When Loni and Burt filed for divorce, it sent a warning to my cholesterol burdened heart. Theirs seemed to be a marriage made for Hollywood. If they couldn't work it out, who among us could?
The news struck a little too close to home. These were nearly my in-laws after all. My nearest brush to fame, my very first "girlfriend" (way back in kindergarten) was a young Dee Dee Haselberg. Deidra, of course is Ms. Anderson's now married daughter.
Burt and Loni proved relationships are fragile things. Even the healthiest can disappear overnight. Which brings me to my domestic associate, Max the Cat. Currently, we are house sitting my sister's mansion in Lake Elmo. The place is huge and is occupied by Max's cousin, Mr. Ralph.
Mr. Ralph is a big cat. A fat cat. He is the only cat who makes Max (who is no mite himself) look minuscule in comparison. Mr. Ralph gets to roam the huge acre of a yard that lies behind the mansion. He chases deer, dodges eagles and kills an occasional gopher- all experiences my friend, the declawed Max can only dream about.
I let Mr. Ralph out in the morning allowing him to roam while I go to work. (We're too far away from the nearest neighbor to worry about Mr. Ralph bothering them.) I'm sure Max watches him intently (and dreams) from a window above. When I get home, Mr. Ralph often comes around front to greet me and comes into the house with me. Poor Max watches us and probably thinks Mr. Ralph and I have spent the whole day frolicking in the wilderness together. Can cats feel jealousy?
Max watches as I scratch Mr. Ralph's stomach, and slowly, sadly walks away. I'm beginning to believe that when Max and I are back home in our apartment, he thinks I go cheat on him and play with Mr. Ralph (since the Lake Elmo mansion is the only other place he has ever seen me at). In reality, I'm off at work earning the money to keep us going.
I feel bad for my cat. Mr. Ralph and I go back a long way, but he's only a friend; Max is my pet, my buddy. We are supposed to be &dung on some similar characteristics. Being neurotic isn't something I want to pass on.
I can say all the right things to Max, I can make it appear he's the only cat in my life, but it's useless unless I convey the accurate attitude. That's a difficult thing to do. I spend more time with Max than Mr. Ralph when I'm at the mansion, yet I can't let Max outside other than our infrequent walks. I know he wants to join Mr. Ralph-it's in his blood. Talking doesn't work, because it's not the words so much, it's the tone of voice which I can't conceal. This is a lesson that can be applied to the workplace.
Last week, three consecutive phone callers apologized to me after asking a question. Apparently my voice was coming across too harshly, making me sound impatient and grumpy. That wasn't what I was feeling at the time (one of the rare occasions in my life) so I was a bit taken back by the apologies. I was tired, and I conveyed the wrong attitude even though my words stated a different meaning altogether.
That the way you say something can be more important than what you are saying, isn't exactly an exclusive, earth shaking revelation. But it is an important thing that is easy to overlook.
So just like my talks to Max, if I send my condolences to Burt and Loni, I have to make sure I use the proper tone of voice.
We can only hope that all is well with myself and my domestic associate. And we can only pray that someday we will be able to deal with the sad break up of Burt and Loni. They seemed so perfect. ...
Monday, August 16, 1993
Sleepless in Pseudoattle
The thread that ties together real estate, starting a new business, and being a successful baseball pitcher is, location, location, location. So a few years ago when I gave up on being a major league pitcher, and I wasn’t experienced enough to be a good entrepreneur, I decided to look for the proper place to live. My experience in the southwest wasn’t what I had hoped for so my Midwestern roots took hold and plopped me back to where I began.
Last year, I considered looking to live elsewhere again. I went east. That didn’t work out. Al suggested Seattle, where his wife’s family is located. My own father was born and raised out there so when my family visited the area, I went along with thoughts of a different type of relocation dancing in my head. The way Al described Seattle, it seemed ideal to me. The climate is legendary with its frequent rainfall. I enjoy rain; damp cool, dark weather is my ideal idea of a place to live.
During my visit it was hot and muggy, a period of an unusual dry spell. I was impressed by the city’s ambiance but upon my return I fell back into the same old routine.
I like the Twin Cities although certain aspects can be annoying. This area has long been hampered with an inferiority complex; there seems to be the feeling that the Twin Cities doesn’t get the credit it somehow deserves-that the rest of the country doesn’t properly appreciate who we are. Seattle is one city we have often been compared with. Ask people on either coast where they would rather live and I’m sure the majority would choose the Upper Northwest. So, Money Magazine’s yearly ranking of the best cities in which to live (see previous page), will no doubt swell the collective ego of our great metropolitan area.
Still, you might have noticed, this has been a terribly rainy season for us. Maybe we have been cursed because we sought to be more like Seattle. Maybe this is a sign that it is better to remain who we truly are. Despite my fondness for this type of weather, even I am getting a bit weary of all the precipitation. All we need are coffee shops springing up every block and we will get our wish to be just like Seattle. If I wanted to experience that type of living, I would be in Washington right now. They do have mountains, an ocean and a better indoor baseball team to enjoy.
On the bright side, this weather is ideal for doing business. And it is equally ideal for the music retail industry since people are spending more time indoors. I myself have tired out some of my collection of music. That’s fine but I just bought a brand new mountain bike, and it is either going to get rusty, or dusty and I didn’t lay down good money for that.
We have caught and passed Seattle. It’s time to slow down because next on the chain is a city that made the bottom ten of Money’s list: Davenport Iowa.
Last year, I considered looking to live elsewhere again. I went east. That didn’t work out. Al suggested Seattle, where his wife’s family is located. My own father was born and raised out there so when my family visited the area, I went along with thoughts of a different type of relocation dancing in my head. The way Al described Seattle, it seemed ideal to me. The climate is legendary with its frequent rainfall. I enjoy rain; damp cool, dark weather is my ideal idea of a place to live.
During my visit it was hot and muggy, a period of an unusual dry spell. I was impressed by the city’s ambiance but upon my return I fell back into the same old routine.
I like the Twin Cities although certain aspects can be annoying. This area has long been hampered with an inferiority complex; there seems to be the feeling that the Twin Cities doesn’t get the credit it somehow deserves-that the rest of the country doesn’t properly appreciate who we are. Seattle is one city we have often been compared with. Ask people on either coast where they would rather live and I’m sure the majority would choose the Upper Northwest. So, Money Magazine’s yearly ranking of the best cities in which to live (see previous page), will no doubt swell the collective ego of our great metropolitan area.
Still, you might have noticed, this has been a terribly rainy season for us. Maybe we have been cursed because we sought to be more like Seattle. Maybe this is a sign that it is better to remain who we truly are. Despite my fondness for this type of weather, even I am getting a bit weary of all the precipitation. All we need are coffee shops springing up every block and we will get our wish to be just like Seattle. If I wanted to experience that type of living, I would be in Washington right now. They do have mountains, an ocean and a better indoor baseball team to enjoy.
On the bright side, this weather is ideal for doing business. And it is equally ideal for the music retail industry since people are spending more time indoors. I myself have tired out some of my collection of music. That’s fine but I just bought a brand new mountain bike, and it is either going to get rusty, or dusty and I didn’t lay down good money for that.
We have caught and passed Seattle. It’s time to slow down because next on the chain is a city that made the bottom ten of Money’s list: Davenport Iowa.
Monday, August 9, 1993
Eulogy for a Dear Friend
My favorite section of the newsletter (the part where we get the most participation and voices- the part where you can actually learn something about the people in this company) is Al’s column, "What did you Learn This Week?" I was going to answer the question this week with a lesson my brother in law told me. We were talking about his father who a couple of years back suffered a mild heart attack. "Part of his heart is dead," my brother in law said. I learned you could live without part of your heart. I chose not to use that answer however. I’ve noticed my answers usually are on a completely different plane than everybody else. I’m not really in the ozone, just act like it sometimes.
The universal lesson I do relearn every week is that the nature of most people is they want things/life to be as easy as possible. In the past, people were told they should believe in the absolute benefits of technology. Technology would make life easier, more efficient and more pleasurable. So we put a man on the moon, and invented remote controls (clickers) so we didn’t have to leave our chairs.
People also used to believe that pop culture icons had some messiah-like abilities, that if you listened to the words, the message, you could be saved. Well, I don’t see anyone playing their CD’s backwards or at different speeds trying to find clues to the greater puzzle.
Recently, a kindergarten teacher stopped into the store to look for children’s records. "Can barley keep ‘em still to listen," she said referring to her restless students. Should we blame the shortening of our collective attention spans on technology or on MTV? Or could it be we are no different these days than those in the past?
I’ve noticed a pattern with people I converse with every day on the phone. Each is looking for someone to solve their problems for them. They don’t realize that information can be used towards figuring a possible direction, but rarely will that be enough to completely satisfy their situation. It usually takes a little more work than that.
The curse of being quiet, bespectacled (and Asian?) is that people assume you know more than you do. They assume your depth is greater than it actually is. I couldn’t convince a former associate I was "but a simple country boy"; she thought I was just trying to be secretive, enigmatic and distant. But there is no reason to try and read between the lines. There’s nothing there.
It’s an easy trap to fall into. I once rode my bike up the hill, pedaling as hard as I could, using all 21 speeds and the only message relayed by the great guru I tried to reach, is that life is what you try and make out of it. You can spend all your time whining about that which has beaten (and kept) you down but it won’t get you anywhere. And often you will miss out on opportunities you’ll later regret you didn’t see, or didn’t appreciate, at the time.
The universal lesson I do relearn every week is that the nature of most people is they want things/life to be as easy as possible. In the past, people were told they should believe in the absolute benefits of technology. Technology would make life easier, more efficient and more pleasurable. So we put a man on the moon, and invented remote controls (clickers) so we didn’t have to leave our chairs.
People also used to believe that pop culture icons had some messiah-like abilities, that if you listened to the words, the message, you could be saved. Well, I don’t see anyone playing their CD’s backwards or at different speeds trying to find clues to the greater puzzle.
Recently, a kindergarten teacher stopped into the store to look for children’s records. "Can barley keep ‘em still to listen," she said referring to her restless students. Should we blame the shortening of our collective attention spans on technology or on MTV? Or could it be we are no different these days than those in the past?
I’ve noticed a pattern with people I converse with every day on the phone. Each is looking for someone to solve their problems for them. They don’t realize that information can be used towards figuring a possible direction, but rarely will that be enough to completely satisfy their situation. It usually takes a little more work than that.
The curse of being quiet, bespectacled (and Asian?) is that people assume you know more than you do. They assume your depth is greater than it actually is. I couldn’t convince a former associate I was "but a simple country boy"; she thought I was just trying to be secretive, enigmatic and distant. But there is no reason to try and read between the lines. There’s nothing there.
It’s an easy trap to fall into. I once rode my bike up the hill, pedaling as hard as I could, using all 21 speeds and the only message relayed by the great guru I tried to reach, is that life is what you try and make out of it. You can spend all your time whining about that which has beaten (and kept) you down but it won’t get you anywhere. And often you will miss out on opportunities you’ll later regret you didn’t see, or didn’t appreciate, at the time.
Monday, August 2, 1993
Babysittin'
I seem to have this strong, natural rapport with children. Kiddies just can’t seem to get enough of my natural charisma. That said, I must admit I don’t know how to handle certain situations that occur here at Landfill every now and then. So perhaps some of you seasoned retail professionals can help me out by offering your advice and expertise.
How do you handle a situation where someone brings into the store a couple of screaming, young, playful banshees, who tear around the premises like there is no tomorrow, while their parents remain seemingly oblivious to the public display of unruliness by their young munchkins? Where does your responsibility as a sales clerk come together with having to be someone else’s’ babysitter? At what point do you approach the child, or the parent and ask for a little cooperation? My blood pressure nears boiling point every time a child walks in here and I don’t think that is a good thing.
How do I currently deal with the above? I think one of the best ways to handle any situation is to try and look at it through the other side’s position. In this particular instance, it’s easy to apply that philosophy since kids seem to react and relate to my own maturity level. I am a kid at heart.
Many kids these days grow up at the mall. I was no exception. The mall of my choice, the place where "I came of age" was Rosedale. I actually enjoyed Brookdale more because they had cherry slushies that gave you headaches if you ate them too fast, but that hangout was a bit too far away.
Going back to Rosedale now days is like a walk down memory lane (or is that Penny Lane?). The sights, the sounds, and most of all, the smells bring me back to my youth. Except for one thin: down in the new Dayton’s wing is a wig place.
"Kids seem to react and relate to my own maturity level. I am a kid at heart."
Whenever I walk by, there is someone trying out in all seriousness the most hideous attachment to their head, assisted by a salesperson who herself has a big fluffy thing atop her noggin. It’s beyond absurd, beyond a David Lynch movie, beyond an overload of the senses. Whenever I walk by this place I shudder and mutter to myself, "This is a good old fashioned creep out."
Lest anyone think I’m being sexist, I respond the same way whenever I see a commercial for the Hair Club for Men. Besides Frank Sinatra’s hair transplant, we have yet to come up with a suitable replacement or addition to actual human hair.
But we digress. The point is that the world out there can be very frightening and dangerous for a child. Things can leap out, or tumble down at every moment. Adult supervision is a valuable part of growing up. Where one child might see your store as a big playground, another might see it as a torture chamber where every corner is sharper than a dagger. While you can’t keep an eye out for every possible, potential disaster that might occur, perhaps someone knows a good checklist to prevent catastrophe before it happens?
How do you handle a situation where someone brings into the store a couple of screaming, young, playful banshees, who tear around the premises like there is no tomorrow, while their parents remain seemingly oblivious to the public display of unruliness by their young munchkins? Where does your responsibility as a sales clerk come together with having to be someone else’s’ babysitter? At what point do you approach the child, or the parent and ask for a little cooperation? My blood pressure nears boiling point every time a child walks in here and I don’t think that is a good thing.
How do I currently deal with the above? I think one of the best ways to handle any situation is to try and look at it through the other side’s position. In this particular instance, it’s easy to apply that philosophy since kids seem to react and relate to my own maturity level. I am a kid at heart.
Many kids these days grow up at the mall. I was no exception. The mall of my choice, the place where "I came of age" was Rosedale. I actually enjoyed Brookdale more because they had cherry slushies that gave you headaches if you ate them too fast, but that hangout was a bit too far away.
Going back to Rosedale now days is like a walk down memory lane (or is that Penny Lane?). The sights, the sounds, and most of all, the smells bring me back to my youth. Except for one thin: down in the new Dayton’s wing is a wig place.
"Kids seem to react and relate to my own maturity level. I am a kid at heart."
Whenever I walk by, there is someone trying out in all seriousness the most hideous attachment to their head, assisted by a salesperson who herself has a big fluffy thing atop her noggin. It’s beyond absurd, beyond a David Lynch movie, beyond an overload of the senses. Whenever I walk by this place I shudder and mutter to myself, "This is a good old fashioned creep out."
Lest anyone think I’m being sexist, I respond the same way whenever I see a commercial for the Hair Club for Men. Besides Frank Sinatra’s hair transplant, we have yet to come up with a suitable replacement or addition to actual human hair.
But we digress. The point is that the world out there can be very frightening and dangerous for a child. Things can leap out, or tumble down at every moment. Adult supervision is a valuable part of growing up. Where one child might see your store as a big playground, another might see it as a torture chamber where every corner is sharper than a dagger. While you can’t keep an eye out for every possible, potential disaster that might occur, perhaps someone knows a good checklist to prevent catastrophe before it happens?
Monday, July 26, 1993
The Gunfighter
"If I was doing you a favor I'd let them hang you now and get it all over with. But I don't want you to get off that light. I want you to go on being a big tough gunny. I want you to see what it means to have to live like a big tough gunny. So don't thank me yet partner. You'll see what it means."
-Gregory Peck in The Gunfighter
Peck's character, Jimmy Ringo, the quickest, meanest gun i the west, has just been shot in the back by a young gun, whose only desire is to be known as the quickest, meanest gun in the west. "He don't look so tough," the young chap says earlier in the movie.
As Ringo lies dying, the sheriff and townsfolk want to quickly punish the cowardly actions of the young but now famous gunfighter. But Ringo intervenes. He doesn't want his killer to get off that easily. The last years of his life have been hell; every town he goes to, every place he roams, there is some young kid who wants to challenge him. The weight of his reputation collapses any pride, any benefits, any pleasure his life's accomplishments might have held.
He has come to his last and lost chance, seeking his only love, now the town's teacher, who is struggling to raise the couple's child in anonymity. She wants no part of Ringo. She knows life with him is no way to raise a young boy. When Ringo gets to meet his son, we see the sorrow at what might have been.
Ringo also meets a young struggling rancher, and the every day obstacles in that man's life seem so much simpler than one where every moment might mean death. The vurden of fame has turned Ringo into a sullen, broken, isolated man.
Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven paints a similar picture. Eastwood plays a quick tempered, weathered cowboy named William Munny. HIs wife, the person led him off his outlaw, villent, sinful past, has died, leaving him to raise two children.
When a neighboring woman is brutally sliced up by a cowboy, a reward is posted calling for the man's death. Munny struggles with his conscience. He knows his wife would disapprove, yet the road ahead for him and the kids seems too much to bear. With the prodding of another young cowboy, "You don't seem so tough," munny is persuaded to pursue the reward and relunctantly get back into the killing business that he is now a legend in; a legen he has tried to leave behind.
Unforgiven seems to say that the nature of humans is evil. Even the love of an angel, and the abstinence from whiskey, can't erase the demons that drive us all. The sheriff (wonderfully played by Gene Hackman), the artists/writers, the business folk, the prostitutes, and even his children can't escape the pressures of what is expected.
As one man learns to kill, another is killed by the law whose goal is to prevent killing; and who is trying to hold the town together about as effectively as the leaky roof he has built for himself "to watch the sunset."
The message of both films, made 43 years apart is that you can't escape your nature, and the expectations of those around you. To seek a simpler, more peaceful and moral way of life is a futile struggle.
-Gregory Peck in The Gunfighter
Peck's character, Jimmy Ringo, the quickest, meanest gun i the west, has just been shot in the back by a young gun, whose only desire is to be known as the quickest, meanest gun in the west. "He don't look so tough," the young chap says earlier in the movie.
As Ringo lies dying, the sheriff and townsfolk want to quickly punish the cowardly actions of the young but now famous gunfighter. But Ringo intervenes. He doesn't want his killer to get off that easily. The last years of his life have been hell; every town he goes to, every place he roams, there is some young kid who wants to challenge him. The weight of his reputation collapses any pride, any benefits, any pleasure his life's accomplishments might have held.
He has come to his last and lost chance, seeking his only love, now the town's teacher, who is struggling to raise the couple's child in anonymity. She wants no part of Ringo. She knows life with him is no way to raise a young boy. When Ringo gets to meet his son, we see the sorrow at what might have been.
Ringo also meets a young struggling rancher, and the every day obstacles in that man's life seem so much simpler than one where every moment might mean death. The vurden of fame has turned Ringo into a sullen, broken, isolated man.
Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven paints a similar picture. Eastwood plays a quick tempered, weathered cowboy named William Munny. HIs wife, the person led him off his outlaw, villent, sinful past, has died, leaving him to raise two children.
When a neighboring woman is brutally sliced up by a cowboy, a reward is posted calling for the man's death. Munny struggles with his conscience. He knows his wife would disapprove, yet the road ahead for him and the kids seems too much to bear. With the prodding of another young cowboy, "You don't seem so tough," munny is persuaded to pursue the reward and relunctantly get back into the killing business that he is now a legend in; a legen he has tried to leave behind.
Unforgiven seems to say that the nature of humans is evil. Even the love of an angel, and the abstinence from whiskey, can't erase the demons that drive us all. The sheriff (wonderfully played by Gene Hackman), the artists/writers, the business folk, the prostitutes, and even his children can't escape the pressures of what is expected.
As one man learns to kill, another is killed by the law whose goal is to prevent killing; and who is trying to hold the town together about as effectively as the leaky roof he has built for himself "to watch the sunset."
The message of both films, made 43 years apart is that you can't escape your nature, and the expectations of those around you. To seek a simpler, more peaceful and moral way of life is a futile struggle.
Monday, July 19, 1993
Playing Doctor
Once upon a couple of weeks ago, I went to the doctor for a check up. Dr. Payne (Pain) was the young lad's name. After my examination, Dr. Pain had but one bit of advice: "You should always wear your seatbelt." Is this what we can expect from Parsdent Clinton's efforts to improve our health care industry? That's the exact same advice my ten-year-old niece has told me for the lat couple of years- and SHE DOESN'T CLAIM TO BE A MEDICAL EXPERT!
When the results of my blood test came back from the lab last wee, I was told that my cholesterol which should be around 200 (200 what?), was much higher than that. Figuring I had only a few weeks left to live, I went to bed that night a bit distressed. I was awoken the next morning by a message playing on my clock radio, "Do you have high cholesterol? You might be a candidate for a new experimental drug..." Now I'm all for new experimental drugs, but I decided (once I chilled out) that I would take a more conventional route and try to get myself in better shape.
NO MORE BUTTERING THE OLD BACON. A better diet? You don't suppose all those breakfast burritos might be a contributing culprit? More exercise? Walking the moping Max doesn't always get the old heart a-pumpin. More sleep? Even our own president needs four hours of sleep.
Will I become a better employee what with my new health conscious approach to life? Perhaps. Last week two people on two different occasions approached me and said, "You seem to be in a good mood." I, in my best Cary Grant voice replied, "I'm always in a good mood. I just hide it better sometimes." Living longer isn't necessarily a worthwhile goal but there are several ways to have a bad heart. And even for the emotionally broken, psychologically damaged, being in better shape can't hurt. Wisdom is supposed to occur with advancing age. In my case in most instances, that hasn't happened; yet I can see where now it takes me longer to bounce back from avoidable abuses.
Last week I met a woman frmo Ohio who is spending her time studying pigs. They are her passion. Her family owns a pig farm and when I asked if killing one of them for dinner wasn't a tad bit difficult, she looked at me as if I had violated the code of pigethics. "Of course not, you don't understand, that's what we do for a living." It's true, I don't understand but I pledge here and now that pork consumption will decrease in my life.
YOu can go too far with these things though. Sure that piece of french silk pie I just polished off might have taken a whole day off the end of my life, but damn, it was tasty.
POTENTIAL BOOKSTORE NAMES
A Bunch of Words Bound Together
Already Read Books
Less Than 1/2 Price Books
Nobles and Barnes
Albino Books ("A" listing)
Ageless Books
Hooked on Books
Once Upon a Time
Read Em and Weep
When the results of my blood test came back from the lab last wee, I was told that my cholesterol which should be around 200 (200 what?), was much higher than that. Figuring I had only a few weeks left to live, I went to bed that night a bit distressed. I was awoken the next morning by a message playing on my clock radio, "Do you have high cholesterol? You might be a candidate for a new experimental drug..." Now I'm all for new experimental drugs, but I decided (once I chilled out) that I would take a more conventional route and try to get myself in better shape.
NO MORE BUTTERING THE OLD BACON. A better diet? You don't suppose all those breakfast burritos might be a contributing culprit? More exercise? Walking the moping Max doesn't always get the old heart a-pumpin. More sleep? Even our own president needs four hours of sleep.
Will I become a better employee what with my new health conscious approach to life? Perhaps. Last week two people on two different occasions approached me and said, "You seem to be in a good mood." I, in my best Cary Grant voice replied, "I'm always in a good mood. I just hide it better sometimes." Living longer isn't necessarily a worthwhile goal but there are several ways to have a bad heart. And even for the emotionally broken, psychologically damaged, being in better shape can't hurt. Wisdom is supposed to occur with advancing age. In my case in most instances, that hasn't happened; yet I can see where now it takes me longer to bounce back from avoidable abuses.
Last week I met a woman frmo Ohio who is spending her time studying pigs. They are her passion. Her family owns a pig farm and when I asked if killing one of them for dinner wasn't a tad bit difficult, she looked at me as if I had violated the code of pigethics. "Of course not, you don't understand, that's what we do for a living." It's true, I don't understand but I pledge here and now that pork consumption will decrease in my life.
YOu can go too far with these things though. Sure that piece of french silk pie I just polished off might have taken a whole day off the end of my life, but damn, it was tasty.
POTENTIAL BOOKSTORE NAMES
A Bunch of Words Bound Together
Already Read Books
Less Than 1/2 Price Books
Nobles and Barnes
Albino Books ("A" listing)
Ageless Books
Hooked on Books
Once Upon a Time
Read Em and Weep
Monday, July 12, 1993
State of the Federation
Let's see if I have this straight. In our battle with the Borg, we put the enemy to sleep and thus defeated them. Later we captured one of them, gave it an identity (Hugh), had the option of introducing a destructive suggestion/virus into their collective consciousness, but chose to do the "moral" thing and let Hugh go and be re-assimilated. Now led by the Syoon(sp?) brothers, Data and his evil twin, Lor, the Borg have learned to think of themselves as individuals. They no longer wish to assimilate other species, just destroy inferior beings, which includes the Federation.
This has major implications for thsoe of us in the customer service industry. Recently Denny's restaurants have come under criticism because one of their locations had the tendency to serve their white customers before their black customers.
It's doubtful that the Denny's coprorate offices sent a memo to their franchises identifying the order in which different races should be served. This particular incident probably was determined by the one location, maybe even by one or two employees. But the end result was that the entire company got a huge black eye. NOw socially conscious consumers will think twice before they go to any Denny's restaurant.
What is the lesson behind the problems Denny's has faced? Is it that the best companies are the one's that act in a uniform, collective, consistent Borg like manner? That the best run companies may be the ones who have well defined policies, that don't have loose cannons acting on their own so that anarchy doesn't give way to bad customer perception?
I don't think so. There seems to be room for creativity in a successful business. Nobody wants to deal with an organization of uninspired drones, who spout company policy as the reason they won't do any thinking on their own. Our old VIP program operated on the philosophy that employees are the ones who can cmoe up with the ideas that will improve the company (and thus are the ones who should be rewarded for their suggestions).
We should seek individual creativity but at the same time define those ideas in a collective way. Customer perception is based on individual actions, but those perceptions are then applied to the entire company.
A response to Sarah: I for one would choose Dr. Crusher over Dr. Pulaski any day. Yes, the color of her hair changes more often than my moods; and yes, she was at least half responsblve for bringing that weenie, the Mozart of the stars, Wesley into the universe (my sister has an interesting theory that Cap'n Picard is really Wes' father), but she is so easy on the eyes. A space babe.
Next week will be another newsletter with a theme. It will deal with the topic of 'health' so if any of you have anything to contribute, pelase do so. What is the correlation between a good diet, plenty of rest and exercise with the way you perform your job?
This has major implications for thsoe of us in the customer service industry. Recently Denny's restaurants have come under criticism because one of their locations had the tendency to serve their white customers before their black customers.
It's doubtful that the Denny's coprorate offices sent a memo to their franchises identifying the order in which different races should be served. This particular incident probably was determined by the one location, maybe even by one or two employees. But the end result was that the entire company got a huge black eye. NOw socially conscious consumers will think twice before they go to any Denny's restaurant.
What is the lesson behind the problems Denny's has faced? Is it that the best companies are the one's that act in a uniform, collective, consistent Borg like manner? That the best run companies may be the ones who have well defined policies, that don't have loose cannons acting on their own so that anarchy doesn't give way to bad customer perception?
I don't think so. There seems to be room for creativity in a successful business. Nobody wants to deal with an organization of uninspired drones, who spout company policy as the reason they won't do any thinking on their own. Our old VIP program operated on the philosophy that employees are the ones who can cmoe up with the ideas that will improve the company (and thus are the ones who should be rewarded for their suggestions).
We should seek individual creativity but at the same time define those ideas in a collective way. Customer perception is based on individual actions, but those perceptions are then applied to the entire company.
A response to Sarah: I for one would choose Dr. Crusher over Dr. Pulaski any day. Yes, the color of her hair changes more often than my moods; and yes, she was at least half responsblve for bringing that weenie, the Mozart of the stars, Wesley into the universe (my sister has an interesting theory that Cap'n Picard is really Wes' father), but she is so easy on the eyes. A space babe.
Next week will be another newsletter with a theme. It will deal with the topic of 'health' so if any of you have anything to contribute, pelase do so. What is the correlation between a good diet, plenty of rest and exercise with the way you perform your job?
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