I recently witnessed Canada win an Olympic Gold Medal in men's hockey. I was amazed at the teamwork, the efficiency of play and most importantly the long term focus of a country to create such amazing players.
Canada has a population of just over 35 million people. 670,000 kids under 18 play minor hockey. Canada is the 37th most populated country in the world. There are two other hockey countries with a greater population (Russia and USA). Sweden won the silver medal. The Swedes have the 89th most populated country in the world (8.9 million). Finland, who won bronze, might be the most impressive - 5.4 million people.
The power of focus of one particular subject will make you a world class expert. Our recent success the Olympics demonstrates it. Kids start at a young age. Many parents trade their weekends for hockey rinks. We spend money, time and focus on the wee athletes. Summers are spent playing road hockey. Some dream of super-stardom for their kids. Others just want their kids to have fun. Either case, we put a lot of effort into these proteges. No wonder we're awesome at it...
My son doesn't play organized hockey. He never asked for it so we don't push it. Yet, he still has his net downstairs and we play 3 nights a week, taking turns as the goaltender. Every goal is celebrated like he just won the Stanley Cup.
As much as I'm impressed with a small populated nation like Canada, I'm more impressed with the hockey ability of Finland. They shouldn't be able to play with the likes of Russia and United States. The numbers shouldn't let them be competitive.
Another example of focus on sports and population is Cuba. One of the best countries in the world in baseball, Cuba has 11 million people- 3.4% the size of United States.
If you want to be world class at anything, all you need to do is focus and practice. It's been proven that after 10,000 hours you will be an expert in whatever you decide.
10,000 hours is 5 years of continuous work at 40 hours per week, 50 weeks a year. It's not that hard to achieve if you have the ability to focus.
Do you have the guts to positively change the world? Get the expertise. Anyone can do it, even you and me.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Thursday, February 27, 2014
No assholes allowed
I recently stumbled upon a new book at Chapters. Usually I only buy books that have been recommended by friends. But this one jumped off the shelf with its title.
Never buy a book by its cover, right? We do it all of the time. We call it gut instinct. The book opened my imagination immediately. It made me think of all the people I've worked with over the years that were jerks. It made me think of my own actions and how I may have acted jerkily.
The book is titled, "The No Asshole Rule", by Robert I. Sutton. Here's what is written on the back cover:
"The definitive guide to working with - and surviving - bullies, creeps, jerks, tyrants, tormentors, despots, backstabbers, egomaniacs and all other assholes who do their best to destroy you at work".
I've labelled these people as sociopaths, but I like Dr. Sutton's straight to the point branding better.
He says that assholes need to be removed from the workplace. They are poison to culture. In many cases they will be high achievers. They will be constantly rewarded for measurable results. You won't be able to measure their poison and they generally aren't held accountable for ill effects they cause. The bad work will be translated into poor morale, poor work by counterparts, employee attrition and potentially lost revenues.
If you have assholes in your company and you have the power to get rid of them. Remove the poison quickly and surgically. They are not growing your business. They are hurting the reputation of your company.
Remember the story of the stinky kid in school. If you don't know who is the smelly kid in school, it's probably you.
If you look around your office and you don't have any assholes, either you have an amazing, productive organization or you're the asshole.
Do you know the easy way not to have assholes in your company. Don't hire them! If you're responsible for hiring, identify candidates who display tendencies of caring, and nurturing. Assholes only care about themselves. They put profit (both personal and organizational) ahead of people.
People have to come first, always. It is a known fact that organizations that put people first, always get more profit long term. Plus it's always more fun working for that type of company than the alternative. Fun keeps people engaged in the vision.
My next company, I'm going to have a sign put in everyone's office, "No assholes allowed". It'll remind everyone what we stand for first.
Ta ta for now!
Never buy a book by its cover, right? We do it all of the time. We call it gut instinct. The book opened my imagination immediately. It made me think of all the people I've worked with over the years that were jerks. It made me think of my own actions and how I may have acted jerkily.
The book is titled, "The No Asshole Rule", by Robert I. Sutton. Here's what is written on the back cover:
"The definitive guide to working with - and surviving - bullies, creeps, jerks, tyrants, tormentors, despots, backstabbers, egomaniacs and all other assholes who do their best to destroy you at work".
I've labelled these people as sociopaths, but I like Dr. Sutton's straight to the point branding better.
He says that assholes need to be removed from the workplace. They are poison to culture. In many cases they will be high achievers. They will be constantly rewarded for measurable results. You won't be able to measure their poison and they generally aren't held accountable for ill effects they cause. The bad work will be translated into poor morale, poor work by counterparts, employee attrition and potentially lost revenues.
If you have assholes in your company and you have the power to get rid of them. Remove the poison quickly and surgically. They are not growing your business. They are hurting the reputation of your company.
Remember the story of the stinky kid in school. If you don't know who is the smelly kid in school, it's probably you.
If you look around your office and you don't have any assholes, either you have an amazing, productive organization or you're the asshole.
Do you know the easy way not to have assholes in your company. Don't hire them! If you're responsible for hiring, identify candidates who display tendencies of caring, and nurturing. Assholes only care about themselves. They put profit (both personal and organizational) ahead of people.
People have to come first, always. It is a known fact that organizations that put people first, always get more profit long term. Plus it's always more fun working for that type of company than the alternative. Fun keeps people engaged in the vision.
My next company, I'm going to have a sign put in everyone's office, "No assholes allowed". It'll remind everyone what we stand for first.
Ta ta for now!
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Cats and dogs
My parents used to tell everyone how their children fought like cats and dogs. They were right. And it was all my fault.
I grew up in a rural community, where the nearest friend lived 5+ miles away. Until my parents let me drive my bike on the Trans Canada Highway, I was imprisoned. My sister was almost 3 years younger than me.
She had friends who lived next door. We had a cousin, only a year younger than her who lived within walking distance. All I had was her.
As a young boy, I liked to play in the woods. I enjoyed sports, snowball fights, fort building and other boy type stuff. My sister would play with me from time to time, but would get bored of the boy stuff and would revert to her girly activities, which I had no interest in. I refused compromise...
I would amuse myself by teasing and tormenting her. I constantly tortured her mentally. This always occupied my time and created funtimes for a young boy. I was bored. She was my guinea pig. Plus my parents would leave me in charge.
No one told me that girls grow faster than boys. As we approached puberty, she was about my size and she started defending herself. One day, I did something that crossed the line. I don't remember what it was. But the moment will always be remembered. She was at her breaking point. She picked up a hay fork and started chasing me with it. Although I deserved the reaction, I was scared. As I rounded the corner of the house, I grabbed a garden rake. We were now in a duel: Rake vs Fork. Neither one of us had a chance to take the first swing in our Mexican Standoff. Before we could act, a car drove by and honked the horn. My uncle and his two sons had just witnessed our extreme battle. Both of us, caught up into the moment realized the craziness and dropped our weapons. Now instead of the duel, we were more worried that our uncle was going to rat us out to our parents. We had done wrong and were afraid of the consequences. Our parents never mentioned it over the years. Maybe they never knew. Maybe they were immune to our battles. In either case, the only reminder we have about that day is from our cousins who witnessed it from the back seat of their dad's car.
That moment in time is the worst and funniest battle I can remember with my sister. Even though, we declared our hate for each other many times, I always stood up for her. When she started dating the community dope-head I ratted her out to our mom. When older kids teased her on the bus, I would stand up and protect her, despite getting the brunt of the teasing afterwards. I have always had her back.
As we grew older, we grew closer. As adults, we lived together for a while. She's a tough woman. I hope I had something to do with that. She has a huge heart.
Did we fight like cats and dogs? Hell yeah! Through all of the good and bad times we've had together, I respect her very much. She's a strong woman, a great mother and a loving wife and daughter.
I'm so proud of her. Love ya sis!
I grew up in a rural community, where the nearest friend lived 5+ miles away. Until my parents let me drive my bike on the Trans Canada Highway, I was imprisoned. My sister was almost 3 years younger than me.
She had friends who lived next door. We had a cousin, only a year younger than her who lived within walking distance. All I had was her.
As a young boy, I liked to play in the woods. I enjoyed sports, snowball fights, fort building and other boy type stuff. My sister would play with me from time to time, but would get bored of the boy stuff and would revert to her girly activities, which I had no interest in. I refused compromise...
I would amuse myself by teasing and tormenting her. I constantly tortured her mentally. This always occupied my time and created funtimes for a young boy. I was bored. She was my guinea pig. Plus my parents would leave me in charge.
No one told me that girls grow faster than boys. As we approached puberty, she was about my size and she started defending herself. One day, I did something that crossed the line. I don't remember what it was. But the moment will always be remembered. She was at her breaking point. She picked up a hay fork and started chasing me with it. Although I deserved the reaction, I was scared. As I rounded the corner of the house, I grabbed a garden rake. We were now in a duel: Rake vs Fork. Neither one of us had a chance to take the first swing in our Mexican Standoff. Before we could act, a car drove by and honked the horn. My uncle and his two sons had just witnessed our extreme battle. Both of us, caught up into the moment realized the craziness and dropped our weapons. Now instead of the duel, we were more worried that our uncle was going to rat us out to our parents. We had done wrong and were afraid of the consequences. Our parents never mentioned it over the years. Maybe they never knew. Maybe they were immune to our battles. In either case, the only reminder we have about that day is from our cousins who witnessed it from the back seat of their dad's car.
That moment in time is the worst and funniest battle I can remember with my sister. Even though, we declared our hate for each other many times, I always stood up for her. When she started dating the community dope-head I ratted her out to our mom. When older kids teased her on the bus, I would stand up and protect her, despite getting the brunt of the teasing afterwards. I have always had her back.
As we grew older, we grew closer. As adults, we lived together for a while. She's a tough woman. I hope I had something to do with that. She has a huge heart.
Did we fight like cats and dogs? Hell yeah! Through all of the good and bad times we've had together, I respect her very much. She's a strong woman, a great mother and a loving wife and daughter.
I'm so proud of her. Love ya sis!
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
I've never met a Newfie I didn't like
What makes a person from Newfoundland so special? I have yet to meet one I didn't like. They have a comforting, jovial spirit about them. Most of them are in perennial good moods. Anytime I've been around a Newf, there are usually funny stories, soliloquies, jokes and all round good times.
I've had cod and Screech. I don't think it comes from that. I have been known to be in a better mood after a few swishes of newfie moonshine, but it wears off by morning.
I don't know what it is, but I have to say I wish more people were like them. In a world where jerks seem to germinate by the minute, I have yet to meet one from Newfoundland.
I've heard similar comments from my friends in Central Canada who say the same thing about all Atlantic Canadians. Assholes exist here, I assure them.
Here's an idea for someone who wants to make a million dollars. Bottle up that Newfie like-ability and sell it as magic happy potion.
I don't know what they have to be happy about. They have the highest unemployment rate in the country. Cod stocks have depleted to almost nothing. They live on a rock. They get the worst snowstorms in the country. I've heard that snow can still be on the ground in June.
One winter I had to do business in Gander. Imagine my surprise when I couldn't see the first floor of the hotel. Snowbanks were up to the second floor balconies. I thought winter was tough in New Brunswick. We got nothing on Gander. That was the most snow I have ever seen in my life.
They don't take themselves too serious. They look at the bright side of life. They seem to value family, friends and fun, in that order.
I know I'm generalizing, but as a group, I think Newfoundlanders are the best group of people I've ever met.
I asked a friend once if there were any assholes in Newfoundland. Here's what he said, "There've been many over tha years bye. Once we find 'im, we deport 'im to Torontah".
That answers so much...
I asked a friend once if there were any assholes in Newfoundland. Here's what he said, "There've been many over tha years bye. Once we find 'im, we deport 'im to Torontah".
That answers so much...
Monday, February 24, 2014
Here comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail...
Have you ever had a pet rabbit? I did. Problem was I wanted babies. Baby animals are always the cutest. They remind me of a stuffed toy. So dad got me a male to go with my girl bunny.
We started with two rabbits one spring and ended with over 100 the following summer. They bred like, like rabbits. They started in a cage as pets, but soon their reproductivity was out of control. Incestuous, dirty little bunnies. We couldn't afford to keep feeding them, so we let them go into the wild.
They were no longer pets. They were vermin. One afternoon, my dad had a craving for rabbit stew. He gave me his 12 gauge and told me to go fetch one. There were plenty of them. Their white furry coats could be seen from 200 yards. It was my job to bring supper home. Coming home empty handed was not an option for this 13 year old boy. I had to prove to my dad that I was a man. That I could be trusted with taking care of my family by putting food on the table. Probably partly egotistical, partly stupid, I walked slowly toward the woods and got within 20 yards of the biggest red eyed albino bunny I had ever seen. As he wondered what the little guy with the big piece of steel was doing, I was taking aim for his head. I pulled the trigger. He let out a squeal, kicked about 10 times and lied motionless in the grass.
They were no longer pets. They were vermin. One afternoon, my dad had a craving for rabbit stew. He gave me his 12 gauge and told me to go fetch one. There were plenty of them. Their white furry coats could be seen from 200 yards. It was my job to bring supper home. Coming home empty handed was not an option for this 13 year old boy. I had to prove to my dad that I was a man. That I could be trusted with taking care of my family by putting food on the table. Probably partly egotistical, partly stupid, I walked slowly toward the woods and got within 20 yards of the biggest red eyed albino bunny I had ever seen. As he wondered what the little guy with the big piece of steel was doing, I was taking aim for his head. I pulled the trigger. He let out a squeal, kicked about 10 times and lied motionless in the grass.
My first kill was a rabbit. I brought my bounty home proudly. Then my old man threw a curve ball at me. He said, "You killed it, you gut it and skin it". What? I thought that was dad's job. I killed it. He always skinned 'em. Not today. It was my turn to enter manhood through the skinning of death.
Killing an animal at 20 yards is easy. Just pull the trigger. Removing its fluffy white fur and ripping out its intestines just seemed barbaric. After all bunnies are cute and lovable, not to mention the whole Easter Bunny myth that was revealed only a few years earlier. This was going to be tough for a young hunter.
Putting a hand inside a recently deceased animal changes a person. The body heat exuded from a fresh kill is actually quite disgusting. Everything is slimy. I had to pull and tug on internal organs. I had to find and save the heart and liver because my neighbor thought them to be a delicassy. I had to bring my mind somewhere else. I didn't want to know what I was touching. It wasn't time for a biology class. The quicker it was over, the better I would be.
It's been years since I have gutted an animal but I will never forget that first one.
By the way, I didn't eat any rabbit that night. Nor have I ever eaten rabbit since. I try it and it disgusts me every time. From then on out, my rabbit kills were strictly for fox food.
I haven't hunted in 12 years. I like the tranquility of the woods. I like the meat that comes from the hunt. I actually like the hunt. Every time I see an animal die or when I have to get my elbows deep in blood, it hurts. It hurts from a deep, emotional place.
Don't get me wrong, if I have to kill to feed my family, I will be the first in the woods. If my family isn't going hungry, animals are safe near me unless they become assholes.
I haven't hunted in 12 years. I like the tranquility of the woods. I like the meat that comes from the hunt. I actually like the hunt. Every time I see an animal die or when I have to get my elbows deep in blood, it hurts. It hurts from a deep, emotional place.
Don't get me wrong, if I have to kill to feed my family, I will be the first in the woods. If my family isn't going hungry, animals are safe near me unless they become assholes.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Are you hockey nut?
In a country that doesn't come across as boastful, we take our hockey pretty serious. In world terms, Canadians always rank high on the like-ability scale. We don't invade other countries. We don't take a hard stand in world politics. We kinda live by the motto, "live and let live". I love telling people I'm from Canada. In general, we're nice, honest people.
Then hockey season comes and we start to act like a bunch of rabid Cujo's looking for the taste of blood. We're a proud people. I get that. Why do we get so consumed by 5 grown men chasing a little black cylinder with the objective of shooting it past a gatekeeper into a fish net? Our nice guy attitude gets thrown in the corner because winning isn't everything, it's the only thing. We need to win, or we're not happy.
We're good at it. Actually we're really good at it. There are over 620,000 children under 18 years old registered with Hockey Canada. We see parents screaming at their kids at the rink, in hopes of them becoming the next Sidney Crosby.
Do you know where hockey ranks as a sport practiced the most by children? Number 3: Soccer is first, followed by swimming.
Soccer? I know soccer is a popular sport. It's a cheap sport compared to hockey. It probably has something to do with immigration, right? Soccer is the most popular sport in the world. That might all be true, but it doesn't help our ability on the international scene. Canada hasn't had a men's team at the World Cup since 1986. That was the only time, Canada has ever qualified for soccer's top tournament.
Yesterday, I fell into a Twitter feed with the hashtag "#fuckCanada". It's actually pretty funny. There are a bunch of Americans pissed that Canada beat them twice in two days at the Sochi Olympics. They have 10x the population, but couldn't beat neither men's nor women's team. There's a lot of back and forth banter. None of which matters. It feels good to put our southern neighbors in their place. Despite what they tell us, they aren't the best at everything.
My friends will string me up for saying this, but hockey's just a game. It's fun to know my countrymen are really good at it. It's awesome to cheer for a winning team. It would be unpatriotic to root for another team at the Olympics, wouldn't it?
Yes, I'm proud to be Canadian. I'm cheering for Canada to win a gold medal in Men's Hockey. Whether Canada wins or not, I'll forget about it tomorrow.
It is just a game. Doesn't change my life in the least. Hope my friends realize that too.
Then hockey season comes and we start to act like a bunch of rabid Cujo's looking for the taste of blood. We're a proud people. I get that. Why do we get so consumed by 5 grown men chasing a little black cylinder with the objective of shooting it past a gatekeeper into a fish net? Our nice guy attitude gets thrown in the corner because winning isn't everything, it's the only thing. We need to win, or we're not happy.
We're good at it. Actually we're really good at it. There are over 620,000 children under 18 years old registered with Hockey Canada. We see parents screaming at their kids at the rink, in hopes of them becoming the next Sidney Crosby.
Do you know where hockey ranks as a sport practiced the most by children? Number 3: Soccer is first, followed by swimming.
Soccer? I know soccer is a popular sport. It's a cheap sport compared to hockey. It probably has something to do with immigration, right? Soccer is the most popular sport in the world. That might all be true, but it doesn't help our ability on the international scene. Canada hasn't had a men's team at the World Cup since 1986. That was the only time, Canada has ever qualified for soccer's top tournament.
Yesterday, I fell into a Twitter feed with the hashtag "#fuckCanada". It's actually pretty funny. There are a bunch of Americans pissed that Canada beat them twice in two days at the Sochi Olympics. They have 10x the population, but couldn't beat neither men's nor women's team. There's a lot of back and forth banter. None of which matters. It feels good to put our southern neighbors in their place. Despite what they tell us, they aren't the best at everything.
My friends will string me up for saying this, but hockey's just a game. It's fun to know my countrymen are really good at it. It's awesome to cheer for a winning team. It would be unpatriotic to root for another team at the Olympics, wouldn't it?
Yes, I'm proud to be Canadian. I'm cheering for Canada to win a gold medal in Men's Hockey. Whether Canada wins or not, I'll forget about it tomorrow.
It is just a game. Doesn't change my life in the least. Hope my friends realize that too.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
The Boy Scout Motto
As a kid I had the pleasure of being a Boy Scout. Not sure how I got started. All I remember is going to an old building that used to be a school. I was in grade 1. My friend's mom was one of the leaders. Maybe it was become of him I enlisted.
I started in Beavers, went through Cubs and stopped after Boy Scouts. The program was strong in my town. We had over 30 kids in Cubs, aged 7-10 years old. The popularity of Scouts wasn't as strong. It probably had to do with the coming of age of a boy. We only had 6 boys in our troop. Scouts were for 11-15 year olds. When drinking, girls and video games became more important to most, some of us still preferred camping, hiking and outdoor adventure.
I'm not sure why I stuck it out as long as I did. It was a different group of boys. Most boys I related to were active in sports. The boys in Scouts were good guys, but they were not cut from the same badge.
I guess I liked Scouts for two reasons: I got more time in the gymnasium, which helped me work on my basketball skills. And I liked camping.
Our first year in Scouts, our leader was a nut-job. He used to tell us survival stories about how to catch and eat a crow if we ever got lost in the woods. Then one day he got in a knife fight in front of the post office. I don't know if he got charged. He almost died from his wounds, but I doubt Scouts Canada deemed him mentally fit to lead young boys in the woods after that.
Then we got a prison guard for a leader. No one else wanted to do it, so he did it so his son could still participate. He was a good guy. Very strict and by the book. I can't remember having any fun that year. He spent an entire evening trying to teach me how to tie a slip knot. I'm not stupid but when it came to knots, I was thick skulled. Just the thought of knots puts them in my stomach.
A new teacher came to our town who had extensive scouting experience. As he was trying to fit into the community, he took over the Scout Troop for my last two years. He was a great guy. In his early 20's, he hadn't started a family yet, so he had lots of time to coordinate camping trips. We went to various jamborees with other Scouts from all over the Maritimes and Maine. It was by far my favourite 2 years in Scouts.
Do you know the Scout motto?
On my honour, I will do my best.
I started in Beavers, went through Cubs and stopped after Boy Scouts. The program was strong in my town. We had over 30 kids in Cubs, aged 7-10 years old. The popularity of Scouts wasn't as strong. It probably had to do with the coming of age of a boy. We only had 6 boys in our troop. Scouts were for 11-15 year olds. When drinking, girls and video games became more important to most, some of us still preferred camping, hiking and outdoor adventure.
I'm not sure why I stuck it out as long as I did. It was a different group of boys. Most boys I related to were active in sports. The boys in Scouts were good guys, but they were not cut from the same badge.
I guess I liked Scouts for two reasons: I got more time in the gymnasium, which helped me work on my basketball skills. And I liked camping.
Our first year in Scouts, our leader was a nut-job. He used to tell us survival stories about how to catch and eat a crow if we ever got lost in the woods. Then one day he got in a knife fight in front of the post office. I don't know if he got charged. He almost died from his wounds, but I doubt Scouts Canada deemed him mentally fit to lead young boys in the woods after that.
Then we got a prison guard for a leader. No one else wanted to do it, so he did it so his son could still participate. He was a good guy. Very strict and by the book. I can't remember having any fun that year. He spent an entire evening trying to teach me how to tie a slip knot. I'm not stupid but when it came to knots, I was thick skulled. Just the thought of knots puts them in my stomach.
A new teacher came to our town who had extensive scouting experience. As he was trying to fit into the community, he took over the Scout Troop for my last two years. He was a great guy. In his early 20's, he hadn't started a family yet, so he had lots of time to coordinate camping trips. We went to various jamborees with other Scouts from all over the Maritimes and Maine. It was by far my favourite 2 years in Scouts.
Do you know the Scout motto?
On my honour, I will do my best.
To do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout
Law;
We had to say this motto at the beginning and the end of every meeting. I think it got engrained in our psyche.
Ever wonder who deserves the credit for who you are as a person?
I give majority of credit to my family. There are others places that deserve my attention. I am who I am today because of five channels: Home, Sports, Church, School and Boy Scouts.
I'm thinking my kids could use a good dose of Scouts.
Anyone else have good memories of Scouting?
Anyone else have good memories of Scouting?
Friday, February 21, 2014
You're addicted, but it's not totally your fault. You're human!
I was listening to Simon Sinek's latest book yesterday. Yeah, that's right, I was listening to it. I read at least 3 books per month and listen to another one while I'm driving in my car.
In his latest book "Leaders Eat Last", he writes about dopamine. Dopamine is a chemical secreted in the body and it makes us feel good. Interestingly enough, he says that feeling is very addictive.
The ringing bells at a casino, the smell of alcohol, the feeling of comfort from a drag of a cigarette and the snort of a line of cocaine all gets dopamine transmitting to the brain. I'm not a bio-scientist but it all made sense to me. We don't get addicted to the product, we get addicted to the feeling.
Then he hit me with a freight train.
Sinek says that the constant usage of social media, checking facebook statuses, tweeting, blogging and checking email secret dopamine. We are addicted. So in fact the addiction of cocaine, cigarettes, alcohol, gambling, sex and cell phones all have the same thing in common- Dopamine.
Dopamine makes us feel good, but its transmission makes us want more of it. We've heard that humans are creatures of habit. I've used the habit argument in trying to change customer behaviour, my children's actions and my own personal beliefs.
After listening to Sinek's point of view, we're not habit creatures. We're creatures of addiction. Dopamine. No other animal transmits dopamine.
Anyone with an addiction knows how hard it is to quit. It seems like we tear a piece of ourselves out when we stop doing the activity. And it takes really hard, concerted effort to quit. Often we need the help of others to shake it.
Anybody playing Candy Crush??? I haven't seen a more non productive activity, but holy cow, it's hard to quit. I had to delete it from my phone and then watched my wife sink into its grasp. I recently read that King Software makes over $300,000 per day globally from its addicts.
Whether we're addicted to self destructing behaviours like smoking, drinking, gambling or if we're addicted to non productive behaviours like social media, gaming, TV, and sex, we're all junkies.
Ever since I started this blog, I continuously check comments, feedback and number of readers. I can tell you first hand how addictive the whole process has become and how rewarding the feedback has been.
It could be worse, I could be shooting my bloodstream with heroin. It's less self destructing this way, but it is interesting that dopamine has made me a social media junkie...
In his latest book "Leaders Eat Last", he writes about dopamine. Dopamine is a chemical secreted in the body and it makes us feel good. Interestingly enough, he says that feeling is very addictive.
The ringing bells at a casino, the smell of alcohol, the feeling of comfort from a drag of a cigarette and the snort of a line of cocaine all gets dopamine transmitting to the brain. I'm not a bio-scientist but it all made sense to me. We don't get addicted to the product, we get addicted to the feeling.
Then he hit me with a freight train.
Sinek says that the constant usage of social media, checking facebook statuses, tweeting, blogging and checking email secret dopamine. We are addicted. So in fact the addiction of cocaine, cigarettes, alcohol, gambling, sex and cell phones all have the same thing in common- Dopamine.
Dopamine makes us feel good, but its transmission makes us want more of it. We've heard that humans are creatures of habit. I've used the habit argument in trying to change customer behaviour, my children's actions and my own personal beliefs.
After listening to Sinek's point of view, we're not habit creatures. We're creatures of addiction. Dopamine. No other animal transmits dopamine.
Anyone with an addiction knows how hard it is to quit. It seems like we tear a piece of ourselves out when we stop doing the activity. And it takes really hard, concerted effort to quit. Often we need the help of others to shake it.
Anybody playing Candy Crush??? I haven't seen a more non productive activity, but holy cow, it's hard to quit. I had to delete it from my phone and then watched my wife sink into its grasp. I recently read that King Software makes over $300,000 per day globally from its addicts.
Whether we're addicted to self destructing behaviours like smoking, drinking, gambling or if we're addicted to non productive behaviours like social media, gaming, TV, and sex, we're all junkies.
Ever since I started this blog, I continuously check comments, feedback and number of readers. I can tell you first hand how addictive the whole process has become and how rewarding the feedback has been.
It could be worse, I could be shooting my bloodstream with heroin. It's less self destructing this way, but it is interesting that dopamine has made me a social media junkie...
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Word!
Have you ever made up a word? In university, I had two friends who had a better command of the English language than I. While I wasted my days playing video games, they seemed to be content making up words that could easily be deciphered into real meaning.
Negaggerate: To exaggerate negatively
One I'll never forget. There were countless others. One friend, a son of an English teacher, and the other an English major, who became a teacher himself. Two talented guys...
I'm a product of bilingualism. In a province that promotes the equal usage of both languages, I can boast that I am considered bilingual. I spent 7 years in a school system that split my focus between the two languages in order to become more employable. I am a generalist. Jack of two languages...Master of none.
In my quest, to become a better marketer, I was told the masterful use of language and the ability to make up words could paint a picture in rhythmic, drum beating sequence that could draw in the droners of druthers.
That's right, I just made up a word. I'm practicing. Sorry.
The whole idea of making up words isn't a new concept. It is actually a field of study called "Seussing". And yes, it's giving credit to the greatest word-maker of them all, Dr. Seuss.
In my limited education of the English language, we were never encouraged to make up words. I was told if it ain't in the dictionary, it ain't a word. That logic seems ridiculous to me now, considering that many words get created and eventually get accepted as everyday lexicon.
A really smart guy told me that words are the most powerful force we can master. I have a lot to learn.
Thanks French Immersion and Sega Genesis...
Negaggerate: To exaggerate negatively
One I'll never forget. There were countless others. One friend, a son of an English teacher, and the other an English major, who became a teacher himself. Two talented guys...
I'm a product of bilingualism. In a province that promotes the equal usage of both languages, I can boast that I am considered bilingual. I spent 7 years in a school system that split my focus between the two languages in order to become more employable. I am a generalist. Jack of two languages...Master of none.
In my quest, to become a better marketer, I was told the masterful use of language and the ability to make up words could paint a picture in rhythmic, drum beating sequence that could draw in the droners of druthers.
That's right, I just made up a word. I'm practicing. Sorry.
The whole idea of making up words isn't a new concept. It is actually a field of study called "Seussing". And yes, it's giving credit to the greatest word-maker of them all, Dr. Seuss.
In my limited education of the English language, we were never encouraged to make up words. I was told if it ain't in the dictionary, it ain't a word. That logic seems ridiculous to me now, considering that many words get created and eventually get accepted as everyday lexicon.
A really smart guy told me that words are the most powerful force we can master. I have a lot to learn.
Thanks French Immersion and Sega Genesis...
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Brand overload
I was at a chain restaurant last weekend and my children started to complain about the amount of self promotion on the walls. Although I've spent the majority of my life studying and working in advertising, I never really looked at the shameless use of branding inside the four walls of a business. At this one establishment, we counted no less than 30 uses of the logo and the name inside the business. We knew where we were. We didn't need to be reminded.
I felt like Shrek when he went to find Lord Farquaad, referring to the big gigantic castle, "Do you think he's compensating for something"?
When a business has this amount of shameless logos and advertising within their four walls, I wonder if their marketing department consists of a bunch of yes-man muppets or if they are trying to cover up the fact that they aren't that good.
For some reason, everyone seems to think that the more a logo is seen, the more exposure a brand gets and the bigger the opportunity for a sale. I would agree that if you're a coffee house, your take out cups should be logo-ed. There's nothing wrong with promoting your company in the hands of your customers, especially once they leave your establishment.
When I'm inside your coffee house, you don't need to show me your logo thirty times. I know where I am. I drove there. Keep it clean and keep it about the experience. I wanna enjoy my time there. I don't want to feel like there are commercials in the middle of my life. I've just got rid of them on TV...
If you want people to buy your products more often. Here's the simplest advice you'll ever get. Don't suck! Marketing, shameless or tasteful just speeds up the inevitable.
Signs, Signs, Everywhere, there's signs.
Blocking out the scenery. Breaking my mind.
Do this.
Don't do that.
Can't you read the signs?
- 5 Man Electrical Band
I felt like Shrek when he went to find Lord Farquaad, referring to the big gigantic castle, "Do you think he's compensating for something"?
When a business has this amount of shameless logos and advertising within their four walls, I wonder if their marketing department consists of a bunch of yes-man muppets or if they are trying to cover up the fact that they aren't that good.
For some reason, everyone seems to think that the more a logo is seen, the more exposure a brand gets and the bigger the opportunity for a sale. I would agree that if you're a coffee house, your take out cups should be logo-ed. There's nothing wrong with promoting your company in the hands of your customers, especially once they leave your establishment.
When I'm inside your coffee house, you don't need to show me your logo thirty times. I know where I am. I drove there. Keep it clean and keep it about the experience. I wanna enjoy my time there. I don't want to feel like there are commercials in the middle of my life. I've just got rid of them on TV...
If you want people to buy your products more often. Here's the simplest advice you'll ever get. Don't suck! Marketing, shameless or tasteful just speeds up the inevitable.
Signs, Signs, Everywhere, there's signs.
Blocking out the scenery. Breaking my mind.
Do this.
Don't do that.
Can't you read the signs?
- 5 Man Electrical Band
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
The meaning of life...
The five minutes it takes me to drive my kids to school each morning are sometimes the highlight of my day. No distraction, no music, no video games, no TV. Just a discussion about whatever comes up. This morning I was in a foolish mood. In haste, I told my kids that the life was a battle between good and evil.
My 8 year old argued, "No that's not true". She stipulated, "Life is about loving..." and then she paused. She added, "...and singing". My son, not one to be left out retorted that it was also about dancing. Finally before I could add anything else to the conversation, my daughter finished the answer by saying it was also about being healthy.
Lately, I've begun to observe my children from a different perspective. From the innocence of a child. Of the simple way of life, maybe I can learn more from them than I try to teach. Maybe the stuff we've been telling them is sinking in. Either way, I believe we are learning from each other.
I've come to realize that I over complicate situations sometimes. If I start looking at life and its problems from its basic principles, maybe my children have the problems all figured out.
Despite the ongoing battles of timeouts, Mario Cart, iPad, TV and various other electronics, my children have a clear perspective of what is important in life.
According to my children, the meaning of life has four critical areas:
Loving,
Singing,
Dancing,
And being healthy.
I think they're right. So I question if we are doing enough of the four basic areas of life.
My 8 year old argued, "No that's not true". She stipulated, "Life is about loving..." and then she paused. She added, "...and singing". My son, not one to be left out retorted that it was also about dancing. Finally before I could add anything else to the conversation, my daughter finished the answer by saying it was also about being healthy.
Lately, I've begun to observe my children from a different perspective. From the innocence of a child. Of the simple way of life, maybe I can learn more from them than I try to teach. Maybe the stuff we've been telling them is sinking in. Either way, I believe we are learning from each other.
I've come to realize that I over complicate situations sometimes. If I start looking at life and its problems from its basic principles, maybe my children have the problems all figured out.
Despite the ongoing battles of timeouts, Mario Cart, iPad, TV and various other electronics, my children have a clear perspective of what is important in life.
According to my children, the meaning of life has four critical areas:
Loving,
Singing,
Dancing,
And being healthy.
I think they're right. So I question if we are doing enough of the four basic areas of life.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Workers wanted, pay optional...
Would you work for free?
At a very early age, children are asked the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up"? The answers are usually very noble, distinguishable careers: fireman, policeman, doctor, nurse...
Many of us sift through one opportunity to another until a meaningful profession starts to feel right. Even then, current statistics state that the average person will change careers 7 times in their lifetime.
I asked my daughter the above question this morning and she said that she wants to be a mom. The innocence of a child helps us get right to the point. Putting life in front of career is the way she thinks.
How many of us would be better off doing the same?
Ask yourself the question, "Would you do your current job if your boss stopped paying you"? If the answer is no, then you only go to work everyday for the paycheck. You've accumulated debt, maybe a couple of toys, a nice house, a couple of cars. You have aspirations of retirement or saving for your children's education. Ultimately you might be trapped in a rat race which the only feelings of freedom come from Friday afternoon, a few drinks on Saturday night, and a couple weeks vacation a year.
Life sucks if you're one of these people. I know because I've been there. Money makes the world go round. I get it. Work sucks if we do it for a paycheck and not for an intrinsic reward. What if you could do what you really love to do and still get paid? Where would your happiness be? Would you be more centred? Would you be a better dad/mom? Ultimately would life be more fulfilling?
Biggest problem for most people is they can't figure out what they really love to do. Their vision of their perfect career is clouded because it's hard to get past the immediate need of money generation.
I worked all day today for free and I loved it. I listened, guided and helped four different entrepreneurs as they pursue their craft, overcome their obstacles and build their dreams.
I can't work like this forever but it is so much more rewarding than the alternative. I will pass on the following advice I received once from my mentor, "Love what you do, then figure out how to get paid for it".
Good night!
"If you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life".
-Donald Trump
At a very early age, children are asked the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up"? The answers are usually very noble, distinguishable careers: fireman, policeman, doctor, nurse...
Many of us sift through one opportunity to another until a meaningful profession starts to feel right. Even then, current statistics state that the average person will change careers 7 times in their lifetime.
I asked my daughter the above question this morning and she said that she wants to be a mom. The innocence of a child helps us get right to the point. Putting life in front of career is the way she thinks.
How many of us would be better off doing the same?
Ask yourself the question, "Would you do your current job if your boss stopped paying you"? If the answer is no, then you only go to work everyday for the paycheck. You've accumulated debt, maybe a couple of toys, a nice house, a couple of cars. You have aspirations of retirement or saving for your children's education. Ultimately you might be trapped in a rat race which the only feelings of freedom come from Friday afternoon, a few drinks on Saturday night, and a couple weeks vacation a year.
Life sucks if you're one of these people. I know because I've been there. Money makes the world go round. I get it. Work sucks if we do it for a paycheck and not for an intrinsic reward. What if you could do what you really love to do and still get paid? Where would your happiness be? Would you be more centred? Would you be a better dad/mom? Ultimately would life be more fulfilling?
Biggest problem for most people is they can't figure out what they really love to do. Their vision of their perfect career is clouded because it's hard to get past the immediate need of money generation.
I worked all day today for free and I loved it. I listened, guided and helped four different entrepreneurs as they pursue their craft, overcome their obstacles and build their dreams.
I can't work like this forever but it is so much more rewarding than the alternative. I will pass on the following advice I received once from my mentor, "Love what you do, then figure out how to get paid for it".
Good night!
"If you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life".
-Donald Trump
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Do you know how to dream?
There are studies where a group of children are asked in first grade how many of them are creative. The responses are always very close to an astounding 100%. The same kids were asked just 10 short years later and less than 25% considered themselves as creative.
The innocent creative belief of a child cannot be ignored. Children go through school. They learn, adapt, conform. Somewhere through the loss of innocence, creativity is lost.
I feel it is in that loss of creativity, where children also lose their ability to dream. Dreams are what keeps us going. Many use the silent tax of the lottery to hold up whatever dream they may have. Life kicks us in the nuts and we start to believe that we cannot reach for the stars. We are not worthy. That's for someone else...
I hear excuses all of the time why people don't go after their dreams. In a previous post, I explained that dreams cannot be accomplished without actions. And most people don't act out of fear. Fear is a critical player for many who do not achieve their dreams. I now think that another critical player for people is not being able to dream. They have just been beaten too many times. They have been told to be realistic. They have been told to play it safe.
Part of the reason I write this blog is to be an example for others. I am a dreamer. One of my dreams is to write a book. Now you know why the blogs. I write to practice. I write to help. I write to be inspired. I write not to play it safe.
Do you have a dream?
If you do, ask yourself how you will achieve it without winning a lottery or getting an inheritance.
If you don't, start asking yourself why.
Someone told me once that if I could accomplish my life's work in my lifetime, I wasn't dreaming big enough.
Recently, I heard the best one of all.
"When I die, will what I have done mattered".
We are a society of non-dreamers. We're propped up by the fake lottery dreams that we know are out of our reach. The lottery is an addiction to get a release of serotonin, which makes us happy for one evening a week.
I want you to start dreaming crazy dreams that you can do with your life. Let's start there. Share them with me in the comments of my blog. I want to hear them. It's gonna be uncomfortable. Don't be afraid. The people that judge you aren't important in your life anyways.
Ta ta for now!
The innocent creative belief of a child cannot be ignored. Children go through school. They learn, adapt, conform. Somewhere through the loss of innocence, creativity is lost.
I feel it is in that loss of creativity, where children also lose their ability to dream. Dreams are what keeps us going. Many use the silent tax of the lottery to hold up whatever dream they may have. Life kicks us in the nuts and we start to believe that we cannot reach for the stars. We are not worthy. That's for someone else...
I hear excuses all of the time why people don't go after their dreams. In a previous post, I explained that dreams cannot be accomplished without actions. And most people don't act out of fear. Fear is a critical player for many who do not achieve their dreams. I now think that another critical player for people is not being able to dream. They have just been beaten too many times. They have been told to be realistic. They have been told to play it safe.
Part of the reason I write this blog is to be an example for others. I am a dreamer. One of my dreams is to write a book. Now you know why the blogs. I write to practice. I write to help. I write to be inspired. I write not to play it safe.
Do you have a dream?
If you do, ask yourself how you will achieve it without winning a lottery or getting an inheritance.
If you don't, start asking yourself why.
Someone told me once that if I could accomplish my life's work in my lifetime, I wasn't dreaming big enough.
Recently, I heard the best one of all.
"When I die, will what I have done mattered".
We are a society of non-dreamers. We're propped up by the fake lottery dreams that we know are out of our reach. The lottery is an addiction to get a release of serotonin, which makes us happy for one evening a week.
I want you to start dreaming crazy dreams that you can do with your life. Let's start there. Share them with me in the comments of my blog. I want to hear them. It's gonna be uncomfortable. Don't be afraid. The people that judge you aren't important in your life anyways.
Ta ta for now!
Saturday, February 15, 2014
My first and only fight
I have always hated physical violence. Even in adolescence, when coming of age boys have an overabundance of testosterone, I wasn't one of those boys who like to throw a few.
We used to punch each other into concussions using hockey helmets and gloves. I always lost against the boys my own age. We were doing for sport... I remember getting my bell rung and feeling like my brain was floating in a bucket of water. Not my idea of a good time, but much less dangerous than what most of my friends were doing. Most of the boys I grew up with loved to fight. They looked for the thrill of knocking someone out. And in most cases, they did. Every once in a while, someone would lose a tooth or get a few stitches. It was more like an right of passage for them. When it came to physical violence, I talked a tough game but I never wanted to get into a fight of my own. I always tried to take the high road as my gramma told me to.
I never associated courage with getting into a meaningless fight. In my first year of high school, many of my friends weren't adjusting well to the new school and were getting knocked around by bigger, tougher guys from a neighboring town. One guy decided to threaten me one day. He told me that he was going to beat my brains out. I was stupid scared. This guy was a trained boxer. He was skinny, but he looked fast. He challenged me to a duo at high noon on the smokers hill. Not being a smoker, I was way out of my comfort zone. Not only did I not want to fight, I didn't want to do it in enemy territory. I ignored the challenge, hoping it would go away. I didn't show up and I never heard a single chicken reference, not even one pacock.
So I started using the strategy of walking away and it worked quite well for me until my senior year. This one kid who was 2 years younger than me but about my size started egging me on for a fight. I wasn't scared of him, but there was no reason to fight. I held nothing against him, and I had no idea what was up his ass.
On two occasions, I walked away from his physical provocation. I didn't want to fight. But he persisted daily with smirks, chicken calls, and rumours. He started to tick me off. After about two weeks, I met him in the stairway. We were all alone. My temper got the best of me and I lost it. I told him I was taking him down that day, when he least expected it. I told him, I was going to hurt him and it wasn't going to be pretty. Looking back, that was so uncharacteristic of me. My anger was speaking for me. I had lost control.
An hour later, we were on our way to the bus and he confronted me one last time. Everyone was laughing because it was so atypical of me. He pushed me twice and I backpeddled twice while informing him to stop it. On the third attempted push, his hands were down low, while my hands were clenched hard as rocks down by my hips. There's no way, he saw what came next - a clean right uppercut straight under the jaw. I surprised him, he fell back and slipped to the ground. Before he had a chance to get up, he saw a foot hit him three times in the head. Then it all stopped. I was out of control. Someone pulled me off. I got on the bus and it was all over.
The police called my parents. I had given him a concussion and he had decided not to press charges. The police told me to expect a retaliation. For the next 6 months, I kept an eye over my shoulder. Who had a pissed off with this dirty style of fighting? Who was going to revenge the concussion? Nada. I graduated from high school and left all of that stuff behind me for 3 years.
Then during one of my summer jobs, my high school challenger got hired with my crew. Three years had passed. I was older, he was older. But I wondered if he still had a bit of revenge left in him. I let the first week go by to size him up. He seemed like a pretty good guy. In the second week, during one of our breaks, I started to apologize for my youthful indiscretion. Before I could get out my second sentence, he stopped me. He told me to forget about it. He said that he was just as much responsible and that it was buried.
He had forgiven me. He was a good guy after all.
Since that one fight in high school, I've been punched in the face. I've been kicked in the guts. I've been challenged and I've been called a coward. But I never fought back with physical violence. Maybe I'm a wimp. Maybe I'm a chicken.
I don't want to hurt other people. Call me what you want. I really like myself this way.
We used to punch each other into concussions using hockey helmets and gloves. I always lost against the boys my own age. We were doing for sport... I remember getting my bell rung and feeling like my brain was floating in a bucket of water. Not my idea of a good time, but much less dangerous than what most of my friends were doing. Most of the boys I grew up with loved to fight. They looked for the thrill of knocking someone out. And in most cases, they did. Every once in a while, someone would lose a tooth or get a few stitches. It was more like an right of passage for them. When it came to physical violence, I talked a tough game but I never wanted to get into a fight of my own. I always tried to take the high road as my gramma told me to.
I never associated courage with getting into a meaningless fight. In my first year of high school, many of my friends weren't adjusting well to the new school and were getting knocked around by bigger, tougher guys from a neighboring town. One guy decided to threaten me one day. He told me that he was going to beat my brains out. I was stupid scared. This guy was a trained boxer. He was skinny, but he looked fast. He challenged me to a duo at high noon on the smokers hill. Not being a smoker, I was way out of my comfort zone. Not only did I not want to fight, I didn't want to do it in enemy territory. I ignored the challenge, hoping it would go away. I didn't show up and I never heard a single chicken reference, not even one pacock.
So I started using the strategy of walking away and it worked quite well for me until my senior year. This one kid who was 2 years younger than me but about my size started egging me on for a fight. I wasn't scared of him, but there was no reason to fight. I held nothing against him, and I had no idea what was up his ass.
On two occasions, I walked away from his physical provocation. I didn't want to fight. But he persisted daily with smirks, chicken calls, and rumours. He started to tick me off. After about two weeks, I met him in the stairway. We were all alone. My temper got the best of me and I lost it. I told him I was taking him down that day, when he least expected it. I told him, I was going to hurt him and it wasn't going to be pretty. Looking back, that was so uncharacteristic of me. My anger was speaking for me. I had lost control.
An hour later, we were on our way to the bus and he confronted me one last time. Everyone was laughing because it was so atypical of me. He pushed me twice and I backpeddled twice while informing him to stop it. On the third attempted push, his hands were down low, while my hands were clenched hard as rocks down by my hips. There's no way, he saw what came next - a clean right uppercut straight under the jaw. I surprised him, he fell back and slipped to the ground. Before he had a chance to get up, he saw a foot hit him three times in the head. Then it all stopped. I was out of control. Someone pulled me off. I got on the bus and it was all over.
The police called my parents. I had given him a concussion and he had decided not to press charges. The police told me to expect a retaliation. For the next 6 months, I kept an eye over my shoulder. Who had a pissed off with this dirty style of fighting? Who was going to revenge the concussion? Nada. I graduated from high school and left all of that stuff behind me for 3 years.
Then during one of my summer jobs, my high school challenger got hired with my crew. Three years had passed. I was older, he was older. But I wondered if he still had a bit of revenge left in him. I let the first week go by to size him up. He seemed like a pretty good guy. In the second week, during one of our breaks, I started to apologize for my youthful indiscretion. Before I could get out my second sentence, he stopped me. He told me to forget about it. He said that he was just as much responsible and that it was buried.
He had forgiven me. He was a good guy after all.
Since that one fight in high school, I've been punched in the face. I've been kicked in the guts. I've been challenged and I've been called a coward. But I never fought back with physical violence. Maybe I'm a wimp. Maybe I'm a chicken.
I don't want to hurt other people. Call me what you want. I really like myself this way.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Did I have a monster at my school?
I was 13 years old. It was the summer of '86. We were at the softball field, like we were every summer. My dad was playing softball. I was goofing around like most young teenagers. No longer a child, definitely not an adult, sexuality was a term I didn't understand.
Someone started teasing me. A few years older, this young adult started telling me that my middle school had a teacher that liked to touch little boys. It was funny for her. She was laughing, and oohing and ahhing. Not for me, this mysterious teacher was to be one of my teachers. I was supremely scared. Worse part was it seemed to be common knowledge that this teacher was the "touching" type. For a young boy, the boogeyman had just reemerged as the touchyman. I was stressed out. I didn't know what to expect. My parents told me to keep my guard up. Keep my guard up from what? I wanted to say, "I don't understand". I was 13, I knew everything, and even if I didn't, I shall pretend that I do.
So I started in that school. The teacher ended up being a real nice guy. He wasn't nearly as bad as everyone had painted him to be. He was quite involved in one of my passions, sports. Every year, he would hold a 2 week "Athlete of the Year" competition. It was our annual Olympics. Without a doubt, it was the best competition of sport I have ever been a part of.
During the competition, stories started emerging again. The teacher tried to touch one guy. He tried to do something else to another guy. He invited one kid in a shower. He took another boy shopping. He cut one kids hair and tried to touch his tail bone. The stories were endless. Now 14, I started learning about sex. I was confused. Was the teasing true? Was this guy a monster disguised as a nice guy? Weren't bad people supposed to be mean?
I had that teacher for 3 years. I liked him. He was smart. He treated me like an adult, when no one else would. Always having other kids with me, we would do things with the teacher. There were trips. We helped serve the seniors supper one year. There was always a Christmas celebration with his favourites. And every year, the athletic competition...
The final year he was at our school, I was in grade nine. We were the elders of the school. Basketball practice kept me at the school after hours more often than most. Some new stories started to emerge. It was clear, that I had to keep my guard up. Most of the stories could easily have been mistaken for stories by foolish young boys. So I wasn't sure what to believe. Until one evening after basketball practice. One of my teammates, who didn't fit in with the average jock. He was a classmate and I considered him a friend. He wasn't the storytelling type. After practice he told me he had no choice but to go see this teacher upstairs. He told me that he used to willingly go but now he was afraid to be left alone with him. He asked me if I would stay with him so that nothing funny would happen.
What changed? I was too scared to ask.
The stories that surround this teacher were as mysterious as the way he left. In our small town, do we have a secret? One day, the teacher was gone. Some say, he was dismissed for going too far with a boy. Some say, he just left.
Is it time that the little boys start speaking up? Or are these a bunch of stories fabricated by over-imaginative homophobic minds? Either way, 26 years have passed and I would like to know the truth. This man has either been the brunt of unjust stories or he's a monster. I hold my judgement on him.
Someone started teasing me. A few years older, this young adult started telling me that my middle school had a teacher that liked to touch little boys. It was funny for her. She was laughing, and oohing and ahhing. Not for me, this mysterious teacher was to be one of my teachers. I was supremely scared. Worse part was it seemed to be common knowledge that this teacher was the "touching" type. For a young boy, the boogeyman had just reemerged as the touchyman. I was stressed out. I didn't know what to expect. My parents told me to keep my guard up. Keep my guard up from what? I wanted to say, "I don't understand". I was 13, I knew everything, and even if I didn't, I shall pretend that I do.
So I started in that school. The teacher ended up being a real nice guy. He wasn't nearly as bad as everyone had painted him to be. He was quite involved in one of my passions, sports. Every year, he would hold a 2 week "Athlete of the Year" competition. It was our annual Olympics. Without a doubt, it was the best competition of sport I have ever been a part of.
During the competition, stories started emerging again. The teacher tried to touch one guy. He tried to do something else to another guy. He invited one kid in a shower. He took another boy shopping. He cut one kids hair and tried to touch his tail bone. The stories were endless. Now 14, I started learning about sex. I was confused. Was the teasing true? Was this guy a monster disguised as a nice guy? Weren't bad people supposed to be mean?
I had that teacher for 3 years. I liked him. He was smart. He treated me like an adult, when no one else would. Always having other kids with me, we would do things with the teacher. There were trips. We helped serve the seniors supper one year. There was always a Christmas celebration with his favourites. And every year, the athletic competition...
The final year he was at our school, I was in grade nine. We were the elders of the school. Basketball practice kept me at the school after hours more often than most. Some new stories started to emerge. It was clear, that I had to keep my guard up. Most of the stories could easily have been mistaken for stories by foolish young boys. So I wasn't sure what to believe. Until one evening after basketball practice. One of my teammates, who didn't fit in with the average jock. He was a classmate and I considered him a friend. He wasn't the storytelling type. After practice he told me he had no choice but to go see this teacher upstairs. He told me that he used to willingly go but now he was afraid to be left alone with him. He asked me if I would stay with him so that nothing funny would happen.
What changed? I was too scared to ask.
The stories that surround this teacher were as mysterious as the way he left. In our small town, do we have a secret? One day, the teacher was gone. Some say, he was dismissed for going too far with a boy. Some say, he just left.
Is it time that the little boys start speaking up? Or are these a bunch of stories fabricated by over-imaginative homophobic minds? Either way, 26 years have passed and I would like to know the truth. This man has either been the brunt of unjust stories or he's a monster. I hold my judgement on him.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Sometimes I think I missed something...
I’ve been in business for 20 years. I have 7 years of post
secondary education which I came out with a Master’s Degree in Business. I have started 3
separate businesses over the last 7 years and was successful in selling all of
them.
Last week, I spent a day with a bunch of smart, younger “entrepreneurs” and I heard a bunch of language that I didn’t
fully understand. Words, terminology, funding, government departments and ways of speaking that sounded so complicated. I came home feeling really stupid. It seems like the world
has passed me by. Have I missed the train to future entrepreneurship? Am I one of those people that didn't keep up with technology and the new generation is out producing me?
Here’s what I figured out:
Government loves technology. They support technology because
of the ability to output products internationally. It has the ability to create jobs, tax
revenues and can stimulate the economy quickly because of its scalability and scope. In my province, the government has tagged $80 million per year to support
these high growth potential business start-ups.
There are a lot of really cool ideas out there. But they are JUST ideas. The problem with ideas is that it costs money to translate the idea
into a finished saleable product. Any idea, technological or
not, needs to be translated into a business that can make money. That's the difficult part.
The sexy start-up entrepreneurs that I met with talk about hundreds of
thousands of dollars of needed seed money like my mother talks about ten dollar bills. “We only need
$800,000 to go to market”. The product
is speculative. The business is speculative. The sales are speculative. Is the idea interesting? Of course it
is. The only difference between sexy start-ups and traditional start-ups is the ability for the sexy company to go the billion dollar category.
At the end of the day, a business is not a business unless
it can create sustainable sales to support current expenses.
I’ve learned to look for an entrepreneur’s personal
vision for the company. Is it to sell it to a bigger entity? Is it to make
the world a better place? Is it a personal journey? Find the real reason for existing, and you'll find the motivation of the entrepreneur.
Find the motivation of the entrepreneur and you'll find the real risk behind any start-up.
I worry about tech start-ups. They get more money. They get more attention. They get more interest. But at the end of the day they still need to generate sales, just like any other company.
A tech start-up is no different than any other business. Just because it may be sexy doesn't mean we get any further ahead by investing in it.
Be careful before you speculate in a tech start-up. The payoff can be bigger, but the risk is generally greater as well. It's risky and speculative just like any other traditional business start-up. Don't let the sexy part lure you in like a burlesque dancer.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Are you a shy guy (gal)?
For years I labelled myself as being shy. I watched my father interact with ease. I observed people make friends without effort. Talking to someone took great effort on my part unless I knew them really well. I can make "small talk" with anyone. But it takes great effort on my part. I was told that I was just shy.
Here's what I was told about shyness. Shyness is a derivative of a lack of confidence and self esteem. That didn't make sense to me. I wasn't lacking in those two areas. I learned around 16 how to fix the shy. Just add alcohol. And repeat. So during university, I drank 3-4 nights per week. I was the animal on campus. It felt like I knew everyone.
That wasn't a long term solution. I thought about how alcohol could play a role in my daily life. I understood how some could twirl into alcoholism, not to escape but to be released of the cursed shyness virus.
Then it all started to come together. I watched an employee blossom from a 14 year old boy to a young man. I watched him as he made friends super easily. I listened to him as he became president of his high school and then again as he pursued his studies into medicine. This guy is a mover and a shaker. He is so outgoing, you can't help but love him. I don't know anyone who doesn't like him. He just has that personality. We all know people like this, right?
Then I went to Texas and learned something else. People are either introverts or extroverts. I thought I knew what they difference was until it was explained this way.
Extroverts get energy from being around other people. The employee I worked with was an extreme extrovert.
Introverts get energy from being in solitude. In fact, introverts love people. They just find it very draining.
For years, I thought I was an outgoing person. When in fact when the tests were done, I was an extreme introvert. I love being around people. But when it comes time, I am more than excited to leave, unless you add alcohol.
Anyone who's ever done a hard day of physical labour will know what it's like to say, "I'm beat". Barely able to lift the fork to eat your supper, they head off to bed because of the body fatigue that has consumed every inch of their being. Being around many people has the same effect on an introvert on an emotional scale.
The next time you see someone that you know and they don't feel like talking, don't take it personal. I bet they are not mad at you. They're probably an introvert like me and they're just beat.
Here's what I was told about shyness. Shyness is a derivative of a lack of confidence and self esteem. That didn't make sense to me. I wasn't lacking in those two areas. I learned around 16 how to fix the shy. Just add alcohol. And repeat. So during university, I drank 3-4 nights per week. I was the animal on campus. It felt like I knew everyone.
That wasn't a long term solution. I thought about how alcohol could play a role in my daily life. I understood how some could twirl into alcoholism, not to escape but to be released of the cursed shyness virus.
Then it all started to come together. I watched an employee blossom from a 14 year old boy to a young man. I watched him as he made friends super easily. I listened to him as he became president of his high school and then again as he pursued his studies into medicine. This guy is a mover and a shaker. He is so outgoing, you can't help but love him. I don't know anyone who doesn't like him. He just has that personality. We all know people like this, right?
Then I went to Texas and learned something else. People are either introverts or extroverts. I thought I knew what they difference was until it was explained this way.
Extroverts get energy from being around other people. The employee I worked with was an extreme extrovert.
Introverts get energy from being in solitude. In fact, introverts love people. They just find it very draining.
For years, I thought I was an outgoing person. When in fact when the tests were done, I was an extreme introvert. I love being around people. But when it comes time, I am more than excited to leave, unless you add alcohol.
Anyone who's ever done a hard day of physical labour will know what it's like to say, "I'm beat". Barely able to lift the fork to eat your supper, they head off to bed because of the body fatigue that has consumed every inch of their being. Being around many people has the same effect on an introvert on an emotional scale.
The next time you see someone that you know and they don't feel like talking, don't take it personal. I bet they are not mad at you. They're probably an introvert like me and they're just beat.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
You're so selfish...
I am selfish.
Raised in a family where things weren't easily available, I used to envy others. I didn't realize at the time, but now that I look back on it, we were poor.
My parents always found a way to have food in the house. Dad would hunt. He would grow a garden in the summer. Mom preserved fruits and strawberry jam. Food wasn't the problem. It was the other stuff that a young boy wanted.
I wanted to stop black cylindrical weapons being hurled at me. I wanted to play hockey. My cousin played hockey. We would play hockey whenever we had a chance - the hallway, the livingroom, the front yard, the driveway, at school. We were inseparable. He was the guy who would score the goals, and I would stop them. Together we would win school floor hockey championships. Apart, we had the greatest battles. He made me a better hockey player.
I was crushed the first year my parents said they couldn't afford hockey. I was only 7. After that, I never asked again. It was at that time, I realized money was essential for the things I wanted. I became obsessed with it. I started mowing lawns at age 9, working on a farm at 11, raising foxes and babysitting at 14, and ultimately getting my first summer job at 15.
Money was scarce in my house. My parents used to say I was mean with my money. Meaning, I was greedy. I didn't want to spend it. If I didn't have any desire for something, I didn't want to spend it. The dreams of what it could buy were always better than the real thing. I didn't know what it meant at the time but I was practicing delayed gratification.
Delayed gratification is something we don't see much of anymore. If I want something, I go get it. If I don't have the money, I put it on my credit card.
My kids believe they can have whatever they want if they have a piece of plastic. They're selfish too. They're allowed to be since they are still kids. We are training them slowly.
I don't have that same right. I am in the generation that needs to be giving back. I have been trained for years that money is scarce.
I am trying to learn selflessness. I know happiness lies in unconditional giving. Money is not scarce. Someone always has less.
Raised in a family where things weren't easily available, I used to envy others. I didn't realize at the time, but now that I look back on it, we were poor.
My parents always found a way to have food in the house. Dad would hunt. He would grow a garden in the summer. Mom preserved fruits and strawberry jam. Food wasn't the problem. It was the other stuff that a young boy wanted.
I wanted to stop black cylindrical weapons being hurled at me. I wanted to play hockey. My cousin played hockey. We would play hockey whenever we had a chance - the hallway, the livingroom, the front yard, the driveway, at school. We were inseparable. He was the guy who would score the goals, and I would stop them. Together we would win school floor hockey championships. Apart, we had the greatest battles. He made me a better hockey player.
I was crushed the first year my parents said they couldn't afford hockey. I was only 7. After that, I never asked again. It was at that time, I realized money was essential for the things I wanted. I became obsessed with it. I started mowing lawns at age 9, working on a farm at 11, raising foxes and babysitting at 14, and ultimately getting my first summer job at 15.
Money was scarce in my house. My parents used to say I was mean with my money. Meaning, I was greedy. I didn't want to spend it. If I didn't have any desire for something, I didn't want to spend it. The dreams of what it could buy were always better than the real thing. I didn't know what it meant at the time but I was practicing delayed gratification.
Delayed gratification is something we don't see much of anymore. If I want something, I go get it. If I don't have the money, I put it on my credit card.
My kids believe they can have whatever they want if they have a piece of plastic. They're selfish too. They're allowed to be since they are still kids. We are training them slowly.
I don't have that same right. I am in the generation that needs to be giving back. I have been trained for years that money is scarce.
I am trying to learn selflessness. I know happiness lies in unconditional giving. Money is not scarce. Someone always has less.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Once upon a time...
Four famous words that start almost every story we heard as children. Together they get us juiced for something great about to happen. The ability to tell a great story is not within everyone. We know people who tell amazing, crazy stories that take us on a journey, as if we are right there witnessing the event with our own eyes.
Stories have been around since the dawn of time. My grandfather could tell a great story. I remember sitting in his living room as he would tell us a story about his childhood. Some of it was so far-fetching, it felt like he wasn't telling the true story, but it didn't matter. It was so entertaining that the truth wasn't important. You could see his eyes light up. I could see him in his glory as he laughed and told the story with with passion. My dad would tease him by saying, "The only way you could tell when Grampie wasn't lying is when his lips stopped moving".
We love stories. We love to tell stories.
Humans are the only creatures on this earth that will take a food and trade it for entertainment. We spend our money, which we could use for basic necessities like food and shelter, and trade it for entertainment. Entertainment is a thirst. We desire it. In my childhood, when money was scarce, we would entertain ourselves with stories. Today it's movie theatres, cable tv, etc.
Have traditional storytelling taken a back seat to our entertainment needs?
Go to a party and the most interesting person there will be the one with an ability to tell a good story. You'll listen to every word. Hang on every pause. You'll wait for the punchline. Some of those stories will be in form of jokes. And some will be in form of personal stories. You'll wonder how some people have such interesting lives. In fact, these people have the ability to use words, and pauses to paint a picture that is so real it's like you were right there living it with them.
I had a friend in university that was like that. I always wanted to be with him because his nightly adventures were explained the next day with zest. He detailed simple, boring events with grandeur. His life was so interesting the way he told it. I wanted a piece of that so we would go adventure hunting together. Funny thing was his stories were far better than the real deal. It was fun being around him because the stories never stopped. Everything an adventure, but it was more of the mind than anything else.
Every good story has to have some drama. The video below explains the Karpman Drama Triangle. Every great story we were told as children had three roles: hero, victim and villian. For a good story to emerge, we need three characters: Prince Charming, Step Mother and Cinderella.
The stories of our lives are played out daily in the exact same way. We never play the villain in our own story. That role is left for someone evil. We play the role of victim or hero. When we play the role of victim, drama is created when we summon a hero to save the day. Funny enough, the villain in your story looks at you as the villain in their story. Once all three roles are fulfilled, we have developed a dramatic triangle that can create poison within a family or workplace.
The only way to escape the drama triangle is to not join in. Although every good storyteller has the ability to draw you in, you have to be careful. Getting involved emotionally or physically could easily mean that you've become one of the three characters in the play.
And all we thirst for is a really good story, right?
Be careful!
Stories have been around since the dawn of time. My grandfather could tell a great story. I remember sitting in his living room as he would tell us a story about his childhood. Some of it was so far-fetching, it felt like he wasn't telling the true story, but it didn't matter. It was so entertaining that the truth wasn't important. You could see his eyes light up. I could see him in his glory as he laughed and told the story with with passion. My dad would tease him by saying, "The only way you could tell when Grampie wasn't lying is when his lips stopped moving".
We love stories. We love to tell stories.
Humans are the only creatures on this earth that will take a food and trade it for entertainment. We spend our money, which we could use for basic necessities like food and shelter, and trade it for entertainment. Entertainment is a thirst. We desire it. In my childhood, when money was scarce, we would entertain ourselves with stories. Today it's movie theatres, cable tv, etc.
Have traditional storytelling taken a back seat to our entertainment needs?
Go to a party and the most interesting person there will be the one with an ability to tell a good story. You'll listen to every word. Hang on every pause. You'll wait for the punchline. Some of those stories will be in form of jokes. And some will be in form of personal stories. You'll wonder how some people have such interesting lives. In fact, these people have the ability to use words, and pauses to paint a picture that is so real it's like you were right there living it with them.
I had a friend in university that was like that. I always wanted to be with him because his nightly adventures were explained the next day with zest. He detailed simple, boring events with grandeur. His life was so interesting the way he told it. I wanted a piece of that so we would go adventure hunting together. Funny thing was his stories were far better than the real deal. It was fun being around him because the stories never stopped. Everything an adventure, but it was more of the mind than anything else.
Every good story has to have some drama. The video below explains the Karpman Drama Triangle. Every great story we were told as children had three roles: hero, victim and villian. For a good story to emerge, we need three characters: Prince Charming, Step Mother and Cinderella.
The stories of our lives are played out daily in the exact same way. We never play the villain in our own story. That role is left for someone evil. We play the role of victim or hero. When we play the role of victim, drama is created when we summon a hero to save the day. Funny enough, the villain in your story looks at you as the villain in their story. Once all three roles are fulfilled, we have developed a dramatic triangle that can create poison within a family or workplace.
The only way to escape the drama triangle is to not join in. Although every good storyteller has the ability to draw you in, you have to be careful. Getting involved emotionally or physically could easily mean that you've become one of the three characters in the play.
And all we thirst for is a really good story, right?
Be careful!
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Living a life with no regret...
Remember Frank Sinatra singing a song about regrets? Elvis also sang about it. It has always been one of my favourite songs. I listen to it to escape my current fears.
As I age, I am more genuinely interested in my parents' generation. I spoke to a gentleman recently who spoke about all of the business decisions he didn't take in life. On top of it, he blamed his wife for being too cautious, for holding him back. He blamed his family for not allowing him to take chances. He needed to provide for them. Going after a dream may have meant they would go hungry. Because I really respect this older fella, I didn't call him on his bullshit. I could still smell the fear on him. He was lamenting about his regrets.
It is regret I don't want to have in the twilight of my life. I am trying to live my life without regret. Everything I do, I do it to the best of my ability.
I read recently, that on our deathbed, regret is represented by all the things we wanted to do but didn't take the time to do them. So when I die, I don't want to be thinking about all of the things I didn't take the time to do. Why can't I do them now?
I will die one day. While I'm alive, I wanna live my life with no regrets. I wanna die knowing I've done everything I possibly could have on my time on Earth.
I don't spend enough time with family and friends. I get so caught up in my big hairy goals that I forget all of those people who mean so much to me.
We are defined by the loving relationships that we have. Yet sometimes, we fade away from those relationships because of work, distance, and time.
Yet on our deathbed, the only thing that matters is the people close to you. Work won't mourn you. Houses don't mourn you. Your boss probably won't mourn you. But your friends and family will. You will leave a hole in their hearts that is irreparable.
I miss my family. I miss getting together once per year to "catch up", to get some deep hugs and to see all of the new generation running around and playing like we once did. My kids don't realize how big their family is. We tell them about everyone, but they don't get it.
With that said, maybe the couple of weddings coming up will bring everyone together again. Then from there, I have to make it happen more regularly. Time is too precious.
Ta ta for now.
As I age, I am more genuinely interested in my parents' generation. I spoke to a gentleman recently who spoke about all of the business decisions he didn't take in life. On top of it, he blamed his wife for being too cautious, for holding him back. He blamed his family for not allowing him to take chances. He needed to provide for them. Going after a dream may have meant they would go hungry. Because I really respect this older fella, I didn't call him on his bullshit. I could still smell the fear on him. He was lamenting about his regrets.
It is regret I don't want to have in the twilight of my life. I am trying to live my life without regret. Everything I do, I do it to the best of my ability.
I read recently, that on our deathbed, regret is represented by all the things we wanted to do but didn't take the time to do them. So when I die, I don't want to be thinking about all of the things I didn't take the time to do. Why can't I do them now?
I will die one day. While I'm alive, I wanna live my life with no regrets. I wanna die knowing I've done everything I possibly could have on my time on Earth.
I don't spend enough time with family and friends. I get so caught up in my big hairy goals that I forget all of those people who mean so much to me.
We are defined by the loving relationships that we have. Yet sometimes, we fade away from those relationships because of work, distance, and time.
Yet on our deathbed, the only thing that matters is the people close to you. Work won't mourn you. Houses don't mourn you. Your boss probably won't mourn you. But your friends and family will. You will leave a hole in their hearts that is irreparable.
I miss my family. I miss getting together once per year to "catch up", to get some deep hugs and to see all of the new generation running around and playing like we once did. My kids don't realize how big their family is. We tell them about everyone, but they don't get it.
With that said, maybe the couple of weddings coming up will bring everyone together again. Then from there, I have to make it happen more regularly. Time is too precious.
Ta ta for now.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Letter to sociopath #2
I don't know what you were thinking. You had a loving family. You had 20+ people who had your back on anything you ever needed. We would have fought for you, with you. You wouldn't have had to stand on your own two feet. We would have held you up. We were family.
But you changed all that. Greed consumed you. You hurt the people that loved you the most. And you constantly manipulated, lied, cheated and stole your way to loneliness.
You're still part of our family, but now it's of the "outcast" variety. You didn't need to do what you did. Money will not buy you happiness. I bet ya know that now.
It's been over 20 years since this all happened. It's as fresh today as it was back then. You hurt me. You hurt my family. We can never forget that.
I haven't seen you in over 10 years. Every time I drive by your house, I look in. Not sure why. There's this hurt that just doesn't go away. I'm proud of my family. I'm proud of what we've accomplished. I'm pissed off that you started all of this over a couple of dollars.
You were the baby. You were spoiled. You never experienced the same hardships your older siblings endured.
I will never forget the way you treated me when I worked with you. I will never let you close to my family again. I know I need to forgive you. You do not know better. It's actually sad to see you live your life in such disharmony. I hear stories about your anger, your arguments and your personal relationships. I feel really sorry for you.
I realize now the way you act has less to do with us and more to do with your own personal greed. Sometimes I think you're crazy to have traded a few dollars for the love and comfort of your family. I can't understand that because I don't think like you. My family is too important to me.
Money is easy to make. Loving relationships are hard to find.
I forgive you. You didn't know better. You cannot hurt me anymore!
But you changed all that. Greed consumed you. You hurt the people that loved you the most. And you constantly manipulated, lied, cheated and stole your way to loneliness.
You're still part of our family, but now it's of the "outcast" variety. You didn't need to do what you did. Money will not buy you happiness. I bet ya know that now.
It's been over 20 years since this all happened. It's as fresh today as it was back then. You hurt me. You hurt my family. We can never forget that.
I haven't seen you in over 10 years. Every time I drive by your house, I look in. Not sure why. There's this hurt that just doesn't go away. I'm proud of my family. I'm proud of what we've accomplished. I'm pissed off that you started all of this over a couple of dollars.
You were the baby. You were spoiled. You never experienced the same hardships your older siblings endured.
I will never forget the way you treated me when I worked with you. I will never let you close to my family again. I know I need to forgive you. You do not know better. It's actually sad to see you live your life in such disharmony. I hear stories about your anger, your arguments and your personal relationships. I feel really sorry for you.
I realize now the way you act has less to do with us and more to do with your own personal greed. Sometimes I think you're crazy to have traded a few dollars for the love and comfort of your family. I can't understand that because I don't think like you. My family is too important to me.
Money is easy to make. Loving relationships are hard to find.
I forgive you. You didn't know better. You cannot hurt me anymore!
Friday, February 7, 2014
My best friend died today
A bunch of famous musicians died when they were 27: Jim Morrison, Janice Joplin, Kurt Cobain.
I was 21 when Kurt Cobain committed suicide. I loved Nirvana. "Teen Spirit" was the rock anthem of 1991 and 1992. The music was just so radical for me as a young adult.
After Cobain's death, for a reason I will never be able to explain, there was an overwhelming feeling of death in my life. It was so strong that I interpreted it as a sensation that I would die when I was 27 and join some of these famous icons.
Although I had no aspirations of being famous. I never thought I "belonged" on that list of people who died in their prime. It was just a thought, a sensation, a pulse that I would die in my 27th year since birth. I never kept these thought silent. I told the people close to me that I was going to die at 27. I told my mom and dad. I told my girlfriend who became my wife. I thought I was crazy. But for some reason this sensation of death could not escape the clutches of my perception.
I turned 27 in the year 2000. I'm sure this time of confusion and uncertainty contributed to these strange sensations. The Y2K bug was going to shut down all of the world computers. People were somewhat nervous. Funny thing was that even though I could feel the clutches of death, it never scared me. I had completely accepted it and wasn't afraid of it at that time.
And then he threw me a curve ball that I didn't see coming. Death came knocking on my door just 11 days into my 27th birthday. Someone very close to me unexpectedly died.
I lost an uncle. I lost a teammate. I lost a friend's father. After he died, I told people that he was like a second dad. And in many ways he was. In a world before cell phones, if you wanted to find me, I was either at my parent's home or at his house. He died 14 years ago today. And only recently did I realize that I lost my best friend that day.
He wasn't a friend in a way that we would go chasing girls. He wasn't a friend that you would bring to the teenage dance (he was 18 years older than me). If you needed to talk, he would listen. He could break down the bullshit and give solid advice. If you needed to laugh, he was always up for a good time. He never judged me. He never told me what to do. He never put me down to make himself feel better. But if you needed something, he was there with "bells on". Funny thing is that anyone who knew him, felt the same way about him.
Dan, I never mourned for anyone the way I have mourned for you. And as I'm writing this I realize I still mourn you. I still miss you.
My best friend died on the seventh day of the second month of the zero year (00-2-7). A piece of me died that day with him.
I was 21 when Kurt Cobain committed suicide. I loved Nirvana. "Teen Spirit" was the rock anthem of 1991 and 1992. The music was just so radical for me as a young adult.
After Cobain's death, for a reason I will never be able to explain, there was an overwhelming feeling of death in my life. It was so strong that I interpreted it as a sensation that I would die when I was 27 and join some of these famous icons.
Although I had no aspirations of being famous. I never thought I "belonged" on that list of people who died in their prime. It was just a thought, a sensation, a pulse that I would die in my 27th year since birth. I never kept these thought silent. I told the people close to me that I was going to die at 27. I told my mom and dad. I told my girlfriend who became my wife. I thought I was crazy. But for some reason this sensation of death could not escape the clutches of my perception.
I turned 27 in the year 2000. I'm sure this time of confusion and uncertainty contributed to these strange sensations. The Y2K bug was going to shut down all of the world computers. People were somewhat nervous. Funny thing was that even though I could feel the clutches of death, it never scared me. I had completely accepted it and wasn't afraid of it at that time.
And then he threw me a curve ball that I didn't see coming. Death came knocking on my door just 11 days into my 27th birthday. Someone very close to me unexpectedly died.
I lost an uncle. I lost a teammate. I lost a friend's father. After he died, I told people that he was like a second dad. And in many ways he was. In a world before cell phones, if you wanted to find me, I was either at my parent's home or at his house. He died 14 years ago today. And only recently did I realize that I lost my best friend that day.
He wasn't a friend in a way that we would go chasing girls. He wasn't a friend that you would bring to the teenage dance (he was 18 years older than me). If you needed to talk, he would listen. He could break down the bullshit and give solid advice. If you needed to laugh, he was always up for a good time. He never judged me. He never told me what to do. He never put me down to make himself feel better. But if you needed something, he was there with "bells on". Funny thing is that anyone who knew him, felt the same way about him.
Dan, I never mourned for anyone the way I have mourned for you. And as I'm writing this I realize I still mourn you. I still miss you.
My best friend died on the seventh day of the second month of the zero year (00-2-7). A piece of me died that day with him.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Letter to sociopath #1
I started working with you because of a dream. I had a dream to build a better life for me and my family. I trusted you to take care of me and guide me away from key mistakes that most entrepreneurs make in the beginning.
I should have seen the signs. You only cared about money. You didn't see the human component of a business. For you, people are a means to an end. To me employees were like family.
What I should have noticed is that you saw me the same way. I was a means to an end. I was an employee that could be fired and tossed to the curb.
You are a sociopath. Your money hungry ways will one day catch up to you. I want you to know that the tribulations I went through over the last 7 years was very difficult for me. My mom told me that I should never hate anyone. I find that hard to uphold when I think of you. You tried your best to take everything away from me.
Guess what? You failed!
My mom told me I should never wish ill will on anyone. I have a hard time with that one too.
I have to take the positive out of our time together. I learned to look for the sociopathic tendencies in people first instead of believing everyone I meet is honest and of positive character. I learned that I will never do business with you ever again. You're a sociopath and I'm not, so I will always lose in a relationship with you. I also learned how not to treat others.
Here's the way I want to think:
Karma's a comin'. You will get yours. I won't seek revenge. Nor will I wish it on you. But when it happens, I have to admit that I will be happily cheering, drinking a glass of champagne on the sidelines.
I'm bigger than that. I will never forget the way you treated me. I will never forget how I felt. I will never trust you to get close to me again. However, I know that I need to forgive you. For you do not know better. It's actually sad to see you live your life in such disharmony.
I realize now the way you treated me had nothing to do with me. Maybe you weren't raised by good honest parents who loved you. I can't understand that because my parents were awesome.
I forgive you. You did not know better. You cannot hurt me anymore!
Karma's a comin'. You will get yours. I won't seek revenge. Nor will I wish it on you. But when it happens, I have to admit that I will be happily cheering, drinking a glass of champagne on the sidelines.
I'm bigger than that. I will never forget the way you treated me. I will never forget how I felt. I will never trust you to get close to me again. However, I know that I need to forgive you. For you do not know better. It's actually sad to see you live your life in such disharmony.
I realize now the way you treated me had nothing to do with me. Maybe you weren't raised by good honest parents who loved you. I can't understand that because my parents were awesome.
I forgive you. You did not know better. You cannot hurt me anymore!
Rick
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Knock knock.
We look around and we don't necessarily see. We hear, but we don't necessarily listen.
My wife gave me a fridge magnet about 9 years ago. It said, "Opportunity is everywhere". I didn't know how right that little magnet was until now. All things are for sale. Even if they are not listed, they can be sold for the right price. What's the right price? It's an agreed price that the seller will let it go for and what the buyer is willing to pay. You never have to overpay if you don't want to.
I have looked at no less than 10 businesses in the past 3 months. Some were listed as for sale and some were not. After a few minutes with the owners, all businesses were for sale. Some were too expensive, some were really cheap. All in all, if you want something you have to go get it.
You've heard the saying, "Opportunity knocks". In my experience it has never knocked. If it had, I would have been stupid not to open the door. I believe "Opportunity whispers". It whispers to you in your sleep. It whispers to you as you drive by it everyday. It whispers to you when you talk to others. Because it's such a faint whisper, it is easy to dismiss as white noise.
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.
My wife gave me a fridge magnet about 9 years ago. It said, "Opportunity is everywhere". I didn't know how right that little magnet was until now. All things are for sale. Even if they are not listed, they can be sold for the right price. What's the right price? It's an agreed price that the seller will let it go for and what the buyer is willing to pay. You never have to overpay if you don't want to.
I have looked at no less than 10 businesses in the past 3 months. Some were listed as for sale and some were not. After a few minutes with the owners, all businesses were for sale. Some were too expensive, some were really cheap. All in all, if you want something you have to go get it.
You've heard the saying, "Opportunity knocks". In my experience it has never knocked. If it had, I would have been stupid not to open the door. I believe "Opportunity whispers". It whispers to you in your sleep. It whispers to you as you drive by it everyday. It whispers to you when you talk to others. Because it's such a faint whisper, it is easy to dismiss as white noise.
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.
-Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven"
Yesterday, I took a drive and started looking at houses and businesses in a way I had never done it before. It was like I had opened my eyes for the first time. I saw things I failed to see before. It was exhilarating.
As in "Stairway to Heaven", you need to listen very hard for opportunity. It's there. We are all here for a reason. We choose the reason. We decide. But if fear holds us back, then we never fulfill our true purpose.
Have a great day!
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Who's the rascal that taught us about money? Part 2
Inflation is the number one killer of financial health. Each year, economists will argue that inflation has risen by 2-3%. If your money isn't growing at that rate, then your savings is falling behind. Savings in a bank account will be rewarded with about 0.5%.
Here are a couple of examples of inflation at work:
1. When I entered the workforce in 1995, a good starting salary was $25,000/year. Today's graduating students are making in the range of $40,000/year. If you take inflationary pressures of 3% annually from 1995, the number is a bit more than the $40,000 starting salaries for today's newest graduates.
2. I bought a house in 2004 and sold it 9 years later for $58,000 more than I paid for it. If I account for 3% annual inflation, I lost money on the house.
I had money in my pocket from the sale of the house. When most people sell a house, they have to buy another one. If the market has gone up, then the purchase price of the next home will also have gone up. There is no new savings, just new debt. That's right new, bigger and longer debt!!!
The people of my generation and younger do not know what it's like to carry 19% interest payments on their debt. It was our parents/grandparents who had to face that monster. Some of us have learned to use debt to our advantage. And some of us are getting eaten by it, even in these times of cheap debt. In either case, we have all become a society of gluttons.
We eat too much. We drink too much. We spend too much. And we rationalize it by saying that we deserve it.
We depend more and more on the banks everyday. I've seen people with good jobs and no kids lose their homes. I've watched intelligent people make extreme errors in judgement with consumer debt. We have given control of our lives to the financial institutions that carry our debt.
I'm afraid of where this is all going. I'm afraid that many will be homeless, penniless and desperate. I'm hoping that more realize that overspending beyond the means cannot continue. I wish everyone will take the time to put their financial well being back on track. I'm praying that everyone realizes that the only way we will survive the coming economic storm is to prepare now by putting our horses in the barn. We need to help our neighbours do the same.
If you think you're safe, do some research on what's going on in Detroit, Michigan. The city's economic condition has become critical. Some think it's the first sore of a major sickness that is about to brood throughout North America.
Don't think it could happen here? It wasn't supposed to happen in Detroit either.
We're in serious financial trouble, as individuals and as a society.
Here are a couple of examples of inflation at work:
1. When I entered the workforce in 1995, a good starting salary was $25,000/year. Today's graduating students are making in the range of $40,000/year. If you take inflationary pressures of 3% annually from 1995, the number is a bit more than the $40,000 starting salaries for today's newest graduates.
2. I bought a house in 2004 and sold it 9 years later for $58,000 more than I paid for it. If I account for 3% annual inflation, I lost money on the house.
I had money in my pocket from the sale of the house. When most people sell a house, they have to buy another one. If the market has gone up, then the purchase price of the next home will also have gone up. There is no new savings, just new debt. That's right new, bigger and longer debt!!!
The people of my generation and younger do not know what it's like to carry 19% interest payments on their debt. It was our parents/grandparents who had to face that monster. Some of us have learned to use debt to our advantage. And some of us are getting eaten by it, even in these times of cheap debt. In either case, we have all become a society of gluttons.
We eat too much. We drink too much. We spend too much. And we rationalize it by saying that we deserve it.
We depend more and more on the banks everyday. I've seen people with good jobs and no kids lose their homes. I've watched intelligent people make extreme errors in judgement with consumer debt. We have given control of our lives to the financial institutions that carry our debt.
I'm afraid of where this is all going. I'm afraid that many will be homeless, penniless and desperate. I'm hoping that more realize that overspending beyond the means cannot continue. I wish everyone will take the time to put their financial well being back on track. I'm praying that everyone realizes that the only way we will survive the coming economic storm is to prepare now by putting our horses in the barn. We need to help our neighbours do the same.
If you think you're safe, do some research on what's going on in Detroit, Michigan. The city's economic condition has become critical. Some think it's the first sore of a major sickness that is about to brood throughout North America.
Don't think it could happen here? It wasn't supposed to happen in Detroit either.
We're in serious financial trouble, as individuals and as a society.
Monday, February 3, 2014
Here's to your health
I take health for granted. A few months ago, I was on a strict physical training regiment called Crossfit. During that time, I was in the best shape of my life. A few times, when work got busy, I would skip my training. Health can wait. Work comes first. Right? Not according to my coach. He said that if I'm not healthy, I'm no good to anyone, including my family, my business, my friends and most importantly to myself.
He was right!!!
I hate being sick. It happens so rarely, that I have forgotten the inconvenience of it. Until I get sick. I'm a wimp when I get sick. I don't want to do anything but just lay still and try not to move my stomach muscles in fear of upsetting the status quo.
Yet after a couple of healthy days and I start taking it all for granted again. It's like the proverbial hangover when a person says "never again".
Good things are always taken for granted: health, love, happiness, summer. It's in their absence that we notice them. I wonder why.
I hate being sick. If I was sick because I overdrank, I could have averted it by making different choices.
The next day I don't feel like this, I'm going to do everything I can to ward off these demons. Exercise, nutrition, vitamins - you're all in my future. I am going to make different choices.
My world stops when I'm under the weather.
Sorry for the rant. My brain doesn't think clearly in these conditions. I'll be better tomorrow.
Ta ta for now!
"Health is not valued until sickness comes"
- Thomas Fuller
He was right!!!
I hate being sick. It happens so rarely, that I have forgotten the inconvenience of it. Until I get sick. I'm a wimp when I get sick. I don't want to do anything but just lay still and try not to move my stomach muscles in fear of upsetting the status quo.
Yet after a couple of healthy days and I start taking it all for granted again. It's like the proverbial hangover when a person says "never again".
Good things are always taken for granted: health, love, happiness, summer. It's in their absence that we notice them. I wonder why.
I hate being sick. If I was sick because I overdrank, I could have averted it by making different choices.
The next day I don't feel like this, I'm going to do everything I can to ward off these demons. Exercise, nutrition, vitamins - you're all in my future. I am going to make different choices.
My world stops when I'm under the weather.
Sorry for the rant. My brain doesn't think clearly in these conditions. I'll be better tomorrow.
Ta ta for now!
"Health is not valued until sickness comes"
- Thomas Fuller
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Because I said so...
As a child, I remember asking my parents why I had to do certain things. Many times the answer was the same, "Because I said so...". Man, I hated that answer. It didn't mean anything. I wanted a reason. I got an order.
I have always hated being told what to do, when to do it and how to do it. I'm just not hardwired to accept submission. In grade 8, my teacher forced me to take off my track suit jacket, because of a no jacket rule in class. In my rotation of clothes, I caused a small rebellion the next week. I wore my track suit without an under shirt. I figured out the "No jacket" rule was less important than the "No shirt" rule. That didn't go over well with the teachers. I was undermining their authority. I look back and I think I was using my creative thinking to get past their stupid rules.
Schools say they promote creative thinking. Truly, they want students to submit and do what they are told to do.
I have been extremely lucky in my work life. The three companies I have worked for have always given me the freedom to get the job done without close supervision.
Funny enough, the first franchise business I bought was exactly the opposite of my work experience and more closely resembled my grade 8 experience.
We always hear about the benefits of franchises versus getting into an independent business. I can tell you first hand from my franchise experience, that it made me an expert in restaurant operations. But there were huge pitfalls to being in a franchise.
Looking back on the experience, it was not that much fun. Being told what to do, without reason was a challenge. When asked why we did certain functions and tasks, I was told because that's the way we want it done. Maybe that answer works for some people. I wanted to know why. In my franchise, I was a prisoner.
My mom used to say, "If everyone jumps off the bridge, does it mean you have to too"? I love that question. She basically asked me, "Are you a leader or a follower"? To be a good franchisee, you have to be a follower. I was a shitty franchisee.
Don't get me wrong, I made money as a franchisee. I was very unhappy. I learned what I don't ever want to do again. I'm very thankful for my experience. It made me a smarter businessperson.
If you ever want to buy a franchise, you should talk to people like me. We can give you some insight that you might not think about. A franchise might be right for you and it might not be.
Either way, knowledge is power. I won't tell you what to do.
Ta ta for now!
I have always hated being told what to do, when to do it and how to do it. I'm just not hardwired to accept submission. In grade 8, my teacher forced me to take off my track suit jacket, because of a no jacket rule in class. In my rotation of clothes, I caused a small rebellion the next week. I wore my track suit without an under shirt. I figured out the "No jacket" rule was less important than the "No shirt" rule. That didn't go over well with the teachers. I was undermining their authority. I look back and I think I was using my creative thinking to get past their stupid rules.
Schools say they promote creative thinking. Truly, they want students to submit and do what they are told to do.
I have been extremely lucky in my work life. The three companies I have worked for have always given me the freedom to get the job done without close supervision.
Funny enough, the first franchise business I bought was exactly the opposite of my work experience and more closely resembled my grade 8 experience.
We always hear about the benefits of franchises versus getting into an independent business. I can tell you first hand from my franchise experience, that it made me an expert in restaurant operations. But there were huge pitfalls to being in a franchise.
Looking back on the experience, it was not that much fun. Being told what to do, without reason was a challenge. When asked why we did certain functions and tasks, I was told because that's the way we want it done. Maybe that answer works for some people. I wanted to know why. In my franchise, I was a prisoner.
My mom used to say, "If everyone jumps off the bridge, does it mean you have to too"? I love that question. She basically asked me, "Are you a leader or a follower"? To be a good franchisee, you have to be a follower. I was a shitty franchisee.
Don't get me wrong, I made money as a franchisee. I was very unhappy. I learned what I don't ever want to do again. I'm very thankful for my experience. It made me a smarter businessperson.
If you ever want to buy a franchise, you should talk to people like me. We can give you some insight that you might not think about. A franchise might be right for you and it might not be.
Either way, knowledge is power. I won't tell you what to do.
Ta ta for now!
Saturday, February 1, 2014
What is your life's purpose?
Why are we here? Are we supposed to accomplish something? I think of these questions from time to time. My spiritual side will tell me there is some divine direction that I am supposed to follow. My rational side will tell me that purpose is whatever I decide the objective to be.
I believe that things happen for reasons. Sometimes reasons are not really clear at the time. I'm probably rationalizing the occurrence of negative events to make me feel better. I'm making an assumption that divine intervention gives a shit about some of my simple life experiences. Ultimately, I don't care! For some reason, allowing the pressure of an experience to release by giving credit to "The Ultimate Plan", makes me feel better.
Isn't that all that matters? We feel better.
I have friends who are agnostic. And I have friends who are atheist. They don't believe in the things I do. They cope with their issues in a different way. That's ok too.
We will all die. Recently I asked a group of friends, "On your deathbed, as you look at your time on Earth, you will analyze your life. What do you want to have accomplished"? And if we use Stephen Covey's thinking in his foundational book, "7 Habits of Highly Effective People", "What do you want others to say at your funeral"? In all of the people that I talked to, no one mentions money or financial wealth as an objective.
These questions lead to our life's purpose. What we want to accomplish before we die.
Character, legacy, someone who helped others, and being a good parent/spouse are some of the more popular responses that are heard in these discussions.
So go look yourself in the mirror and ask yourself, "What is my life's purpose"? Once you've answered it, ask yourself honestly, "Am I there yet"?
If you have not achieved your life's purpose yet, then it's time to get real. Put all your cards on the table and ask yourself, why are you not there yet. Find the why to your problem, and you'll find the solution in the same place. Once you've uncovered the real reason for your failure to achieve your life's purpose, you can start to unravel the twine and put your life on a path to achieve all of the things you have ever wanted.
Any good business has a vision for its raison d'etre. As people, we need to also envision our purpose, so that we can start taking steps down the right path.
It's gonna get uncomfortable. 2014 is going to be an awesome year.
Ta ta for now!
"If you don't know where you're going, then any road will take you there".
-Lewis Carroll (Alice in Wonderland)
I believe that things happen for reasons. Sometimes reasons are not really clear at the time. I'm probably rationalizing the occurrence of negative events to make me feel better. I'm making an assumption that divine intervention gives a shit about some of my simple life experiences. Ultimately, I don't care! For some reason, allowing the pressure of an experience to release by giving credit to "The Ultimate Plan", makes me feel better.
Isn't that all that matters? We feel better.
I have friends who are agnostic. And I have friends who are atheist. They don't believe in the things I do. They cope with their issues in a different way. That's ok too.
We will all die. Recently I asked a group of friends, "On your deathbed, as you look at your time on Earth, you will analyze your life. What do you want to have accomplished"? And if we use Stephen Covey's thinking in his foundational book, "7 Habits of Highly Effective People", "What do you want others to say at your funeral"? In all of the people that I talked to, no one mentions money or financial wealth as an objective.
These questions lead to our life's purpose. What we want to accomplish before we die.
Character, legacy, someone who helped others, and being a good parent/spouse are some of the more popular responses that are heard in these discussions.
So go look yourself in the mirror and ask yourself, "What is my life's purpose"? Once you've answered it, ask yourself honestly, "Am I there yet"?
If you have not achieved your life's purpose yet, then it's time to get real. Put all your cards on the table and ask yourself, why are you not there yet. Find the why to your problem, and you'll find the solution in the same place. Once you've uncovered the real reason for your failure to achieve your life's purpose, you can start to unravel the twine and put your life on a path to achieve all of the things you have ever wanted.
Any good business has a vision for its raison d'etre. As people, we need to also envision our purpose, so that we can start taking steps down the right path.
It's gonna get uncomfortable. 2014 is going to be an awesome year.
Ta ta for now!
"If you don't know where you're going, then any road will take you there".
-Lewis Carroll (Alice in Wonderland)
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