquiry opportunity up, and knowing that she wasn't aware that I had also I applied, I innocently asked what it took to get into that school.
"What was your LSAT score?", I asked. Her score was lower than mine.
I followed with, "How about your GPA?". Her GPA was also lower than mine.
I asked her if she was famiiar with the Bakke case. (Regents of the University of California v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265 (1978)
She was not.
The final outcome was that she dropped out after two semesters.
I learned a lot more than law during those years. Wouldn't trade it for any law degree.
As previously noted, I lost my newspaper dream and was continuing on my learning journey to find out what I didn't know. One of my best friends was a lawyer and had this wild idea that I would be a good one and, perhaps, we could practice together into the great unknown future. That vision only had one obstacle, I had to get into law school.
So, after completing my BA in Economics at the University of Colorado, I dutifully took the LSAT and applied to law school. The only school that I really could attend at the time would have been the University of Denver, since it was the only one in driving distance offering night classes - and I had a full-time job.that couldn't be put on hold. On a lark, I also applied to Notre Dame.
I got accepted at Notre Dame. I got put on a waiting list for Denver.
While I was commiserating with my friend, the attorney, about this travesty, we were interrrupted when his paralegal came bounding into the office announcing that she just got accepted at Denver.
Hmm. Not being able to pass this inquiry opportunity up, and knowing that she wasn't aware that I had also I applied, I innocently asked what it took to get into that school.
"What was your LSAT score?", I asked. Her score was lower than mine.
I followed with, "How about your GPA?". Her GPA was also lower than mine.
I asked her if she was famiiar with the Bakke case. (Regents of the University of California v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265 (1978)
She was not.
The final outcome was that she dropped out after two semesters.
I learned a lot more than law during those years. Wouldn't trade it for any law degree.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Dog's Unmarked Trail
The Dog started out to become a newspaper reporter and ended up as a human resources person. That makes me think a whole lot of people never end up where they intended to be, so arguably the best strategy for life is not to have a strategy. Just take the days as they come, pay attention when opportunities come by, and take a chance every now and then. Keep learning growing, exploring, and living. Easy to say, hard to do.
The Marines made me a photo-journalist, for some reason. The only journalism training I had was a class in high school, where my major accomplishment was setting up a water pistol fight in the classroom and then writing a feature story about it. If that happened now, I'd be in jail.
Anyway, whatever the case, when my first Marine Corps story came out in print in Stars and Stripes, I was hooked.
I reached my first dream job in the early '70s when I had a newspaper in Lafayette, Colorado. I had landed in Colorado after the Marines, and wanted to continue my career in journalism but I couldn't even get an interview with a paper. So, being the naive, uneducated bloke that I was, I ran an ad in the Colorado Press Assn. newsletter that said, "with 15 minutes training, I can do anything".
A couple of weeks later the phone rang and, shortly thereafter, a deal was struck for two other guys to put up the money and me to put up the work to start a weekly paper in Lafayette. I didn't even know where Lafayette was, and we didn't form any committees/task forces or even look at financial projections.
I went up to Lafayette (20 miles NW of Denver) and wandered around. I visited stores, restaurants, banks, hardware store, and asked them what they thought about a newspaper in town. Little did I know that today that would be called "conducting a market study" and I should pay a consultant several thousand dollars to do it. WTF?
Anyway, the first paper came off the press on Feb. 28, 1974, and has been hanging on my various walls ever since. The Lafayette Times was the only weekly newspaper to have made a profit in its first year, and continue to increase circulation and advertising revenue, in a community that had access to three large daily papers. It is my "real-life MBA", and one of life's biggest accomplishments. Totally unplanned. How'd that happen?
The dream ended a couple of years later, when after paying back the partners initial investment and starting to pay a monthly return (ROI today), the partnership dissolved and I was summarily dismissed over "philosophy". Not writing philosophy, but financial philosophy. I wanted to roll a bigger piece of our bottom line into building the paper and they wanted to roll more into "our" pockets. Another great learning experience.
So, there I was, 24 years old and my life's "vision" reached -- and finished.
Still with no real life plan in hand, unemployed, uneducated, married, and with a new house, I decided to go to college and look at possibly becoming a lawyer (another great story there).
In order to go to school and help pay our bills, I needed a job. A friend of mine introduced me to the CEO of St. Anthony Hospital in Denver, and I stumbled into a management training program. That exercise started in housekeeping and somehow along the way, when the Personnel Director resigned, ended me up there. No formal training in personnel, and my college degrees in Economics.
Go figure.
The Marines made me a photo-journalist, for some reason. The only journalism training I had was a class in high school, where my major accomplishment was setting up a water pistol fight in the classroom and then writing a feature story about it. If that happened now, I'd be in jail.
Anyway, whatever the case, when my first Marine Corps story came out in print in Stars and Stripes, I was hooked.
I reached my first dream job in the early '70s when I had a newspaper in Lafayette, Colorado. I had landed in Colorado after the Marines, and wanted to continue my career in journalism but I couldn't even get an interview with a paper. So, being the naive, uneducated bloke that I was, I ran an ad in the Colorado Press Assn. newsletter that said, "with 15 minutes training, I can do anything".
A couple of weeks later the phone rang and, shortly thereafter, a deal was struck for two other guys to put up the money and me to put up the work to start a weekly paper in Lafayette. I didn't even know where Lafayette was, and we didn't form any committees/task forces or even look at financial projections.
I went up to Lafayette (20 miles NW of Denver) and wandered around. I visited stores, restaurants, banks, hardware store, and asked them what they thought about a newspaper in town. Little did I know that today that would be called "conducting a market study" and I should pay a consultant several thousand dollars to do it. WTF?
Anyway, the first paper came off the press on Feb. 28, 1974, and has been hanging on my various walls ever since. The Lafayette Times was the only weekly newspaper to have made a profit in its first year, and continue to increase circulation and advertising revenue, in a community that had access to three large daily papers. It is my "real-life MBA", and one of life's biggest accomplishments. Totally unplanned. How'd that happen?
The dream ended a couple of years later, when after paying back the partners initial investment and starting to pay a monthly return (ROI today), the partnership dissolved and I was summarily dismissed over "philosophy". Not writing philosophy, but financial philosophy. I wanted to roll a bigger piece of our bottom line into building the paper and they wanted to roll more into "our" pockets. Another great learning experience.
So, there I was, 24 years old and my life's "vision" reached -- and finished.
Still with no real life plan in hand, unemployed, uneducated, married, and with a new house, I decided to go to college and look at possibly becoming a lawyer (another great story there).
In order to go to school and help pay our bills, I needed a job. A friend of mine introduced me to the CEO of St. Anthony Hospital in Denver, and I stumbled into a management training program. That exercise started in housekeeping and somehow along the way, when the Personnel Director resigned, ended me up there. No formal training in personnel, and my college degrees in Economics.
Go figure.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Road Dog Poop
It's simple really. We need to reintroduce the word "vulgar" to our language.
Somewhere along the road we lost the common decency associated with humanity. We're becoming nasty, and enjoying it less.
North Korea's Clown With a Crown. He's vulgar on so many levels, beyond his haircut. Politics, in general. Vulgar on so many levels. You get the drift.
F-bombs and sexual innuendo are acceptable forms of speech. We have laws about domestic violence, sexual harassment, and all of those things, but they're always on the news.
Hmmm. Maybe there's something there. Good ol' television is most often cited as the root of all evil in our world, the scapegoat for bad taste, inane behavior, and biased presentations. But really? Maybe it is.
The news (?) shows are ratings driven, not news driven, and thus focus on the outlandish. Doom 'n gloom. Slash n' dash. Rumor trumps fact.
Beyond the news, I stepped in it when I was stumbled into watching a rerun of "Will and Grace". That was pretty cutting edge, controversial stuff when it came out. But now? It wouldn't even gain a PG rating for most of its episodes. And that wasn't that long ago.
I stepped in it when I actually watched Two and a Half Men. That show (and others) are stupid and vulgar portrayed as funny.
I step around it by not watching, "The Real ____ of anything". Those aren't funny, they're stupid and vulgar. Those two adjectives are anything but funny.
Vulgar. You never hear the word anymore. You just see it... everywhere.
Signs of the Apocalypse.
You think I'm kidding? The physical world may not be warming, but the mental world is well on its way.
Somewhere along the road we lost the common decency associated with humanity. We're becoming nasty, and enjoying it less.
North Korea's Clown With a Crown. He's vulgar on so many levels, beyond his haircut. Politics, in general. Vulgar on so many levels. You get the drift.
F-bombs and sexual innuendo are acceptable forms of speech. We have laws about domestic violence, sexual harassment, and all of those things, but they're always on the news.
Hmmm. Maybe there's something there. Good ol' television is most often cited as the root of all evil in our world, the scapegoat for bad taste, inane behavior, and biased presentations. But really? Maybe it is.
The news (?) shows are ratings driven, not news driven, and thus focus on the outlandish. Doom 'n gloom. Slash n' dash. Rumor trumps fact.
Beyond the news, I stepped in it when I was stumbled into watching a rerun of "Will and Grace". That was pretty cutting edge, controversial stuff when it came out. But now? It wouldn't even gain a PG rating for most of its episodes. And that wasn't that long ago.
I stepped in it when I actually watched Two and a Half Men. That show (and others) are stupid and vulgar portrayed as funny.
I step around it by not watching, "The Real ____ of anything". Those aren't funny, they're stupid and vulgar. Those two adjectives are anything but funny.
Vulgar. You never hear the word anymore. You just see it... everywhere.
Signs of the Apocalypse.
You think I'm kidding? The physical world may not be warming, but the mental world is well on its way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)