So, I’m at a store not listening to the background music… that’s what it’s for. It’s in the background… and then I heard it… they lyrics to Bob Dylan’s Hurricane:

And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger
No one doubted that he pulled the trigger

Do you care to guess what the first word I heard was and what the next words were? Just on a guess?

Now, the song’s about… I’ll let songfacts.com say what it’s about:

This is about Rubin “Hurricane” Carter, a boxer who spent 19 years in jail for a murder Dylan felt he did not commit.

That’s the short version. The longer version is a black man was convicted (his conviction was eventually overturned) of killing some white people and his jury was made up of all white people… in 1966. Bob Dylan didn’t think he did it and wrote this song to draw attention to the injustice of the situation and hopefully do something to get Rubin “Hurricane” Carter, out of prison.

That’s all very cool But that’s not the part of the song anybody who has heard it today hears. What they/we hear is,

“crazy nigger No one doubted that he pulled the trigger.”

So, I’m not asking if it’s legal to play the song or if it’s a good song. I happen to believe protest songs and such are a powerful tool for change. I happen to think this song is NOT a bad song. It’s not all that entertaining or anything, but it’s a protest song it’s not supposed to be fun. I’m not even going to debate if it’s still topical today or applicable, especially when crap like this is happening where power-crazy police attack minorities (disabled lady in this article) just because they like the power. (no implication of racism here for obvious reasons.)

What I’m asking is, just because someone CAN play a song does it mean they should? What does it say about them when they do that? Does it say anything? If I were listening to the lyrics from the start of the song it wouldn’t be shocking. If it were a contemporary song getting enough radio play that I’d recognize it if I came in during the middle of the song it wouldn’t be an issue… but no radio station is playing this song with any regularity in 2011 and almost nobody 40 or under is going to recognize the song at all even if they’re told the name and who younger than thirty would know who Bob Dylan is/was?

Is it good judgement to play that song? Is it OK for the employees to sing along with the music on their corporate radio? Is it OK for them to sing at the top of their lungs the names of this song? If it’s not… should they choose to play that song? Bob Dylan’s use of the words is protected as freedom of speech. It’s being used artistically. But the same word can be used during the course of a crime and change it from a simple assault to a hate crime… when a word carries that much baggage with it is it a good idea to identify one’s self with it or, if someone complains about it, to defend it’s usage?

I’m a big advocate of the freedom of speech… some battles though I ask myself “are they worth fighting?” What is gained by their insisting on playing this not terribly entertaining song in their stores?

That title brings the imagery of a funeral to the date that has come to be one thing only, the day we were attacked.

My Facebook stream is filled with posts that end with, “We Will Never Forget.” A week a year we remember it publicly, putting ashes in our hair and memorializing the things that happened today 10 years ago. This post isn’t about today. There is an awful lot of stuff out there about today. We all mourn, memorialize, and remember in our own way. I get that and I don’t make any judgement on any of that. The attacks we as a country suffered were something that everybody experienced in their own way.

But.

The weeks after the attacks the country was shocked, stunned, and came together in a catharsis of grief, shock, and anger expressed as a brief period of ultra-patriotism, pride, and outrage.

After the funereal meats were put away, the dishes cleared, and the flowers wilted we, as a country, not specifically you and me, but all of us, began to do what so often happens after a funeral. The death here was the death of a period of growth, optimism, wide-eyed innocence about our own invulnerability… after the immediacy of the funeral was over we split up… we fractured like a family after a funeral of a wealthy patriarch who had no will.

People on the left and right of the political spectrum took the eagle as their totem and began to beat everybody else with how they were the real Americans, the real inheritors of the standard erected by those three emergency responders on ground zero in what is now an iconic image of that day. I choose that image as the image for the post, not the image of the towers burning as DrudgeReport.com did. The optimism of those men raising our flag, all of our flag, on that day, in the clouds of dust and smoke… that image is one of hope, of fighting on, of us saying “NO!” to everything the terrorists were trying to say. That’s the image I hold in my mind 10 years later.

Sadly, the eagles, the American Eagle that each side claims as their own has turned into a vulture picking on the bones of who we were before.  They no longer think of us collectively, but in an US vs THEM way that is akin to one side of a family insisting on the dining room set because Uncle Sam promised it to them, or so they say while the other side insists they’d been told the same thing. The family that is our country is tearing itself apart in a way the terrorists couldn’t by tearing down buildings and killing people. The family that is our country is allowing those who represent us, to scrabble for the scraps of the legacy of the world before we were attacked at the expense of the other side of the aisle. There can be no victory, we are told, unless the other side loses. There can be no progress in any direction if the direction isn’t to the left or to the right, depending on who is doing the talking.

Enough of the sides. If we don’t exist as a family, together, even when we disagree with each other, we don’t exist, period. Benjamin Franklin said it years ago when he said, “We must hang together, gentlemen…else, we shall most assuredly hang separately.” We’re facing that choice today as a country. As we tear apart our country ourselves, 10 years after the terrorists tried to do it TO us we have to make up our minds to exist as a country, and sometimes we will have to not win at the expense of everyone else on the playing field. There are times, in a family when we have to let someone else have the dining room set because the family is worth more than the dining room self is to us.

So, today, 10 years later, I’d like to remind people not that the buildings fell, but that the other iconic image of that was of our flag being raised… of 3 men saying the buildings fell but we’re still here, one nation, one country, one huge group of people with disparate ideas but one flag and one hope, that tomorrow is better than today, and we’re willing to do what we can to make it that way… even if it means, sometimes, letting someone else having the dining room set.

Yes. I’m serious. I’ve said “yes” to everybody but myself for longer than I’m comfortable with and the stress of it is not starting to get to me, it’s gotten to me. I’m starting to not like it when my friends call. I’m getting grumpy face when it’s time to go do that thing we do on… I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I’ve said “yes” to just about anything anybody’s asked for too long. What I haven’t said yes to is what I want to do. Other than running I’m very busy doing things for other people and I wind up squeezing what I want to do in between doing things for everybody else. I’m living my life in the commercials between everybody else’s life. I’m done with that.

But Rich, that’s selfish! Yes. Yes it is. If you get angry with me for it I’m sorry. If you only liked me for the things I did for you, I’m sorry about that too. But at some point we all have to do things we want to do… you want me to do something and that’s something you want. Right now. I don’t want to do it. I don’t even care what it is. If it’s not sit in my recliner and play video games until my eyes burn from forgetting to blink I don’t want to do it. I seriously want to do that so bad it hurts.

I’m at the point where social calls feel like work and I don’t want our friendships to be work. I’m taking a break not to get away but to get to the point where I don’t WANT to get away. The timing is good. I’m about to be out-of-town for work for a week so I’ll be gone anyway. Just tell yourself I’m gone for the rest of the month. It’ll be easier.

And in the future… when you ask me something, and I say “no” and you then guilt me into doing it… remember that you’re the jerk here. I take “no” from you, and I wish you’d take “no” from me… because honestly, I’m easy to talk into a yes if you’re a friend. A real friend… a real friend wouldn’t take advantage of that. When you say, “Come do X” and I say, “No thank you.” and you say “Why not? What else do you have to do…” I’m 42 years old. I don’t have to tell you why not. If I say “no” it’s because I mean “no.” I don’t have to justify it. An invitation is an invitation… it can be accepted OR declined. If it can’t be declined it’s a command and honestly… I don’t care who’s reading this: you have no power to command me. I don’t consent to be governed in that way. Please, feel free to invite me, and I’ll feel free to accept or decline, and honestly, thank you for the invitation.

PS: One of the things I’m doing is reading an advance copy of a book and THAT is fun! I’ve only gotten to do this three times and it’s an honor every time someone chooses to share with me something before it’s finished… before it’s “ready for prime time.” You know who you are and thank you. (I don’t know if I’m supposed to say who it is so I’m not… but they’ll know.)

I had the day off today. I’m not usually off on Tuesday so I was sort of at loose ends with what to do with myself. I went to a friend’s house to pick up an old (seriously old) exercise bike that needs work and instead of going to the hardware store to get the parts I needed I wound up at Dolliver State Park where there were a LOT of signs saying “STOP! Go back! Road Closed! Flood! Seriously, Road Closed… and we’re not kidding this time!” They were. I drove past three of the signs before chickening out and parking the car. I walked another half mile, past two turn arounds that I could have driven on before I ran out of road and into water. Wow… the road wasn’t closed. It was gone. It seems the Des Moines River has an appetite and it ate the road. Perhaps it will give some of it back at some point.

On the way back I didn’t hike on the road. I had an idea of where my car was so I turned off the road and went up the hill… the very steep hill and into the woods. I came upon two fawns, still with their spots on. I didn’t try to get close enough for a good picture. I didn’t ever SEE Mama Deer, but I’m pretty sure she was there somewhere ready to leap out from behind a tree with her nature-loving Deer-fu ninja style and eff my stuff up. So, with a jaunty wave I swaggered past the deer and deeper into the woods.

I realized I’d quit following the trail and started following an animal run when it came to the edge of a ravine. Now, it’s possible this ravine was new. We’ve had a LOT of rain recently… remember that flooded road? Yeah, it’s not always flooded. This ravine was new. I could see, my animal track stopped at the edge, then about four feet from me it started again… it was just that little gap in the middle. As ravines go it was unimpressive, taller than me sure… but not terribly wide. More of a petite canyon than anything grand.

Well… there was only one thing for it. I backed up and leapt, as I’m in the air over the petite chasm I realize, “I bet it’s a muddy slippery mess on the other side just like it was on this side and there’s a better than middling chance I could slip and bust my butt… on the plus side there’s nobody here to see me but woodland animals.” You think I made that up, but I had time to think that as I sailed gracefully as a gazelle over the yawning gash in the earth. I landed lightly and with a stutter step to absorb my momentum I was safely on the other side without falling to the ground in a muddy heap or anything humiliating at all… at least as far as YOU know! I still had an idea of where the car was, and the hill I needed to go over was getting taller… no matter. I’m a hearty man of the forest! I climb deadfalls and leap over gullies without a care in the world! What’s a hill to me I ask you? WHAT?

It was a muddy slippery mess is what it was. I abandoned the animal track and took to walking next to it so the plants… as I’m sure I will discover later was poison ivy of some sort could give me some traction as I scaled Mount Muddy-Morass. As I crested it I saw a creek at the bottom and another wash that I wouldn’t be able to hurdle but I also had rediscovered the trail as there was a stone bridge of the sort favored by trolls and billy goats! I scampered over the bridge, followed the trail and found it deposited me just north of my car, exactly where I thought I’d come out if I’d kept going.

My outdoorsy skills were well honed and I’d navigated my way back safely using my woodsman sense, the moss on the north side of trees, the direction of the sun, the direction of the wind, sounds of the river and stream directions and the Garmin GPS and managed just fine ThankYouVeryMuch! RAR! Oh, total distance of the hike was around 1.71 miles.

It does mean a lot to me though. I guess I’d just always thought it would be there. It’s a time of my life that’s so different from how it would have been. It was a transformative time, not in just the way High School is transformative but like I said, I’d gone from small town, Southern Alabama to West Germany. We travelled. I saw the Berlin wall when it was still there. We drove through East Germany. Our senior trip was a week an Spain, they would serve us alcohol lol. I hadn’t thought about a lot of High School for years. I don’t know why. I just sort of moved on. When I would think of it I would remember it fondly.  When I spoke of it I always smiled.

Then came Facebook and say what you like about the dreadful privacy issues with Facebook it’s allowed me to reconnect with people from High School and see what they’re up to. We were all in Germany, and now we’re all over the US and the World. It’s hard to just bump into a fellow Bison at the grocery store or in the mall. We’re too far-flung. But now I’ve seen what cool people so many of them are. Some that I barely knew then I know better now. We’ve turned out pretty good I think. When I listen to people talk about their High School experiences with metal detectors, or guns, or violence I remember that MAHS wasn’t like that when we were there. There were some bomb threats, but I don’t think they were real. I think they were people trying to get out of tests… and at least one where someone bumped the alarm with his elbow outside of Herr Valerius’ class… that was a fire alarm, not a bomb threat, but fights? Violence? Any of that? Not really. There were cliques, but they weren’t hard or firm… maybe? I don’t know. There were some, sure. It was high school after all. But nobody was ever really an ass about it. Overall, it was the perfect high school full of perfect kids who were all perfect all the time. *grin* Nope, not romanticizing it at all.

For graduation, my sister, whom I’ve talked about before, got me a scrapbook. At the time I thought it was kind of cool. It was a leather-bound picture album and she’d taken pictures of LOTS of people I knew in high school, and had them write something in it. This was in the 80s… she’d had to use film and get the pictures developed, put in the book, and brought to school over and over again without me noticing. We rode the same bus. We lived in the same house. She was mixing with SENIORS when she was a Sophomore. I said there were no cliques, and there weren’t but STILL! Some things aren’t done! She did them.

It’s only now, when I look back at the scrapbook, and it’s the only thing I got from graduation except for my tassel, that I still have, when I look back at the scrapbook I’m struck by how amazing a gift that was. Not just how thoughtful it was… but to approach complete strangers and ask them to do that. That’s pretty brave and pretty cool.  Not just to get their pictures, but then to approach them later and show them the picture, many of which were taken “on the sly” and say, “Hey… could you write something here to Rich it’s for a Graduation gift?” I suspect there was help. I suspect it passed from hand to hand and classmates talked to each other… but I don’t know that.

Now that my High School is closed I’ve got my tassel. I’ve got my yearbooks. I’ve got the greatest graduation gift ever from my sister, and I’ve got my High School friends I’ve reconnected with through Facebook. So, to my High School, closed now, you’ll be missed.

It’s management and I’ve been at it for a while. Sometimes I feel like I’m saying the same things over and over to the same people and I just want to scream! Or it seems like the higher-ups are making insane decisions without even talking to any of us front-liners. Or it seems like politics are what are driving decisions instead of the good of the stores, company, whatever. It’s been like that in almost all the places I’ve worked and under everybody I’ve worked for. Some things are just perceived that way sometimes. (For all you co-workers out there reading this wondering if I’m violating our don’t talk about work under pain of termination brand new shiny social media Internet policy I’m not. I’ve had bouts where I felt like this in every job I’ve ever been a member of management in, so get over yourselves. This song isn’t about you!)

So, to all you white-collar whiners out there talking about how this is terrible and you don’t know how much longer you can do it blah blah blah. Find one of your blue-collar friends who actually WORKS for a living and go work with them for a day or two. Seriously. On your next vacation or day off see if you can go to work with someone who works with their hands and back for a while. I’ve made a point of doing this through the years. I’ve walked beans, worked construction, and most recently, worked installing hardwood floors and carpet. (Oh, and if you don’t have any blue-collar friends, you should go find some. Broaden your horizons a bit. Diversity isn’t just about race or ethnicity or any of that. Diversity is about diversity.

It was two days before I could make a fist or pick up my coffee cup without thinking I was going to drop it. Tack strip, the stuff that goes along the edges of a room so the carpet can be attached to it and stretched into place, is a demonic thing. It’s a strip of wood about an inch wide and quarter-inch thick that has nails going out both sides. It’s alive, hates me, and is out to get me, not kidding here. Some nails hold the strip to the floor and others hold the carpet to the strip. It’s nailed into the ground, sometimes concrete… BY HAND… right next to sheet rock. Care to guess what happens if the hammer slips and slams into the sheet rock of this person’s brand spanking new house? Yeah… nothing good.  What happens if you’ve cut yourself on the tack strip or one of the dozen knives used to cut the carpet, pad, whatever? Yeah… you’re bleeding all over brand new carpet in this person’s brand new house. You want stress? Forget getting your TPS reports done on time and CC’d to the right people. Install carpet for a day in new construction.

What’s that? It’s “just” manual labor? Until you’ve done it I don’t think you’re entitled to say “just” in that context. It’s like waiting tables or working behind a counter at a fast food restaurant. Until you’ve done it I don’t think it’s a good thing for you to look down your nose at those people. “But I went to school so I wouldn’t have to do those kinds of jobs.” Ah. I see… and yet, you need them. You need those people you’re better than. You need them because regardless of how much education you have… they have skills you don’t have, skills I don’t have and I’m a pretty smart guy! I’m also smart enough to know that while I play at carpet installer there’s no way I’ll ever get higher than assistant flunky. Perhaps one day I’ll be a full-fledged flunky… one day years from now. But those people holding jobs other people went to school so they wouldn’t have to do… I’m glad they’re there because I can’t do what they do and I’m really glad they’re there to help me when I need it.

The person I worked for is picky. He’s a perfectionist. If I were getting flooring done I’d want him to do it because I know it’d be done right. Working for someone like that is sort of like working for me. I’m picky at my work. I want things done right as well. It’s HIS name on the side of the van and it’s his reputation on the line with every nail I drive and every cut I made. I asked for him to check my work probably more than he wanted to, but his confidence in my ability was higher than mine. Funny thing that… I’ve had employees say the same thing to me. He, without knowing it, was doing to me what I do to my employees. He showed me how, he let me do it while he watched, and he trusted me to do things that he knew he could fix if I botched… and he got out-of-the-way to let me get the experience and confidence I would need to do other things.

You know what I’m most confident about? My hands are almost fully recovered. My back isn’t hurting too bad today, and my knees… you have any idea how much time you spend on your knees when working on floors? A LOT! They should put floors higher!!!… my knees will one day recover I’m sure. Would I do it again? Yep. It’s kind of fun in a way. Part of the fun is I know I don’t have to do it a lot. I’m choosing to do it and it really looks good to leave work at the end of the day and see what you’ve done in a very real, tangible way.

PS: I didn’t do any of those accidents yet. The worst I’ve done was an accident involving a saw, a board kicking back, the back metal plate breaking off, and the palm of hand being smashed to pulp and bursting so blood oozed out onto the floor and continued to seep out most of the day. No bones were broken so I’m happy. I feel bad for wrecking the saw though. No clue what happened, just glad I still have all my fingers since it happened so fast it was over before I knew anything was happening. It made the most spectacular bruise on front and back of my hand. In the story I told there was me defending a bus load of nuns and orphans from terrorist hijacker ninjas. Please don’t tell anybody the truth. The ninja thing sounded way cooler.

I’m reading the book, The Spark, from the creator of Sparkpeople.com.  One of the first things it says to do is to write your goals, physically write them down and put them where you can see them. This is important for two reasons. One, so you remember to stay focused on them, and in my case, so I can remember that there IS progress being made. I started this post as an apology. I couldn’t remember my list and in my head… with that voice up there talking to me I felt like I’d dropped the ball and had this chronic public failure thing going through my head. It was really bugging me. So, I came on here to apologize and start over with a smaller list. Then I looked at the list.

• Half an hour of yoga at least five days a week.
• At least 3 crossword puzzles a week.
• Read at least half an hour with an hour being better for relaxation. Not work related reading.
• Start running again.
• Get down to 165lbs and stay there for a while. I went from 205 to 175 but want another 10lbs.
• Cook and eat at home at least twice as often as I eat out… at least!
• Get my bike running.
• Finish my novel.

Holy crap! I’ve done most of the list! I’ve put the ones in bold that I’ve completed… “Get my bike running” is half in bold because I’m almost there with that one. lol The Crosswords & Yoga. I haven’t done them at all. I also quit smoking, something I hadn’t added to the original list because I was ashamed to admit I’d started again after having quit for five years.

My goodreads goal of reading 40 books this year is still on track. I’m ahead of schedule and that’s OK. Some of my books were short so probably shouldn’t count. I think some ppl doing this are only counting those really cool books that they don’t care if ppl see they read. I’m counting fiction too… really good fiction in some cases. Dan Wells’ “I’m Not A Serial Killer” series is really good! But not something I’d want to read in an airport. Also not one I’d take with me if I were meeting a mentor so they’d see what I was reading. Reading’s funny that way isn’t it? There are those books we all think we SHOULD be reading… and then there’s our guilty pleasure books. Why do we feel guilty for having a good read? Get over it! It doesn’t ALL have to be “Saving The World in 3 Easy Steps!” Sometimes it’s OK to read about the Zombie Apocalypse, and since my goal was escapist non-work reading I’m actually following my goal on that one!

For the weight loss thing, I’m back on Sparkpeople.com managing my fitness and trying to stay on track there. I really like that site. The articles, the stupid points you can get… the spark-streaks (like the seinfeld calendar, but online). I call them stupid points because they’re stupid… and I love them. It’s a constant stream of positive reinforcement for doing things I should be doing anyway. It makes it a game almost to score points. Life as a game that I can get points in I like. The more I work out the more points I get. The more food I log the more points I get. (Granted, the part where I want to log healthy food is on me. I COULD log bags and bags of chips and get as many points as if I logged a salad and some fruit. The important part for me is the logging. Just paying attention helps me make better choices.)

Maybe I’ll get on the Crosswords and maybe I won’t.  Maybe I”ll keep up with the yoga on the non-running days, but the five days a week I know won’t happen. I won’t make the time for it. I’ve taken them off the list by lining them out. They don’t get erased. They can still be there to remind me for later maybe… but the lined out part means they’re not on my list so no pressure to doing them or not. When doing yoga becomes a stressor something’s gone horribly wrong lol.

So, instead of apologizing for being a failure on my Monkey-list I’m going to say to all of you who have long to do lists… Write them down, remember to re-evaluate them periodically, and that David Allen Guy is right… out of your head and onto paper. If for no other reason to get the stress thing out of your head. I feel SO much better now that I look at the list and realize that my inner jerk is a rotten liar! My next blog post will talk a bit about my inner jerk and a teacher I had that made a huge difference to me. She’s dead now so no chance she’ll see this, and that’s too bad.

I quit smoking for five years. Got some personal catastrophe that was pretty life changing and thought to myself, “You know what? A cigarette won’t change a thing but I want one right now and I’ve been quit so long I’ll smoke a pack just to get through this without driving into a bridge abutment.” So, I bought a pack… Nine months later I was still looking for the perfect time to quit smoking. I’d wait until this pack was over… then I’d wait until inventory was over, but then oh wait… not this weekend, gotta busy one. I’ll just… finally I bought some patches and lozenges and armored up… I wore the patch for a couple of days and used the lozenges for a couple of days (not at same time as the patch.) And then I quit. No nicotine substitutes, not cigarettes, no patches, no lozenges. It wasn’t exactly cold turkey but it wasn’t the way those nico-replacements say to do it either. The thing that was important was to quit waiting for the right time and just quit already.

A couple of days ago it was 95 degrees. I was going for a walk. I’d been working my way up to running again but haven’t yet. You know… needed the perfect time to start. So, here I am on the nature trail, walking in jeans and a t-shirt and it’s 95 and humid as hell and I realize… I feel pretty good. I feel like a quick jog. So, I ran some intervals. I haven’t run since July of last year, not really. So intervals seemed like a good start. The part where I was in jeans drew some looks but hey… why not? If I had a lion chasing me I’d run in jeans and not stop to change into running shorts. Today I ran again… twice. Once in the morning on purpose and once in the evening by accident. I don’t have my stamina yet, but I can feel it. I’m better than I was the first time I started running. I didn’t need to way for the perfect time to start. I started while wearing jeans and it was 95 degrees.

My point is what are you waiting on? What are you waiting for the right time to do? I wasted a lot of time waiting for the right time to do both of those things when I could really have just done them and gotten it over with. Talking to my room mate’s mom today at dinner and she said something similar, “I like to go for a walk, but that first five minutes is the hardest. Once I get started I’m good. But it’s the getting started that’s tough.” She’s right.

I’m glad I’m not smoking again (this quit was easier than my first quit because I knew the craves would go away… when I was craving one I knew it wouldn’t last forever and it would get better. The first time I quit smoking I assumed it would always suck. It doesn’t.). I’m also glad to be running again. I can’t wait to get my legs back. I was pleasantly surprised to have not lost my wind.

Today while I was hiking I was listening to Mur Lafferty‘s Podcast “I Should Be Writing” today and she talked about how odd it is to hear adults say, “I want to bake a cake” (or whatever) but they don’t actually bake the cake. Why not? They’re adults. If they want to do something there’s nobody telling them they can’t. It’s not like they’re 6 and want to bake a cake and need help or permission. I’m an adult. I didn’t have to wait for permission to run or quit smoking. When I would say, “I want to quit smoking” but then didn’t actually go about QUITTING I was saying, “I want to say I want to quit… if I actually wanted to quit I’d work on quitting and not on talking about it.” I’d say, “I want to run” but I wouldn’t run. So what I meant was, “I want to say I want to run.” If I’d wanted to run… I’d have run. I wanted to watch Survivor and I watched that. I wanted to eat and I ate. I wanted coffee in the morning and I got that… those things I really want… I do. So next time you hear someone say, “I want to…” Push them. Find out why they’re not doing it right now? What’s stopping them? Do they really want to? Or do they just want to appear to want to? If they want to why not do it right now? Once begun is, after all, half done!

Mary Poppins wouldn’t lie to us. “Once begun IS half done.” So, get busy getting started and once you’re off your butt and doing that thing you’ve been putting off you’ll be half done! There’s probably nobody stopping you but you!

I just put up a post that’s a writing chunk kind of thing. It’s incomplete but it’s thoughts on towns and town’s personalities… it’s a little maudlin maybe. It’s a first draft and I don’t know that it’ll go anywhere but I had it in my head and had to get it out on paper. It started life as something I wrote down and just now I typed it up so I wouldn’t lose it. I lose fewer things online than I do in real life.

I’ll refer the two blogs to each other once in a while, but not all that often as the two aren’t terribly related except in that I write them both. I doubt they have the same target audience at all… I haven’t put much thought into audience on the Simplerich Strikes Back blog as it really is just a personal blog so it’s more online journal than anything directed or specifically FOR someone else. It’s more for me.

So, if you didn’t know about it go give it a look. You’ll find writing chunks, book reviews, winning lottery numbers… OK. You won’t find lottery numbers. I was just seeing if you were listening.

I never saw myself as a hatchet man. I was more of a fixit guy. I got to take part in store take overs when we’d buy some stores and go in and turn them from a mom and pop store into one of our stores in a couple of weeks, switching out the inventory, point of sale system, and train the crew all without closing the store. It was definitely a hit the ground running kind of thing in both situations. Our primary concern was always to make the transition as smooth as possible for the customer and to try to retain (in most cases) as many of the people as would stay and do things the new way. Sometimes it was part of a fire everybody and start over thing. I didn’t like those as much. Sometimes it was a fire the manager and see who in the crew should stay. Those were harder. The only one of those I didn’t like was when it was a manager who had no idea they were in trouble. That one felt bad. He should have known it was a possibility. But, he didn’t and I didn’t know it until after it’d happened. He handled it better than I did. I felt like a shmuck.

I got to do that for years and without even thinking about it I wound up getting a reputation as a hatchet man. It was NEVER my idea to do this to stores. I was just the person that got called to do it after someone else made the decision it needed doing. I saw it as I was keeping as many as could be kept and making things better. From the outside it looked like I went in, took out the opposition, replaced them, and then went home to wash my hands and rest up to do it again, and never lost a moment’s sleep. Mostly that’s true. I didn’t lose sleep except when I was working the long days, in one store there were some 24s. That was a takeover and we didn’t get the computers when they were supposed to show up. I didn’t care. It was New Orleans and I was eating on an expense account. Any amount of hours is worth that!

Fast forward to last year when I stepped down and became manager of a store that opened up. Do you want to guess how the crew felt when I showed up to be manager? They were all scared to death of me. I couldn’t figure out why. I hadn’t done anything to the previous manager. I took his position when it opened up, but I didn’t open it up. Didn’t matter. My reputation had preceded me. Nothing I could say would change their mind. It didn’t help that customers knew of me from when I’d done it at other stores… turns out I was sort of KNOWN for going in and cleaning house and then wandering off whistling and drinking a cup of coffee with a smile on my face. The rumors were impossible to deal with. “Oh, he’s just being nice until he gets your replacement. He’s like that. Seriously. You have to watch him. He’s good at what he does, and what he does is clean out stores.” Wow.

So… It’s been six months now. I’m still here and haven’t wandered off with a cup of coffee and a smile. But today, this morning, the janitor asked me, “So, you going to X to clean out the store? I heard they needed it and that’s what you did. You’ve been here a while.” *sigh* What’s it take to convince them that I’m done with that part of my job? Not because I’m glad to be. I miss the travel. But because I want to be home more? I dunno. You’d think six months of me and they’d know I was settled down and happy here. Maybe I should fire them all and start over. *grin* KIDDING! But seriously… how long does it take for them to stop thinking I’m an ogre? I wasn’t then, and I’m not now. But I can see how they’d think so. In my defense, most of the time the stores where I went, they liked me and wanted me back after I left. THEY didn’t see me as an ogre. It’s just all how it looked from outside. (You want a hatchet man, that’s MY boss… he’s the one that made the decisions. I just implemented them as humanely and kindly as possible and saved as many of them as I could.)