C'mon 2010

Well, it’s New Year’s week. I don’t know about the rest of you but at our office Christmas party this year we said good riddance to 2009 and buried it with about 6 inches of real dirt. Then kissed 2010 hello full on the lips. As so many companies in and around our industry, we had a tough year. When our clients get the financial flu….we buy Kleenex by the truck load. We had fewer sales, tighter margins and fewer orders.
But next year…now that’s a different story. This is our year. And who I mean by “our” is all of us. A lot of this has to do with consumer confidence. With a new governor dedicated to trying to bring some sanity to New Jersey’s spending and relieving us of some of the burden of State Employees who number north of 70,000 people coupled with our business community finally letting go after holding our breath for the last year or so, we’ll be back to building, distributing and buying stuff and services again. Jobs will slowly come back. First the temporary employees then the temp to hire positions and we’ll be on our way. At the same time we'll start to buy with a more discriminating eye. Not so much how cheap things are but the smart managers will be looking at quality and value and measuring efficiencies and effectiveness. We just need to get our swagger back. I mean, what’s America without our swagger? America without swagger makes us France. Anybody been to Johnny Depp's house lately? Oh, c'mon lighten up. The only thing wrong with France is that French people live there.
I keep seeing these TV commercials for Springsteen accepting the Kennedy Center Honors. I don’t know…it kind of makes me remember how I felt when Dylan went electric. Yeah, we got over it…but there’s still a little odor to it.
Couple of movies on my list this week: Invictus and Up In The Air. Invictus because it’s a Clint Eastwood movie and Up In The Air because my wife keeps telling me how good Clooney is. If I were a rookie at this marriage stuff, I’d argue with her. But the play here is to go to the movie and not complain. Speaking of movies ….don’t you hate it when they pimp a movie like this “Crazy Hearts” all over the media and it’s not playing in your area? Remember Precious? Same thing. By the way…now this guy Jeff Bridges … he’s definitely one of our great American actors. I think it’s him, Hoffman, Hackman and Nicholson…oh yeah, and if it’s a mixed crowd, there's Meryl Streep and that guy Clooney…hell of a job on ER, right?
Got some great books for Christmas. Enough to keep me busy this week. Most potential is from my daughter Jennifer: a biography of Ayn Rand. But the fun one is the Larry Bird, Magic Johnson book “When the Game Was Ours.” We’ll keep in touch on these, ok?
Remember now…this is our year. Let’s go get it. Happy New Year everybody.

Grandma Jenny's cherry pie

Somewhere along the line my Grandma Jenny got the idea that I loved cherry pie. It started when I was about 7 or 8 years old. Of course, I was one of those kids who ate everything and anything that wasn’t nailed down and never weighed more than a pair of sneakers. So, every year that I could remember Grandma baked me a cherry pie for Christmas. I was always expected to eat it in front of her attacking it mercilessly and completely. I typically polished it off in one day with Grandma watching each bite. At about 5’2” and almost that round, with silver hair and sparkling blue eyes, Grandma was that stereotypical Italian momma who made everything from scratch and was the quiet matriarch of our small, dysfunctional family.Well, this went on for years much to my puzzlement but also my enjoyment, for as it turned out, I wasn’t really that crazy about the traditional cherry pie but grandma’s was different. Maybe it was how she looked at me as I ate it. I always made her believe it was the very best present I got each and every Christmas. Somehow, I woke up one morning 16 going on 17 yrs. old. I developed a case of allergies to strawberries and cherry pie. If I so much as took a bite my face would look like somebody hit me with a can of cranberry sauce. Exactly what a healthy high school boy needs, right? So, sometime around January or February of my 17th year I began dropping hints to Grandma that I was now allergic to cherry pie and that we needed to move in another direction. Even with her broken English, I knew she heard me. I lobbied my mom to make sure she reminded Grandma …”no cherry pie this year, please”. The closer we got to Christmas the louder and more frequent came my reminders, until I was totally satisfied that everyone… from my Grandma Jenny to my Mom, my Dad, Grandpa Jack…and most of our neighbors knew that I was officially allergic to cherry pie and would prefer a traditional present. I expected a fountain pen or something like that.
Well, Christmas morning comes and sure enough as we bound down the stairs to open our gifts, there sitting in a circle around the tree is our nuclear family. Grandma stationed in her kitchen chair, since all grandma’s hate those soft living room chairs, right? They need a firm chair. At least my grandmas’ always did. Tearing through the presents I look curiously for the present from Grandma Jenny, wondering what will it be? All the gifts open there was, alas nothing from her or Grandpa. Wow, I hope she didn’t get mad at me for letting her know I didn’t want cherry pie. Just then, Grandma reaches down and hands me a box. My heart crushed as she handed me another cherry pie. My high school hormones began racing wondering…oh, no…what do I do. Nancy Davis will not be happy with her boyfriend looking like a can of cranberry sauce landed on his face. The kids at school will be merciless. Looking over at Grandma, her bright blue eyes shining and dancing as her mouth curled into that quiet smile as if she were presenting the grand prize to the winner of the contest showing how much she loved me. Looking at the pie, thinking of my friends at school and the total embarassment I would endure if I took even one bite, I smiled, picked up a fork and gobbled all the cherry pie I could eat. The hell with being embarrassed. When you have someone like Grandma Jenny in your life…and you know she’s doing something cause she loves you….even a teen aged boy has to get his priorities straight…For the next week I looked like my face got stabbed with a jelly pitch fork. But grandma smiled through every bite….and now she’s gone…and my memory of her is of her shining eyes, her smiling face…and the love she gave me as she watched me eat her cherry pie. I’m still allergic…and damn, I wish I could have just one more of her cherry pies. …. Don’t you wish you could bring back all those people in your life who gave you such wonderful memories? They left us their memories. Those are the nicest gifts I get every year. This year I lost some people who were really important to me. Christmas will be different without them. The rest of my life will be different without them. But I have a fresh box of memories that I will call on to gift wrap my holiday spirit. Remember the past as you salute the future. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all… and to all a very good night.

value, quality or cheap?

So, I've been thinking lately as I listen to everybody and their brother on every news channel talking about the economy, unemployment and how to fix stuff. "The Stimulas Plan didn't work"...."it did work"...."it's too soon to tell if it's working"..."we've only spent 10% of the money so how do we know if it's gonna work or not?".... Everybody's all over the place. Here's what I know. Unemployment is still flirting with the 10%+ area with true unemployment almost twice that number. The House keeps talking about how they can spend our money to stimulate the economy and get America back to work. I'm just thinking about this from a parochial point of view here but it seems to me that instead of spending another $800+Billion on an assortment of investments and programs the politicians think might help get things moving in the right direction... how about if they just created a wide range of programs and actually didn't spend any money. Instead they let small businesses sort through these support programs and we let them decide which ones they like and which will get them to take positive action..hiring...making stuff...buying stuff...etc... If we can get our country to once again decide that quality is what counts and NOT cheap prices and we get manufacturing focused on building and making stuff that is the BEST in the world instead of competing to be the cheapest....and as consumers we decided we were going to choose quality and value over cheap...wouldn't things kind of take care of themselves again? I mean, if we need consumer confidence to get people to spend money...and we started thinking with the values systems our forefathers gave us...and the small businesses in our community could choose the programs to invest in and they could decide where the government should spend our money instead of letting the politicians (most of whom never had to meet a payroll in their lives), wouldn't our economy and traditional values be more likely to put us back on track? I don't know...I just like the thought of our local business people and we each as consumers individually get to be in charge again...I just have a lot more confidence in us than I have in them. And, I've always believed in value and quality over cheap...don't you?

He's baaaaaack?????

Whoa....the flu totally had it's way with me. Ya know, back when I was around 8 maybe 9 years old, I was behind the old barn, sitting Indian style near Smokey's dog run, striking matches and quickly sniffing the sulfur before it went out...It was kinda fun. I was getting a little rush off it and feeling cool about it too. That is, until I got the sense maybe somebody like a hovering black cloud, was weighing in on me, only to look up and see my father standing there...all 12' of him, hands on hips...glaring down at me...like I was about to be squished with one deft swipe. He picked me up by my neck and toted me like I was his lunch pail...with only my legs and feet occasionally flicking the tips of the grass leading to our back steps. My room back in those days, was on the 3rd floor of an old house Dad had converted to 2 family, renting the other apartment out to a fellow cop named Frannie Yurick. (I always thought he had a sissy girl's name for a cop until I saw him shoot a perfect score of 300 at the Police Pistol Range. Suddenly, Mr. Frannie Yurick seemed to have a manly male name.) So, up to the third floor he dragged me, still occasionally bouncing the tips of my shoes now off the linoleum floors leading us there where he not so much parking me as tossing me across the room landing like dirty laundry on the foot of my bed. What could he be up to? Back in those days, it was anyone's guess. As a cop, my Dad was on a first name basis with every bartender in town and had a personal relationship with somebody he called Lord Calvert... which he proudly drank with water. This became his ritual since he became a cop who also happened to be an excellent pool player. So, he drank for free. Either because the Bartender would buy every 3rd drink in most of the bars in town or because he was winning at pool again, which he did most every night. So, being a depression kid my Dad thought it only responsible to not let free alcohol go to waste...you know... what with the kids starving in China and all. But, back to the bed. That's me sitting on the foot of the bed watching my Dad now kneel on the brown linoleum floor in front of me saying to myself "what could he be up to this time?" Well, he put a book of matches on the floor threw a couple of sheets out of my notebook on top and added a couple of socks as memory allows and started a nice little bon fire right there. My eyes must have looked like Little Orphan Annie as they popped out of my head. With that, he grabs my wrists with both hands and says to me..."so, you want to play with fire, huh tough guy?" and proceeds to dip my fingers into the fire. I jerked and flailed about, jumped around...unable to release his grip on my wrists until my fingers were screaming for some relief. "Where's my Mom? How come she's not helping me?" Finally, just as I was about to let him see me cry like a little girl, he lets go, snuffs out the fire...reaches over slaps some vaseline on my wrist, hands and fingers and says..."don't ever let me catch you playing with matches or fire again, you understand me?" Two things I learned from that lesson. 1. Don't ever go upstairs with your father when your Mom's at the store and 2. Never play with fire. Two lessons both well learned by a smart-assed kid with dirty hands. I had always used this pleasant little childhood memory as sort of a benchmark for life's little unpleasantries. You know...that wasn't as bad as when Dad burned my fingers or wow...that was worse than having the old man burn my fingers for playing with matches.
And then? Why, then...then I got the flu. There's the flu and then there's da flu.
Coughing up both your lungs, blowing your nose until you look like a coke head with a nose so red it matched our kitchen curtains.It's crazy bad...But the tough part is the medicine fog that engulfs you. There's the 17 pounds and 9 different varieties of cough drops...menthol, non-menthol and every other kind ever made...Robitussin, Anti-biotics, high blood pressure, blood thinner, beta blocker...you name it. You lose your sense of taste, hearing and smell. I stopped being able to spell multi-syllabic words by Thursday. Well, I put off going to the doctor until finally, it was see him or call the funeral parlor. See Doc on Thursday night ...better by Saturday morning. So, the question I ask myself is...please tell me why we men hate calling the doctor,even when it's a matter of life or breath...or asking directions or even asking for clarification? I mean, I could have been feeling better a week earlier if I had just called...and just listened. But, I'll tell you why.... it's because we're afraid we might look stupid... that's why...now, I've decided that after seeing how I handled the flu...doing something where I look stupid...well, that would just be redundant. And I think that goes for most of us men.So you see, no matter how old we men get...we're still acting like we're 8-9 years old...and now I have a whole new perspective on benchmarking life's unpleasant experiences. "That was worse than the flu I had in '09 or..that was nothing...the flu in '09 was a killer....I like this memory better, actually.
But, I feel much better today, thank you

Da Flu

is kicking my butt right now...Be back in a few days

Your Turkey Sandwich

So, how does Tiger Woods become more famous? Why wrap your car around a tree and a fire hydrant at 2:30 in the morning a few hundred feet from your house. A couple of words of advice for Mr. Tiger....dude, you're a golfer driving an Escalade...blame the Caddy.
And can you pick up a paper or watch the news without hearing about that embarrassing couple that crashed Obama's first State Dinner? Mr. and Mrs. Salahi, willing to do anything for a shot at a reality show, fake their way into the Whitehouse without an invitation, even getting face time with President Obama, his chief of staff and other dignitaries...making fools of our country's Secret Service security. My question is how does Secret Service Director Mark Sullivan keep his job?
Then there's George Casey, Army Chief of Staff still trying to figure out which little guys should take the fall for the Army failing to figure out this jerk Maj. Nidal Malik Hasan was an Islamist crackpot when he just barely stopped short of sending up a multi-colored flare announcing he was a dedicated terrorist out to destroy our country. Not only should these guys both be fired...they shouldn't be allowed to ever work at another real job again. I was gonna say they should be working at Mickey D's but hell, I wouldn't trust them with my food either.
But, truth is we just don't ever hold anyone accountable for their work anymore..not even ourselves. We just gotta change that.
Then there's Bernanke who Newsweek declares is the #1 thinker in America today, up for reappointment as Fed Chairman...of course, he'll be confirmed but wouldn't it have been nice for him to...I dunno...maybe at least warn us before this thing blew up? You know...do his job before he started driving an ambulance ambulance to work?

Oh, and my favorite news of the week? Obama's going to hold a Jobs Conference. EXCELLENT....2 Stimulus packages later and now we're going to talk about job creation. Would someone please tell our President we're already out of work? 10.2% which is really around 18% real unemployment. Now you want to talk about it? Exactly what have we been doing for 9 mos. By now, I would have hoped we'd have a plan. Oh, yeah...I forgot, if it weren't for the stimulus program it would have been worse... aaargh...

And I went to see Blindside. That's the movie with Sandra Bullock and Tim McGraw. Yes, my wife dragged me there. But check this out. It's a great movie. Totally entertaining. Great feel-good movie for the holidays. Heartily recommend it. Better than Turkey, Yukan gold mashed potatoes and a piece of that walnut, caramel, Apple pie from Dearborn Farm....uh, ok...it's a toss up.

Evelyn

So, I'm about 10 years old I figure. It's the very old days and I just landed my first bike...spare parts that came together to get me peddling. Until then I hadn't gotten around much in the neighborhood. I was drawn to the sounds coming from behind Jackie English's house. As I turned the corner I spotted a group of raggedy kids, much like myself, playing baseball. The field was 65/35 dirt to grass, with worn paths to make-shift bases and a circle of trees that I quickly figured were the bleachers to catch home runs. I noticed a couple of the bigger kids standing behind home plate and mustered the courage to walk up and ask "can I play?" They peered down at me, annoyed for interrupting their concentration on the game. The guy with the best glove said, "sure, as soon as you're better than her," pointing to a girl who was up at bat. I said, "what? C'mon, she's a girl." (of course, what I really meant was; are you serious, of course I'm better than a stupid girl.) Before I got it all out of my mouth, there's the pitch, the swing and the crack of the bat. Next thing, the ball's sailing over the outfielder's head and her teammates are yelling, "go, Evelyn, run". She flew around the bases landing on third with a shot and an excitement that reminded me of one of my early heroes, Jackie Robinson. I slumped away to my bike, quietly peddling home. On the way, I figured I had step up and practice to get better than Evelyn or there'd be no baseball for me. So, practice I did. I became better... and then I played.
So, Today's Sunday and I'm reading all the papers... Lots of Articles about, of all things, discrimination in the work place. The differences in the genders for pay, the way women are treated if they're expecting a child and a host of other comments and articles about racial and ethnic HR concerns. Now, I'm sitting here just thinking these journalists and "Career Experts" are all out of touch. I'm not saying there isn't a lot more work to do in this area...biases against women especially but I think most of my fellow small business owners and hiring authorities, where, by the way...most of the jobs are...are exactly like the kids in my neighborhood. We didn't care if you were a boy or a girl, black, white or beige. We cared only that you could catch, hit, throw a ball or shoot it in a basket. We didn't care and by the way, we won a hell of a lot of games. Take any small business owner or manager worth anything and they'll feel the same way. We care who's getting the job done and who's helping our culture move in the right direction. Of course there are exceptions. I mean there are idiots in every discipline and field of work and life. But for the most part, the decision makers that I know care only about whether or not someone can get it done in this new economy. So, let it all go and don't get hung up on the handful of crackpots or Archie Bunkers that may speckle our landscape. It's always going to be your core values that get you where you deserve to be. What makes up who we are in this, the land of plentiful opportunity, is that anyone who becomes expert at what they do and produces results for their company ... while also being a positive influence in your company's culture... you'll be appreciated and encouraged by any worthwhile leadership.
You know what also makes me feel good? The kid that told me I couldn't play until I was better than the girl... His name is Ron...and Ron became a teacher. I think he helped a lot more people see it the way our neighborhood saw it. And that's a good thing.

Pride

I was in college during most of the Vietnam war. The draft board called me home from school to take THE physical. I knew I had no interest in diving headfirst into a rice paddy especially since I was a self righteous anti-war liberal. I think it had something to do with my draft number being dangerously low. Whatever the reason, I knew I wanted to go back to school for the basketball season. My dad was a hard nosed policeman who used to lecture me on the benefits of voting for Barry Goldwater and Richard Nixon and in full support of the war. Our arguments often ended with my Mom scolding both of us to “get along”. But when dad found out I was called in for my physical he pulled me aside one night and for the first time in my life, actually showed me a sensitive side. Leaning into me, he whispered, “you know son, I support this war but if you get drafted and want to go to Canada…I won’t be mad at you.” We talked about it for a long time that night and mutually agreed that if drafted I had to go but we both hoped it would never come to that. I wanted desperately to get off the hook. I ended up failing the physical due to knees whose cartilages disappeared; victimized by 20 years of sports. Luckiest day of my life, I thought. Back to school… parties, fraternities and beer. Ahhh, the good life.
A couple of years ago my 85 year old Dad mentioned he would like to go back to Pensacola, Florida to the Naval Base there to visit the air museum so he could see the plane he used to fly as a rear gunner. So, a couple of Continental tickets later, Dad, brother Tom and I land in Florida to visit the air museum. Bright and early we jump in the rental car and as we make our way to the base, we look out over a sea of cars overwhelming the base. "This is worse than the congestion in Jersey, we agreed." The sign at the entrance read “Air Show today-Thunderbirds”. We later read in the paper there were 150,000 people there. Well, the parking was at least a mile or two from the entrance. I noticed a Navy Shore Patrolman on a bike directing traffic. Rolling down the window, mustering all the friendly courtesy and respectful tone possible, I told him I had an 85 year old Navy veteran in the car and asked if I could maybe drop him at the gate, then drive the car back to the parking lot. Leaning into the car he said to Dad, “Navy veteran sir?”. “Yes”, my Dad answered, …”Chief Petty Officer, rear gunner”. The SP looked my Dad in the eye then said to me, “Please follow me”. Pedaling his bike, he guided us through the maze of cars winding almost endlessly right up to the front gate. He pointed to the first space outside the gate, looked at me and said, “just park there sir.” I said, are you sure? He replied, "The admiral won’t mind sir". Quickly parking the car and thrilled at our good fortune, my Dad slowly unwound his creaking bones out of the car, looked up at the Naval officer and said, “thanks”. The officer let his bicycle slide to the ground, stood firm and full at attention and saluting my father said, “It’s an honor sir”. It was the proudest I’ve ever been of my dad. Marveling at the loyalty and brotherhood this young officer seemed to feel for my dad and this WWII generation, I thought back to how lucky I felt failing that physical so many years ago. Suddenly, I felt a little less lucky.

Dress for the Interview

So, I just got done reading the Sunday Star Ledger. They're writing an article about dressing for your interview and they quote a style expert (Amy Goodman) but NOT a recruiter. How do you figure that? Recruiters are sending people out in the real world to interview for jobs every day (hopefully). They get real feedback and reactions from prospective employers about what they expect from job candidates. So, how do you write about this topic and not ask at least one or two recruiters for their opinion. For example. The article suggests if the company dress is business casual that's the way a candidate should dress for the interview. Let me stop right there to disagree. A smart, conservative business suit (for men or women) is never wrong. It's a sign of respect for the process and for the hiring authority with whom you're interviewing. Dress business casual AFTER you have the job, not when you're applying. Another suggestion they make is to try on your clothes the night before. NO! The night before is not the time to be figuring out what to wear. You should have at least one or two interview outfits, tried and tested and ready to go at all times. As a matter of fact, if you're unemployed and leave the house to buy a quart of milk, be neatly dressed, just in case you bump into a someone who can help, you shouldn't be seen sloppy. Jeans are fine but neat. Leave the sweats at home. You know what I mean.
The article also suggests that you not wear a good watch but rather buy a Timex or similar brand for under $100. What universe are they living on? Quality is never a bad thing. Gaudy, yes is a mistake but quality, tasteful is a good thing. If you already wear a Timex, fine but don't leave your Raymond Weil at home.I won't bore you with all the reasons this makes sense. I know you already understand.
Here's the thing about dressing for the interview. Conservative suit and socks, quality shirts, blouses, minimal accessories, light to zero cologne/perfume and everything polished and clean works. A good haircut, white teeth, clean shave or trim and for goodness sake, excellent hygiene for all. Bring a notepad and pen. Now, you can get it done.Coming up soon, some good questions to ask.
By the way, if you're not watching Sons of Anarchy, Tues.@10pm on FX...you're missing the best show on television. Other good ones? Castle, The Good Wife, House, NCIS and can't wait for 24. Oh, and I confess...I just love Leno falling on his face. You watching anything good?
Finally saw Precious. They were right. It's artistic, relevant & powerful. Oscars for Mo'Nique and Gabourey Sidibe. Sidibe was on Conan and proved to be a charming young woman with a great personality. Catch the movie. You won't be sorry.

Ugly Truth about Hiring for Profit

Too often we focus on who we interview and how we connect with them during the interview process. Careful, it could hurt. You’re not looking for a friend or someone to go out with after work. You need a job done. Find out who can do it and by the way…HOW THEY DO IT. This will give you a leg up on figuring out if you can work with the person or not and how they'll fit in working...not just personality.
Remember, the most important thing about qualifying a candidate to hire is always going to be...can they do the job the way we need it done? Skills, experience...you know the drill. The second part is the culture fit. Sometimes however, we have a tendency to fall in love with a candidate because we have great chemistry with them. It may be you are roughly the same age and have many things in common such as hobbies, school etc. We hire them only to find out that yes, they have the skills we need done and can do the job but how they do the job may not be a fit for you or your company. So, make sure your recruiter or your hiring managers are finding out how they do their job. It often isn't the person with whom you have the most in common. Remember, the worst thing that can happen to you is NOT to hire someone totally not qualified but rather if you hire someone who is just not bad enough to fire. That often means the people in your company or worse, you, have to make adjustments to how you do your job and pick up the slack left by the new person. It hurts your efficiency, effectiveness and profitability.
This is how I spend my weekend...how sad it that?

Pet Peeves-Business & Otherwise

So, at the risk of sounding like I'm whining, let me begin with Managers in companies who get insulted or offended and behave dismissively or rude when a sales person calls, regardless of how professional the call may be. This makes me crazy because each of these companies has something to sell. They usually have their own sales force trying to sell their goods/services to consumers or other businesses or at the very least a Marketing program calling on or soliciting directly or through e-mails. We are never rude or dismissive to legitimate sales calls from companies....especially local companies who we view as neighbors. We try to find ways to work with local companies so we can support them, especially during these difficult times. But yet, some managers sometimes forget that their company has something to sell also and they certainly wouldn't want their representatives treated rudely by their prospective clients. So, my thought for the day...is to be respectful to the professional people calling on your company. You don't have to buy anything from them, just be nice.
Another pet peeve: Why can't Comcast keep their signal strong enough to give me consistent service that doesn't include tiling or freezing television shows?
National pet peeve: Nancy Pelosi....'nuf said.
I see where NJ ranked in the top ten states in trouble. Excellent. Spending more than their taking in our state has mismanaged their (oops, I mean "our")money like the Federal government. Christie's considering declaring a state of emergency when he takes office in order to try to get something done. It's about the $7-8B shortfall. ouch
How come the Federal and State Government is allowed to make a financial mess and walk away somehow blaming us?
Weekend stuff:
2 books:A Dangerous Liaison by Carole Seymour-Jones; A new biography of Simone De Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre. No, it's not one of those boring, high brow things. It's filled with great drinking, sexual rivalry and betrayal and the dangerous ideas that led people to experiment. How Sartre compromised with the Nazies and fell into a Soviet honey-trap and best of all...revealing darker, more dangerous side to their philosophy of free love, including Simone's immoral behavior in order to keep Sartre. Good Stuff. 2.When March went Mad by Seth Davis celebrates the 30 year anniversary of one of the great college basketball games ever when Bird's Indiana State met Magic Johnson's Michigan in the '79 NCAA finals. Great story telling at it's competitive best.
My final peeve has to do with the movies. I want to go this weekend but...hey guys...we live in New Jersey not Iowa or Nebraska. How do they come out with a movie like Precious, hype it on every electronic and print media outlet and internet getting everybody worked up in a lather to see it and then not show it anywhere in our state? No, I'm not driving into New York to see it. I live in New Jersey...NOT New York. Play the movie so I can drive to it without making 3 rest stops on the way to one of the "tunnels" or stop talking about it.
There, I feel better already...hope you have a great weekend too.
Reach higher.

Veterans Day

Dirge for two Veterans
.....excerpt.....

"Now nearer blow the bugles,
And the drums strike more convulsive;
And the day-light o’er the pavement quite has faded,
And the strong dead-march enwraps me.

"In the eastern sky up-buoying,
The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin’d;
’Tis some mother’s large, transparent face,
In heaven brighter growing.)

O strong dead-march, you please me!
O moon immense, with your silvery face you soothe me!
O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!
What I have I also give you.

The moon gives you light,
And the bugles and the drums give you music;
And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans,
My heart gives you love."

Walt Whitman

Celebrate our brave and selfless Veterans.....every day

My Coach

I slept with a basketball growing up. When I was about 12 years old I was playing ball down at Boro Park with the guys when a man introduced himself to me as the High School basketball coach. He gave me ankle weights and told me to run until I couldn't run anymore. He said I would play for him in High School.
We were poor kids with dreams. Nobody cared about your ethnicity or gender; just if you could throw, catch, hit a ball or put it in the basket. I learned a lot about life growing up when they told me I couldn't play in the baseball game until I could hit the ball better than a girl named Eleanor. I learned about life playing basketball for Coach Cotoia. Learned how to win, how to lose and how we could win more playing as a team...each with different strengths and weaknesses. Whether it was getting me out of Latin class early for practice, teaching me to dress and behave in a way that showed people I respected their classroom, their work or them personally, Coach helped a young boy lost, learn core values that I carry with me to this day. I saw him earlier this year at the luncheon they gave celebrating our old High School team. Past 80 yrs. he captivated the crowd by going around the room naming all of his old players and regaled the crowd with anecdote after anecdote about each of us. And every story was a positive one. How'd he do that we asked each other? Amazing we said.
It's not unusual for me to be thinking about Coach. But, a few weeks ago I decided I needed to see him for lunch...catch-up. Almost each morning on the way to work, I would remind myself to call...see how he's doing...schedule lunch or dinner. And then I get the call. Coach has slipped into dementia and is having serious health problems. Can I call? Can I see him? "No, Frank...he probably won't remember you at all and it won't be so good for him." I was so angry with myself. How could I let life get in the way of seeing him when I had the urge? What's the matter with me? Why didn't I call him when I first thought of it. Now, it's too late. His daughter said if I really had to call to try in the morning when he was most alert...but don't expect anything. What a hard call to make, I thought. But I pressed myself and not knowing what to expect...I dialed his number. He picked up on the 1st ring. Coach, is that you? "Yes, is that you Wyckie"? (one of my old nicknames he gave me when I played) Yes, Coach...how are you? And the conversation took off like it was yesterday. What a blessing. I'm not fooling myself. I know it was a 1 in a million shot...but how about this? IT WORKED! A brief window of lucidity. And I had time to talk to my old Coach...a chance to tell him how much he meant to me, to tell him how I respect him and how he helped so many of us. And so, I learned another lesson. Don't let life get in the way. Do it now. Do it right now. It works. And, it's worth it.

Unemployment pressure

What a double edged sword we're dealing with here. Obama extends unemployment benefits by 20 weeks for us and now if you're out of work in NJ you can get something like 99 weeks of benefits. So, now you don't have to even go to the office to sign up for benefits. You can simply qualify over the phone and receive UI benefits for almost 2 years. Now, I have as much compassion and empathy as the next guy for anyone who is furloughed out or laid off...and I want everyone to be ok. But how in the world is a small business going to pay for this benefit? This will knock the stuffing out of our Unemployment Insurance rate. Between the Federal and State government we're being squeezed pretty tight. I hope Christie figures out that Small Business is where the jobs should be and his team pulls together a plan that jump starts the job recovery for everyone. I'm thinking we gotta stop complaining about the economy and get everyone back to working hard. My dad's WWII generation is the "Greatest Generation" maybe we can be "The Generation that didn't destroy our economy"...

The Weekend

Anybody else fed up with the dearth of good movies lately? I mean, seriously... if you don't have a brood of young kids at home or you're not looking to wax poetic about some romantic theme...you're out of luck. We need a good, hard Bruce Willis or Ahnold movie again. Blow something up, please.
So, between there being just these lousy choices at the movies....and the doctor telling me not to smoke cigars, watch what I eat and drink (so, where's that glass of cabernet I was looking for?) I'm trying to figure out what to do this weekend.
Maybe there's a couple of guys fighting it out in a cage Saturday night...we can only hope.
Have a good one.

You Can't Teach A Good Attitude

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the economy and how business has changed over the more than 20 years I’ve been plugging away at it. It seems to me that during tough times there are people who struggle and people who do well and I’m trying to figure out how they’re different. I think I’ve decided it’s their attitude. I’ve concluded that people aren’t happier and more at ease with things because they’re doing well…they’re doing well because they’re already happier and more at ease. It’s like the choice we have when hiring new talent. You might be able to buy talent, experience and expertise but you can’t buy and you can’t teach a good attitude. And, without a good attitude all the other qualities of a great candidate diminish. So, I remembered a story I was told more than 20 years ago by a super successful entrepreneur:

There was a man who lived by the side of the road and sold hot dogs. He was hard of hearing, so he had no radio. He had trouble with his eyes, so he read no newspapers. But he sold good hot dogs. He put up signs on the highway telling how good they were. He stood by the side of the road and cried, "buy a hot dog, mister?" People bought.

He increased his meat and roll orders. He bought a bigger stove to take care of his trade. He finally got his son from college to help him out. But then something happened. His son said: "Father haven't you been listening to the radio? There's a big recession coming. The Middle East situation is terrible, the domestic situation is worse." That made his father think: "Well, my son's been to college, he reads the papers, and he listens to the radio, He ought to know." So, the father cut down his meat and roll orders, took down his advertising signs, and no longer bothered to stand on the highway to sell his good hot dogs. Sales fell almost overnight. "You're right, son" the father said to the boy. "We certainly are in the middle of a great recession. There just isn't any business."

So, I guess the question is…you wanna sell some hot dogs or would you rather stay home and watch Oprah?