She’s Leaving Me

She is leaving me.  Tomorrow.

I have known about this for months now, but reality is finally sinking in.

The part that tears me up inside?  I could stop her if I wanted.  If I would only say, “I know things are not perfect, but don’t leave…stay with me instead,” she would not leave.  But, I cannot bring myself to say those words...yet. 

Why?  Such a great question, but all I can think is…selfishness.  She crimps my style.  I do not want to have to rush home for her, and I want my independence.  But, I also want her, so I decide I need to see her one last time.

I ask if we can spend one last afternoon together, just the two of us, like we have done so many times before.  We could go back to our favorite haunts where no one else would see us, and we could rekindle the magic one last time.

Our time together starts as it always does, she is bursting with energy and I am the calm, steady one. But, after a couple minutes, we meet each other in the middle, our bodies come close together and our journey begins. 

We start slowly, barely breathing, but both knowing what lies ahead.  We stay this way for several minutes, bodies becoming warmer as we push harder.  As we start our final ascent, our breathing intensifies.  A couple times I even need to hold her back from going too quickly.  We need to experience this together, this last time.

When we reach the peak, we slow to a stop, exhausted.  I am sweating more than her, but she is breathing harder than me.  We rest for a minute and take in what we just experienced.

A few minutes later, we are standing on the front step, embracing for what may be the last time.  I think about saying the words that will make her stay.  She would love to stay, but, again, I am much too selfish, and I refuse to say the words.

That was yesterday.  Today, I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.  She left while I was at work, just as I knew she would.

She is no longer leaving me.  She’s gone. 

When I think back on our relationship, it was nearly perfect.  Sure, sometimes she was too needy and sometimes I was too selfish.  But overall, we were a great pair.  And the reason we are not together right now is because I refused to say the words to make her stay.

I will miss her.  I already miss her.  Every time I go back to our old haunts, I will think of her.  Maybe someday I will try to get her back…but I doubt it.  My selfishness is unwavering.

Today, my neighbors moved to Utah.  They took all of their tangible possessions and their three (and 1/2) kids.  They also took their golden lab Maddie.  Over the past few years, my family watched Maddie whenever our neighbors went out of town.  Maddie and I shared many long runs together, our route usually taking us to the top of a large hill a couple miles from home.

Given their young and expanding family, I know they feel badly that they are unable to give Maddie the attention she deserves. 

They told us they would be willing to give her to us.  Had I made the request, they would have let Maddie stay with us.  But, I didn’t. 

Maddie, I will miss you.

Book update from a professional intellectual…and another lesson learned

It was 11:50 in the morning, and I was sitting in my home office anxiously awaiting noon, when my phone call was scheduled with Austin, a senior writer at Sports Illustrated.  I went downstairs to my kitchen to pour another cup of caffeine, and when I returned to my computer, I noticed I had a new e-mail from Austin. 

Before even opening the e-mail, I knew that it could only mean one thing: Austin would be unable to talk with me.  While he seemed excited for the call when we scheduled it, the reality is that he is a big-shot sports writer who had far more important things to do than to talk with me.  I was sure his e-mail message would briefly explain why he could not make our call, and probably offer to hold the conversation at a future time that would never materialize.

I opened the email, and sure enough…Austin was cancelling on me.  His editor had called him that morning and asked him to do an obituary on freestyle skiing pioneer Sarah Burke, who died after a horrific practice crash.  I could not blame Austin for cancelling on me, after all the obituary was far more important than…but wait, what did he just write?  “I got a call…asking for an obit…can you give me until 12:30 or 1?”  Austin was not cancelling our call; he was simply delaying it for a short time.

What really struck me was the phrase, “can you give me until 12:30 or 1?”  It was as if Austin was asking my permission to delay the call, as if it were my decision.  We both knew that my answer was not going to be, “No, Austin, you must talk to me NOW instead of writing another article for Sports Illustrated.”  But, he at least gave me the chance to make the decision.

He could have simply said, “I got a call…asking for an obit…and I need to delay our call for an hour…talk to you then.”  I would not have faulted him if he had said that, and in fact would have still been delighted that our call was simply delayed and not cancelled altogether.  However, he treated me with a great deal of respect by phrasing the dilemma as a choice that I now controlled, and I felt honored.

Why am I writing about this?  Because treating people with that type of respect is a key way to draw people toward you.  I will beat down brick walls to aid those who treat me with that kind of respect, and I imagine many of you would as well.

After receiving that e-mail from Austin, I reflected back on my own actions in this area.  Over winter break, a former student named Peter asked if he could meet me for a couple of beers and just catch-up.  We originally planned to meet on a Thursday, but then I realized I had previously scheduled another meeting for that night.  I e-mailed Peter and said, “I am sorry, but I did not realize I already had made other plans for Thursday night.  Would you be willing to switch our meeting to Wednesday night?”

Actually, that is what I should have said, but what I actually said was, “I am sorry, I actually cannot make Thursday work, can we do Wednesday instead?”  Although the difference may seem somewhat subtle, the way that I phrased things did not request his permission to reschedule, it instead stated that I would need to reschedule.  Of course Peter would have been willing to reschedule had I asked for his permission, but I did not give him the opportunity to do so - I did not show him the same kind of respect that Austin showed me.

So, thank you, Austin.  Not only for the encouraging words and advice about my book, not only for the connection to your agent, but also for the valuable lesson that you taught me.

Book Update

Without knowing it, I have been working on this project for the past twenty years.  However, I consider this week the official kickoff, as the beginning of the spring semester means that both John and I are regularly back on campus.

So, how much time did I spend this week with John?  None.  Whenever I walked by his office, he was either busy or not there.  However, it was a satisfying week nonetheless for three main reasons.

First, I have started to regularly talk very openly about the project, which is enabling me to practice making some of my points about the keys to John’s legacy.  Talking about this project is also causing me to receive great questions from potential readers of the book.

Second, I talked with two of John’s assistant coaches this week to get their initial thoughts on how John has created such a strong legacy.  One trait that is constantly repeated is John’s uncanny ability to draw people to him through his exceptional listening skills and genuine interest in other people.  A portion of my book will certainly explore those skills in further detail.

Third, I have a short list of authors and reporters with whom I hope to visit throughout this project.  On Friday, I connected with one of those people: Austin Murphy, senior writer at Sports Illustrated.   In the fall of 1999, Austin took a sabbatical from SI and moved his family from the San Francisco area to St. John’s.  The Sweet Season is the book that Austin produced as a result of the sabbatical. A certain amount of the book focused on John and St. John’s football.

I re-read The Sweet Season while resting on the beaches of Tulum, Mexico a couple weeks ago and immediately reached out to Austin to see if he would be willing to chat.  We connected on Friday and he gave me some great advice for my book.  He likes the idea behind the book and indicated that it has the potential to appeal to a wide audience.  He seemed to like the angle of the book, as he received some criticism that his own book did not analyze John’s success in nearly enough depth.

Austin far exceeded my expectations when we discussed agents and publishers.  He ended up giving me the contact information for his agent, and encouraged me to use his name when I contact the agent.  This agent also happens to be the agent for Mitch Albom.  Mitch is the author of several best selling books, including my personal favorite and best-selling memoir of all time: Tuesday’s With Morrie, which has partly inspired my project.

Overall, it was a very uplifting conversation with Austin and he has given me more confidence to have lofty goals for my book.  I did not know what to expect from Austin as a person, but he seems quite genuine and has fantastic listening skills.  He would let me talk for a couple minutes at a time without interrupting me, almost to the point that I wondered if he was still on the line.  I suspect that this gift of listening has made him a successful sports writer.  Throughout my project, I am going to listen to John the way that Austin listened to me.

I will wrap-up today with a comment of Austin’s that is sure to amuse those of you who know me well.  At one point, Austin asked me if I write much, and then quickly answered his own question by saying, “Well, of course you write. You are a professor and thus a professional intellectual.”  I did not have the heart to tell him what most of my readers are thinking:  Professor Boz…a professional intellectual?  Now, that is a good one.

How else may I help you?

‘Twas the night before kickoff of spring semester, and I was ensuring that I had everything ready to rock and roll for the next day’s classes.

As I was finalizing the syllabus for one of my courses, I noticed a potential problem with the textbooks.  “Oh, crap!” I mentally exclaimed.  Investigating further, I noticed another potential problem.  “Oh, double crap!”

Although I thought I addressed these issues a fortnight prior, it was evident I had not dotted my final i, nor crossed my final t.  Given that it was already after dinnertime, all I could do was send an e-mail, marked urgent, to my textbook representative, and pray for a quick and painless resolution in the morning.

When I arose at 6:30 the next morning, my first action, even before responding to nature’s call or brewing the coffee, was to check my e-mail.  Perhaps my rep was an earlier riser and would have news for me - in fact, I had five new messages in my inbox!  However, my spirit sank as I noticed that two of the messages were from LinkedIn, a service which I cannot, and presently do not care to, understand.  Another message was an automated announcement from my university.  The final two messages were tremendous opportunities for me to purchase some necessities in life: environmentally friendly machines, and Viagra.

Expectedly disappointed, I prepared myself for the day and commenced my seventy minute drive to campus.  I left myself with plenty of time to arrive on campus and settle in with a warm cup of joe, reunite with fellow faculty after a long winter break, and review any information sent across from my rep.

My plan, of course, was bound to fail.  A quick flurry of snow had ever-so-slightly dampened the roadways, snarling traffic and delaying my commute by thirty minutes.  As I neared campus, I knew that I would have but a short amount of time to make final preparations and head to class.  Any complications presented by my rep, if she replied at all, would be nearly impossible to deal with given my tight schedule.

I entered Simons Hall, an academic building which was teeming with energy always seen on the first day of classes, and then quickly made my way to my office on the second floor.  Upon entering my office, I haphazardly threw down my briefcase and opened my email.  It was then that I saw it: a message in my inbox from my rep!

The email first addressed, in clear, concise, and helpful fashion, the two questions I had posed to my rep the evening prior.  Life as I knew it would continue, and I was somewhat relieved.  But then, I read one line further.  Just before her typing her name, my rep closed by saying, “What else may I do to help?” 

With that closing, any remaining anxiety immediately disappeared.  By the way she phrased her question, my rep was inviting me to ask for further assistance.  Had she said, “Do you need any further help?”, I would likely have sensed that she was willing to provide help, but was perhaps truly hoping that my answer would be “No,” so that she could address other items on her to-do list.

But her phrase, “What else may I do to help?” let me know that she was open to, and perhaps even anticipating, further questions.  In fact, I did have an ancillary question and freely asked it based on her offer. 

As a prof, I have the option to use a number of different textbook reps.  I am ashamed to admit that I often do not value the service that these reps provide.  Rather, I frequently think of them as merely someone who will process my textbook order.  However, I learned today that a good rep can really help me out in a pinch. 

Today, my rep reminded me that the way we phrase things has an important impact on how others perceive our intentions.  Her question reminded me of my teaching mentor, who has always taught me to ask my students, “What questions do you have?” as compared to “Do you have any questions?”  “Let them know that you assume they have questions and that you are happy to answer them!” he exclaims.

As I reflect on the actions of my rep and the advice of my mentor, I better understand how I should phrase my offerings of help.  If I ask my wife, “Do you need any help with the kids?” she will react differently than if I ask, “How may I help you with the kids?”  Similarly, asking a friend, “Do you need my help moving on Saturday?” is not the same as inquiring, “What time should I come over to help you move on Saturday?”

I want to be someone that people can count on when they need help.  But first, I must make people comfortable in asking me for help.

Thank you, Cheryle, for today you were not only my rep, you were my teacher.

Inspired by Coconuts

An incredulous look swept over Jose May’s face.  “You are leaving today,” he asked with exasperation, “at what time?”  When I told him we would be departing at twelve o’clock, he replied, “I will see you at the front desk at noon then.”

For a moment, I felt like royalty: the manager of the restaurant/bar wanted to personally bid farewell to my wife, Kacey, and me before we returned to Minnesota.  When noon finally arrived and I stood at the reception desk relinquishing my room key, Jose May was nowhere in sight.  “Oh, well,” I thought to myself, “He must have gotten busy.  It is lunchtime, after all.”

Just then, the receptionist picked up her two-way radio and said with certain urgency, “Jose May…diez y ocho esta aqui.”  In other words, room 18, my room, was checking-out.  Within the time it takes to down a bottle of Corona on a hot day on a Mexican beach, I saw four figures rushing from the restaurant toward the reception desk.  Leading the way was Jose May, and with him was the restaurant’s executive chef and two servers.

As they drew closer, I noticed Jose May and one of the servers were holding something, but it wasn’t until they arrived at the reception desk that I could tell they were carrying two large coconuts.  But these were not regular coconuts; they came complete with a face created from limes, cherries, carrots, oranges, and watermelon.  Best yet, the coconuts were scalped and filled with a tropical drink.  It was impressive that Jose May was looking out for our hydration even upon our departure.

The four of them spent ten minutes chatting with us, telling us how much they appreciated our business and how they desired that we would return soon.  Again, this was all during one of the busiest parts of their day.

That was not the first time that Jose May treated us like King Boz and Queen Kacey.  He had been pestering me for a couple days to have dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.  Kacey and I were generally satisfied lounging around our hotel through breakfast and lunch, but by dinnertime, we began to feel a bit claustrophobic and preferred to explore other offerings.  However, Jose May was so insistent that Kacey and I adjusted our schedule on our final full day so that we could dine at the hotel’s restaurant.

Although he had several more than competent servers, Jose May chose to personally wait on us for the evening.  He made a specialty pre-dinner drink for us: the only margarita I have ever enjoyed in my life.  It included the unusual but divine additions of chile powder and tamarind sauce.  Shortly thereafter, he emerged with what appeared to be the expected Mexican chips and salsa.  However, he replaced the salsa with a fantastically delectable combination of mushrooms, onions, celery, chipotle, and cream cheese in a puree. 

We didn’t even bother to look at our menus as Jose May told us exactly what we should order: shrimp-stuffed grouper for the queen, and bacon-wrapped filet mignon for the king.  With dinner, he brought out two bottles of hand-picked and previously unopened wine, a fume blanc for Kacey, and a Malbec for me.  He opened the fresh bottles despite our proclamation that we would each only be enjoying a single glass.  At the end of our entree, Jose May encouraged the chef to greet us and discuss the making of our meal. 

After dinner Jose May himself put on a fire show as he made the caramel sauce to accompany the homemade crepes. He said, “If you don’t like, you don’t pay.”  Needless to say, we paid.

Including this dinner, Kacey and I spent a grand total of about $200, before tips, at the restaurant/bar over our five days at the resort.  While that amount is nothing to scoff at, it certainly does not make a significant impact on the bottom line.  It thus got me to thinking…how will Jose May benefit by treating us as royalty? 

First, we will write great reviews of his restaurant on various travel forums.  Further, our experience at the restaurant will also cause us to more highly recommend the accompanying hotel to other travelers.  Hotel management should appreciate Jose May’s role in that recommendation.  Finally, the next time we vacation in Mexico, Kacey and I will most certainly return to that hotel and restaurant.

I am grateful for the powerful lesson that Jose May reminded me of over our final hours at the hotel.  Through his actions, he reminded me that people are drawn toward others who treat them well.  As I reflect on which friends, colleagues, clients, and even family members I most associated with, it is those who treat me well.  And for those who treat me like royalty…well, they get the best I have to offer.

But most importantly, I learned that if I want others to be drawn toward me and if I want their best, I first need to treat them well.  And, to the extent possible, I need to treat them as royalty.  When people leave me, I need to let them know how much I enjoyed my time with them. 

When Kacey leaves the house, she needs to know I will genuinely miss her and I appreciate what she does for our family.  When the kids leave for school, they need to feel not like I am happy to get rid of them, but rather that I would prefer they didn’t have to go.  When I hang-up the phone after talking with my mom, she needs to feel like I cherished our conversation.  When I finish lunch with a friend, they need to feel like I can’t wait for our next meal together.  When I say goodbye to co-workers at the end of the day, they need to feel my sincere appreciation for their contribution toward our common goal.  And when class ends, each of my twenty-five students needs to feel like their attendance mattered that day.

So, thank you, Jose May.  Not for the margarita, the wine, the salsa dip, the fish, the steak, or even the coconut drink.  Thank you, rather, for the reminder to treat others like royalty.

To my readers, if you are ever near Tulum, Mexico, stay at the Cabanas Tulum hotel and eat at El Bistro.  And tell Jose May that Boz says, “Hello…and thank you.”

Embracing the Storm

It was not supposed to be like this.  I most certainly did not expect disappointment today.  So few are the days I take off work, that I hope to enjoy them when I do.  Yet here I sit, inside my cabaña in Tulum, Mexico, with the door shut and watching the storm roll in.  It pains me to sit within my cabaña instead of my preferred spot outside on my veranda.

On my veranda, I can close my eyes, feel the warm breeze on my face, and consume the salty air with each inhale.  Each deep breath I take seems to restore my soul.  On my veranda, I can watch my lovely, make that hot, wife basking in the sunshine and reading on a beach bed.  On my veranda I can watch our friends Trent and Tracy playing bocce ball with coconuts.  Their game of bocce is made more interesting when a random dog runs in to join the game and adjusts the resting place of the pallino.  On my veranda, I can see the turquoise blue water of the Caribbean and hear the rhythmic crashing of the waves.

But now, inside my cabaña, I can see dark skies and grayish water, all through my rain-dabbled glass door.  This view from my cabaña is not exactly inspiring words to flow from my fingertips.  In fact, as I stare at a white screen, I have a serious case of writer’s block. 

It quickly becomes apparent that I have but a single option, which I present to my wife as she lies on our king size bed reading her Nook.  “So, let me get this straight,” Kacey says, “you want me to put down my book and go for a swim, in the cold wind and wet rain?”

“Absolutely,” I reply, “just trust me.  It will be fun.”  Kacey usually trusts me, occasionally  too much so, but not this time.  Not even the lure of a hot shower after a dip in the sea appeals to her.  When she says, “Remember, I am also on vacation,” I know the discussion is over.

With my favorite companion not joining me in this excursion, I walk two cabañas down, where I find Trent and Tracy sitting huddled in their doorway, peering out at the gloom.

Trent, generally game for any suggestion that I have, quickly jumps up at my proposed plan.  We prance the fifty yards from our cabaña to the edge of the sea.  The cool rain pelts our bodies and keeps our pace swift.

Normally, I edge slowly into the ocean.  As with most members of the male gender, I pause at two critical junctures when entering water..  But today, with the rain pelting down on me, I am less inclined to proceed with a slow immersion and instead quickly dive into the first large wave that I encounter.

For about twenty minutes, Trent and I swim in the ocean, in the rain.  We jump over large waves that have not yet broken and plunge into the white surf of those that have.  For a  few minutes, we roar in laughter while doing our best Karate Kid impersonations of Daniel LaRusso practicing crane kicks against the large waves.

After losing a series of battles with the waves, I notice that the rain has stopped, the wind has calmed considerably, and the sun is peeking out.  Refreshed, I return to my veranda to towel off, and tell Kacey of the fun that she missed.

As I sit on my veranda and reflect back on my decision to swim in the rain, it seems silly.  Not silly that I swam in the rain, but silly that I even considered not doing it.  I had initially hesitated out of fear of getting wet!  Of course, I would get wet even while swimming on a cloudless day, and a storm produces waves much more enjoyable for a swim.

Now back on my veranda, I reflect on one of the most inspirational videos I have ever viewed: Randy Pausch’s Last Lecture.  If you are not one of the nearly fifteen million people who have watched the video on You Tube, or one of the nearly five million people who have read his book of the same title, Randy was a university professor dying of cancer.  Before succumbing to his disease, Randy decided to give one last lecture on achieving your childhood dreams.

If you have never watched the video, I encourage you to set aside 75 minutes to do so.  I believe the video will inspire, motivate, and humble you.  I assign the video as extra credit in many of my college courses. 

My favorite line from Randy’s lecture is as follows: “We can't change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.”  Effectively, Randy is encouraging his audience to embrace the storms of life.

The storm I faced today in Tulum is without question incomparable to the storm that Randy faced.  However ,the principles of embracing the storms of life are the same.  Sometimes, when the storm is small, embracing it is simply the decision to swim in the rain.  In Randy’s case, he embraced the storm by inspiring millions and securing the financial future of his young family.

At this point, loyal readers, I must ask you two questions.  First, what storm are you facing right now in your life?  Second, are you sitting there and watching the storm with a feeling of despair, or are you embracing the storm?  What I was reminded of today on the beaches of Tulum is that we can choose how to handle a storm.  We can sit around feeling sorry for ourselves for being in a storm, or we can accept the fact that a storm is upon us, and embrace it. 

Perhaps your storm is that you are unemployed, and you can embrace it by using your extra free time to learn a new skill or improve relationships with others.  Perhaps your storm is that you are facing a serious illness, and you can embrace it by learning as much as you can about that illness, battling and defeating that illness, and then using your knowledge and experience to help others deal with similar illnesses in the future.  Perhaps your storm is similar to one that I periodically face: you reacted poorly during a discussion with others and are now suffering the consequences of a strained relationship.  You can embrace that storm by mending that relationship, learning how to make better decisions in the future, and allowing those you love to learn from your mistakes.

As I reflect back on today’s storm in Tulum, I do have a regret.  Ten minutes before I decided to go for my swim, it was raining much harder, the wind was much stronger, the waves were much larger, and the swim would have been more enjoyable and memorable.  Next time I am in a storm, I vow to get off my butt a bit sooner.

The easiest decision of my life

Even after several months had passed, I could recite the exact date and time my phone rang.  I could tell you the ten-digit phone number that popped up on the caller ID, and the floor in which I was sitting in that downtown Minneapolis office building.

Over the past eight years, most of those details have escaped me.  All I remember was that it was a week day in the early spring of 2004, a bit before noon.  However, that phone call changed my life forever.

Early that year, I was assigned to an important project for a client. The IRS (the US tax authorities for my non-US readers) wasn’t too fond of the forty-five million dollar tax deduction to which my client claimed it was entitled.  I was heavily involved on a team which drafted a fifty-five page letter to the IRS detailing why our client was in fact entitled to the large tax deduction.

After many late nights in the office and a pair of voyages to Washington, D.C., we delivered the letter to our client and the IRS.  For two or three days, I basked in the glow of what I felt was an excellent work product.  My joy ceased immediately when our team received a scathing e-mail from our client.  Our client heavily criticized the effort and work product of our team.  Upon receiving the e-mail, I vacillated between anger and disappointment.  In hindsight, however, it was one of the best e-mails I ever received.

In the weeks that followed, I reflected on where I wanted to spend the rest of my career, and I began deeply analyzing the purpose of my work.  Certainly my direct client contact had not appreciated my work.  The shareholders and creditors of my client would never know me, nor would they know the effort I expended to assist them.  In fact, while a forty-five million dollar tax deduction is significant, when spread out among a great number of already wealthy individual shareholders, it didn’t seem like a lot.  Certainly not all of my clients were as negative as this particular one, and a career in the business world would be very challenging and financially rewarding.  Still, I began to wonder…is the purpose of my work mainly to make a bunch of already rich people even richer?

The one group of people that truly appreciated my work was my co-workers.  I loved my co-workers, and many of them are friends of mine to this day, in fact, I am having dinner with two of them this evening.  However, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a job where not only my co-workers, but also my clients, would appreciate me.

After receiving that phone call in the spring of 2004, I very quickly accepted an offer to become a professor at my alma mater of the College of Saint Benedict and Saint John’s University.  My wife was ecstatic at the opportunity for me to get away from the corporate grind and have more flexibility to spend time with my young family.  However, she confided in me that she was afraid of one very important thing.  I am the type of individual that craves and thrives on positive feedback, and I received a great deal of it from my co-workers in the business world.  My wife feared I would not receive that same amount of positive feedback as a professor.

Recently, two of my former students separately asked if I would be available to meet them over my winter break.  Yesterday, I met one of them for a leisurely lunch and the other for an extended happy hour.  I immensely enjoyed catching up with them, telling them about the latest happenings at college, and hearing of their successes and dreams.  This past summer, I attended the weddings of five former students - all of whom I embarrassingly still owe presents to - don’t worry I haven’t forgotten.  I recall with great humility how one of those students broke down in tears when discussing the impact I made on her life.

How many of my former clients from the business world have invited me to their weddings?  Zero.  How many former clients call me to keep in touch with me?  Two, one who remains a client and friend, and the other a dear friend who contacts me whenever his travels take him to Minneapolis.  But, after nine years of working in the business world, those are the only two clients who contact me.  Do I still hear from the client for whom I labored on a forty-five million dollar tax deduction?  No.  Do I hear from the client whom I was instrumental in securing a one hundred million dollar tax refund?  No.

Do I hear from former student whom I helped, sometimes only minimally, transform from timid college freshman to a confident graduating seniors?  Dozens of times per year.  The positive feedback I receive from my student-clients magnificently dwarfs the positive feedback I received from my business-clients.

When I saw the number of the caller ID that day in the spring of 2004, I knew what the call was about, and I knew what my answer was, even before I picked up the phone. 

Had I stayed full time in the business world, I wouldn’t have taken an immediate fifty percent pay cut, and my raises would probably have continued at 10% or more per year as compared to the slightly-above-inflation adjustments I now receive. Had I stayed in the business world, I could probably live in a million dollar home and drive something other than a Chevy Impala.  I could travel the world, dining at the fancy restaurants and staying in luxurious hotels, all on big expense accounts.  So, was the switch from the business world to academia at a tough decision for me to make?

Not in the least.  It was the easiest decision of my life.  Although, not sending a Christmas card to my former client was a close second.

The Stud

Vince steps to the plate in the bottom of the 7th, and final, inning.  His team is down by several runs, but they still have the horsepower to mount a valiant comeback.

The first pitch is delivered.  It is a high, arcing pitch…but it bounces short of the plate.  Ball one.

The second pitch is delivered.  It looks like a beauty, and Vince thinks likewise.  He rears back, tensing each muscle in his body, his hands tightening appropriately around the bat. 

Vince swings, and the sound of metal against a solid polyurethane core, leather cover, and
stitched nylon thread ball makes a tremendous sound.

The left fielder drifts back, but he is unable to circle himself under Vince’s towering shot.  The ball drops well over his head and rolls to the fence.

Vince rounds first and looks primed to walk into second with a standup double.  But, no!  Just before reaching second base, Vince, digs deep and heads for third.  The throw comes in from left field and is caught by the shortstop.  Out of seemingly nowhere, the shortstop guns the ball to the third baseman.  Perfect throw, perfect catch, perfect tag.  Vince is out by five steps.

Vince walks back to the dugout, jawing with the pitcher on his way.  What they are saying, we may never know.  Perhaps Vince is thanking the pitcher for serving up such a marinara dripping meatball.  Perhaps the pitcher is thanking Vince for making such a foolish base running decision with no outs, as one of the next batters surely would have produced a hit to drive Vince home.

As Vince nears the dugout, one of Vince’s teammates turns to me and says, “Vince is 80 years old.”

Despite getting thrown out by several steps, those words, “Vince is 80 years old,” have a lasting impact on me.  Had I been batting in Vince’s place, I likely would have popped up to short left centerfield or grounded out to the short stop.  Even if my 39 year old body had generated a hit, my weak Achilles’ tendon likely would have limited me to a single, and I would have pleaded for a pinch runner.

As I think back on Vince’s performance, I reach one conclusion and one conclusion only:  Vince is a stud.

The last to quit, the first to buy the beer

Those who know me know that I am fairly obsessed with country music.  Perhaps that is why it surprised me when a song recorded nearly twenty years ago has recently become my mantra.  For the first time, I recently heard Chris LeDoux’s song, “You just can’t see him from the road.”  The song contains a powerful lyric which sums up my goals quite concisely.  I will get back to that in a bit.

I am not a big fan of listening to people talk about their New Year’s resolutions.  This isn’t because I don’t like setting goals; in fact, I am a huge proponent of goal setting.  My distaste for New Year’s resolutions is because they are generally self-centered.  I browsed the internet looking at common New Year’s resolutions.  The resolutions generally focused on five areas.

The number one resolution is losing weight, accomplished by exercising more and eating better.  The second resolution is quitting an addiction, either smoking or drinking.  The third resolution is related to getting one’s affairs in order, either financially or through better organization of physical possessions.  The fourth resolution is related to improving one’s career, either by completing more education or finding a better job.  The fifth resolution is about other forms of personal happiness, such as learning a new hobby, spending more time with family, or reducing stress and simply enjoying life more.

Have I listed your top few resolutions yet?  For most of you, I imagine the answer is yes.  There is a sixth resolution that makes some lists.  But first, back to Chris LeDoux’s song.

His song discussed the life of a real cowboy.  This real cowboy rides around the perimeter of a ranch, checking the fences for damage or for trapped animals.  The song says that the cowboy is short on cash, but that he is the “Last to quit, the first to buy the beer.”

What do those lyrics mean, “The last to quit, the first to buy the beer”?  To sum it up, I would say that the lyrics mean that the cowboy worked hard and was generous.  Think of where society would be if people worked harder and were more generous.  Think of where your life would be if you worked harder and were more generous.  If you are reading this from your own computer, you are among the estimated 5% of the world’s population that owns a computer.  I would argue that you have the potential, despite certain obstacles, to work hard and be generous.

The thing is, if you make your primary resolution for 2012 to work hard and be generous, your other goals can, and often will, fall into place.

Working hard takes energy, so you’ll need to get disciplined to improving your physical health.  You’ll know that you need to exercise regularly and eat right, because if you don’t, you won’t be able to work hard.  And without being able to work hard, you won’t have as many resources with which to be generous.

Working hard and being generous are difficult if you have addictions.  Just how hard can you work with a wicked hangover, or if you are taking several smoke breaks every day?  Just how generous can you be if you are spending hundreds of dollars each month on bar tabs or cigarettes?  If you commit to working hard and being generous, you may find that it is easier to either control your addictions, either on your own or with the help of others.

Working hard and being generous are difficult if your affairs are not in order.  If you don’t have money, you can’t be financially generous.  For you, the top way to get your affairs in order just may be to quit buying clothes, toys, and household items you don’t need.  Benefits are that you don’t have to spend money paying for that stuff, time fixing/maintaining that stuff, or energy organizing that stuff.  If you commit to working hard and being generous, you will find a reduced desire to acquire things you really don’t need.

Working hard and being generous usually requires that you have a job, and that you continually improve at your job.  People without jobs can be generous with their time, but don’t have resources to be financially generous.  So, if you have committed to working hard and being generous and you don’t have a job, you will find yourself doing two things: trying hard to find a job, and being generous with your time.  If you have a job, you will find yourself doing two things: being generous with your current resources and working harder at your job so that you can advance more, earn more, and become even more generous.

Working hard and being generous also requires a sufficient amount of personal happiness.  It is tough to focus on working hard when your relationships are in disarray, or when you have overscheduled yourself to the point where you have no time to relax.  You may find that you need to mend a relationship so that you may free up mental energy to work hard and be generous.  You may find that you need to find a hobby which reduces, instead of increases, your stress.  You may find that you need to carve out eliminate time spent in front of the television and computer so that you have more time for your family.

Maybe 2012 is the year where you are going to work harder and become more generous with your time and money.  When you exercise and eat better, you won’t be doing so selfishly, but you’ll be doing so that you have more energy at work and when helping others. 

When you eliminate or better control an addiction, you won’t be doing so that you can buy more toys for yourself, you’ll be doing so that you have more resources to help others. 

When you quit buying things you don’t need and work hard to pay down your debt, you’ll be doing so that you can be more generous for others.  When you organize your house, you’ll be doing so that your mind can be freed up from clutter, enabling you to work harder and have more energy to be generous to others.

When you decide to go back to school, look for a better job, or work harder at your current job, you are doing so that you can earn more money and be more generous. 

When you are intentional about finding a hobby that fills you up, spending time with your family, and taking time to reduce your stress, you are doing so that you can be more efficient at work and more generous to others.

So, maybe 2012 is the year you resolve to work hard and be generous.  Maybe this is the year you decide to be the last one to quit, the first to buy the beer.  I tell you what, if you spend 2012 working hard and being generous, and at the end of the year you regret it, call me up, and I’ll buy you a beer.