A Breakthrough?

Near the end of the spring semester, John went to the campus dining hall for lunch and sat down with some students he had not yet met.  It turns out that one of the students was also enrolled in my International Finance course, so eventually, the student asked, “So John, what do you think about the book that Boz is writing about you?”

For the last several months, whenever anyone asked John that same question, he would reply with such confidence-building statements as “It is stupid”, “I hate it”, and “Boz is a really great guy who has a really bad idea.”

But this time was different.  John simply said, “He’s a pretty good writer.”  Wow.  Maybe, just maybe, John is starting to believe that I can pull off this project.  Or at least, perhaps he feels that I won’t completely blow it.  More on that later…

A bit about the subject of my sabbatical

For those who are new to my blog, this fall I will be taking a sabbatical to write a book about legendary Saint John’s University football coach John Gagliardi.

If you haven’t heard of John, he was won more games (484) in the history of college football than any other coach, regardless of division.  Despite turning 86 this coming fall, John will be pacing the Saint John’s sidelines for the 60^th straight year.  To put his success into perspective, he could lose every football game until he is 120 years old and still retire with a winning record.

John has achieved this success with one of the most innovative coaching styles ever utilized, often referred to as his “Winning With No’s”:  no tackling in practice, no practicing outdoors if it is raining, snowing, or if the gnats are too thick, no wasting time on calisthenics, no using tackling dummies or blocking sleds, no whistles, no trash talking, no calling anyone “Coach,” and more than 100 others.

Why I decided to write the book and what it is going to be about

I played football for John when I attended Saint John’s in the early 90’s, and started at offensive guard my senior year. To my readers who aren’t big football fans, that means that I tried to protect the guys with the ball so that they could score touchdowns and look good for the co-eds.

After graduating in 1995, I went to work in the Big 4 accounting firms for nine years before finding my dream job as a professor at Saint John’s.  Since that time, I have spent dozens of mornings in John’s office discussing every topic under the sun.  Once in awhile, we even talk about football.  I co-taught a day of his Theory of Football course and even became his CPA.  It was through these experiences that I really began to understand how John has experienced such great success.  It has a lot less to do with his knowledge of football and more to do with his communication skills, innovation, humility, and many other traits.  I started to feel a calling to share what I had learned with others, as the keys to his success transcend being a great football coach.  In short, the book will be a conversation between John and me where we discuss the characteristics that have enabled him to create such a powerful legacy. 

As if I wasn’t already feeling called to tell John’s story, I read the wildly popular book “Tuesday’s with Morrie” and was enchanted by Morrie’s story.  I aspired to be Morrie someday, a college professor who endeared himself to the masses.  It quickly dawned on me that John was my Morrie.  And if Morrie’s story could be used to inspire millions of people to better themselves, John’s could as well.

John has had a few books written about him, but I feel his story needs to be told from a different angle, from someone who has known him as a player, colleague, and friend. The other authors hadn’t played football for John, nor had they spent nearly as much time with him, and certainly did not have a connection to John’s 2,200 former players.  I believe you cannot fully understand John by simply interviewing him; rather you need to spend time in his presence and observe his actions.  My belief was validated by one of John's biggest fans, his daughter Gina.  When I shared my plan with her (in much more detail than I am providing here), she simply said, "Wow.  You really get it.  You get him."

Progress thus far

The project has been going exceptionally well.  I spent a great deal of time with him this spring, actually enrolling as a student in his Theory of Football course and then meeting with him for dozens of hours outside of that.  It turns out that I have way more information than I need, and a big challenge will be paring down that information.

I have also been fortunate enough to receive advice on multiple occasions from Austin Murphy, senior writer at Sports Illustrated.  More than a decade ago, Austin took a sabbatical from Sports Illustrated and moved his family to Saint John’s for a football season and wrote a book about his experience, The Sweet Season.  After a long meeting with Austin at his favorite coffee shop in California earlier this month, I have more or less decided how to tell the story.  I can’t give away the plot other than to say it will be a little about football and a lot about life, with plenty of humor thrown in.  I believe that football and non-football fans alike will enjoy it and be inspired by it.

Work still to be done

I am sending out e-mails and letters to all of John’s former football players to get their insights on John’s legacy.  I imagine I will hear a number of stories from them that will guide my remaining conversations with John this summer.

Around August 1^st, I will wrap up research and start writing the book.  At that time, John’s focus will turn to football and I need to finally leave him alone, or as he would put it, “stop bugging the crap” out of him.

I will spend the fall writing when I am on my sabbatical.  A sabbatical means that I still get paid by Saint John’s, but I have a semester off from my regular teaching, advising, and service responsibilities.  After the book is outlined and the first couple chapters written, I will begin to send it to literary agents, and am keeping my fingers crossed that Austin may be able to hook me up with some connections.  Once I sign on with an agent, they will begin shopping the book to publishers.  I envision wrapping up the book before I begin teaching again in January and ideally, the book would be released during the 2013 or 2014 football season.  However, most folks tell me I am being too ambitious with that timeframe, so keep tuned and I’ll let you know when it is coming out!

My dream for the book

As I have delved further into this project, I firmly believe that the book will be very successful, and that is my goal for two main reasons.  First, I believe almost everyone has things to learn from John, and the more copies it sells, the more people will be learning.  People won’t be learning how to become a great football coach (although they could), but they will be learning principles to improve their own lives and make a more significant impact in whatever their role is…a coach, teacher, employee, parent, business owner, or member of community or church.

Second, I’d love the book to generate huge royalties, as I plan to use a portion of those to partner with other alumni in establishing a scholarship (or something similar) in John’s name.  Some (e.g., John himself) may say that is wishful thinking, but I believe completely in this project.

Regardless of how successful the book becomes, I will not waver in that it will be very honoring to John and his family.  As I told John, “Not one word gets published without your permission.  You are going to read this book before it is finalized, even if I have to read it aloud to you!”

Closing Thoughts

As I wrap up this entry, you may have noticed the question mark in the title of this blog (A Breakthrough?) and wondered what that was all about.  Well, after my student told me that John thought I was a pretty good writer, I thought I perhaps had John believing in the potential of this project.  However, I have since talked with another person close to him.  John’s reply when they asked him about the book?  “It is going to bomb.”

I’ll just pretend that person misheard John and that he actually said, “It is going to be the bomb.”  Because I believe it will.

If you are new to my blog, check out this older blog entry that I wrote on the final day of John's Theory of Football class this year.  There are some pretty cool things said about John in this one:
http://professorboz.blogspot.com/2012/04/johns-last-class.html

Thanks, Dad

I didn’t have a chance to get together with my dad yesterday, so I called him to wish him a Happy Father’s Day.  As we were signing off, I started to thank him for being a great dad, and he quickly changed the subject, deflecting the attention as usual.  So, as it would probably make him uncomfortable if he had to hear me rattle off all the things I am thankful for about him, I will write about them instead.

Thanks, Dad, for showing me how a man is supposed to work.  Especially early on, you worked two jobs just to provide for our family.  Even later on, you would pick up boring shifts working security.  You showed up to work every day and almost never took a sick day.

Thanks, Dad, for your involvement in my activities.  You coached my sports teams and attended all my sporting and other events.  Thanks for doing the same for my brother.  I really thought it was cool that you even coached his hockey team even though you couldn’t skate.  Thanks for taking many of your personal vacation days to chaperone trips with our church’s youth group.  Even though I may not have showed it at the time, I always preferred it when you were there.

Thanks, Dad, for telling me how to get out of speeding tickets.  I think I have been pulled over 20 times for speeding and only received four tickets.

Thanks, Dad, for not demanding excellence or perfection, but instead always expecting me to put forth a strong effort and to do so with a good attitude.

Thanks, Dad, for staying married to Mom for the past 43 years. You showed me what it was like to stay committed.  Thanks also for supporting her by packing up your life and moving to Chicago when she got that big promotion.

Thanks, Dad, for getting me that old Suburban to drive as my first car, just so I’d be safe.  And I’m sorry you had to find out at my groom’s dinner that we once packed 17 people in it (but you did ask the question).

Thanks, Dad, for joining me on all those college recruiting trips, and thanks for supporting my decision to go to Saint John’s even though it was more expensive than playing football for Leslie Frazier at Trinity.

Thanks, Dad, for teaching me how to make my teaching exciting.  My students appreciate my energy and excitement more than anything else, so they thank you, too.

Thanks, Dad, (I think), for making me work that awful landscaping job that summer.  You wanted me to experience tough work from a tough boss so that I would better appreciate different opportunities in the future. 

Thanks, Dad, for demanding that I not get too obsessed with girls while in high school and college.  It would have really stunk to have ended up with some of them.

Thanks, Dad, for teaching me the joy of engaging random strangers in conversation and learning about their stories.  It embarrassed me at the time, but I love doing it myself today.

Thanks, Dad, for showing me how to be humble (even though I stink in this area).  You’d knock one out of the park in softball at the age of 55 and I’d have to hear about it weeks later from one of your teammates.

Thanks, Dad, for playing chess with me when I was four years old, even though you were exhausted from having worked the night shift.


Thanks, Dad, for loving me even when I messed up, and even when I crashed three of your cars.

Thanks, Dad, for making me take Spanish when I wanted to take French.  I continue to use it today.  And I went to France once, and didn’t care for it that much.

Thanks, Dad, for being a model of generosity with your time.  You are always looking for opportunities to help family, friends, and strangers.  This thank you would deserve a whole blog entry in itself, so I’ll just stop at that.

Thanks, Dad, for being generous with your money.  You always try to find odd jobs for people who have fallen on hard times; you give me way more gifts than I deserve.

Thanks, Dad, for singing karaoke with me whenever I ask, even though I make us sound really bad.

Thanks, Dad, for being very clear on right vs. wrong, and for living a moral life.

Thanks, Dad, for not letting me live off campus until my senior year of college.  My favorite memories were definitely in the dorms.

Thanks, Dad, for taking us on annual family vacations, even when money was tight.  We built memories that will last forever.  Especially when my brother and I got that tape recording of you imitating the stupid sounds we were making.

Thanks, Dad for always letting me know you loved me, not only by saying it, but also through your actions.

Thanks, Dad, for the way that you always try to make my life easier today and the way that you are always looking for me and trying to help.  Whenever we go somewhere, you want to drive.  Whenever you are at our house, you are fixing something or doing the dishes.  Every time Kacey and I go out of town, you not only watch our kids, but you find time to clean and change the oil in both of our cars and do projects around are house.

Thanks, Dad, for being a very engaged grandparent, not only frequently watching our kids, but keeping them healthy and working on developing their skills as well.

Thanks, Dad, for not only being my friend today, but also continuing to be my Dad.  When I mess up, you still address my behavior with me.  I think I appreciate it.

Thanks, Dad, for being the type of dad that I know will drop everything if I call you in a pinch. 

Thanks, Dad, for bringing our family to church every Sunday when we were growing up.

Thanks, Dad, for teaching me how to change the oil in my car.  I bet not many other CPA’s can do that!

Thanks, Dad, for the time you yelled at me when I was a jerk to my grandparents after a basketball game.  Although it sucked at the time, I can’t imagine going through life as a sore loser.

Thanks, Dad, for not being judgmental when I starting dating a single mom, and thanks for the way that you accepted her and her daughter.

Thanks, Dad, for having emotions.  You have them because you care.  I still remember you getting choked up when dropping me off at camps, moving me into college, and sending me away to Spain.

Thanks, Dad, for showing me what it really means to care for others who are sick, like Grandpa, Pat, and “Uncle” Rich.

Thanks, Dad, for introducing me to Mancini’s Char House, my favorite restaurant on the planet.  You always took me there for special occasions, and it has become my go to place for special occasions – including my first date with my wife.

Thanks, Dad, for introducing me to coffee, car racing, and country music.  I remember when I was younger I said I would never be like you and like those things, and now of course I really look forward to our road trips where we drive together to NASCAR races while listening to country music and drinking coffee.

I know I am missing more things than I have said, so thanks, Dad, for all of those things I can’t remember right now. 

In closing, I’ll just say, thanks, Dad, for showing me what a man and father is supposed to be.  I love you.

I hope that many of my readers also feel strong affection toward their own fathers.  But if you do not, control what you can and vow to become a better parent yourself.

Hot Dogs for Breakfast

This past weekend, I did the unspeakable on a Saturday morning – I set my alarm.  At least it was for a good cause; my wife and I were escaping to Sonoma, California, otherwise known as our favorite place on earth.  A long weekend full of delicious wines, tasty food, coastal drives, and spectacular views was in store, with a little research on my book thrown in for good measure.

The alarm went off and I immediately smacked the snooze button.  What seemed like nine seconds instead of nine minutes later, the alarm went off and I again showed the snooze button who was in charge.  But, when the alarm went off for the third time, I remembered the reason I was waking up even a bit earlier than needed and pulled myself out of my slumber.  I clomped down the stairs to find my son, Wyatt, already awake and heavily engrossed in a video game.  I asked him if he had eaten breakfast yet, to which he replied, “No. Why do you ask?”

I hesitated for a moment.  My affair with the snooze button caused me to sleep in longer than I should have.  I hadn’t showered or even thought about packing, yet had to leave for the airport in 45 minutes.  I thought about simply pouring a bowl of Corn Chex for Wyatt, but quickly decided I couldn’t leave it at that.

“How about we walk to the Quik Stop for breakfast?”

“The Quik Stop?  For breakfast?  What will we eat when we get there?” he asked.

“Whatever we want.”

Before we were even out the door, my ten year old boy had grabbed my hand, and that is how we made the 15 minute walk to the neighborhood convenience store.  Sometimes we chatted, and sometime we walked in silence, but our hands never separated.  I would periodically look over at my son and each time saw the same expression.  His lips had formed into a small smile that couldn’t seem to leave his face.

As Wyatt has allergies to gluten and dairy, choices as far as what to eat at the Quik Stop were somewhat limited.  On our walk there, we decided that hot dogs would be satisfying, but when we ultimately arrived, we found the hot dog machine to be empty.  In fact, the machine wasn’t yet turned on for the day; I guess there is little demand for hot dogs at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning.

We walked around the rest of the store and encountered many tasty things that Wyatt could not eat, like breads, bagels, and donuts.  It was starting to look like a lost trip, when in the back corner of the store’s cooler, we found the stash of pork goodness.

I forked over $1.49 for a package, and heated up two hotdogs in the store’s microwave.  Just 60 seconds later, we were feasting on them, using Gatorade as a chaser.  I expect Wheaties reps will read this blog and become very nervous that my newly discovered combination will supplant their cereal as the Breakfast of Champions.

While I would have been game to see if we could have demolished the whole eight-pack, Wyatt taught me restraint when he indicated that one hot dog was enough.

After we finished dining, we rejoined hands and walked the 15 minutes home, chatting with the many puppies that were out walking their owners. As we neared our house, I asked Wyatt if he thought we should repeat our gourmet experience again some time.  Although I more or less knew what his reply would be, it was still fun to hear ,”Yeah, this was awesome!”

We arrived home at the time I had intended to leave my house.  After a hurried shower, I stuffed some clothes into my bag and we were off to the airport.  My wife and I ended up arriving at our gate just two minutes before the door was closed, and likely only made it on time as a motorized vehicle driver agreed to drive us to our gate. 

The funny thing is that the thought of missing my flight really wasn’t concerning me.  I’d already accomplished the most important part of my day, everything else was just gravy.  Well, maybe ketchup, as that goes better on hotdogs.

My Minneapolis Marathon Experience

No, I did not run the marathon today.  Although I have a quintet under my belt, today was not going to be the day that I notched number six.  But, that did not stop me from participating in the festivities.  Although I really enjoy running in races, I probably get more satisfaction out of being a spectator, and I’d like to tell you why.

In each of the five marathons I have run, my body shut down late in the race, and I had to walk a good part of the last several miles.  Family members and friends who took turns staggering along with me were salient in helping me reach the finish line.  But, I also could not have imagined trying to finish those races without the diversion of the spectators.  The miles drag on when there is but pavement and rear ends to look at, but the experience is much more bearable when there is some other activity to distract you from the pain and monotony.

So, on this gorgeous (for spectators) Sunday morning, I setup camp around mile 25 with my essentials.  Most critical is a loud PA system (runners love music) with an I-pod playlist featuring Rocky music and other pump up songs - I had to ask my wife for help with this one as marathoners generally don’t fully appreciate my country music.  I enhance the experience by also bringing along a microphone to shout encouragement at the runners.  And I can’t forget a bunch of jolly ranchers and tootsie rolls, not for myself (at least not many), but to share with famished runners looking for any injection of sugar to help them take a few more of the 40,000 steps needed to finish the race.

Without further ado, I’m going to turn this blog into a fotonovela showing you why I love watching marathons.  First, I never tire of looking at a sea of people, working hard, and giving it their all.

I asked this guy how many marathons he had run, and he flashed one finger, then five fingers, then two fingers.  Yeah, that is right.  152 marathons, with at least one in each state.

Meet Ralph.  In marathons, people frequently print their names on their shirts so that spectators can cheer for them by name.  I’ve done it, and it is a good pick me up. Plus, spectators enjoy it, as it is much more exciting to yell, “You the man, Ralph!” than simply, “Great job!”

 

What is a guy with a finisher’s medal still doing on the course?  Marthoners help each other, and he came back to help his companion finish her race.

Vicki may not be a spring chicken, but that isn’t stopping her from running her first ever half-marathon.  I’d also like to point out Vicky’s shirt.  Many marathoners raise money for charitable organizations.  By the way, if you do, hit me up.

This family will never forget when these kids came out to inspire their dad for a bit late in the race. 

I am guessing I had the Rocky music going at this time.  At least I hope I did.  It would be a bit unusual for these guys to be flexing to Duffy.

This time I was playing the Chariots of Fire theme song, and the lady on the left did her best re-enactment.

Running 26.2 miles isn’t enough for some people; they have to dress-up.

 

I am not sure if she is running for a cause or just for fun, but regardless, this is crazy

Some marathon runners wear t-shirts that amuse me.  This one took the cake today.

Her shirt says “One more mile.” I very excitedly told her that for the first time today, her t-shirt was correct.

Current Gopher football players honoring their coach Jerry Kill.  I am not sure if it is because of the medical issues he faced or what, but good to see them out there regardless.

Some people don’t need costumes or t-shirts because they have great hair.

It is fun to see all of the different expressions that people will give you.  This guy appears somewhat delirious but is still able to give the double thumbs up.

It’s a great day to be alive.

She looks like she is on mile 1, not mile 25.  I imagine many runners looked at her and hated her.

Shannon’s daughters excitedly greeted her when she arrived at their cheering station.  I know her name because her daughers had previously come over to ask me to yell it in the microphone when she approached.  A pretty cool thing was that Shannon actually stopped for a couple minutes to chat with them before finishing the race.  To her, sharing that moment with her daughters was more important than shaving a couple minutes off her finishing time. 

With marathons come risk, and each time that an ambulance goes by with its lights and sirens on, you just pray that the passenger will be okay.

Note the headband.  He’s not only a marathon runner, but also a Tough Mudder.  I forgot to ask him which he thinks is more difficult; I already know which he would say he enjoys more.

This picture really just embodies the spirit of determination that marathoners’ possess.

I will admit that I felt a bit guilty taking these next couple pictures.  Sometimes marathon runners will collapse in pain, and in this case the lady experienced bad cramps.  But despite the pain, she got up quickly and kept going.  Also note how random strangers are checking on her.

This one really struck me. We have all heard of icing after a workout, but how bad must your knee be feeling to run with an ice pack strapped to it?

So many people volunteer to make a marathon a special event.  The lady on the left holding the sign is a volunteer pacer.  To take pressure off runners trying to maintain a certain pace, pacers hold signs indicating what pace they are running, and runners simply follow along if they want to finish the race in that pace.  There is something extra special about this pacer.  She is holding the 6 hour pace sign.  In many marathons, runners have to finish in 6 hours or less in order to receive a medal and to be acknowledged as finishing the race.  So, this pacer has the responsibility of keeping her group just in front of the trailing sweep truck.

Callyn was supposed to run her first full marathon in Madison the previous weekend but the distance was reduced to a half marathon due to the heat.  Disappointed at having done all the training for a full marathon, she sought out the Minneapolis Marathon in order to complete her quest.  Had she run the Madison Marathon the week before near her home, she would have had the support of many family and friends, but when she traveled to the Minneapolis Marathon, only her brother and his fiancée were able to accompany her.  As the miles wore down, Callyn felt she could not run any further and would not be able to reach the finish line.  Her brother Alex jumped in and ran by her side for awhile to encourage her - they are pictured below.  Eventually, Alex tired and his fiancée Casandra jumped in to help Callyn finish the race.  That's what it is all about.

It was a great way to spend the morning.  And while you may not be strange enough to bring out a PA system and sit for hours watching a race, I encourage you head out to a race sometime and cheer the runners on.  They will love you for it and you will feel great doing it.  And who knows, before long, I may be cheering for you.

For more pictures and some Rocky music, check out the YouTube video I put together on this race...

Keys to Success in the Workplace

I woke up this morning, re-heated a cup of yesterday’s coffee, and sank into my home office chair. As I scanned the new e-mails that surfaced overnight, I immediately noticed a message from a current student.  As the summer months cause student-withdrawal for me, I eagerly opened her e-mail first:

Hey Boz!

I am writing a section in a newsletter for the company where I am interning. The question I am supposed to answer is, "What do your professors claim to be the biggest challenge for you entering public accounting in the next few years?"

Can you please talk briefly about a challenge or two that you see in the next few years? I appreciate it.

Thanks!

Sarah

Before writing any further, I should say a few things.  First, I love the student’s introduction and use of an exclamation point!  She sounds excited to be sending her message to me, causing me to be excited to reply to her.  Second, don’t stop reading because you aren’t an accountant and think this blog will not apply to you, The solutions I will discuss apply to most fields, and the cool thing is that if you can excel at applying them, you will be reading my blog from your Caribbean timeshare before long.  Third, instead of using the word “challenges” as is stated in Sarah’s e-mail, I will generally use the phrase “keys to success” – with the challenge being the need to mastering these keys.  Fourth, these are keys to success in the early years; keys to success evolve as you progress in your career.  Fifth, for the most part, these are not new keys to success, but I feel they are becoming increasingly critical as the world around us changes.

When addressing the keys to success, I’m not going to drone on about the importance of technical knowledge.  Just as CPA’s needs to understand accounting rules, each profession has knowledge that must be gained, if not mastered.  Clearly, if I’m on an ER table coding someday, I could care less about many of the intangible skills my doctor possesses – if he or she doesn’t have the skill to shock me back to life, I’m just hoping that my life insurance premiums are current.  However, I feel that a breakdown occurs in that technical knowledge becomes too much of a focus in college education, and that students who possess deep technical knowledge but lack in the other skills I discuss below will not reach their full potential.

Understanding this topic better has been a passion of mine, so over the past few years, I have asked dozens of successful business professionals about their opinions on the keys to success early in a business career.  One of my contacts did in all seriousness say “we need to find people who like to drink beer,” but most of the answers I received were a bit more useful.  According to the business professionals, the top five keys to success (in addition to possessing strong technical knowledge) are communicating well, effectively using relevant technology, thinking critically, teaming well with others, and working with determination.

Communicating well is an enormous challenge given the impact that technology is having on society as a whole, but especially our students.  Many professors and business professionals lament that the explosion of texting and instant messaging is hurting the written communication skills and inter-personal skills of students.  I believe this is true and that students need to be able to write e-mails and other written documents clearly, concisely, and courteously.  I also believe they need to know when and how to talk to someone face to face vs. over technology (if you ever e-mail a question to someone who is working ten feet from you, you should probably receive five demerits).  At the same time, we need to realize that these texting-monsters are increasingly climbing the ranks of management.  Thus, the challenge is not deciding if new forms of electronic communication should be used in the workplace, but rather learning how, when, and with who to use these new forms of electronic communication.

Effectively using relevant technology means to understand what tools are key in your profession and to do your best to master them.  For accountants, if you can’t effectively use Microsoft Excel, learn now.  And when I say now, I mean now - well, finish reading this blog entry first, but then avoid checking your Facebook account and instead Google something like “how to use Microsoft Excel,” and start practicing.  Figure out the shortcuts, click on things just to see what happens, and learn by observing others.  You may think you can just learn on the job someday, and while that is true to an extent, managers will immediately flock on day one toward new associates who can use technology very efficiently, and run like the wind away from those who cannot.

Thinking critically is certainly one of the most difficult traits to both teach and learn.  However, it is becoming even more crucial, as routine jobs are being increasingly automated or outsourced: China for manual labor and India for services.  If you can’t think critically and if you can only process information, you are in danger of your job pulling a David Copperfield and disappearing.  So, what does it mean to think critically?  Question everything you don’t fully understand, except maybe why your boss brings the newspaper with to the restroom (I had a boss who regularly did that).  Never be satisfied with simply knowing how to do something, know why you are doing it (thanks to my first boss Tom for that wisdom).  And always look to improve upon the project you have been asked to do.

Teaming well with others makes this list as the world we are living in is becoming too complex to handle alone.  We need others to survive in the workplace.  Also, to an extent, students are so strapped to technology that they are not as accustomed to sitting down with others and working face to face.  Just today, I received a call to be a reference for a recent grad.  I gave him a positive reference and cited the fact that he is sharp, respectful, and will likely show up every day and work hard.  An employer can do a lot with those traits and I was happy to stick my neck out for him.  However, when asked for drawbacks, I was honest and said that the student was fairly introverted and I did not regularly see him working with others – and as a result I recommended him more for jobs where working in a team wasn’t a main focus.

Working with determination is the final key repeatedly cited in my interviews of business professionals.  This means whenever you are assigned a task, take ownership of it, attack it right away, and complete it to the best of your ability.  Maybe even work some overtime (shudder) to get it done.  I believe this is even more of a challenge today due to technology.  Back when I started in the “real world” in 1995, I would show up, put my head down and work for 10 straight hours, with only a lunch break thrown in.  It was easy.  Why?  There wasn’t technology to distract me.  There also wasn’t technology to automate the easy stuff, so I could work mindlessly for hours on end and that was considered productive.  To further illustrate this point, I recently brought two successful business professionals into my classroom and somewhat (okay, considerably) embarrassed them by asking them to describe what made their colleague so successful.  One cited the other’s ability to accept any task and to work harder than anyone else.  The other cited their colleague’s desire to seek out the most complex tasks and complete them to the best of her ability.

Well, those are the five keys that were frequently repeated when I interviewed dozens of business professionals.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to quickly add two thoughts of my own.  The first additional key to success is passion.  You must love, or at least like, what you do.  If you don’t, you will be miserable and drag others down.  You won’t feel inspired to work with determination or to think critically.  Your bosses will hope that you have an early-life crisis and quit so they don’t have to fire you and watch their unemployment premiums rise.  So find something you love doing and figure out how to make a career doing it.  That doesn’t mean that you have to love every single part of what you do.  Obviously, I love teaching more than accounting work, evidenced by the fact that I left my CPA career to become a professor.  But, I keep active with CPA work, even though it isn’t my primary passion, because I still enjoy it, and it makes me a more effective professor.

The second additional key to success is to develop global awareness.  The world is becoming more integrated everyday, and those who hide from this realization are doing themselves a huge disservice.  Be open to working with those from other cultures and seek out those opportunities…so you don’t end up like Dave.  I remember walking into Dave’s office one day to ask a question which involved the word “international.”  As soon as I said that word, I think Dave soiled himself.

That’s all I’ve got for today…Uh, oh.  I just re-read the initial e-mail again, and Sarah asked me to briefly talk about a challenge or two.  Whoops!!!  Well, if I had to sum it up in one sentence, here is what I would say: I believe the challenge is finding a job that you will want to work at with determination and a critical mindset, because if you do that, most everything else should fall into place.

The Postman

As a side business, I have prepared hundreds of individual tax returns over the past eight years.  Although this business provides me with additional income, my main satisfaction comes from helping my clients.  But once in a while, my clients help me…and I have been waiting more than two months to post this entry.

Boz, “Well, your refunds are fairly similar to last year, and given that your life hasn’t changed much, I suppose that makes sense.  So, do you expect anything different for 2012?”

“Not really,” the Postman replied “I plan on keeping my same job, and my wife and I don’t plan on moving or having any kids or anything.”

“Great,” I began, “Ummm…before you go…I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

“Sure.”

“Well honestly, your level of charitable giving fascinates me.  I am your accountant, so I know a fair amount about your financial situation.  As the sole income earner for your family of five, things must be fairly tight for you guys.  Yet, you give away several thousand dollars each year, well over ten percent of your income.  I just have to know - what motivates you to be so generous?”

The Postman reclined in his chair, tilted his head back a bit and said “It is hard to put a finger on it, but it stems from our faith.  There is a verse in the bible (Malachi 3:10) which says…”Test me in this and I will open the storehouses of heaven.”  I feel blessed by God in what I have been given and in what I have been entrusted with, and there are certainly people less fortunate than me.  If I can be a blessing to someone else and trickle it down, well, I want to be a part of that.”

With my mouth hanging half-open I replied, “I believe I lot of people would like to be more generous, but they simply can’t find money left over to be charitable with.  How do you do it?”

“I think it has to be a priority.  God asks that you give to him first.  Think of an apple, a nice red, crisp, delicious, juicy apple.  Those first couple bites are fantastic.  But when you start getting near the end…it gets mushy and brown .  I don’t want to give God the brown.  Let God take his first couple delicious chomps, and the rest is fine for me.”

Quite entranced, I asked him one final question, “Have you ever thought what you are giving up by being so charitable?”

I was humbled by his reply, “Not at all.  When I started at the post office, I was given wise advice.  We give the first amount to God, then the next to our 401(k), and we live on the rest.  We are used to it.  We don’t even think about it.  I don’t ponder what I could buy with it.”

“That’s just awesome,” I stated, “Well, it was a pleasure as always, and I look forward to seeing you next year.”

“Thanks, Boz.  May I pay you for your services?”

“Absolutely not. It is an honor to do your taxes.  Seriously”

As he drove away that evening, I couldn’t help but smile as I reflected on our conversation.  This guy understands that even though he doesn’t have the best job in America, he is still blessed.  And with that blessing comes the responsibility to help others.  He gives to his church and a variety of other organizations in an effort to make the world a better place.  He inspires me to do more.  Yeah, the Postman really gets it.

A few days later, I arrived home from work and sauntered to my mail box. Amid a plethora of junk mail, I noticed a hand-written letter.  Upon opening the envelope, I found a thank you note from the Postman, along with an Applebee’s gift card.

Two things are for certain.  First, I will savor that meal.  Second, I won’t even have to look at the dessert menu, as I’ll be ordering apple pie.

Authors Note:  Some of you may question whether the Postman’s family suffers as a result of his generosity.  My wife and I know them and concluded that in this rat race we live in, they are one of the most content and blessed families we know.

We Are Tough Mudders

A couple months ago, I received the following e-mail from my friend Greg, “Hey Boz, remember when you said that if I ever decided to run a race that you’d do one with me?  Well, I want to run the Tough Mudder.  Are you in?”

I would be lying if I said I got excited when I saw Greg’s e-mail.  Tough Mudders are 10-12 mile runs with 25 or more military-designed obstacles mixed in.  I have run a Warrior Dash race, but a Tough Mudder is basically 4 Warrior Dashes, with much tougher obstacles.   Further, as I stared at Greg’s e-mail, I noted that I was in the worst shape I had been in since 2001.  But, Greg has always been a much bigger guy than me, and if he is getting in good enough condition to run the Tough Mudder, I figured I should hold true to my promise and join him.  Plus, it was two months away, so I’d have plenty of time to get in shape.  “Greg, If you are doing it…I am in.”

Well, yesterday morning the alarm went off at 6:30AM and I was probably in worse shape than I was 2 months ago.  That’s okay, though, I have been training.  Run ½ mile on a flat, paved surface, do some pushups and chair assisted pull-ups, repeat three times.  I probably did this workout 6 times total over the last 3 weeks.  So, I trained by running a total of 12 miles and doing some pushups and pull-ups.  I was ready (insert heavy sarcasm here).

At least I got a solid 3 hours of sleep the night before to get me prepared for the run.  I couldn’t get to sleep so I thought it would be best to watch promotional and home-made videos of the event until after 3AM, showing people being electrically shocked and being carted off the course with slings and knee wraps.

Some pre-race pics upon arrival...

Free mohawks at the start.  We passed.








Costumes were encouraged...even Zubaz.

Shortly before 9:40AM, Greg and I climbed over a 7 foot thin wood wall (no supports) and took our place in the corral.  Obstacle #1 conquered, and it only took me 4 attempts.

Friends Mike and Cami in the corral waiting for the torture to begin.

Tough Mudder sends participants off in groups of a few hundred, spaced twenty minutes apart.  The event’s MC instructed us to drop to one knee in the muddy and rocky corral, gave us some instructions like “Make sure your race number is written on you, we want to be able to identify your body” and “Don’t go through the electric shock if you have metal in your body or a heart condition.”  We then recited the tough mudder oath and  yelled “hoo-rah” about 100 times - It never gets old.

We sang the national anthem (mudders do not sing well), but I question whether Taps would have been more appropriate.

The loudspeakers blared Eye of the Tiger, the MC guy had us yell "Hoo-rah" a few dozen more times, and we were off.

That's all the pics I have for awhile as I put the camera away before the race.  If that disappoints you, I'll just say that I'd rather run 10 consecutive Tough Mudders than to face my wife and tell her that I dropped her camera in a mud pit.


After running for ¾ of a mile through somewhat uneven cross-country terrain, which I would have killed for later, we arrived at our first obstacle, the Arctic Enema.  We jumped into an ice bath, waded for a few feet, and then climbed up a short wall to get out.

Wait, the sign says to go under the wall, not over it.  But, the base of the wall was underwater, meaning that we had to dive headfirst into the frigid liquid to get past the wall.  Diving underwater for a couple seconds woke me up far more than my 20 ounces of Folgers did earlier than morning.  Fortunately, I didn’t pull hard enough when trying to hoist myself out of the ice bath, so I got the privilege of staying in there another 15 seconds while waiting for a mass of humanity to pass me so that I could give it a second shot.

After a bit more running, we came to probably the 2^nd easiest obstacle of the day, a big mound of hay bales, stacked 100 feet (or maybe it was just 12 feet) high.  One quick burst later, we were over the hay bales and back on our way.

Next, we came to a mud tunnel.  We had to crawl underground on our hands and knees in the mud through the tunnel, and our reward for this effort was to be dumped out into a trench of cold and muddy water.

Shortly thereafter, we experienced one of the courses’ many mud pits.  We would step into about 3 feet of muddy water and walk that way for 50 feet before climbing up a hill of slippery mud to escape the pit.  These mudpits got old after awhile.  It seemed that whenever the organizers couldn’t think of an obstacle to put in place, they’d just throw another mud pit in there.  However, sometimes the organizers would get bored and put uneven footing in the mudpits so that you’d be wading along and then find yourself slipping and splashing into an even deeper hole.

We next came up to a vertical cargo net.  I don’t know how else to describe it other than it was a net that went maybe a dozen feet straight up in the hair and you had to climb up one side and down the other.  There were people lying on the ground pulling the net down a bit, presumably to make it more taut.  After reaching the base, Greg and I took our turn laying on the ground and holding the net for a couple minutes, and then we were on our way.  Had I known what lay ahead, I probably just would have stayed lying on the ground holding that net for the rest of the day.

I think it was about then that we saw the 3 mile marker, along with a sign congratulating us on finishing the famous Warrior Dash, but reminding us that we still had 8 ½ miles to go.  The organizers liked to rip on the Warrior Dash, “The Tough Mudder ain’t a race where you jump over a bush and feel proud of yourself.”  I have nothing against the Warrior Dash, but it is more of a fun run, whereas the Tough Mudder is anything but fun.  It would probably put hair on the chest of someone with alopecia areata.

We came up to another wall next, although this one was probably closer to 10 feet high, and there were certainly no ledges on the wall to help one along.  No running start in the world was going to get my large rear up and over that wall, so I found a couple guys who were boosting others over the wall and asked them to also help me.  They didn’t seem that excited to do so, but I promised that Greg would be pushing my rump from behind and all would be well. 

I was excited to overcome that wall, only to find out that there was an exact replica waiting for me 20 feet further down the course.  I asked the same guys if they would give me a boost again, and they pointed to another couple guys and said, “How about they help you this time?”  I asked the pair of 165 pound dudes if they would help propel my 250 pound frame over the wall, and you’d think I had just asked them if I could eat their firstborn.  They reluctantly agreed and I completed the second wall.

As Greg and I ran on, I squawked a bit about the attitude of those last two guys.  After all, when we were in the corral, we all recited the Tough Mudder oath, “I pledge that I will help my fellow Tough Mudders complete the course.”  Where was our MC with his megaphone to remind them of that?  But, any angst I had was quickly vanquished by 3 realizations: 1) they actually did help me, and that was the most important thing, 2) the oath doesn’t say you have to be happy doing so, and 3) I was about 50% heavier than those guys, so I wonder how I would have felt if a 375 pound sweaty and dirty dude had come up to me asking for a boost.

Somewhere around mile 4, we entered some really rough terrain, and did not escape it until about mile 9.5.  It was as if the tough mudder organizers had asked Paul Bunyan to chop down a bunch of trees and leave the branches laying in the running path.  And of course, it was never flat; it was always uphill or downhill.  I’m not sure which was worse.  Going uphill stinks, because, well, we are going uphill.  But going downhill, we had to use every muscle in our beings to balance ourselves and keep from slipping, falling, and landing on a tree stump.

It was during this middle part of the course that it also began to rain.  The combination of rain, wind, and 55 degree temperatures made for a nice chill.  Periodically we’d get to trudge through another mud pit to ensure that we were even more wet, cold, bogged down, and caked with mud.

One somewhat fun obstacle was the mud moguls.  We would run up to an 8 foot high mountain of slippery mud, climb over it, and then slide down into a pool of cool, muddy water.  After repeating this several times, we were through with that obstacle and my legs were trashed.  For some reason, Greg loved that obstacle and had finished all of the moguls before I was ½ way done.  For just a moment, I did not like Greg.

Certainly my favorite obstacle of the day was the swinging rings, kind of like you see at a school playground.  Although, instead of falling a couple feet into some nice soft sand at the school playground, you fell into a three foot deep pool of muddy water.  So, why was this my favorite obstacle?  Because when I fell halfway through (okay, after just a couple rings), I was in warm water!  I felt like ordering a pizza and just hanging out there for the next couple of weeks, but I imagine the other mudders would have ridiculed me and stolen my pizza.

Sometime thereafter, we came to the Boa Constrictor Pipes.  Imagine a pipe maybe 2 feet in diameter, with only the bottom cut out so that it can be filled with mud.  We had to slither through the pipe, slightly downhill, for about 20 feet.  Then imagine your view as you slither - the end of the pipe probably ½ full of water, making one question whether you are simply going to skin up your arms and legs only to drown.  Well, I didn’t drown, and then after slithering through some muddy water under some barbed wire, it was back up hill through another pipe.  The opening to this pipe was also ½ under water, meaning that I had to put my face in the water before climbing uphill through the pipe.  I am generally somewhat claustrophobic, so completing this obstacle was one of the highlights of my day.

Next, we came up to one of the worst obstacles of the day.  You had to traverse 50 feet through a pool of thick mud.  Not too bad, right?  Well, there was barbed wire maybe 18 inches above the mud, so you had to lay flat and slither through.  Not too bad, right?  Well, there were many electric wires hanging down to zap you if you dared allow your body to stick up more than about 12 inches out of the mud.  Greg volunteered to go first, which was perhaps his worst decision of the day, and I followed.  Near the end of the pit, I heard the awful zapping sound.  Greg’s head had brushed a wire.  I called out to him to ask if it hurt (hoping it was a very light shock), and Greg grunted, “Yeah, and I lost vision for a few seconds as well.”

With that endorsement and seeing just how low the electric wires at the end of the pit were dangling, I froze.  I was hoping to find another path to take, to wake up from this horrible dream, or that maybe someone would be kind enough to simply euthanize me, when a female voice behind me called out, “C’mon dude, you gotta keep going.”  With that I slunk as low as possible in the mud and slithered my way out, somehow escaping the wrath of the electric wires…for now.

Due to the very heavy rains the night before and the rain during the race, the course had now become extremely muddy.  Imagine having to slog uphill and downhill through mud a couple inches deep…mile after mile.  On a couple downhills, we followed the lead of those in front of us and gently slid down on our derrieres.  It may sound like fun, but we had to slide slowly and carefully, as this wasn’t a smooth waterslide.  This was a slide with stumps and rocks sticking out and threatening to pierce you in places you don’t want to be pierced.

The mud was even more evident when we came up to the Berlin Wall.  This obstacle similar to the previous wall, except for 2 factors: 1) it was a couple feet taller, and 2) it was so muddy at the base that people couldn’t even get their footing to boost others over.  After watching several people jump in vain at the wall or attempt the boost technique, only to fall precariously into the mud, Greg and I decided this was an obstacle we would have to walk around.  The organizers told us there was no shame in skipping an obstacle if we didn’t feel safe – it wasn’t that we didn’t feel safe, it was just that we knew our team of 2 would still be out on the course come the 4^th of July if we were determined to finish this obstacle.

The Cliff Hanger obstacle came shortly thereafter; it basically was a tall and steep hill of mud.  This one looked daunting coming up to it, but a couple minutes of crawling on hands and knees and we were through. Although it wasn’t as tough as most obstacles, it still contributed to the gradual deterioration of any muscles which were still functioning.

The course organizers must be fairly religious, as they inserted a Jesus Walk obstacle into the course.  This was similar to other mud pits, although it was refreshing that you could walk in fairly shallow water.  That is, of course, until you pulled a Peter (disciple for you non-biblical types), lost your faith, took a wrong step and plunged upper torso first into three feet of cool and muddy water.

We next came to an area with surprisingly stable ground (still hilly of course).  Our reward for finding this area was to carry a large log for ½ mile.  Greg’s log was probably 9 inches in diameter, a fact I failed to notice until he nodded at my log of choice and commented, “I didn’t know they made 5 inch logs.”

Soon after that, we went through by far this easiest obstacle on the course, the cargo nets.  There were 50 feet of cargo nets on the ground, and you simply hoisted the net above your head and walked through.  We waited for another group to catch up to us to make it even easier as “many hands make for light work,” and at this point of the run, anytime we could lighten the load, we did so.

Mile 8 was really miserable – probably the worst on the whole course.  Most of it was walking up and downhill in a few inches of mud.  I put the over/under on the amount of times I would fall at 5, and I actually achieved the under, even though I still fell 4 times.  I talked with people who had run the course the day prior, before the rain, and they said the only mud they faced was in the mud-designed obstacles.  Oh well, that which does not kill you, only makes you muddier.

Just when it seemed the misery, rain, wind, and cold would never end, around mile 9 we emerged from the land of mud and returned to the land of somewhat flat, and only partial mud.  The promise of being closer to the finish along with the lack of mud really made this a more enjoyable part of the course.  So, we decided to run for the first time in a while.  We reached the top of a hill and started yelling out “Drago!!!”  (No one except people who have watched Rocky IV will appreciate that last sentence)  However, our Rocky Balboaness was immediately curtailed as we both developed leg cramps – Greg in his right calf, me in my left hammy.

With about a mile to go I climbed up a mud hill to get to the next obstacle and my left hamstring really cramped up.  That permitted me to sit on the top of the mud hill for a couple minutes in the cold and windy rain to massage my painful leg.  After the leg cramp subsided, we encountered the Funky Monkey, another area where fit dudes swing from bar to bar, and behemoths like Greg and I reach for a bar and fall into the water.  But again, it was warm water, and life was temporarily good.

We emerged from that obstacle and immediately came upon Everest, a quarter-pipe (skateboarder term).  All I know is that you had to run up a muddy and slippery ramp, which then inverted at the top (about 12 feet high).  Seeing a line of about 150 people waiting to try to make it to the top and seeing fit guys fail miserably was enough for Greg and I to skip our 2^nd obstacle of the day.  We didn’t like skipping obstacles, but at some point we just realized that some things just weren’t going to happen.

We actually skipped the next obstacle as well - a series of wobbly balance beams hovering above, you guessed it…mud.  Normally I would have been game to walk 5 feet before losing balance and plunging headfirst into the muddy water, but with my cramping hamstring, I wasn’t sure how I could make it into or out of the obstacle without enduring another cramping session, so we walked around an obstacle for the third and final time.

Now only ½ mile from the finish, we climbed up a 20 foot wall, which was generously leaning ever so slightly in our favour (I put a “u” in there to excite my British readers) and which had a couple inch wide muddy ledge every three feet or so.  I used my right leg to pull myself up and dragged my left leg behind me.  In hindsight, that was the obstacle where if I slipped I could have really crashed down hard and gotten hurt fairly badly.  With my mind as numb as my body, I really wasn’t thinking straight at this time, so thankfully I made it to the top.  Upon reaching the summit, we were on our small ledge with water 20 feet below us.  The staff told us we couldn’t dive but encouraged us to do flips.  No thanks, I think I’ll just jump. 

The only bad thing about this obstacle, or so I thought, was that it cleaned us off, and I was hoping for a muddy picture at the finish to make it look like we actually did something.

The final obstacle was the famous Electroshock Therapy.






As you can see in the picture, there are a bunch of electric wires hanging down, but only some of them were “live.”  I suppose I could have crawled beneath them, but everyone else was running through them.  So, when in Rome...do stupid things.

Nothing happened as I staggered through the first few wires, so I figured I was home free.  Then, I got a little zap, but kept limping along.  About 15 feet from escaping, I got zapped twice in a row and decided enough was enough and simply took a dive into the mud.  I crawled the rest of the way through the obstacle.  Greg and I decided to ignore our cramps and run to the finish.  As we rounded the final corner, both of us took one last tumble in the mud before crawling to safety, righting ourselves, and jogging through the finish line.  To say we were elated would be an understatement.  To say we were so excited that we wanted to give each other a cold and muddy hug would be an overstatement. 

The staff donned me with a headband (you can’t buy ‘em, you can only earn ‘em,), put a t-shirt in my completely mud-covered hands (ummm…you guys heard of bags?) and handed me a cold Dos Equis Amber.

We had to sign a three page Death Waiver to participate in the event, and one of the clauses says that Tough Mudder does not encourage drinking alcohol after the race.   But after crossing the finish line, one of the first things they do is hand you a beer. 

We drank it down, used some very cold water to hose off, and put the course in our rearview mirror.

After 11.5 miles in 3 hours and 45 minutes, with only 2 bananas and water as nourishment, I said to Greg, “Let’s find a small mudder and eat him.”  Greg instead took me to a restaurant and we ordered bacon cheeseburgers.  For all I know, it was E coli infested, but I didn’t care, it was the best burger I have ever tasted.

After a fitful night of sleep due to sore muscles, scraped up legs and knees, and heavily chafed arms, I have two final reflections for the two of you that are still reading.

First, that was the most physically demanding thing I have ever done with the exception of running a marathon.  Am I glad I did it?  Absolutely.  The confidence I gained from persevering through the misery and conquering my fears of claustrophobia and heights is something that no one can ever take away from me.  Will I do another one?  What do you think I am, stupid?  (Actually, get back to me on that one)

Second, and most importantly, I couldn’t be any more proud of my friend Greg.  He has done an admirable job of developing a healthy lifestyle (with the exception of his pre-race heaters) and losing a ton of weight.  But, even though he is currently in better shape than me, he still faced a much more difficult task.  I have had the good(?) fortune of running 5 marathons.  I built up to those events by running a series of shorter races.  So, I have had years of building mental toughness.

Greg, on the other hand, had never run further than 4 miles in his life.  Yesterday, he finished 11.5 miles in absolutely miserable conditions.  He went from zero to sixty without missing a beat.

When we got back to Greg’s home after the race, his lovely wife and four kids were all waiting for him in the kitchen.  One of his kids gleefully exclaimed, “Dad, you didn’t die!!!!”

I jumped in and said, “You guys should be really proud of your dad.  That was an extremely tough race.  I built up to it by running a lot of races over the past 10 years, but your dad took it on in his first ever race.  He is really tough.”

I wish I had my camera ready at that moment, as the way his kids’ faces swelled up with delight and pride was something I won’t soon forget.  They were so proud of their dad, and he had set such a great example for them.

Thanks, Greg, for inviting me to join you in your first ever race.  It was a honor.  And a very muddy one at that.

Author’s final note: I know one is supposed to use variety in writing, but I used the word “mud” over 60 times above.  You know what?  I just don’t muddin’ care.