It’s strange how certain dates stick in our minds. Today is one of those dates, one of those “Where were you when?” days.
Sometimes we remember a date because it’s unique and combined with a personally significant event. For example, I will always remember the original release date of Novell GroupWise. It was called WordPerfect Office when it launched. And for marketing reasons it was called version 2.0. It’s official release date was August eighth, 1988. Let’s write that with slightly different notation: 8/8/88. The first service patch was released 10/10/88. Likewise WordPerfect 5.0 was released on May 5th, 5/5. (I don’t remember the year, because it wasn’t a year with a “5.”)
Sometimes the date becomes significant, but we forget way. Cinco de Mayo, is a huge celebration in the United States, even more than it is celebrated in Mexico. It occurs on May 5th, of course. But, most Americans couldn’t tell you why it’s significant. If pressed we might offer up a suggestion of “Mexico’s Independence Day.” It’s not. It’s the date of a significant battle between the Mexicans and the French.
Even July 4th, which most Americans can identify was “Independence day” isn’t well understood. We know it’s Independence Day, but independence from what? Taxes? Slavery? Aliens? Even people who understand it, don’t really understand it. They will tell you it is the day the Declaration of Independence was signed, declaring our Freedom from Great Britain. That’s almost right. It’s the day the declaration was ratified, meaning it passed the Continental Congress. The document was signed weeks later. (Yes, that picture on the back of the $2 bill is an historical lie.)
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Other times, the event itself is so shocking, so noteworthy, that the date becomes impossible to forget. September 11th, is one of those days. No one who was old enough to watch television that day will ever forget. Often we remember where we were, what we were doing, who we were with.
Today, May 18th, is one of those days for me. Thirty-six years ago today, I was 14 years old, living with my family in Olympia, WA. It was a Sunday morning and my brother Richard and I were getting ready to go to church. At about 8:30, some 200 miles to the South, a mountain blew up. In one of the most spectacular and well documented eruptions in history, Mt Saint Helens blew over 1,300 feet of dirt, rocks and mostly ash off the top of what had been one of the prettiest mountains in the Cascade range. The ash cloud was visible for miles. I remember standing on my front porch looking South. The southern sky was filled with clouds. Living in Western Washington, that wasn’t unusual. These clouds however, were growing. Just standing and watching, I could literally see them climbing into the sky. The ash cloud would reach 80,000 feet: fifteen miles into the air.
The explosion was estimated to be in the 10-50 megaton nuclear bomb range. The largest man-made explosion ever was a 50-megaton bomb. (1 megaton is equivalent to one million tons of TNT.) The eruption was 2500 times as powerful as the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima.
Fifty-seven people died in the explosion, we think. There’s still some debate, but that number is pretty close. One of the most colorful characters was an old man named Harry S Truman. He was essentially a hermit who lived in a cabin in the forest on the mountain. When the earthquakes started a few weeks before the actual eruption, the area around the mountain was evacuated. Harry, refused to go. He insisted that he had lived his life on the mountain and that’s where he wanted to die.
But, Harry, we don’t want to leave you all by yourself up here.
I won’t be by myself.
Who else is here?
I’ll have the company of Jim Beam, Johnnie Walker and Jack Daniels.
(For my non-drinker friends, those are the name of popular whiskey brands.)
No trace was ever found of Harry or his cabin. He probably died before he even knew what hit him.
Here’s to Harry and the other 55, or so people who lost their lives that day. Our small efforts to reshape the environment pale compared to what nature can occomplish in an instant.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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Each step was agony. And it didn’t have to be this way. I mean, we planned better than this. Here I was literally stomping steps in the snow as my knees complained with each step. And yet, I shouldn’t have to do this.
We’d summited Mt Baldy with a group of 6 Boy Scouts and one Cub Scout after about a three hour hike.
The trail back to our gear descended along the north face. In North America the north face is the last to lose it’s snow. And there was still plenty of snow. We’d hiked through some of it on the trail on the way up. But, we had another idea for the trip down.
You know, Rodney, you could ski down this mountain and cut a good hour off our return trip.
You have a funny definition of the word ‘you.’
The other leader was an accomplished skier. I’ve been skiing twice. Mostly so that I didn’t have to tell people I lived in Utah and never went skiing.
No, it’s easy. You sort of set your feet and ski/slide down the snow. I can give my two boys permission to do it. And you could give your two sons permission. But, we’d need to ask the rest of the boys.
When we explained it to them, the boys’ reaction ranged from enthusiastic to guarded agreement. The process is pretty simple. It’s sort of like running and sliding on the ice. Only you are going down hill, around trees, in the snow.
For the first 75 yards the boys had a great time. At that point a couple of them decided they were done. The problem is that there was literally no where for them to go other than down. The trail was 75 yards up a very steep slide covered with snow.
It was at this point that our entire adventure changed. Several boys darted ahead with the other leader. But, a group of three hung back and tried to gingerly pick their way down the slope through the trees and the brush on the side of the snow field. We were probably about a half mile above where we would intersect with the trail. The boys were going to have to push through until we got out of the snow and trees.
Now what?
Our quick shortcut had just turned into a much longer delay. No matter how much we encouraged them, the boys were not interested in sliding on the snow any more. Their hands were quickly torn up by the rough bark and sticks in the underbrush.
My solution was to create a stairway for them. I walked out to the middle of the snowpack, where the sun had melted the top layer and began stomping steps.
Just follow me, boys. Walk in my footsteps. Go slow and you’ll make it down just fine.
I’ve had aching knees since I was a teenager. A years long bout of steroids to treat Crohns when I was 14 had left me with little cartilidge between the bones. I knew the hike was going to be painful, but this side trip was brutal.
Stomp, stomp.
The snow was soft enough to break through, but I really had to dig my heal in to create an effective step.
Stomp, stomp.
Knowing the boys were following, I intentionally made the steps close together. No more than six inches from the toe of one step to the heal of the next.
Stomp, stomp.
I use a walking stick to take some of the load off my knees. However, I’d surrendered it to one of the boys to help him navigate the slipperly slope.
Stomp, stomp.
Stomp, stomp.
The other boys were far ahead of us. Occasionally, I’d catch glimpses of them through the trees, or hear them laughing as one of them slipped and crashed into his friend. Meanwhile, I continued my slow, painful trudge down the mountain.
I love working with scouts, but I was really struggling to remember that, as I built my snowy staircase down the mountain. Eventually, we saw the trail below us. I stomped my way to the edge of the snow.
I think you boys can get there through the trees from here.
I was beat. We still had five miles to get back to the trailhead at the mouth of Battle Creek canyon. I hobbled my way down. I’d retrieved my walking stick and used it as a crutch to lever myself down the rocky trail.
It really was a wonderful trip. The weather, so terrible the last two years was gorgeous. The boys, several of whom were not sure they could go on at times, all made it to the top of the mountain and back down. Teaching a 12 year old that he can do hard things is always rewarding.
The only negative experience for me was the trip through the snow. I enjoyed skiing down the first run. It would have been a blast to “ski” down the mountain instead of plodding along six inches at a time, while thrashing my knees. But, you can’t have everything, right? Take the good with the bad and all that.
The next day I saw most of the boys at church. Our troop is associated with our church group. The boys were walking a little stiff. One of the mom’s came up to thank me for taking her son hiking. He was one whom I had really encouraged to push for the summit, promising him that it would be worth it.
Gerry had a great time. He wanted me to let you know that the best part of the trip for him was when he was following along in your footsteps in the snow. He really appreciated that.
Suddenly my knees felt a whole lot better.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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The view was breathtaking. I know that because I was short of breath. Maybe it was the elevation and the fact that we’d hiked 2 miles with about 1000 feet in elevation change. But, the views were worth it. I was the tail end of a train of seven boys, aged 10-13. At the front was the former Scoutmaster, who was here as a dad. Looking forward, the boys followed the winding trail along the side of the mountain. Patches of snow dotted the hillside, hiding under the shadow of evergreens and aspens. The azure sky was a gorgeous backdrop to the high puffy clouds that kept the sun from baking us during the portions of the trail through the hight mountain meadows. We could see 50 miles in every direction, from Utah Lake to the West to the looming 13,000 foot Mt Timpanogos to the East. The sounds of the wind through the trees and the birds singing was broken by the harsh ringing of a cell phone.
We don’t specifically have a rule against electronic devices on our hikes, but the boys typically don’t bring them anyway. The phone rang again. It wasn’t one of the boys’. It was mine.
I dug it out of my pocket. The screen showed,
PRIVATE NUMBER
We hide the number on calls from our production floor. I motioned for the other leader and boys to go on ahead.
Hi, this is Rodney.
Hi Rodney. This is Carrie from Salt Lake via Shreveport. You helped me get my account access set up last week and that’s working fine now. But, today when I logged in. . .I’m taking some overtime calls and thought, Saturday would be a good day, because, you know I have to get them in sometimes, right? Anyway, when I came in today my first call was an authentication call, not credit cards like I thought it should be. Because we are taking credit card calls here in Shreveport, you know? And, I thought, “That’s weird. I wonder why I’m getting authentication calls instead of credit card.”
Ah. . .
So, then I transferred that call and you know what? The next call wasn’t credit card either. It was, you guessed it, another authentication call. And I’m thinking why am I getting all these authentication calls, because, in Salt Lake I’m a credit card agent and Shreveport only has credit card calls. And so, I took another call and then it was the same thing. And now, I’m not sure if I should take any more calls, because they are all coming in as authentication calls instead of credit card. . .
The other leader had gathered the boys at the next switchback turn in the trail. He gave me a look like, “Are you coming?” I waved him on and he disappeared around the corner into the trees, followed by seven boys, who no doubt thought, “I’m never getting a job like his.”
Eventually, I got Carrie slowed down enough so that I could explain to her how to determine which queue of business calls she was set up to take.
So, go ahead and find the number for those queues and email them to me. I’ll then get them to the group that can get you set up to take credit card calls. Okay? Great. Send me an email. Bye
I figured I would forward the email from my phone once we reached the top. Looking at the emails that had come in this morning, I realized that some of our overnight reports failed and had to be resent. I was going to have to send an email for them as well. Coverage would be excellent from the peak.
I hurried to catch up with the group. I’m a slow hiker anyway and trying to hurry on the trail is only slightly faster than my normal snail’s pace. Finally, I rounded a turn in the path and could see the troop taking a water break on the side of the trail. They looked up as I approached. They heard me coming. Or rather, they heard my cell phone. . .again.
Hi Rodney, it’s Carrie again. So, I found the numbers for the queues I’m on. And they are all Salt Lake queues, not Shreveport. And I was going to send you that in email, and then I realized that Mission Control is here today. I thought they only worked Monday through Friday, but I guess I was wrong, anyway, I tried to explain what you said about changing my queue numbers, but they still said that they had to talk to you about it first. I guess, I’m not allowed to change my queues without approval, so anyway, here’s the Mission Control Analyst.
I waved at the group to continue on. . .again.
Yeah, look, this is really simple. You need to requeue Carrie from queue numbers 1107 to 1167 and 1168.
I only monitor queues 1167 and 1168. She’s not in either of those currently. How do I even find her in the system?
Should be easy. Pull up queue 1107 as if you were planning to monitor it. You should see her in that queue. Then, go into her profile and change the 1107 to 1167 and 1168. If you have an issue call me back. Bye.
Once again, I hurried up the trail. I wanted to catch the group before they left the summit. I was going to need to catch my breath and I had to catch up on my email. Somewhere someone is writing a company policy explaining how important work/life balance is. I decided I hate that person.
Hopefully, your trips out to enjoy your nation’s beauty aren’t interrupted by work calls. When in doubt, pick a hiking route with no cell coverage.
Looking east from the summit of Mt Baldy (8500 feet) at Mt Timpanogos (13,000 feet..)
Looking West from the summit. Utah Lake, and the cities of Pleasant Grove, American Fork and Lehi, UT. The Oquirrh Mountains in the distance.
The calendar says May, but the North slope still has plenty of snow.
High clouds and high mountain meadows.
Taking a support call was a small price to pay to get to enjoy this type of beautiful setting.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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8750 feet above sea level. The top of that small mountain to the right is over a mile in the sky. The snow covered one to the left is Mt Timpanogos. The kind of round one to the right is simply called Big Baldy.
This is the mountain that I’m going to climb over the next two days. To be perfectly honest, I’m not going to climb 8,750 feet. My house sits at about 4500 feet above sea level. So, I’ll do 3/4 of a mile up and 3/4 of a mile down. But, the 4200 feet up and down over the next two days will still do a number on my aching knees. We do this hike every May. And every May I look forward to it and dread it.
There was a newstory yesterday that announced for the first time in two years, climbers had summited Mt Everest. We have had our own two year drought. Or rather, a non-drought. The last two years we’ve made it up to the meadows, but been thwarted by rain and sleet from attempting the summit.
Our journey takes us first up Grove Creek Canyon.
The trail clings to the side of the mountain for about 2 miles, and has an elevation rise of about 1500 feet. We’ll stop at a natural spring for dinner. Then, we’ll push on for another couple of miles and camp in the meadow “above the G.” Tomorrow morning, we’ll have breakfast, hike for another mile where we’ll drop our packs and then summit Baldy. We’ll then come down, get our pack and descend through Battle Creek Canyon. Over 8,000 feet of total elevation change.
Last year we got snowed out. (It is not uncommon to get snow in the Utah mountains in May.) The previous year it was sleet. This year there is 0% chance of rain, so it looks like the weather won’t be a problem. Why are we going? Not for the reason you might think.
George Mallory, was a mountain climber. He might have been the first man to scale Mt Everest. We’ll never know since he died on the mountain in 1924. But, whether he died descending from a triumphant success, or died while on what was his third attempt, only the mountain knows. You may not know the name George Mallory, but you’ve undoubtably heard his words. When asked by a New York Times reporter why he was risking his life to attempt to scale Everest, he famously and succinctly replied,
Because it’s there.
It’s hard to find a more accurate and economical phrase to describe not just mountaineering, but any endeavor that doesn’t yield immediate tangible results.
But we are not climbing Baldy, “Because it’s there.”
Last year, when chilling rain kept us from making it further than the springs, I walked beside my 12 year old son. He was cold. He was scared of heights. He had a miserable experience. His twin brother, while a faster hiker, had no better an experience. I still remember trying to get them to set up their sleeping bags in the tent while I boiled water for our freeze dried dinners.
Do you have your gear out yet?
No. (With a lot of crying)
Why not? You’ve had plenty of time!
(More crying) My fingers are too stiff to unbuckle the straps.
As a dad,I felt terrible. And as boys, they were ready to leave. I explained that it was just as quick to go down Battle Creek as it was to go back the way we’d come up Grove Creek. My sons reluctantly agreed to keep going since there was really no choice. I never thought they’d get back on this mountain.
This year, they are both 13. They are excited to attempt the hike today and tomorrow. They have overcome their fear and their memories of a terrible experience last year, to try again.
That’s why we do this.
It doesn’t matter to me if I never climb another mountain. But, seeing my sons accept challenges, things that scared them a year ago, that is why I do this.
We will be climbing a mountain not because it’s there, but because we can. (I’ll let you know how my knees do.)
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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Rodney, you’ve interviewed before, right?
Ah. . .you mean for a job, or interviewed someone else for a job?
Steve is a programmer. He’s a good systems developer. He’s built our RightNow system. It’s a database system that lets our clients manage their social interactions. I’m not going to explain it more than that, because honestly, I don’t understand it very well. But, Steve understands it. He’s been so successful at building the system that he now needs some help. Like me, Steve is the only one who does what he does for our company. It makes it a little difficult for Steve to have a life.
We’ve joked about taking our phones with us on camping trips. (Steve is also a scout leader, but for a different troop.) We’ve laughed about having to take support calls during church. Steve is getting some backup. I hate Steve. Okay, I don’t hate Steve. He’s a great guy and I enjoy sitting next to him. But, I envy him a little, that he will now be able to plan hiking trips without first checking cell phone coverage in Utah’s canyons.
But, Steve has a problem. He’s never had to interview someone before. To his credit, he understands that interviewing is a skill. It’s not just a conversation you have with a prospective employee for an hour. Interviews are structured. When done well, they are designed to follow a particular pattern and answer some very specific questions.
I’ve interviewed a lot of people in my career. I’m not sure if I’m good at it or not, but I have experience, and that counts for something. The biggest surprise to me as a hiring manager was that the interview process is not designed to help you find who you want to hire. It’s designed to help you figure out who you don’t want to hire.
Several years ago, I was in a position where we were hiring interns. Or specifically, I needed to hire one intern. My company was hiring several, so we took a trip to BYU-Idaho in Rexburg, ID. The university had already done the pre-screening. They had our job descriptions and had collected a group of resumes from prospective interns. Our job was to do in-person interviews and then later make offers to the candidates we wanted to bring on as interns.
This is easy, right? As the person sitting on the other side of the desk, haven’t you at times envied your interviewer? They hold your fate in their hands. People say that interviewing is a two way street. The company decides if you are a good fit for them and you decide if they are a good fit for you. I think those people are delusional. I don’t know anyone who sat through an interview, got the offer and said, “I’m going to have to pass. You guys just aren’t what I’m looking for.”
By the time you’ve made it to the interview, you’ve got a good idea if you want to work for the company and the answer is,
“YES, I WANT THIS JOB! PLEASE HIRE ME!!”
But, there sits your interviewer holding all the cards. No, the interview process is pretty much a one way street. The interviewer is deciding who he (or she) wants to hire. Except they aren’t. As I sat down with a stack of resumes, I realized that my task was not to find whom to hire. It was to figure out whom not to hire.
The candidates that the school had screened for us, were some of the best and the brightest. These were students who were pursuing technical degrees and any one of them would be a great addition to our staff. And that was the problem. ANY ONE of them. I could have taken the resume off the top of the stack and said, “This is all I need, ” and made a great hire.
But, I had to go through the process. I had to give everyone an equal chance. I had to figure out how to get from 20 resumes down to a single resume. I didn’t need to figure out which person to hire. I needed to figure out which 19 people not to hire. Some were easy.
- If you didn’t appear to really want the job during the interview? You’re out.
- If you were rude in the interview? You’re out.
But, I still had a list of people. Now what?
- If you were not dressed “professionally”? You’re out.
- If you didn’t appear to have a clue what the position you were applied get for was? You’re out.
- If you mispeled ANYTHING on your resume? You’re out.
It was a very difficult exercise. Now, don’t shed any tears for me. I completely understand that I had the easy task in this exchange. I was going to give someone a job they really wanted. All I had to do was read through some resumes. It’s not like my job was on the line. But, still, I was surprised at what petty things I was willing to use to exclude someone. As the person being interviewed, I’d often heard that misspelling something on your resume was a cardinal sin. It had always seemed petty and irrelevant. After all, if I’m applying for a programmer position, what difference does it make if I type,
I recieved straight A’s in my programming classes,
as opposed to,
I received straight A’s in my programming classes.
Either way, I’m telling you that I am a top notch programmer. Isn’t that the point?
No. The point is that you are up against other applicants who also received high marks in their programming classes. And I need some way to tell you apart. Either one of you would be a great addition, but I can only take one and I need a way to decide. I’m not trying to figure out why I should hire you. I’m trying to figure out some reason that you are one of the 19 that I can dismiss. I’m looking for a reason not to hire you. If you really want the job, don’t give me a reason.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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I didn’t even know that slam poetry was a thing when I first heard it. I can’t say that I’m a fan, except for one piece by a poet named Taylor Mali called “What Teachers Make.”
His poem is about teachers and what teachers make. He uses a play on the word “make” to mean both what do they earn and what do they create. It made me think about what I make. Not in terms of what do I earn. The financial rewards of our jobs are actually pretty boring. It’s just money. Studies say that if you make at least $70,000 per year, additional money doesn’t bring you greater happiness. I describe that concept as
Money is a lousy motivator.
But, I had to think, what do I make? What is my contribution to my company, to society, to my family, to my posterity? When I’ve played out my few scenes on this stage and take my final bow, what will people remember? After a few years, will they remember anything?
I think we all see ourselves as the hero of our own movie. We are important. We are relevant. We are memorable. But, are we?
I once wrote a book on Microsoft Exchange. It sold over 10,000 copies. You can still buy it on Amzon for $0.01. You see, after a few years, technical books are worthless.
I once helped the Environmental Protection Agency install WordPerfect’s email system. It was a huge project and I did an amazing job on it. Years later, the only remnant of my work was that certain backup servers still carried my name. Computer systems are built and then rebuilt. But, they do not last.
But, what do I make?
I have what I call “The Hundred Year Test.” Basically, it means that when faced with a decision or a situation, I think, “100 years from now, how important will the results of this decision be?” Very few things rise to the level of being important enough to still be remembered a century from now.
As the United States Constitution was being finalized, Benjamin Franklin was asked, “What have we got a republic or a monarchy?” Benjamin Franklin replied, “A republic, if you can keep it.” Oson Scott Card, wrote a fictionalization history of America. In his story Benjamin Franklin was asked what he made. “All I ever made was Americans,” was his answer.
During the Gettysburg Address, President Lincoln said, “The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here.” Whether he was being intentionally self-deprecating, I can with assurance state that the world will little note,,nor long remember the scribblings I post here daily. I have no doubt they will become so much digital detritus. No doubt quickly dismissed by future generations of Internet archeologists. No, this blog, while important to me, and those who choose to come read it occasionally, won’t be a lasting contribution to the world. It’s not what I make.
I like my job. I think I do important work. And yet, 100 years from now, no one will even remember my name in connection with the companies I’m working with. Even 10 years from now, the work I’m doing today will most likely be forgotten. At the very least it will have been replaced. My work is not what I make.
Readers of this blog know that I spend a lot of time working on an old Lexus ES300. I’m currently tearing it apart to replace a head gasket. I enjoy the process. It’s part repair, part hobby. But, 100 years from now, the car will not even be a good antique. My hours of tinkering under the hood will be forgotten, along with the Iron Man paint scheme. My car is not what I make.
I’m working on a book of poetry. Part of the challenge is that the poems are very personal. I’m trying to figure out how to edit them in a way that maintains the privacy of the individuals I’ve written about, but still makes the poems, songs, really, available to be shared. That might be important 100 years from now. At least it might be important to my grandchildren and great grandchildren. That book, if I can finish it, is something that I make.
As my signature block mentions, I have thirteen children. Many of them, in fact, most of them, are adopted. I didn’t make them in the sense of sharing their DNA. However, I have raised each of them, with the help of my lovely wife, to be adults and young adults. Two of them are married. Two of them have children of their own. All of them are good people that I’m proud of. One hundred years from now, I expect that there will still be children of my children living, breathing, loving and working. As I look back on the things I’ve done in my life, the things I’ve made, I think the only one of any real importance is my family. It’s the only thing that I’m sure will pass the 100 Year Test. To the extent that my writing, or songs, or stories survive my mortality, I believe it will only be in the context of those descendants.
What do I make?
Like Taylor Mali says in his poem, I make a difference. I would add, I make a family.
What about you?
What Teachers Make
by Taylor MaliHe says the problem with teachers is
What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life
was to become a teacher?
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true
what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite conversation.
I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor.
Be honest. What do you make?
And I wish he hadn’t done that— asked me to be honest—
because, you see, I have this policy about honesty and ass-?kicking:
if you ask for it, then I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor
and an A-? feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time
with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won’t I let you go to the bathroom?
Because you’re bored.
And you don’t really have to go to the bathroom, do you?
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
Hi. This is Mr. Mali. I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something your son said today.
To the biggest bully in the grade, he said,
“Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?
It’s no big deal.”
And that was noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.
You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math
and hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you’ve got this,
then you follow this,
and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this.
Here, let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
Teachers make a goddamn difference! Now what about you?
You can see Taylor deliver his poem here.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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I first saw the story of Felix the Flying Frog on an office door at Microsoft. Everyone at Microsoft had “door art.” Cartoons or quotes or little stories. But, this story on this door seemed completely out of place.
Felix The Flying Frog is a story that has been around for years. I read it in the 1990’s, but it predates the modern internet by quite a few years. The author is unknown. The story is reproduced below, but essentially, it tells how Clarence tries to teach his pet frog Felix, to fly. Of course, initially, his efforts are met with failure. But, Clarence has been to many management and self-help seminars and he is armed with all of the tricks to improve performance. He has Felix think positive thoughts. He has him set goals. He challenges him to overcome his limitations.
And through it all, Felix continues to fail. Not just a little. He is an utter failure, at every single task. Clarence understands the value of pushing your employees to excel, so he continues throwing Felix out of progressively higher windows. And it’s not like Felix wasn’t trying. He wanted to improve. The result of the failure is completely attributed to Felix not trying hard enough.
The story, obviously is a metaphor for business. But, it sends a different message than many of the self-help guides. Instead of a message of
“You can be anything you set your heart to”
The message is,
“You can’t do certain things.”
I love basketball. I play a couple times per week. I’m 6’0″ tall with about a 4″ vertical leap. I’m never going to be an NBA caliber player. I can get better, sure. But, if the goal is to play in the NBA, I’m a frog getting thrown out a window and told to fly. It’s not going to happen no matter how many happy thoughts I think.
As managers, it’s our responsiblilty to help guide our employees. I love to work with interns and recent college graduates. I like being in a position to help lay the foundations for a successful career. I once had an intern a named Carl. Carl was brilliant. He got the intern job because he was willing to walk up to the VP after a speech at the local college and say, “How do I go to work for your company?”
Carl was great. Carl came to me at one point.
Rodney, I have a chance to go to work for a local startup company. It’s real “ground floor” type stuff.
What do you want to do with your career?
I want to be a developer and work in business.
Then, I think you should take the job.
But, my internship isn’t finished. I committed to a year and I don’t want to let you down.
I appreciate that. But, these chances don’t come along every day. We’ll be fine. I’m not going to hold you to the year, if you want to go.
I had another employee Enoch. He was a brilliant engineer. Enoch wasn’t really a manager type. He enjoyed being a peer, he wasn’t great as the boss. Eric came to me.
I have a chance to go work for a software company in Canada.
What are they asking you to do?
Well, it’s an architect position, but they would want me to lead a team of programmers.
If you decide it’s what you want to do, I’ll support you, but are you really sure you want to go into management?
Ultimately Enoch decided he would rather stay with our company and be an engineer. I could have decided that since my career led to management, so should his. I could have thrown him out the window and told him to fly. But, without the basic skills and especially the capacity to be a manager, he would have failed. And been miserable while doing it.
What made it so interesting the first time I read this story, was that it was in Microsoft support on a support manager’s door. We had been given goals in support to cut our talk time, increase our number of calls, and several other goals that seemed completely outside our capacity to accomplish. This story on the manager’s door, let me know that sometimes the managers also think the goals are unreasonable and unrealistic. Ironically, it inspired me to do better at the things I COULD do. Things like jumping and croaking. . .in the frog metaphor.
Find your employees strengths and then give them the ability to get better. Don’t push them to accomplish YOUR goals simply because you think a flying frog would be cool.
FELIX THE FLYING FROG
Once upon a time, there was a man named Clarence who had a pet frog named Felix. Clarence lived a very modest life based on what he earned working at Wal-Mart but he never gave up his dream of being rich. One day, hit by sudden inspiration, he exclaimed, “Felix, we’re going to be rich! You will learn to fly!”
Felix was terrified at the prospect. “I can’t fly, Clarence! I’m a frog, not a bird!” Clarence, disappointed at the initial response, told Felix: “Your attitude isn’t helping matters. I think you can benefit from some training.”
So off Felix went to a three-day course where he learned about the history of aviation, the basics of aeronautical engineering (e.g., lift, thrust, drag, etc), gliders, parasailing and the lives of famous fliers. (For obvious reasons, the instructor did not mention Icarus.) After the training and on the first day of the “flying lessons,” Clarence could barely control his excitement (and Felix could barely control his bladder). Clarence pointed out that their apartment building had 7 floors, and each day Felix would jump out of a window, starting with the first floor and working his way up to the top floor.
After each jump, Clarence and Felix would analyze how well he flew, isolate the most effective flying techniques, and implement the improved process for the next flight. By the time they reached the top floor, Felix would surely be able to fly.
Felix the Frog Felix pleaded for his life, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. “He just doesn’t understand how important this is,” thought Clarence. “He can’t see the big picture.”
So, with that, Clarence opened the window and threw Felix out. He landed with a thud.
The next day, poised for his second flying lesson, Felix again begged not to be thrown out of the window. Clarence opened his pocket guide to “Managing More Effectively,” and showed Felix the part about how one must always expect resistance when introducing new, innovative programs. With that, he threw Felix out the window again. THUD!
On the third day (on the third floor), Felix tried a different ploy: stalling. He asked for a delay in the “project” until better weather would make flying conditions more favorable. But Clarence was ready for him: He produced a timeline and pointed to the third milestone and asked, “You don’t want to mess up the schedule, do you?”
From his performance appraisal feedback, Felix knew that not jumping today meant he would have to jump TWICE tomorrow. So he just muttered, “OK, let’s go.” And out the window he went.
Now this is not to say that Felix wasn’t trying his best. On the fifth day he flapped his legs madly in a vain attempt at flying. On the sixth day, he tried “visualization.” He tied a small red cape around his neck and tried to think “Superman” thoughts. It didn’t help.
By the seventh day, Felix, accepting his fate, no longer begged for mercy. He simply looked at Clarence and said, “You know you’re killing me, don’t you?”
Clarence pointed out that Felix’s performance so far had been less than exemplary; failing to meet any of the milestones he had set for him. With that, Felix said quietly, “Shut up and open the window.” He leaped out, taking careful aim at the large jagged rock by the corner of the building.
And Felix went to that great lily pad in the sky.
Clarence was devastated. His project failed to meet a single objective he set out to accomplish. Felix not only failed to fly, he hadn’t even learned to steer his fall; instead, he dropped like a sack of cement. Nor had Felix heeded Clarence’s advice to “Fall smarter, not harder.”
The only thing left for Clarence to do was to conduct an after-action-review and try to determine where things had gone wrong. After reviewing the records and giving the data much thought, Clarence smiled knowingly and said, “Next time, I’m getting a smarter frog!”
Author unknown
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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Riddle: Your drawer has six white socks and eight black socks. Without looking, how many socks would you have to pull out to guarantee you have a matching set?
Socks are kind of boring. Rightly so, in my opinion. The only time socks were sexy was when Tom Cruise was doing that “Old Time Rock and Roll” lip sync in Ricky Business. Socks can look dorky, of course. Pairing socks with sandles? Never a good look.
But, most of the time socks are simply boring. When we opened our Louisville call center, the guy who was going to be in charge of it gave everyone on the project team socks. He spent a lot of time picking them out. He gave me socks that had s’mores on them, because he knows I enjoy camping. I dig them out whenever I’m going to Louisville. They are fun, but in the same way that wearing a party hat on your birthday is fun.
Mostly, though, socks are just boring.
A few years ago I had a drawer full of “dress” socks. They had muted patterns. They were conservative and for the most part they were boring. The problem was that matching them up was a pain. Literally every sock had exactly one matching sock. I decided to simplify my life, starting with my sock drawer. I bought a couple of packages of those “gold toe” black socks and ditched all my existing socks. My plan was simple. No more matching up my socks. Simply dump all the black socks into a drawer and grab a couple in the morning.
I get up before my lovely wife and in order to let her sleep undisturbed, I typically, don’t turn on any lights until I get into the bathroom. This new sock strategy was going to be very helpful. Unfortunately, there was a problem. After a few washings, this is what I ended up with.
Those are all “black” socks. Unfortunately, black is apparently not an exact color. So, I’m back to sorting my socks. Now, instead of looking for the ones with a particular pattern, I’m comparing Shades of Gray.
I’ve managed people for many years. Occasionally, I’ve hired very specialized individuals. For example, when running a startup company full of programmers, I had to hire an office manager. I only needed one, so his job description was specific to him. But, often I’ve had to fill multiple positions with the same description.
WANTED: Programmer. Must be able to write code. Interpersonal skills considered a plus.
It’s easy to assume that since the job description is the same, that I can manage the people the same. It’s a big temptation. All I have to do is create a standard template for the review and fill in the blanks, right?
Wrong.
Obviously, no two people are alike. I have twin boys. They are nothing alike. But, shouldn’t workers be alike? No. Some employees are going to be highly motivated but untrained. They need their enthusiasm directed. Some employees are highly motivated and highly trained. Those people need to understand the objective, and then they need you to get out of their way. Some employees are highly skilled, but unmotivated. Those employees need some help rediscovering their passion. And some employees are going to be unmotivated and unskilled. Those are people that you should get rid of so you have time to focus on the others. Different colors of “black” socks.
The point is that no two employees can be managed the same way. That may sound like more work than simply creating a template and managing to the norm. It is. It’s a lot harder and takes a ton more work. But, what were you thinking a manager’s role was?
In my sock drawer, the diversity is a problem. It requires me to look at each individual sock and decide where it best fits. In your team, that diversity is your strength. You can’t simply treat employees as interchangeable socks. And you shouldn’t.
Riddle Answer: Three. Even if your first pick was white and your second pick was black, the third sock would match one or the other.
But then, people aren’t socks.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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Hey, Rodney, can I ask you something?
Sure.
How can you stand to work for Dave?
What do you mean?
The guy is a jerk. The other managers can’t stand him.
It was my first job at Microsoft. David Ladd was my manager. And my coworker (who was not on Dave’s team, BTW) was correct. Other managers couldn’t stand Dave. He was loud. He was occasionally a bully. He was difficult to work with. And those of us on his team were grateful for it.
Our team supported Microsoft mail and it’s gateways. In the days before the internet (i.e. anything pre-1995) email systems didn’t talk to each other very easily. What we take for granted today ([email protected]) was only one of many naming and addressing standards. Our team helped companies talk to themselves (via an async gateway) and talk to each other (via the MHS, MCI, X.400 or SMTP gateways.)
While we were full-time salaried employees, we still had a timecard of sorts. Every week, the system would calculate how many hours we had been logged into our phones. Like most timecard systems for salaried employees, the system didn’t care how many hours you worked. In fact, this was Microsoft in the 1990’s; the more the better. We’d get no overtime, of course. But, the system cared A LOT how few hours you worked. If your stats didn’t say you were logged into the phones 36 hours or more, you showed up on a list. And your manager showed up on the list. And someone would talk to him. And then he was expected to talk to you. But, it’s totally cool, you’re not a salaried employee!
Anyway, Dave had just two rules for those working on his team.
Make sure your phone time shows 40 hours, and if a customer is going to call and yell at me, make sure you let me know first.
If you did those two things, and of course, did your actual job, then Dave pretty much left you alone to accomplish your work. Like all good managers, he was available to help push past any roadblocks, or, what as a new employee, I most appreciated, he was there to answer questions about how to get things done. But, keep his two rules and he was a great manager.
So, why did other managers hate him? Why did they think he was a jerk? (Or, this being Microsoft, an SOB?)
Because, in addition to being a good manager, Dave was also a good leader. He was fiercely loyal. Microsoft had it’s share of rivalries like any organization. Dave understood that part of his job was to be a really big umbrella to shield his team from others who might malign us, or try to further their own agendas at our expense.
Rodney, I just got out of a manager staff meeting. One of the other managers said that you failed to deliver on project paper they wanted you to work on and it made them late on their deliverable.
What did you say?
I told them that you wouldn’t do that. That if you committed to do something, you follow through and they must have gotten bad information, and to stop talking bad about my team.
Wow. Thanks.
No problem. Can you help me understand what the circumstances were?
Yeah, they came to be on Friday at 3:00pm and told me they had a deliverable for Monday morning. I had a family commitment I couldn’t get out of that weekend. I offered to help them the following week, but they said that was too late.
Yeah, I thought it was probably something like that.
Dave was only a jerk to people outside his team. If you were on his team and managed to follow his two simple rules, he was your biggest advocate. With the benefit of hindsight, I can see several problems with Dave’s management style. But, those problems were designed to shield his team and let us do our jobs. It might have hurt his career to be a mean SOB, but it was great for his team.
Debra was a manager at one of the companies that I had to interact with at one of my jobs. Debra scared people. Just saying her name, “Debra wouldn’t like us doing it this way” was enough to change the course of a project plan. Debra was very demanding. However, she was also brilliant and incredibly fair to work with. Like Dave, if you met your commitments to Debra she was a great person to work with. I talked to someone on Debra’s team one time about his experience.
The great thing about working for her, is that she gives me the autonomy to do my job. When I brief her on the status of a project, she wants just the high level details. If she needs more, she’ll ask. But, she is great to work for.
It reminded me of my experience with Dave, all those years ago. The difference is that as one of Debra’s peers, I also enjoyed working with her. So long as I kept her updated and met my organization’s commitments to her, we got along great.
If you are considering adopting this “I’m going to be an SOB” strategy, keep in mind that in both Dave and Debra’s cases, they treated their own people very, very well. If you’re just mean, no one will want to work for you. However, if your team knows that you will defend them, and you’re fair with them, they will revel in the opportunity to work for a mean SOB.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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There is no need for anyone in America to feel any pain.
The speaker was a well known radio talk show host. He was talking about pain medication. How given the option, he wants hospitals to take away the pain.
When I was a kid, I got sick. I mean, really sick. Being sick, they gave me medication to take away my pain. It’s been a long time, but I think it was five 50 milligrams prednisone tablets, five times per day. Even as a 12 year old kid, I knew that was a lot. It took away away the pain. It took away all of it. And I hated it.
Taking that much prednisone has effects on a growing boy. The doctors told me that I would probably lose 5″-6″ off my height. That’s important to a boy with tall brothers. But, it wasn’t the loss of height that scared me. It was the loss of control. The loss of sensation. The pain let me know that I was feeling.
I remember walking down the hallway in my parents’ house. As I turned to go into the kitchen, I felt my brain continuing down the hallway into the living room. I hated the feeling. I preferred the pain to the numbness the drugs gave me.
Don’t take away my pain.
On June 12, 2008, my father died. It wasn’t unexpected. I got to say goodbye. We had both been close and distant. His death, like the death of many older people who suffered chronic illness, was a relief. But, it was also a loss. It was painful. I had to face many of the issues that fathers and sons deal with as the sons grow into men. I had to face the reality that our relationship was done growing. What was left was what it was. I was good with that, but there was also pain. There still is.
Don’t take away my pain.
Last year right around this time, my daughter lost a baby. My grandson Bruce, was a month away from his due date. My daughter and son-in-law were devastated. After 20 weeks they stop calling a failed pregnancy a miscarriage and they call it a stillbirth. You bury stillborn babies. He is buried, not too far from where I live in Utah. We needed to be there for my daughter. Her pain was immeasurable. Ours only slightly less so.
Don’t take away my pain.
Pain helps us heal. Pain helps us know that we’ve been somewhere, known someone, felt something.
To have all pain taken away is to die. Pain helps us know we are alive.
Don’t take away my pain.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved