On The New York Times...

I grew up the least clever child in a household of intellectual liberals. My parents were (still are, in fact) both geniuses - one reluctant the other aggressive and the only thing they could agree upon vis-a-vis the written word is Saul Bellow's soul and the immortality of The New York Times.

These three words I knew even before I knew how to read and once I did I too took refuge in this vast broadsheet capable of making order out of the chaos that is the world. 

When I grew up, everyone read not one but several newspapers - their hometown daily, their hometown weekly and The New York Times. Today it's different; intellectually curious folks still read a lot it's just not necessarily the printed word they "read." Digital is where it's at now and anything that isn't digital suffers accordingly. The impact of this adjustment in reading habits has been catastrophic to all newspapers and the online subscriptions have never made up for the shortfall in revenue. 

What concern me is that people (including myself) who hold this paper in such high esteem are contributing to its demise. On weekdays I honestly don't have (and cannot make) sufficient time to read it right so rather than tease myself with yet another neglected item roaming about my household (albeit one I can throw away each night without remorse) I just don't buy it. Instead I let Google News, a few meaningful blogs and a review of some of the better minds from their now free again online Op Eds sate my needs. 

On weekends, however, I do do it right - buying the Big One at whatever newsstand is closest to my Sunday morning pillow. Immediately I pull out all the sections that I don't care about:

- Automobiles because my wife (and not me) is the one who decides what car we drive.

- Sports because I keep up online on any sport and/or team that I care about.

- Style because I feel cheap and voyeuristic reading the first part and jealous and petty reading the second part.

- Real Estate because I cannot afford any more properties and knowing about them would only infuriate.

- All circulars because my TV will last longer than I will and because I rely on Netflix - not retail - for my DVD habit. 

The rest of the paper I read or at the very least skim with exquisite care. What draws me in depends on my mood. Sometimes its a picture or the opening line or an entire fatuous paragraph that inspires more time but it comes at a price - the opportunity cost of knowing I'll not be able to read another potentially interesting article. All told, I give myself about 42 minutes to read the Sunday paper and the only section that doesn't go to recycling pile is the New York Times Magazine and the New York Times Book Review.

The Magazine has come a long, long way and much of it IMHO is required reading. Even articles I ultimately decide to pass on still garner a minute or two of serious consideration. The reason the Book Review gets extra time, if necessary, is because it saves me, culturally, in so many ways. Knowing what's coming out and what's presumably good is of great help - especially as I know that I'll never have time to ready most of these books. It's really as close to reading them as I'll ever get so I try never to let a review (or a mere morsel thereof) go by without a glance.

While I do fear that the founding family will soon break over the economic liability of owning a newspaper in this print unfriendly age, I do not seriously worry that the paper will fold (pun intended). Instead I expect that some surviving private equity shop (likely run by a liberal intellectual or a lucky boy or girl who is not but whose parents were) will pick it up and shake it hard. The result will be that most of what is most cherished will stay and the remainder will go the way of the tabletop radio.

In the time that remains, I encourage all readers to relish the paper as it stands today and remember what it feels like - the ink smudges on your palms no matter what new printing technology they use, the crisp crackle as you fold it expertly into its ideal (for you) shape, and the soft sound it makes as you drop it back down to Earth having read it through in a way that makes you ready to face the day. These memories will be necessary not only so you can complain sentimentally about how the world has changed for the worse but for the next generation who may never know what it feels like to actually have the darned whole world, even if only for a few hot moments, in their hands. 

On Power & Accountability...

One of my best friends sits on the other side of the political spectrum than me yet I still love him like a brother. 

I would give him my kidney even if I cannot stand to hear him speak about his candidate with the conviction he really and truly feels. And it's not so much that he loves his candidate so much as he fears what will happen if (and at this point, when) mine wins...

To prepare myself for our fortnightly tele-battle and also to be a good American citizen, I sift through hundreds of articles from all types of magazines, papers and journals. In one came a brilliant and alarmingly accurate quote; kudos to Tom Giffey of the Leader-Telegram: "It's hard to have a discussion about the facts when you're dealing with two separate sets of facts."

He's right in so far as everyone thinks they are right - especially if and when they have the facts to prove it. Was it Twain who spoke of "damn lies and statistics" or my b-school Stats professor warning the class that "statistics can be used to validate all kinds of things, true and false."

Not reassuring.

What I've not yet seen in the 2008 US Presidential Election is a way to make it easy for folks to decide who to vote for. A few weeks ago on Charlie Rose there was an HBS Anniversary where some of its best & brightest alumni spoke of what the Democrats are now speaking about should they hit the electoral jackpot: control and accountability - two things that should always go together but too often do not. 

The way to make it easy is to reduce the number of fact sets and to show that one definitive set in a way such that ordinary folks (myself included) can understand and track and speak about, fortnightly, with best friends who sit on the other side of the political spectrum.  As everybody knows what the inside of a car looks like why not use a series of dashboards to show these facts? 

Sure it's overwhelming for folks who are new to seeing such things and for those whose reputations will rise/fall based on the numbers, but how better to show one's progress and prowess (or lack thereof) than with a dashboard?

There's all sorts of metrics we could track so let's limit them to 12. Our dashboard, therefore, will have three rows with four dashboards on each. It's tricky with only 12 choices because there's so much that's so important. Let these constraints offer a listing that touches us all in ways economically, physically and/or socially:

US Federal Budget 

US Unemployment Rate 

# Americans in Poverty

# Americans w/o Health Insurance

US High-School Dropout Rate

US Literacy Rate 

# American Patents Filed 

# Americans in Prison

Gap Between Rich/Poor

US International Standing

State of our Infrastructure

State of our Environment 

The most difficult and heartbreaking thing about constructing this list is saying no to all the other worthy metrics I had to say no to while writing this.  The second most difficult thing will be to decide who gets to define what exactly these metrics mean and what the numbers are at any given point. Clearly, we cannot have either of the two primary American political parties do it; the temptation for partisan politics is just too great. I bet the folks at The Economist will do it for a small annual fee. Their writers know something about these kinds of things and they seem to be pretty honest brokers too; I've never heard ANYBODY complaining about where they got their numbers.

Once these dashboards are in effect, then incumbents will forever have to live and die by the numbers - just like their corporate cousins do (or at least are supposed to do). If times are great, it will be understandably and justifiably difficult to make a case for someone new. After all change is not always needed (although today it most certainly is). 

That this idea might compel the folks in office, now armed with both power and the 24/7/365 accountability, another reason to do a bang-up job, so much the better. It's high time to institute such measurements and something not just America but the entire world is waiting for, breathlessly. Let's hope whoever comes next is open to such reason...

On Billy Joel & Shea Stadium...

Unless you're in the business, one of the great thrills that typically leaves your life as children enter it are live concerts and live ball games.  These days I consider these luxuries I once took for granted the way an ex-smoker regard cigarettes - with a bitter sweet sentimentality. 

A good friend took me to see Billy Joel's Last Play at Shea Stadium. A Generation Xer, I knew his work well; his stuff from the 70's is epic; after that, for me, things got sappy although there were a few exceptional exceptions.  Billy seemed to agree with my assessment and played, for 50,000 nostalgic fans, almost only the good stuff.

The night was hot and heavy with sentimentality for not only was this guy who wrote a good part of the soundtrack of most of our lives singing his heart out on a Friday night but he was doing it at the home of the Mets - another huge contributor to this soundtrack. This double-treat got even sweeter as one legend after another dropped by for a song. The two highlights of these guest appearances were seeing The Who's Roger Daultry singing "My Generation" and Paul McCartney singing "Let It Be".  

It was one of those moments when you knew you were witnessing history - music history, sports history - cultural history. The Beatles began their US invasion here at this stadium a quarter century before. To see and hear their last living leader killing us softly, in fine voice, in the very same place - and on the eve of its destruction - was almost too much to bear. 

Even Billy seemed to lose himself in the moment, forgetting that this was his concert, as he watched Paul perform with the same unbridled glee that left the rest of the crowd spell-bound.

What a great thrill. What a fine tribute to a place that has given so much to so many and by a local musician who has given so much to so many too. 

Arriving home, I made a promise to get out of the house enjoy these needlessly neglected luxuries more often. After all, isn't that part of the reason one lives in a big city? 

On Contextual Sensitivity...

I coined a word – a phrase really – called “contextual sensitivity”. Per me (remember, it’s my phrase) it means having the ability, innate or learned over time, to sense what’s happening around you so that you don’t say or do or write something that will get you into trouble. This phrase is lovely in that it incorporates a way to successfully cope with the new world order – one where how one gets results is as important as actually getting the results.

Sadly, being this lovely phrase’s founder is as close as I usually get to achieving this kind of inter-personal nirvana. Here’s why…

Despite all the public doubting (most of which is created by me through an inadvertent bad word of mouth campaign I launched against myself back in my teens) I’m actually a pretty good guy. And I’m not the only one who would agree; you could ask my friends, acquaintances, colleagues, family and complete strangers (at least those for whom I’ve done anonymous good deeds).

The problem with contextual sensitivity is that being a good guy (or person for you gender neutralists) is not enough any more. That’s because of the new world order I spoke of in my introductory paragraph: the rules of success are becoming increasingly challenging as style points now (rightfully) play into the equation.

Style in this case being the way in which you go about saying or doing or writing things.

My style, despite all these years of development, is still being defined. I’m still very much a work in progress which means every now and again (and again) someone is miffed or pissed off with something that came, in one way or another, from me. Sometimes it’s intentional so I gladly take full responsibility. Sometimes, they misconstrue something; there I take partial responsibility. Sometimes, they are complete morons and I take no responsibility while avoiding all possible future contact. But mostly, it’s one of these first two scenarios.

When I really put my mind to it, my communication skills are quite solid; the problem is that there is not always sufficient time surrounding most of my interaction to “really put my mind” to it. With technology tethering us to the office and the ever-increasing speed of my own (plus my own friends’ and family’s) wants and needs, the need for speed is paramount.

So how does one effectively go faster while keeping communication-based guffaws in check?

I have no idea. My best practices don’t always work: I read each e-mail twice (sometimes thrice); I rehearse the main points and my segue for any important conversation I must have with anyone whether above or below me in the corporate and/or social totem pole (in fact, I try unsuccessfully to forget about the totem pole altogether); I try to consider the other person (i.e.., his or her needs, etc.) before responding to something that they bring up.

Maybe this is as good as it gets. I don't know. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

On Friendship...

With three decades behind me I’ve picked up my fair share of friends most of whom are alive and kicking to this very day. I'm proud of that. What follows is an overly intimate look at some the surprises I’ve sustained over the years in this oft noble quest. Having to have learned each of these seemingly obvious lessons the hard way - over and over - well, I'm not too proud of that...

Friends and friendly acquaintances are not the same

Having lived on a small street in Brooklyn with two sniff-happy dogs and, more recently, with two doll-happy little girls I’ve become the quasi-mayor (or moto after a hard night and/or bad hair day). I like knowing each face if not each name, although the pressure to be “on” can become tiresome. What I often forget is that just because someone is talking to me doesn’t mean we are friends. I’ve giggled at T-shirts with this saying but only recently realized the joke was on me.

With real friends, you can be you. You can tell inappropriate jokes without fear; you can poke fun at ill-conceived wardrobe choices and still attempt to borrow money; you can expect to see your Cuban contraband to be returned (from their humidor) even after they move into the suburbs. You can't or at least shouldn't do this with acquaintances and believe you me, losing Cuban cigars never gets any easier.

Friendships are necessarily, and by necessity, resilient

I hate getting so busy with life (and the responsibilities that come with it) that I lose touch with most anyone I care about, including and my very own wife. I hate it even more when my friends are so busy with their lives that they lose touch with me. I’m constantly fighting off disappointment over unreturned phone calls or e-mail reply intervals that span weeks if not months. I fight off the fear that grows from this unchecked feeling that I or, worse, that they are a bad person or at the very least a bad friend by attributing this poor form on some uncontrollable force. With each passing day, there seem to be more of these incontrollable forces and since they control me to, I'm getting learning grace at enjoying those rare moments when it actually all comes together (i.e., when I actually get to see my friends - any of them).

Friendships evolve and that’s (got to be) OK

I am constantly shocked when my own friendships experience ups and downs. I see it happen to others (especially on TV) where fights and/or misunderstandings and/or unchecked jealousies irretrievably ruin or temporarily tarnish relationships but I am always awed when it happens to me because, quite honestly, most of my drama happens at home (with my wife) – not with my friends. Given this dramatic absence, dismay runs through my head and heart when I witness a changing dynamic.

At first I tried to deny or worse, resist the (often correctly) perceived change in scope often going to great if not absurd lengths to keep things as they once were. Over time, however, I’ve learned first-hand that swimming with the current is much easier on the body if not the mind. Something about birds and letting them fly...

To deal with each of these three invariable, unassailable truths about modern-day friendships, I’ve created, using Microsoft Excel, a coping tool that only an OCD MBA could truly appreciate. The file is called “David’s Mighty Rolodex” and it houses the names, numbers, and e-mails of the 1,000+ folks in my circle of friends.

Here’s where the OCD part comes in: not only do I actually note the last time either I contacted them or they contacted me but I’ve created a tickler that alerts me whenever contact (on either side of the equation) goes beyond a pre-determined maximum number of days. This maximum varies by where we are in our friendship life cycle: my nearest/dearest get a 30 day reprieve whereas those with whom I are merely friendly (mean mayor) get far more reasonable 180. Do I ever let these ticklers go unattended? Sure, all the time but boy does it somehow makes me feel good to be able to monitor (given I can’t and don’t really want to control) the communication.

Sadly and ironically, I’ve spent as much time creating and optimizing this digital template than I’ve actually spent with most of my friends. In some ways that's OK because it gives me something to do while those uncontrollable forces take hold of my friends. Perhaps Bill Gates has some time since he retired. I wonder if he has a humidor?

Balanced Scorecards

Something I can't stand - and something that's happening more and more (given the upcoming Election) is the one-sided nature of each candidate's record and barbs against the other guy/gal.

I don't mind barbs so much; it's part of the game. The game, of course is about marketing and marketing is about selling and selling is about differentiating your product from the others. Barbs are simply a sales tool that can be, as most things in this world, used for good or bad. 

What kills me is my inability to keep track of everyone's (or anyone's) record on, well, anything. And not knowing makes it difficult and dangerous to know how to feel (or vote) because at any moment I cannot be certain about how much bullshit I'm actually ingesting. 

What's worse, many of these candidates - especially the ones that have been there a while - have changed their minds over time so, in reality, there may really be some truth in whatever they claim. This is close to having one's cake and eating it too. Dieting has never been so tricky.

What we need is a balanced scorecard, an idea that was introduced in the 1990's by a business writer whose name I've honestly forgotten.  Kind of like a balance sheet, it's a simple template that helps keep track of, in this case, a candidate's record over time across any particular issue. Here's how it might work:

Let's take Hillary Clinton, the Presidential candidate whose time at this particular juncture (May 2008) looks to be expiring. Love her or hate her, she was in the Senate in 2001 and soon after 9/11 she voted to give the President the authorization to start a war in Iraq. Whether that was, in fact, a good idea or not is not the point. The point is that she voted yes...

The scorecard would note that vote plus any/all public comments she made thereafter to support her decision. If ever she were to stray from her original thinking, so be it, just record it on the other side of the card and let the chips fall where they may. Lots of folks change their mind over time so she's in good company. It would also offer valuable lessons to future generations; great people were still human beings and they, too, made mistakes...

What I like best about balanced scorecards is that it, ideally, is based upon fact. Sure, context is important and without it, one might misconstrue things so let's include some context too. With that it's off to the races. Voting records, attendance, funding sources, pubic comments, infidelities, whatever; it all counts and all should be chronicled. This is what celebrity is about and if you don't like it, then don't play.

At the end of the day, I simply want enough information to make an opinion that is well-researched and informed by facts. By having such a resource, I'd be better able to defend my opinion and to help others construct their own. At the very least, I'd have somewhere to send them - those who need help developing an opinion or revising one. In this Information Age, I'd imagine this is only a few clicks away. 

My Madness & Television...

One of the things I can't stand about myself (and this is not a short list) is that, despite all the goodness in my life - my lovely, well-employed wife, my two sweet and relatively trouble-free daughters, my two fine homes, many-o-friends, and a good/fun job, my focus automatically goes to what is wrong. Why is that?

I pray. I practice yoga. I meditate. I am polite. I read books on SNAG topics such as "loving-kindness". And yet no matter what I do, I cannot make myself a truly nice guy, one who does not naturally gravitate toward judgement and petulance. Don't get me wrong; I appear to be a genuinely nice guy but I'm not because naturally nice guys would never feel the way I do about things, especially silly things that really don't matter, like TV shows:

Why is that fat guy on Lost still so damn fat? Shouldn't he, after spending what seems like years on that not-so-deserted-after-all island, lose at least 75 pounds, becoming merely a chubby guy? Nope. Not him. He's still as big as a house and as weird and depressed as he was in the beginning of the show. Go figure.

Why doesn't Lucy from I Love Lucy (my wife's favorite show) ever learn from the many errors of her almost-always errant ways? Sure, it's funny but why does she not ever try to be better, having learned from her mistakes? It's this lack of development that prevents me from enjoying the show. Instead, I spend the entirety of the show judging her and getting mad at my lovely, well-employed wife for laughing whilst I stew and simmer in angst.

The smash-hit The Hills features a number of blond-haired chuckle-heads seeking careers in the glamorous world of fashion. That's fine - this is my wife's industry, too - but unlike my wife, these feckless dolts invite men into their lives that seem picked from the gutters of humanity. One of them (Spencer) is a U3: unhandsome, untalented and unworthy of love - a pathetic lout on a good day - yet for a time, he held one of this show's star's silly heart. As folks, including my wife, watch this show with bated breath, mine is held as I secretly (until now) plan his demise.

Why can't I simply take the best and leave the rest? The professional advice I get is to simply concentrate upon the good but I cannot. Good is not good if/when it's surrounded by bad; it gets sullied.  Perhaps (I fool myself) it's altruistic; I merely want good for everyone including those people who I see on TV. The answer to date has been illusive but now, looking back, it's easy: stop watching TV with my wife. Now onto my other problems...

How to Be a Good Boss...

With shows like The Office so popular, one can safely surmise there is a surfeit of bad bosses - and that's not good. Are the real bosses as bad as that guy on TV? Surely not, but those not on TV are lacking enough substance to warrant the creation of a show like The Office. For the sake of those of us who are not self-employed, let's look at the secret recipe for being a good boss. And since people are different, let's assume we are bright, ambitious, and desirous of doing great work. 

Let's start with the what great bosses don't need: they don't need to be great leaders; they don't need to be smart; and they don't need to be politically savvy. 

Leaders are born - not made. This comment will infuriate the trainers/coaches who make money transforming ordinary folk into great leaders but I've been to many such sessions and the only ones who benefit are the outliers. The great ones get greater still while the truly horrid get a tiny bit less bad. Those stuck in the middle, the majority, invariably find themselves in the same place that following Monday; perhaps they cannot remember or aptly apply the lessons. You might think having a really smart boss is a plus but it's not. Big brains rarely exude empathy; instead, they alienate and create barriers. Also, their owners feel that being smart is enough and, again, it's not. Last comes political savvy, a skill as helpful as it can be hurtful - like juggling knives. Time is money and both are wasted when your boss is too busy to help because he's striking a pose with the senior executives. Just do the work and the results will be noticed...

The must-haves for being a good boss is having all of the following qualities: vision; sensibility; and (not or) humor. That's it; anything more is icing on the cake that makes the good great.

Vision, whether it's your boss' or someone else's, is critical for without knowing where you want to go, any path will do. Understanding the strategy makes it easy to know what to do, to see how your work fits in and, perhaps most important, it helps you know what to say no to. Being sensible is largely overlooked these days and that's a shame. Steering employees to think logically and to conduct themselves in the best possible way can make or break a career. In the book Emotional Intelligence, the author told of a US military attache based in Asia who was required to show a propaganda film guaranteed to ruin the relationships he had worked so hard to forge. Rather than not showing it, he complied (at 3 am) a win-win if ever there was one! Last comes humor. In any kind of relationship, sharing a moment of mirth goes a long way; it creates a bond that makes both parties try harder which, in turn, breeds more good work. 

My best bosses have taught me how to think (by their example); they have stretched me with assignments well past my pay grade (perhaps the only good side-effect of downsizing); and they have beaten the tar out of me with words, reviews and the evil eye whenever I failed to live up to expectations. They have also made me laugh, a lot, and this - along with all the other stuff -  made me love (not just respect) them. Maybe it's because my career began with a series of unspeakably bad bosses that the good ones stand out so. Whatever it is, I'm glad to know the difference and to be able to celebrate the great ones in real-time, while I've still got them because who knows what might come next...

The Art of the False Start

As go Arsenal so, too, goes life. This was the title that got me up but it's too football-focused. Instead is a title that speaks to what my team managed to do with their (once) perfect season - blow it all by peaking too soon and failing to live up to lofty expectation. As a parable of sorts, I'll try to use their experience to help all of y'all identify...

How many time have you started so strong that you simply killed noise? Such a strong early performance amazes all involved - as friends, as foes; all (including you) are incredulous and wondering silently or aloud how to keep it up. Comparisons are inevitable; the young Arsenal team of 2008 was acquired/configured on the cheap and dubbed the new "Invincibles," an undefeated Arsenal team of the past. The only response is to turn beet red, look down and say "Aw, Shucks". Even if you have to fake it... 

Whenever we starting new - a project at work, a hobby, a relationship - we begin with excitement and trepidation. Starting from scratch is liberating (like finding fresh powder unsullied by other skiers) and jumping in with or without a plan gives us all the conviction we need. After a few early wins, we grow in confidence and pick up speed. Losses build character and serve to reinforce/rejigger our ambition. As the season began, all Arsenal could do was win; they may have tied a game or two at mid-season but...

Then reality invariably sets in. Losses come (and often mount) and the ever-growing confidence we once had is not so much shattered as it is questioned - which is often worse. "What has happened?" is the necessary question. Poor planning, poor execution, lack of focus, fatigue are all fair replies but knowing why you've failure only goes so far. It's what you do next that matters most. Arsenal may play a beautiful game - resembling Brazil's national team back when they were fit and sober - but winning means requires goals, not just perfect passes. Time to take it up a notch...

At this point are two options: mid-course corrections or the death by mediocrity. Correctly diagnosing the root cause is key, of course, but implementing the fix is where the rubber hits the road. Either you're back on track, doing the things you must to win, or you're not. It's that simple and that difficult. Arsenal has failed, so far, to regain momentum; their title challenge appears lost as is their quest for silverware abroad. Explanations abound but it doesn't matter any more; it's too late...

I am personally disappointed at Arsenal but I'll live just as I have lived through disappointment at my own self over my personal history of lost and/or abandoned projects, hobbies and friends/lovers. Guilt and shame over my guitar, my garden, my goatee (just kidding) - and that's just the G's - could kill a guy but the thing to do is to get up, dust yourself off and try, try again. Be sure to appreciate the effort, learn from your mistakes and next time out, make only new ones...

The Blue Donkeys (April 2008)

Politics, always a contentious topic. No matter what side you're on, there's enough good/bad to make one question their seating arrangement - and the alternatives, too. And despite proudly calling myself a Limosine Liberal I do admit to a few conservative leanings.  For instance, I'm a big believer in freedom of speech but actions such as, say, flag burning is a no-no for me. Also, I don't like the idea of a welfare program that makes it financially unattractive for the family to start working again.

With perhaps a few other exceptions, I'm basically blue. And what with all the colossal (if that's a big enough word to capture all the egregious malfeasance) screw-ups from the current Administration, this should be a great time for us Donkeys. Well, it's not for we have a notorious reputation for blowing the big games and this coming Presidential Election is no different (even my favorite football club, Arsenal, wins the tough ones; sadly, only the tough ones in 2008...).

We have two quality candidates each of whom entered the race with a few "handicaps", some organic in origination, others developed over time. Both would be quite good in the White House; both would be a much better alternative but that's no longer the question at hand. It's now a matter of choice between the parties: our (now) two versus their one, a man who despite his age and dubious Party pandering tactics is not a bad guy at all. 

What will be interesting in the weeks ahead is how the resolution plays out: we have two viable candidates but only one can have the nomination. On one hand is a very hard-working and knowledgeable lady whose life has been spent in politics. Despite the occasional yarn and a name-based legacy that gives her big negative ratings even before she says a word, she could clearly do this job. On the other hand is a terribly bright, young man - and a gentleman to boot - who finds himself coming of age at a very propitious time. He's got good or at least pretty good experience, those who know him love him, those who hate him respect him (mostly) and he, because of his organic past, represents a tapestry that America has had a hard time embracing since, well, forever.

In political races, the "best man" does not always win. In this Century the best man or even the "winner" doesn't even win. In November, the best man may not even be a man but by then it will have already been decided. I hope that the Democrats can rally around not just the best man but the one who will be able to win the national election and make our country great again. If they (if we) cannot, perhaps it's still not yet our time...

The Perverse Irony of Trying...

By nature I'm a planner. My lists are legendary and I often let them run - or "ruin",  says my wife - my life. While not everything goes according to plan there is still a great sense of comfort in knowing I have one... 

When things don't work out I bunker down and plan harder, refining my strategy, my objectives and, of course, my list-based tactics. Do I sound like a good time or what?  I'm OK with failure or disappointment; I don't particularly like it but it doesn't kill me. 

What does kill me is when things I don't actively plan work out - no matter how good the consequence. And while this doesn't happen a lot it's worth exploring.  Two wonderful albeit frustrating examples include "How I Found My First (And So Far Only) Wife" and "How I Found My Current (But Not Only) Job". Both happened when I Honest to God wasn't looking or trying. Why is it that when I play it cool and/or don't really try I get what I want despite not necessarily being adequately prepared for it? Why is it that when we actually lead with passion and put ourselves out there it often does not?

What is so attractive about indifference? Are people so insecure that they want what they can't have? I'm insecure but don't feel that way: if I feel something is out-of-reach then I simply reach for something a bit closer.  When I'm on the receiving end I want someone who is both highly qualified and highly desirous of whatever asset I'm selling. If they are not "into it" then it's over because I demand both competence and commitment. One of these attributes alone is simply not enough. 

Does it mean that trying is out because it's not 100% fail-proof? No. It must mean - at least for me - than one must optimize a strategy and tactics around a quest with a reasonable amount of time and preparation and then execute it with a reasonable amount of passion. Enough passion to keep those who want intrigue intrigued and those who want more with more. Turn it up, turn it down for for God's Sake, man, don't you ever turn it off!

Crazy for Arsenal...

I've never been much of a sportsman and, frankly, I've always felt bad about it. 

Like most American boys I grew up on the field. I played baseball and basketball though never football (wasn't allowed) and the less traditional sports, too: hockey, soccer, skiing, and lacrosse. I was a pretty decent athlete (and still ski) but when the final whistle blew, that was that. Zero sentimentality and, moreover, zero time wasted watching TV save the occasional Olympics or Olympic-like Super Bowl or World Series.

Over the years, I would overhear sports-related conversations and would spy commuters immersed in the sporting pages. I'd be jealous of this passion and the bond between fans and wonder why I could never catch the fever. After all, sports have the power of being able to unite, to divide and, always, to provoke emotion. 

In England, a friend took me to see Arsenal, a top-flight North London football club play Liverpool in the English Premier League. While I don't recall the score, I do remember feeling my heart race yet somehow, back in the States, the experience was forgotten until years later.

Channel surfing, I saw Arsenal on TV. I put down the remote and watched. What happened is hard to explain but is worth trying: it's like the first time you drive a standard without abusing the clutch; it's like the first time you feel yourself being stared at by someone you want to be staring at you. You feel glee, elation and when the goodness stops, utter dejection.

I now follow Arsenal religiously. On weekends I watch them play. On weekdays I read the press and the blogs to keep abreast of their ups/downs. I care about them as if they were a part of my family because for me, they are. Just this week, when my family left the lunch hall to resume skiing (it was a ski vacation after all) I stayed behind to watch the Gunners take out Milan 2-0 in the 2008 Champions League semi-finals. As the final whistle blew, I stood up and clapped loudly enough to win unwanted stares and most likely, silent jeers. It didn't and doesn't matter, anymore, because whistles notwithstanding I am now a sportsman...

On Schadenfreude...

Finally a word more difficult to spell than entrepreneur, more difficult to pronounce than my own last name! It's a "five-dollar word" we mentally consign into "I've heard it before but don't really know what it means." When others use it, we nod and smile and silently sigh over our own inability to consistently remember what it really means.

Schadenfreude is Germanic in origin. Per the Wikipedia it is "pleasure taken at someone else's misfortunes." Schaden means harm; Freude means joy. Etymology lesson over. More interesting perhaps - to me, at least - is my relationship to the word. When tragedy strikes I immediately express emotion but it is guided by my own judgement of the severity and fairness involved: "How bad is it and how soon, if ever, can/will they recover?" and then, regardless of the answer I quietly ask/answer the question,"To what extent, in any way, shape or form, was it deserved?"

When bad or really bad things happen to good people, I feel bad - really bad. When bad things happen to bad people, I feel less bad (sometimes far better than bad). Conversely, when good things happen to good people, I feel elation, followed by a brief twinge of jealousy and then hope that I'm good enough to be next. When good things happen to bad people, I feel anger and fear, fear that some finite amount of good fortune may not now exist for the rest of us.

Does sharing my desire for a world governed by poetic justice, karma and/or just desserts make me mean moralist, a bad Judeo-Christian or simply an honest man? I want everyone in the world to be happy - I really do. I fancy a world in which everyone can live in peace and harmony. In this Utopia, and in real life too, I just can't stand down emotionally when bad actions goes "unrewarded." And since I apply this rule to my own misfortune, I feel like it's somehow OK...

 

Second Chances...

America is a country borne of second chances yet one of our great nation's most sticky and enduring colloquialisms is that "in life, there are no second chances." 

Nonsense. When Time Warner merged with AOL, it was hailed a "bet the company" deal. Few would deem it a success yet despite a devastating loss of shareholder value, two hearts still beat. And most other companies in similar straits are still standing (e.g., Alcatel-Lucent).  As for those in charge of these corporate train wrecks, despite bad press, firings, fines and, in some cases, jail time, most are not only still employed but astonishingly well employed.  

This is nothing new; even Abraham Lincoln lost most every election up until he became President of the United States. That there are second chances is a good thing. It creates a social context in which folks actually can swing for the fences - achieve something great - and not have to worry about the damning consequences of failure. Start-ups come and go. Old businesses are liquidated. People move on and try again. It's in our country's DNA and, thankfully, it's spreading all over the world.

These are very interesting times we now live in. The halcyon days, the sweet innocence of youth is forever shortening. That in and of itself is both bad and quite sad news for all. Let us hope that despite this cultural acceleration, we can at the very least continue the tradition of forgiveness for lesser sins and forever embrace that far more reasonable response for trying and not succeeding; that being,  "try, try again"...

A Little Patience...

I have not historically been a patient man. Tolerant, perhaps, but not patient. On good days I am merely impatient, but then not all days are good. I would often try to make myself feel better knowing that I was least patient with me, so at least it was selflessly allocated. But that never really worked.

I have a strong world-view that can be aptly summarized: we are here for a short time and each of us has a special combination of talents. Discover them and then do something meaningful and please make it snappy. Whether you're an artist or an accountant, just keep on keeping on - more paint, more numbers. Be creative; be conservative; go, go, go. If you're not moving forward then something is wrong and more than likely it's you.

Being impatient has enabled many of my greatest accomplishment including fatherhood. Ironically, having children has forced me to become more patient. So fascinated by everything they do, these small people, I forget about the time and focus only upon the action. After doing this a while and becoming aware of how much more I got from the experience I tried to apply this newly found virtue in all my other interactions (i.e., with adults, too) and it works! 

So now, if you see me and you're going slow and I pass you, my hand gesture may actually be a friendly wave and nothing more than that...

Renaissance Souls...

Just read The Renaissance Soul by Margaret Lobenstine and it turns out I'm one.  All it takes is having multiple interests that need to be sated in order for you to feel fully actualized. (Oh, God, did I just say that)? This book is for those whose souls have been put in harm's way as professional pursuits were carried out (or not) unaware of/uniformed by their special needs. The way to win is to focus only upon a handful of interests.  My "sampler" includes being a sassy entrepreneur, writing/speaking, helping good companies get great and being a first-class family man. My "life design" will find me building up my company's infrastructure and then running it at night and on weekends while devoting daylight hours to a good company in need of marketing might. I'll be writing/speaking about it along the way... With my professional wants and needs finally appreciated and sated, I'll hope to leverage my new-found happiness on the home front. Will it work? Wait two months and then give my wife a call!

My First Taste of Ageism!

I may not be spelling it right but I'm certain I just had my first direct experience with ageism.  As you may or may not know, my team at a Fortune 500 company were displaced a few weeks ago. As you must surely know, I've taken 30+ days off to build a small company - Better Indeed LLC - and am only now (as much of my new company's infrastructure is in place) looking for another marketing/innovation gig.

My goodbye package includes outplacement and career coach. An exhaustive review of my resume elicited the following "You may wish to remove your graduation dates and, perhaps, your first job, too." What this effectively did was make me two years younger: I'm 38 again - excellent! What this also effectively did is to prepare me for a world in which guys like me - Greyhairs: Stage 1 - are looked at differently. Being half Jewish and half Catholic, I'm used to living with half the fun, twice the guilt and triple the shame. Now this. Lucky me...

 

So Much E-Mail, So Little Time...

I have a problem and so do you: too much e-mail. And despite whatever innovation we bring to the problem, nothing works. How much is too much? It's like pornography; you just know it. For the uninitiated, if you stop looking at anything but new arrivals and have lost count of your in-box's current tally, take pleasure in mass deletion or stop checking altogether, you have too much e-mail. 

I pride myself in keeping no more than 40 in my in-box. To do this I file aggressively, delete what I don't need and act upon anything I can get through quickly. These tricks are David Allen's, an organization guru. My actions have repercussions, however: I delete jokes, so I laugh less and I delete news feeds, so I know less. Not good; I suffer in ways I cannot imagine...

There's not enough time to read it all and still enjoy books and magazines, my two favorite past times I used to pass time with back when I had time to pass. E-mail is strange; it blends work and play. It enables incredible productivity yet burdens us with an endless stream of To-Do's. Whether mixing business and pleasure is a good mix or not doesn't matter - it's too late to turn back now. Find a way way to get through it all, force yourself to like it and move on. 

Going, Going...Grey!

At 29 someone counted three white hairs in my otherwise dark brown mane. They were, over time, joined by others. Those who know me will say, "Shut up, David. You have more hair than anyone this side of the Mississippi." They have a point; rather than receding my hair seems to be proceeding. Regardless, the whites have destroyed a perfectly nice neighborhood. I want pepper, not salt! The word  "distinguished" does not come to mind when that tragic combination of mirror and light takes place. Instead I'm reminded of the fact that I'm getting older even if I don't feel or act it. That still-unopened packet of Just For Men is several years old now and suggests I haven't the patience or persistence to fight this particular losing battle. There are too many others to fight...

My First Blog, My First Post...

They say 40 is the new 30 but they're wrong - they're always wrong. 40 is just what it's always been for modern-day Americans: the half-way point. I spent much of age 39 thinking about my planetary contributions and came up short. Sure I found a great girl to marry, have sired two beautiful children, donate time/money to charity and listen patiently to family and friends until it's my turn.  I've also been, for many years, a generally obedient Fortune 500 foot soldier armed with a top-school MBA and unrealistic expectations about title and salary. But this is expected! What I haven't accomplished - and it's killing me - is to produce worthy & witty public opinion and commercial products that truly add value (a word I truly hate). That will change in 2008 and this blog shall follow my tortured path of intended written and commercial relevance. As speaker notes to my living legacy I will share erratic, irreverent opinion and forward/backward progress on the product front. I will do my best to entertain & delight in 100 words or less whenever I can. Stay tuned and enjoy!