I’m a light sleeper. The slightest noise wakes me up. A disturbing dream opens my eyes wide. My dogs, roaming through the house in a never-ending search for bad guys (or food left on the kitchen counter) brings me back to life. These days, I wake up in the middle of the night more than I’d care to admit. I sometimes stumble downstairs, turn on the TV and watch some mindless movie I’ve already seen forty-eight times before I lulling myself back to sleep. Then I mosey back upstairs to pillow my head before nodding off. That’s what happened the other night. About 1:15, I woke up, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute (no doubt making up for how slow it crawls during the daytime). As usual, my two dogs, Peanut and Grace followed me downstairs. I flipped on a DVR recording of the HBO show, “Network News,” and settled back to settle down. About twenty minutes into the show, Peanut let out a fierce bark from the front of the house. Then another. I figured the neighbors were coming home late or someone was walking the street, trying to calm their own racing mind, so I quietly scolded her. I went to the front window and looked out on an umbrella of yellow from the streetlight at the edge of my front yard. Four deer marched cautiously, majestically up the street. Then, another came out of the shadows, followed by two more. Peanut barked again, and they all froze, statue-like in the darkness. I live in Roswell, a busy suburb of Atlanta and a growing city of about 100,000 people. This area grew so fast that it literally surrounded large pockets of wildlife. In addition, the city wisely built a large greenway that meanders through the communities on the northside, in which people bike and hike and jog. Animals live there, too. From time to time deer wander down our way, probably looking for the luscious green grass of golf courses, three of which lie within a three mile radius of my house. I’ve seen deer before, but it is rare. This herd, if you can call it that, was incredible. One small deer lay down on the grass in the yard across the street. The largest one stood majestically under the street lamp, staring in my direction, like a sentry. I couldn’t find my camera so I grabbed my iPad Mini, creaked open the door and failed in my attempt to snap their picture. The creaking sound chased a couple of deer back in the direction they had come. Others ran the opposite way. But the big deer stood resolutely staring my way. Eventually it slowly turned and marched back into the darkness to retrieve the two who had gone back. There was something almost mystical about the encounter. The rare creatures, beautiful in their natural state, oblivious to me hidden by glass and wood 75 feet away, strode into my life at precisely the right moment. If I’d stayed in bed a few minutes longer or awoken a few minutes sooner, I would have missed them. If the dogs had not gone to the front window, we never would have known. Had the deer chosen a different path or a different time, I would not have seen them at all. Mystery seems sometimes more contingent upon timing than anything. It startles and surprises us, as unexpected, but not unwelcome. And I wonder, how often I miss the mystical because the timing wasn’t right, or I looked the other way, or I kept my eyes closed just a little longer. Stay awake for the mystical and majestic. It’s so worth it. What do you think? Click on “Add Comment” below to share your thoughts.
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It’s Superbowl Sunday, what better day to consider a phrase we toss about without thought of consequence. It falls naturally on the ears of the athletes, but also the soldiers, the business team, even children. In itself, it is inspiring and empowering, but in the wrong hands and in the wrong situations, it may be dangerous.
“Whatever it takes,” sounds like a noble battle cry, and wouldn’t we all aspire to be a part of something so important, so honorable, so critical that it is worthy of our all? What if it takes maiming our body to the point that we are paralyzed or comatose or even dead, or leaving our opponent in a similar state? What if it takes cheating on the report numbers or the test or the taxes? What if it takes behavior that misleads others in order to win? Naturally, we understand that such platitudes and sayings should not be taken literally to the extreme. But do others around us understand everything has its limits? What about the weaker among us who hear our command but take it too far? In my novel, 7 Sanctuaries, a high school coach hears the words, 'Whatever it takes,' from the athletic director when his command-and-control model of basketball can’t compete with a run-and-shoot model that has become popular following Desegregation. He directs his team to use tactics that the boys despise, the crowd finds irritating and the community criticizes. Ultimately, they prove unsuccessful. In my soon-to-be-released novel, The 3rd Option, a flawed character hears the ultimate ultimatum, “Whatever it takes,” and people die. I love a good competitive game. I relish the idea of giving our very best and sacrificing heroically to accomplish a courageous goal. Commitment and sacrifice are powerful concepts. But let’s take care to use such empty platitudes only when they truly warrant the ultimate sacrifice. And that would be, almost never. What do you think? Click on “Add Comment” below to share your thoughts. "Of course giving change is not a problem – it’s what you’re paid to do." I’m a strong believer in customer service. It’s been ingrained in me since birth – virtually a part of my DNA. My father built a successful business on service to the extent that total strangers have told me about service experiences with Dad 35 years later (that’s another story). I wrote and taught customer service courses in Fortune 500 companies like Tupperware, Hughes Supply and Universal Studios, Florida. I published a book about customer service called, Service Heroes in Hospitality.
All of this, I feel, qualifies me to make the following request: Lose the phrase, “No Problem.” If I buy something from you and you give me change back, as a good old country boy I usually say, “Thank you.” If you respond with, “No problem,” I’m tempted to reach across the counter and provide you with my own version of the forehead slap. “No problem,” implies that your efforts to provide service have not inconvenienced you in any way. It is not a problem to provide this minimal level of service. To me, that’s painfully and blatantly obvious. Of course giving change is not a problem – it’s what you’re paid to do. When I was a training manager at Universal Studios, we competed with the service juggernaut, Disney World. Our goal at Universal was to provide exemplary service – service that was worthy of being an example for other service providers, including Disney. Exemplary service might warrant a “no problem,” but we never said it because any implication that there might be a problem providing service in itself made the service less than exemplary. “No problem,” should be reserved for doing something highly unusual that requires above-and-beyond effort, but yet, you’re still willing to do it because you want to provide exemplary service. Unless you reached into your own jeans pocket and extracted my change, you’ve not done anything extraordinary. Unless you walked across burning coals to bring me my Flaming Sambuca, you’ve not done anything extraordinary. Unless you’ve done something extraordinary, the response doesn’t deserve a “no problem.” So when you hand me my change or give me my dry cleaning or slide that McWhatever across the counter, and I say, “Thank you,” respond appropriately by saying, “You’re welcome” (which means; “I’m glad you’re here and please come back”) or, “My pleasure” (which means, “I enjoy providing this service so much that I just may break out in uncontrollable laughter at any moment”). And I’ll keep my forehead slaps to myself. In this blog, we’re talking about why people do the things they do. I hope to draw on things I’ve seen, read and maybe even thought that might be fun to consider as we explore motives and behavior. And of course, you can suggest things you've seen, read and thought to contribute to the conversation. If you’ve read my first novel, 7 Sanctuaries, you’ll probably agree that one of the themes of the book is “compassion”. Katie shows compassion to a woman at a farmer’s market, to a family threatened by a hurricane and to members of the “Freedom Riders”, a group of activists demonstrating for equal rights. Rev. Phillips seeks opportunities to show compassion and to encourage others to be compassionate in his ministry. Others show compassion here and there. In a TED Talk (TED Talks are absolutely incredibly inspirational and educational and free on the inter-webs – go to TED.com!), Nipun Mehta says “Compassion is contagious.” Showing compassion causes us to want to show more compassion and causes others to be compassionate. As an example, he describes an experiment he has conducted called, “Kharma Kitchen.” Every Sunday night, volunteers take over a restaurant. When the customer finishes his or her dinner, the check is presented as a “$0.00” charge. The customer is told their meal has been paid for by the customer before them, and they can pay whatever they choose for the customer who came after them. Then that customer pays for the one who followed them and the chain continues. “When you count on people like that to be generous,” Mehta asks, “how long will that chain last?” He explains, “It’s been going for three years.” It’s also expanded to other cities around the country. From time to time we hear about “Pay it forward” stories on Facebook, on YouTube, from our friends, etc. Perhaps we’ll discuss those in the future. But the pertinent question about compassion is: “How long does it last?” Click on the “Comments” link below to let us know what you think. Recently, I dragged the family into the family room (where else would one want to drag one's family?) for a family movie night. As it turns out, we were all at home on this special evening, and I wanted us all to watch the old 1976 movie, "Godspell".
From the off-Broadway plan by Stephen Schwartz and John-Michael Tebelak, Godspell is an interpretation of the teachings of Jesus. Back in '72 when it came out, it was fairly controversial in that Jesus and the Disciples were portrayed as a clan of clowns, the setting was New York City, there may or may not have been a resurrection, etc. And the culture - thoroughly vintage 1970s. I admit I wanted to see if my 21st century kids would find it acceptable or repulsive. (The liked it). But what struck me personally while reviewing Godspell for the nth time (I've seen it a lot - one of my favorites), was its blatant symbolism. Everything was symbolic. Jesus was a clown! The actor who played John the Baptist also played Judas! The troupe lived in a junkyard! Symbol after symbol filled the screen. Godspell overdoses on symbolism. I've known this since first seeing the musical, but this time, the symbols seemed to jump off the screen. But I began to wonder, when was the last time I saw symbolism in a movie? I remember "The Sixth Sense" used the color red whenever dead people were present (red doorknobs, red coats, etc.). Otherwise, I can't recall symbolism in our modern movies. Why don't movies contain symbolism anymore? Is symbolism passé or 'not cool'? Perhaps a lack of symbolism plays to a more straight-forward approach to our world. We don't need to blast cartoon symbols of aliens dancing across the screen a la "Space Invaders" because technology has advanced to the point that we can blast "realistic", moving, breathing, bleeding, exploding aliens instead. Along the same lines, maybe we have been "over symbolated" (stimulated by symbols). We have icons on our computer screens, stick figures to tell us where to go to the bathroom, emoticons to express emotion on Twitter, even drawings instead of directions (ever constructed a piece of Ikea furniture?). Maybe it's part of the dumbing down of society. We don't want to think about the reason behind the story because we are so engrossed in the story in all its realism, itself. It takes less brain power to be simply told what to believe than to try to work it out yourself. Which brings me back to Godspell and Jesus. He could have just told us to love each other (which He did) but He also demonstrated it in elaborate parables. He could have just told us to serve others (which He did), but He also demonstrated it by washing the disciples' feet. Maybe there is something reinforcing about symbolism. Maybe it triggers something in our minds that helps us understand more clearly. Maybe we need a little more symbolism these days. What do you think? |