Mirrors to your soul, perceptions, and curveballs

I want to share something important that I've learned.
Oh yeah. I love learning new things.

And then again, what I learn isn't necessarily important for you.
Why would you say that?

Life is like that, not all things I learn are important to you. And vice versa.
I'm losing you.

Let me explain using a simple example. My son knows how to throw a "nasty" curve ball. I didn't teach it to him. Someone on youtube did.
He plays baseball?

Yes, he plays the highest level of baseball in our city for his age group. But that's not my point. He knows something I don't. I don't need to learn how to do it.
But don't you want to teach others?

Sure, but I believe a teacher should be able to do before telling someone how to.
Isn't that the opposite of that old saying, "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach"?

Not all sayings are universally true. There's truth in them, but there will be always an exception. I guess I'm one of the exceptions.
You do look at the world different.

If you live your life guided by sayings and quotes, you're living your life through others' perceptions. What did you want to share?

It's basically that. Our perceptions are biased by our life experiences and the things we think we know.
Isn't experience the best teacher in life?

Sometimes. Yet other times, experience is just an experience.
But if the lesson is not learned, the experience resurfaces.

Again, maybe. We're getting off subject. Let me share the idea of perceptions. Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?
Of course. Every time I'm in the bathroom.

And who do you see?
Me of course.

You're making an assumption the mirror is the right reflection, there is no bend in the glass, the right lamination, lighting and your eyes aren't playing silly games.
But I look the same each time.

Are you sure about that? Do you look the same when you get a picture taken?
I hate seeing pictures of myself.

I don't know how new cameras work, but the old ones used mirrors to capture an image. The minute the angle changes most people don't like what they see of themselves. Yet everyone else sees them exactly the way they have always been.

Get close up and look at your pores around your nose, or cheeks.
Oouf, I'd rather not.

Is that not still you?
I guess.

Better yet, when you speak, do you hear your voice?
Yes.

Do you like to hear yourself talk.
I never really thought about it. But I don't mind talking.

Have you ever heard your voice recorded?
Oh my. I hate it.

But isn't it still you?
Yes. But it embarrasses me that I sound that way. My voice sounds so tinny.

You just have a different perspective. Whether you record your voice, videotape your actions or have pictures taken, technology captures you as you actually are. Yet you don't like it because it doesn't sound or look like the way you think you are.

Huh?

Your perception of what you look like and sound like is only yours. The rest of the world sees you differently.
Why would you say that?

I have a friend who uses Equine Facilitated Training to pull out these obstructions in a person's perceptions.
What is that?

She takes a horse and gets the individual to interact with the horse.
Why a horse? Aren't dogs better for comfort?

I asked the same question. Animals can be either predator or prey. Horses are one of the only domesticated animals that are always prey. If you have an aggressive attitude, the horse will sense it and be afraid. If you are calm, the horse will sense peace and will approach you.
So a horse is like a mirror?

It's the best mirror. It looks directly into your soul and shows you exactly who you are. Reflective mirrors lie. Horses do not.

So how is this important to me?
It's a curve ball. You decide if it is or not. Just remember the person you think you are might not be the person everyone else sees. Whether good or bad...

That's counterintuitive.
The person you hate in the those pictures is the person everyone else knows. How are you not depressed all the time?

Good question...

Passion parties with persistence

Thanks for meeting with me this morning.

No problem. What's the trouble?

I'm demotivated.

Why?

I have this vision for my business and people keep telling me I'm crazy.

That's the best kind.

Huh?

You have a vision and no one else sees it, right?

Yup.

And every time you try to explain it, they shoot down your idea.

Yup.

Is it possible you're breaking new ground?

What I'm trying to do doesn't exist.

Did you know that Amazon was originally created to sell books online?

No.

And did you know that Amazon didn't make any money in its first 9 years of business?

No.

And Jeff Bezos was considered crazy because we didn't need an online bookstore. Barnes & Noble existed. You could go to the bookstore and buy the book. And simply put, they only had had to set up a website to sell their books online to complete directly with Amazon. 

But Bezos had a crazy plan. He quit his Wall Street job to start Amazon. He didn't want to sell just books. It was the first step on a staircase to heaven.

So people thought Bezos was crazy?

They still do. It's when they stop thinking he's crazy is when he should start to worry.

Ok. So my idea is good?

I didn't say that. But I'm not qualified to bust your dream.

Who is?

No one, except you.

But I'm having a hard time moving forward because these people are killing my dream.

No one can do that to you without your permission. You are giving them too much power over you. 

You're hurt because someone shot down your idea. You took it personal. If they would have called you a terrible dad, how would you have felt.

I don't have kids.

Right, so if they called you a terrible father who didn't know how to raise children, what would you think?

I wouldn't care because I'm not a dad.

If a person says something that you know is untrue, you dismiss it. But if they say something that you're not sure of, you demotivate. You're afraid. When someone tells us something that we take the wrong way, it's because at some level, we believe them. 

Holy shit. I get it. I'm giving them my power by letting them get into my head. I fight these demons every day and then someone else pulls it out and validates my big fears.

Thatta boy. 

All this demotivation has killed my passion.

Where is passion?

I wish I could tell you. I had it, but I don't know where I lost it. 

Ok. Fair enough. Let me ask you a different question. Where is the wind?

Outside.

Sure. But can you see it?

Yes. I see it when the leaves ruffle about or the blades of grass shift around.

You see the effects of the wind. You can feel it on your face as it brushes around your cheeks heading toward its destination. You don't see it. But does it exist.

Yes.

So if you go outside with a jar and lid. Can you capture the wind and seal it by closing the lid.

You're losing me. I'm starting to think you're crazy.

What you think of me is none of my business. And I disagree, so what you say about me doesn't affect what I think of myself.

Capturing the wind??? I'm lost.

Take a jar outside and capture the wind, where's the wind?

It's outside.

Exactly. The trees lean, the small hairs on your face dance and the blades of grass sway back and forth. It is the effects of the wind that reinforce in your brain that wind actually exists. Put it in a jar, and everything stops. Open the jar, and the wind doesn't make a whisper as you release it, as if it doesn't exist.

Ok, but what does the wind have to do with passion?

You don't see it. You can't bottle it. Directed properly, you can move mountains.

But I've lost it.

You can't lose passion just like you can't lose the wind. Passion shows up when we do things we love to do. Passion is an effect. It's not the root. If you look for passion, you'll never find it.

How do you know?

I was where you are five years ago. I went looking for passion. And realized that passion was inside of me. It's not something you find. It finds you. 

How does it find you?

Go do stuff. Get to work. Move. Passion hates lazy people.

I'm not lazy.

Prove it. Passion parties with persistence.

Passion parties with persistence? I have a lot to think about. Thanks for your time today. 

No problem. Never forget: your ideas are yours alone. Try not to allow others into your thinking, unless you respect them enough to act on their advice.

Blinders, noise, and secret decoder rings of advertising

Your world whirls around you like a top turning on a table.

Spinning, turning, splashing, twerving.

There's no time to get everything done.
No time to relax...
No time to enjoy...
No money...
No freedom...

You are surfing Facebook, scrolling through all the shiny happy people postings.
There's an ad between Charlene's new puppy post and Jared's selfie at the beach.

The ad is skipped, as is 99.3% of boosted ads on Facebook.

In the swirl of activity, how do you pay attention to things you seemingly don't care about?

The simple answer is you don't.

Trainers put blinders on racehorses to keep them focussed on the finish line.

Most of us do the same with our attention.
We've been told and taught to focus.

So focus you do. And when you don't have to focus, you dream. You relax, when you can.
You dream while watching television, while listening to music or podcasts. And you dream while doing menial tasks like scrolling the internet or driving.

It's an advertiser's job to communicate a message to a potential buyer that will encourage a future purchase.

97% of ad messages are noise.

In a noisy, busy world, there are two ways to drive results.
1. Make more noise than everyone else. Think of the screaming toddler at Walmart.
2. Say something that matters. Say it consistently. Say it from an angle that will surprise and delight the audience.

Both will get results.
The first will get immediate results just like that spoiled kid who gets the immediate satisfaction of the candy bar.

Be careful. Although much easier to do, there is a limit to your tolerance of screaming. You start to ignore the screaming brat although he raises his intensity. He becomes part of the noise. And advertising like this will expose the law of diminishing returns.

Working for a pizza franchise 20 years ago, franchisees saw an increase in sales every time we ran a price promotion, communicated by flyers. The answer to more sales was to run more flyers. Then the decision makers decided to run price discounts on their products year long. The flyers were used to communicate the sale price, although the product was always discounted. After 3 years working there, the marketing effort didn't grow sales anymore. We spent a lot of money marketing to a customer who learned the promotional price wasn't a special event.

Facturing the cost of marketing, we were losing money through this marketing effort.

The second option has no ceiling.
It starts out as noise like all other messages.
Until you pay attention.
It becomes the secret decoder ring.
Only meant for those who care.
You share with friends who also care.
As you participate in the messaging, you become a secret fan.
And when you're ready to buy, you don't need to hear the ad again
You are the ad.
You are the client.
You're life is made easier because you didn't have to make a choice.
There's only one choice.
You've been dating this company for months, through its advertising.
You didn't know it, but you're falling in love with them.
And as long as the sales process is as good as the advertising, you're a client for a long time.

One is really easy to do, and doesn't take a lot of effort. But it will stop working after 3 years.
The other is hard and takes a lot of work. But done well, will never stop working for you.

Which one should you do?
If you want instant gratification, one day the candy bar won't be there. Knowing that, you can decide for yourself.

Don't be an asshole. You will run out of toilet paper.

Hey Brian, I need to ask you a question.

What's up?

Is it true your moving your business off Main Street into the suburbs?

Yes. 

You're moving your sandwich business away from foot traffic? I don't get it. I thought that location was perfect for your product.

So did I. But after 5 years, it's my worst performing location.

I'm looking at expanding my business and as you know, good locations are hard to come by. If you're moving, I think I should talk to the landlord and build at that site.

Here's what I'll tell you. If you build out at that location, you will lose your shirt. We lost money every year there. I like you and I'd hate for you to make a big mistake. Don't do it. It's the wrong site. It looks good, but the type of foot traffic didn't deliver on sales expectations.

So the site didn't just underperform. It lost money?

Yup. Let me tell you something. If I didn't like you, I'd encourage you to go there. We could afford to mature the site with our other five locations. After 5 years of waiting for the business to grow, the only thing that grew was our frustration. 

Thanks Brian, I appreciate the honesty. I'll stay away.

Good call. Thanks for reaching out.

********Fast forward about a year**********

Steve, what's going on Main Street where Brian's sandwich shop used to be.

A speciality food market. An area developer is franchising the concept throughout the region.

Who's the area developer?

He used to develop ice cream franchises.

I know him. We've done business together. He's not a win-win type of guy.

Oh. So you don't want a franchise?

No thanks. 

That location is going to be great for a specialty market.

Maybe. Time will tell.

Do you know why Brian moved out?

No. 

I heard he wanted a bigger location.

That sounds like Brian. 

You sure you don't want one of these franchises. It's the next big thing.

It probably will be, but it'll just be one more thing I missed out. Thanks but no thanks.

Alright. If you know of anyone with money, please forward them my way.

These two conversations happened about a year apart. It's as much an observation of karma as it is glimpse into my own philosophy. I wish no one ill will. However, I wasn't willing to share information to help someone who tried to hurt me in the past. Call me an asshole, but I don't think the developer would have believed me anyway. I wonder if the developer called Brian. If so, did Brian tell him what he told me or does Brian feel the same way about him as I do? Time will tell if Brian was right or wrong. 

My ears were being raped.

I was sitting in a restaurant enjoying a favourite meal, when something stabbed me in the back of the head. Why do people check bathrooms to confirm the cleanliness of kitchens in restaurants?

Although there is truth in the thought, it can be misleading. 

The meal was great, but there was something "off" at this restaurant. Admittedly, I'm a restaurant junkie. I overanalyze them. I am them.

The "off" was the music. There's only two things worse than no music in a restaurant. Playing a commercial filled radio station with jock-talk every twenty minutes is second worse to what this restaurant did. And yes, it's worse than playing the radio.

Then I started to think about the bathroom thing. 

Servers clean bathrooms. Cooks clean kitchens. So why does a dirty bathroom give credence to a dirty kitchen?

What does one have to do with the other?

There are several ways to figure out if a kitchen is clean.

Here are some of my favourites:

1. Light bulbs are burnt out.

2. Gum under the tables.

3. Spiderwebs coming down from shelves.

4. Accumulated dirt in the corners before the rush of the day starts.

5. Walls needing paint.

6. Menus falling apart and needing to be replaced.

7. Music is inappropriate for the environment.

And see, none of these indications requires the customer to go 10 feet past the front door. They all deal with the same issue.

Management. The manager is responsible for all things, including systems to guarantee none of these happen. If the manager cannot implement and inspect these little things daily, then he/she is not inspecting the cleanliness of the cooks and kitchen. This I will guarantee.

For today, the restaurant felt that heavy metal was a good musical choice for its average customer. Although I like heavy metal, it isn't the type of music I want during lunch break. 

There was also a wall needing paint, a server needing a clean uniform, a light bulb needing replaced, dirt in a corner that hasn't been swept in a few days and menus were frayed. Management is turning its eye and despite an open kitchen, I could see some real problems with cleanliness on the kitchen side. 

I might have missed the other things if the music hadn't caught my attention. 

My ears were being raped.

I've heard business owners say the best marketing is the operations. Roy Williams says that marketing speeds up the inevitable.

From an irregular customer's perspective, I believe the choice for a repeat visit starts with the last visit.

Marketing internally to the customer requires the business to use as many of the five senses as possible. 

This stuff isn't just for restaurants. 

Are you ignoring taste and smell?

Are you raping ears?

Are you not allowing them to touch the product before buying?

Are you not merchandising your product inside the four walls?

A retailer shouldn't smell like tires, when they advertise they are most than just tires.

A plumber shouldn't smell like crap, although his last job had him up to his knees in the stuff.

A real estate can give away a restaurant gift card for choosing him.

A contractor can bring a coffee to his first meeting with a new prospective client.

A restaurant can play happy music.

But all these things come down to one thing: management and the systems they implement to be consistent.

Consistency is the key to fulfilling expectations. Underfulfillment leads to dissatisfaction. And dissatisfaction creates customer erosion. Customer erosion hurts business and ultimately leads to failure if not addressed properly.

A dirty bathroom is the responsibility of management as is all aspects of an operation. So you can evaluate a kitchen based on a bathroom. But if you don't want to look like the fool that walks out after being seated. Just look for burnt out lightbulbs. One or two could've burnt out today. Three is too many. So either the business doesn't have enough money to fix them or the manager doesn't systemize the inspection processes.

And if the business doesn't have enough money to replace them, don't get too attached. Either way, its bad news...

Thank god for moms

I sit here and wonder why I'm here. Not purpose. Just an answer. I see people dying, crying, laughing, and living. I wonder if I'm part of a problem or part of a solution.

I'm living, I think. But I see sadness around me. I can't fix it. I'm not sure I want to. The feeling pulls me under like a drowning person.

I'm having fun, I think. But I see others having fun and it looks nothing like mine. And I wonder when did I stop wanting to do those little things. The ones where we would go for a walk with no destination.

There was freedom in that life.

I'm free, I think. But I look at all the work I have to do and wonder if it matters. Others get their work done and still seem free.

I'm richer for it, I think. But I look at my bank account and it doesn't make me laugh or smile. It lacks the memories I yearn.

I'm tired, I think. But I take a long nap and I still feel the same.

This hallowness that I try to avoid appears on my wife's face when she smiles.

I'm a disappointment I think. But mom calls and tells me I'm smart and awesome.

Thank god for moms.

Rendezvous points, stashed cache, mission impossible.

As they left the hotel, Mommy punched in the coordinates of the destination into her phone. It was 8:40 and the meeting was scheduled for 9:15.

Umm, the GPS is saying we're 28 minutes away. Not including finding a parking spot and traffic. I thought you said we were 15 minutes from the rendezvous point.

Oh, oh. We may miss this meeting. We've hit stop-and-go morning traffic. Are you sure we're going the right way?
That's what the phone is saying. If we miss the contact, we'll have to reschedule, which means our 2.5 hour drive last night was for nothing.

I know. I know. It doesn't seem like we're going the right way. Damn this traffic.
You need to get in the middle lane. We only have 15 minutes to get there and the GPS says we're still 26 minutes away.

What? We've been driving for 20 minutes and we've only gone 2 minutes according to the phone?
Um, yeah. You need to get in the middle lane.

It's too late! I can't get in the middle lane. I'm forced to go right.
But you need to get in the middle lane.

Fuck the middle lane, I'm going right.
Where are you going? You can't do a U-turn here?

I just did. (As the tires squawk a little).
Where are you going?

I'm going the way I know how to get there.
We're going to miss the meeting.

As the van screeches through lights, turns and traffic, the quiet family arrives at the rendezvous point at 9:18. 

Get out, get out. Go to the rendezvous point. I'll find a parking spot and join you afterwards.
Which building is it?

That one right there.
Which building is it?

That one right there.
It doesn't look like the right building.

It's that building right there. I remember from the last time we were here. I gotta go. Get out. Get out. I'll meet you upstairs.

Ok, kids. It's time to get out.
Where are we?
It doesn't matter. You have to get out while daddy parks the van.
Get out. Get out. Go. Go. Go.

The van darts away from mommy and two confused kids. Daddy finds a parking garage next door to the rendezvous point. He parks the car on the sixth floor. Goes to the elevator and pushes the third floor to the Pedway. He walks 300 metres on the maze of over street walkways to arrive at the rendezvous building. The meeting is on the ninth floor. 

The ninth floor has marble from floor to ceiling. Right at the entrance to a windowless door is mommy and the two kids.

I'm sorry I told you the wrong building.
I know. Did you bring your cell phone?
Umm, yes. Can't we bring it in?

No. Can you go back to the car and bring my phone too?
I don't think I have a choice.
No, you don't. We're not allowed cell phones in here.
Ok. Give it to me.

Daddy goes back to the elevator down to the 2nd floor. For some reason, this building's second floor connects to the Pedway on the same level as the parking garage's third floor. He walks 300 metres to the parking garage. Goes up the elevator to the sixth floor and walks to the van. Upon arriving at the van, he stashes two cell phones. He wonders if cell phones aren't allowed, maybe his Fitbit won't be allowed too. So instead of taking the chance, he takes off the Fitbit and stashes it with the phones. He walks to the elevator, goes down to the third floor, walks 300 metres on the Pedway, takes the elevator of the building next door to the ninth floor. He gets out on the marble cavern and rings the doorbell. Instead of the security guard, his wife pokes her head out the door with a sly smile.

Do you still have your Fitbit on?
No.

Oh. They don't allow them either. Can you bring mine back to the van?
I don't think I have a choice. Give it to me.

Mommy's Fitbit comes in two pieces. One piece is a rubber band. The other is like a little microchip. Daddy contemplates hiding it instead of going back to the van? There's a plant there. Could he hide it in the plant? Daddy decides the risk isn't worth it, so he enters the elevator, goes down to the second floor, walks 300 metres in the Pedway, goes up to the sixth floor at the parking garage, walks to the van and places mommy's fitbit in the same place as the other stashed electronic gear. He locks the door and walks 50 metres before he thinks to himself. Maybe the automatic car lock won't get past security. He walks back to the van, removes the key from the chain, takes off electronic car starters, door locks and adds it to his cached stash. He walks back to the elevator, goes down to the third floor, walks 300 metres in the Pedway, goes up to the ninth floor into the marble cavern and rings the doorbell. A young man who probably doesn't have public hair comes out. He asks Daddy to empty his pockets. He's passed the first level of screening, now he has to go through a metal detector.

Empty your pockets into this tray.
Ok.

What is this? As the pubic hairless security guard gives Daddy the stink-eye.
Umm. Chapstick.

We don't allow that here. You'll have to bring it back to your vehicle.
You're not kidding are you? Daddy doesn't have his Fitbit and he's not willing to do more steps for nothing. Everyone knows chapstick has been used to infiltrate customs in communist China. So no wonder, it's on the banned list of this low level secure office.

The only other option is to throw it out. There's a bathroom in the hallway. Take a left when you leave this room. The bathroom is on the right a few doors down.
Ok.

Daddy's friend gave him this lip balm. She makes the stuff and although not nearly as expensive as a Fitbit, Daddy is willing to lose it. But the cheap side of him doesn't want to throw out a perfectly good stick of balm. There's always the plant he could hide it in. But, wait a minute. What about the bathroom. Michael Coreleone hid a gun in a bathroom. Could Daddy sneak a stick of lip balm in the bathroom fit for Ethan Hunt from Mission Impossible? He opens the door. Then realizes, it's a bathroom. Not many worthy hiding places in a public bathroom of the ninth floor of this government building. Especially not something you'd want your lips on.But wait. The counter is made of metal. Is there a lip under the counter? Daddy runs his hand under the counter and finds the metal has an inch of extra coverage perfect for storing small things like Fitbits and lip balms. No one will ever find or see this while at the rendezvous, he says to himself.
After stashing his contraband, he swaggers back to the door with the buzzer. The young buck with a bully club opens the door, pleased to hear the illegal item has been discarded.

Come on in.
Beep.

Are you wearing a belt?
Yes.

Could you please take it off?
As if Daddy had a choice.  He takes it off and places it on the conveyor belt.

Alright, come on through.
Beep.

Oh, shoot, the shoes, says the baby faced man child, shaking off his mistake pretending to know what he's doing.
Do I just take them off and put them on the conveyor as well?
Yes.

As Daddy goes through the metal detector, he notices two things. The young security guard has perfectly shiny shoes and his bully club has hockey tape on the handle partially worn out. Does he practice swinging this club on his mom or has he used this equalizing stick on contraband carrying daddy's with lip balm?

You're good to go. Pick up your things at the other end of the metal detector.
Thank you.

It's 10:15 am. A good hour after the rendezvous. The meeting was conducted under normal conditions with no awkward "you're late" stares. After the meeting, Daddy scooted into the washroom, ran his hand under the sink and found his perfectly in tact Eclair Lip Balm. The cache was retrieved. And another impossible mission was completed. No one died, as usual. But if looks could kill, Mommy would have to answer some questions.