The Social Shaming of America

Shame on you. I have no idea what you did, but I'm sure it is worthy of a public shaming on social media.

You left the seat up? Idiot!

You deleted the football game I recorded? WTF?!?

You're voting for who? Are you THAT stupid?!?


I get it. We all have opinions, and I honestly think it's good to share them. It is how we are sharing them that makes me sad for humanity. Look at it this way. When we get together with friends or family, most of us get into conversations about world events. Gun control. Terrorism. Politics. Religion. There's a good chance that all of those topics get discussed at one of my family gatherings, and they could easily take place with a 3 hour time frame. There are numerous differences of opinion, and plenty of people saying, "look at it this way". Sometimes a meeting of the minds takes place, sometime not. But after our attempts at solving the world's problems, we move on. When it is time to leave, there are hugs, handshakes, "good to see you's" and plenty of "drive safe's". Everyone is genuinely glad to have seen each other, and a bit disappointed when the party starts to break up.

Here's the interesting part. Some of those same people that are willing to listen to the other side's story, and conversely argue their side in an equally calm manner will then flat out rip apart some people on Facebook over the same issues discussed with family. I admire their passion in their beliefs, but the harsh words and verbal disdain for other's viewpoints began to make me wonder, how far are we going with this on what was intended to be a way to socially interact.

So I watched. I participated to see the responses I would get in return. I shook my head - a lot, but mostly, I lost some faith in what we are becoming as a society. The hatred. The hypocrisy. It is truly stunning to see how anti-social Facebook, the "social network", has become. The November 13th attacks in Paris spawned a slew of profile photos to be changed with the French flag being superimposed over their standard picture. Facebook went nuts! I get what everyone was saying, that it became more a trend than anything, but in a world that has lost touch with what matters, this gesture forced them to learn why they were doing this. Maybe they have no idea of current events, but a small gesture like this, one that simply means "I'm sorry this happened to you, you're in our thoughts", may mean that someone is a little more in tune with what is going on in the world.

What's amazing to me is the backlash that came from those. One person whom I have personally seen air out relationship issues on Facebook, which of course elicited a groundswell of support from friends and family, rips into the masses for jumping on the bandwagon of changing their profile pics.  Another that has regularly asked for prayers for his child chided all those changing their profiles as well. Apparently we can share support when you are having relationship or health issues, but not with others across the world when their country is under siege, claiming numerous lives and changing families over there forever. Mind you, I am NOT advocating that we stop praying for the health of friends and family, nor should we turn a deaf ear towards the people in our lives that are going through tough times emotionally. What I am advocating is that we allow people to be compassionate without get labeled as shallow for 'jumping on the bandwagon'.  Maybe those people haven't been the best at caring in the past, but sometimes a major event, like the Paris attacks, wakes some people up and they become more cognizant of the world's issues and thus more invested in the cure. When you call them out for that action, you are part of the problem. Once you find issue with people being or becoming compassionate, you are now the negative impact on people's lives, and you will start being cut out of theirs. Maybe that's what you want, but I assume that joining a social network and accepting them as friends means they are more dear to you than you actually show.

There is also lot of discussion lately about bullying, including cyber-bullying.  I see parents talk about how this needs to stop, and other parents and the school systems need to be part of the solution.  Then that same person will go a rip someone's rear end on Facebook for having an opposing view on a political or social topic. They point out where everyone else is failing, and quite often with intense, pointed criticism. They even stoop to name-calling, with some harsh, politically incorrect terms referring to other's mental capacity. People that have actually campaigned against cyber-bullying are performing the same acts for which they shame others.

I also see more and more over-sharing. A gruesome photo of a Pitbull's bloodied neck after living on a chain for all 3 year's of its life made the rounds - over a million times. I understand that too. Share it enough times and we help catch the criminal. But this was over 2200 miles away from where I live, and there is another 1,000+ miles to the next coast, and yet this was shared internationally. Why? Share it locally and put it on the local TV and in the local papers, but to have it repeatedly shared world-wide made it no longer about the crime and more about the photo. Sharing this photo over a million times is Fox News-esque. It is more about the sensationalism of the photo than it is catching the bad guy. In fact, the photo is still shared today with the tag line "Let's put this animal abuser away for good"...except he has already been caught, put on trial, found guilty, sentenced AND completed his jail time - all done by local tips, authorities, judges, and facilities. So many people are consumed with shaming the bad guy that they are blinded by the fact that not only is the photo of an incident that happened thousands of miles away, but it is also three years old.

Don't get me wrong, I love what social media can do for us. Sharing family stories, good times with friends, and yes, news, sports, and weather relevant to my area. I am OK with a picture of a PERSON that is being sought by the police for questioning for animal abuse. However, showing the actual abuse does not do me any good. I hate animal abusers - HATE 'EM - but I see no need to show what has happened to the animal. Show me who did it, and if I know them, I'll make the call. I'd rather you show me a picture of a rescued animal going home with a new family. You can summarize the back story, but in a world filled with hate and barbaric behavior, we control what stories we 'Share with your friends'. Each of us have the power to fight the fight in a way that doesn't glorify the despicable act, but still denounces it.

We are inching our way to social terrorism - or at least social network terrorism. The constant attacks with extreme bias or prejudice are becoming commonplace on Facebook, Twitter, and the like. If that tactic were used in a court of law, that attorney would get tossed out of the proceedings. If you have a point, make it. If you can't do so without a personal attack, maybe you don't have any basis for your argument.

But, I have faith in you. I fully believe you have the wherewithal to state your case and back it up with nobility and facts, and more importantly, your ability to comprehend that your thoughts and ideology may not conform to everyone else's with which you can accept. See each other's points, and if you remain unconvinced, walk away with the solace that you maintained your loyalty, and more importantly, your dignity at all times. THAT"S what people will remember. Your reputation will remain unscathed, and whether or not they ever see your points, they will remember your decorum and social aptitude.

In the past I have done exactly of Facebook what I am chiding today, but it wasn't getting me anywhere, and I wasn't very happy with myself. It can only get better if we find our hearts again, and I hope that in the last couple of years I have found mine, for good.

If not, give me a gentle reminder...no shaming necessary.

Hard Day

Today was difficult. It shouldn't have been. Buddy has been gone a year, we have a 6-month old puppy that reminds me of Buddy, and time heals all wounds.

Except for today. It hurt today. Today was the day a year ago when we found our Bud-dog on his bed, gone from our lives. He spent thousands of nights in the garage, and always greeted us with a stretch, a yawn, and a nose under the hand.

But not that morning. No, a year ago today, he succumbed to his battle with cancer, and what hurts the most, is he passed alone. Was he scared? Was he in pain? Why, oh why, couldn't we have more of a sign that his last day was so close. Even worse, we had a long day at work that day, so there wasn't much 'family' time that final day. It tugs at my heart every weekend, the time we got to spend most with Buddy. 

Oliver now fills those weekends, but Oliver is a high-spirited, rambunctious pooch, and although we love Ollie dearly, we miss Buddy immensely. I'm sure once Oliver gets past that adolescent stage, he will have many of the same traits Buddy did, but for the time being, Ollie is pure energy.

I however, am not.

It might be why I miss Buddy so much.  His laid back, let's just chill together attitude suited me to a T.  Oliver is a pup that needs to play, and as I play daily with the O-Dawg, my body reminds me how old it is.  Buddy and I had similarly old bones, so we were a sedentary duo that got along just great.

That said, as trying as Oliver can be, he is also a joy. He reminds me so much of Buddy in physical appearance, and that in turn added to the hard day. On the anniversary of Buddy's passing, and the hurt of wondering if he was scared, here I am looking into a near carbon copy, with eerie similar eyes. He is a work in progress, but he will be a great dog too. Oliver is loved as was the Bud-dog, and that is a lot of love. Ollie has some big paws to fill, but he is getting there.
Oliver is healing my heart, but today, that was a tough job. Today, I missed my Bud terribly. I missed the undying love of a dog that gave it in huge doses. I missed the constant companion of an old friend, and I wished for his presence just one more time.

For those of you that have read this and have a long time family pet - hug them once for me. What I wouldn't give to 'hug up' my Buddy again.

I miss ya boy. Get your ball - I'll throw it one more time.

He was not 'just a dog' - he was our Bud-dog

It was at the Optimist's Home Show over 14 years ago that we first met a shy black ball of fluff, hand carried over to our booth by my daughter.  While we worked away at our RadioShack booth, Jessica had wandered through the many other booths and like any 12-year old, she landed at the Western Hills Humane Society and their adopt-a-thon of kitties and puppies.  She hastily returned to the booth to tell us about this cute little puppy, and of course asked could she have him.  We told her we have a kitty and for now, that was enough.  We had just moved into a new house, and were getting settled in.  Bringing another responsibility into the house was just not in our plans.

To Jessica, that meant a change in tactic was needed.  She somehow convinced the fine folks at the Humane Society booth to allow her to carry the puppy to us.  I saw her coming at least from 100 feet away, but my wife had not.  I decided to watch my wife's reaction when the puppy arrived to see what my chances were of staying a one pet household.  3 seconds.  That's how fast I knew we were now a 2 pet household.  When my darling bride turned and looked at me with the same puppy eyes as the now mobile puppy, I knew I was out numbered.  The mostly black lab puppy was quiet, already a snuggler with whomever picked him up, and clearly a friendly pooch.  Mind you, I love dogs, so they weren't going to get much fight from me - I just knew my wife was truly not interested in another pet at the time.  That was the plan until the pup was brought to us.  A visit from the fluff was enough.

And so it became that Buddy came into our lives.  The laughter and tears and the indelible etching of his unwavering love onto our hearts has changed us forever.

Buddy was a good pup.  He peed in the house once.  Seriously.  Just one time.  Call us lucky, or dog whisperers, or just plain petrified of a smelly house, but somehow we managed to get a trainable dog that learned quickly that outside was where he did his business.  He was not a chewer either.  Well, strike that.  He didn't chew anything of ours, but did have a penchant for chewing on sticks.  Small, large, whatever, we couldn't break him of chewing on sticks. 

So he decided to break himself of the habit. 

Somehow he was able to swallow a big enough piece of stick that it was still somewhat intact when it reached the other end of the gastrointestinal tract.  Not big enough to get stuck along the way, but certainly big enough to get caught in the, shall we say, ahem, doorway?  That day,  I noticed the Bud-Dog doing his business, but when I looked over about 5 minutes later and he was still, uh, crab-walking around the yard, I noticed something 'sticking' straight out of his ... doorway.  I started to walk toward him and halfway there I realized what the 'blockage' was.  Determined a dog was he, and he gave one final 'push' followed by a YELP heard 'round the world, OK block, and he was stick free.  I swear to you, from that day, he NEVER chewed another stick.  Smart dog.  I also like to joke that it was that day he became less snobby - he no longer had a stick up his butt.

Our 4 years at that house went by quickly, and Buddy certainly loved it there.  He had a good yard, a dog house built into the side of the garage that was heated with a 40-watt bulb in the winter, and a small kiddie splash pool in the summer.  He grew to a healthy 85 pounds and was a constant companion.  We gardened, he laid right there and watched us.  Of course, he may have been watching for the good stuff as he routinely made visits later for a cucumber or strawberry.  Of all the things that a dog could pull on an owner - digging, incessant barking, etc., - eating healthy was awful tough reason to get after him.  Eventually he stopped that as well...it was easier to look at us with those sad brown eyes and score the same thing without the work.  Like I said... Smart dog.

Every dog has their tricks they learn, and Buddy was no different. High 5, shake and other hand shake, spin, down, over, and a family favorite, Elvis. On command, Buddy would do Elvis, he would not take the treat out of your hand without curling his lip up on the sides. No luck in teaching him to say "thank ya, thank ya very much" though. Like any dog, Buddy shared an exuberance for all things meat, and like any dog, would manifest that exuberance in finger shortening lunges at said meat. 'Little Bites' was the next command he learned, and he became so proficient at little bites that he would actually eat corn on the cob by nibbling it off like the rest of us. He learned that soft, gentle bites made for more frequency of getting bites. Tellin' ya... Smart dog.

We moved to our new house in 2003 and while the house was a wonderful upgrade, I had a huge worry that the unfenced yard would make keeping Buddy around a challenge.  We kept him in a kenneled area attached to the garage and took him out to go frequently.  He quickly learned his 'area', and much to our surprise, never ran off.  Ever.  We would leave him free when we were at home and he never was out of range of a good whistle.  He would visit the next door neighbors once in a while, but he never ever roamed far.  His loyalty to 'home' was as strong as I have ever seen in any dog.  Knowing we would not have the expense of adding a fence, we decided to use those savings on a sprinkler system.  Dragging hoses around to keep the large yard green was a challenge, so we decided in 2007 to have a system put in to save ourselves some work.  Until May.

It was a Memorial Day weekend I'll never forget.

Buddy loved to ride in cars, trucks, you name it.  He just liked the trip.  He was always glad to get in the car to go to work with me, and he was just as happy to get back in for the ride home.  He knew the minute I touched my keys it was time to go.  It was always fun to watch him follow my hands...if the got close to the keys the anticipation heightened.  I had to install a key hook on the wall because I couldn't put him through all that agony every time my hand neared my keys. On Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, I reached for my keys again.  This time they were in the house, but I knew Buddy would want to join me for a quick trip to the dump to off-load the freshly cut grass.  Sometimes he rode inside the truck, sometimes he rode in the pickup bed.  Jessica joined me to lend a hand, so to today was an outside in the bed kind of day.  He hopped up, took his spot by the driver side, and he awaited the trailer getting hitched up and away we went.

It was supposed to be a quick trip...there and back.  But he jumped.

First, let me say it.  Shame on me.  I should have had him in a pickup bed leash system, but based on hundreds of other rides, I never dreamed he would jump out.  I can still see his face.  I looked in the side mirror at the exact time he jumped.  The look of shock when he realized what was about to happen is an image burned into my memory forever.  He hit the dirt road hard.  Haaarrrrd.  I was already braking, and I think the trailer missed him or it may have been worse.  By the time I reached him, his terror stricken face and cries for help said it all.  He had a shattered right rear leg and a compound fracture of the same hip.  He tried to pop right up, but it was too damaged.  I held him down enough to get around behind him and scooped him up like the pup he was 7 years earlier. Adrenaline, I owe you one.  

Jessica called her friend Mika who had just recently began work for a new veterinarian in town, Dr. Warren Whalen.  Dr. Whalen's office was directly between the dump and home, and would be the spot to get Buddy looked at the quickest.  The X-rays confirmed the leg being shattered, and there were 3 options.  One was that Buddy was in pain and could be put down.  Next.  The second option was to remove the leg and he could still live a happy but three-legged life.  Doable, but what's the 3rd option doc.  Number 3 was a plating surgery that basically encompasses the shattered bones and has screws attached to the more solid pieces.  The plating would most likely be permanent, but could be removed if Buddy had discomfort later in life.  Sounds like a winner, what's the downside.  

"Cost".

"I failed my dog to get him in this predicament, so it's option 3".

When it was time to leave him for the night, I kneeled down and got nose to nose with my medicated and sedated friend, and I promised him I would fix him up. And I apologized for not having his safety my priority.  And I cried a little, hugged him a little, and hopefully comforted him a lot, as did Jessica and Marcia, who had come quickly when we called.  After leaving him there on the stainless steel table, clearly in great care, my heart sank.  When I got 5 feet outside the door, I broke down and sobbed for a solid couple of minutes.  I had betrayed our family dog, one whom had never betrayed us, and I owed it to him to get him the surgery.  We had money saved for a sprinkler system, so it was an easy decision.  I drug hoses for 2 more summers.  We tried to train Buddy to pee water, but apparently that wasn't an option.  

When it was time to bring him back home, the ride terrified him.  It was gut wrenching to watch, but he clearly now associated the ride with pain, and that was so sad to see.  We made it back home, and after a 3 month convalescence, a thumbs up from the vet, another 3 months getting re-used to his kennel and another positive check up, Buddy was a happy, 4-legged, neighborhood watch leader again.

Happy was clearly the best way to describe Buddy.  Just seeing the satisfaction he got from rolling in the grass would take the edge off of any lousy day.  The way he would jump up, just his front legs, into the car right into your lap when you opened your door when we got home would make our day. Watching the sheer joy of a pizza delivery and the certain 'triangles of love' that he knew were to follow.  The Bud-dog loved to eat, and a visit from Dominos or Papa Johns was a 'slice' of heaven.

Fast forward nearly 7 years.

Knowing his penchant for all things tasty, that never changed, we became concerned last November when Buddy started losing quite a bit of weight.  He was due for a checkup anyways, so we took him to see his regular vet, Dr. Elsom.  They took some X-rays and gave him his vaccines.

And then called the next day.  

Liver cancer.

More options.

None of them good.  We could put him down.  Next.  Chemotherapy would probably weaken him but maybe give him 12 more months.  Or we could keep him comfortable and he might get 6 happy months.  So comfortable it was.  For a dog that has given us so much love and happiness, I just couldn't put him through a series on procedures that would weaken him and on some days make him feel sicker for the selfish reason of getting just 6 more months. We would feed him all the dog food and people food he wanted, take him to the store and hang with us, and pretty much make him the King of the Castle for another 6 months.

We got 9.

On Friday August 16th, we headed for a long day of work followed by Downtown Friday Nights, a music festival we help coordinate.  14 hours later at 11 PM, we got home to a happy dog.  We fed him some canned dog food, which he scarfed down.  Since he stilled seemed hungry, Marcia gave him the remainder of a package of sliced turkey cold cuts.  He wolfed that down too, then drank a bit of water. Marcia stayed and visited another 5 minutes just to give him some company. He then did something he hardly ever does...he gave her one lick on the face.  He was never one of those dogs that licked you whenever he got the chance, so it was very out of character.  I finished my late night dinner and caught up on Facebook before going to shut Buddy in for he night. He was right there when I opened the door in his usual spot.  He popped right up, we went outside to see if there was any 'business' that needed to be done, and we came back to his bed. I knelt down and rubbed his chin, one of his favorites spots to get rubbed, at least later in life.  I sat with him for a few minutes petting him, and I gave him the regular "good boy", and headed to bed.

8 hours later, the morning of August 17th, Marcia found him, on his bed, gone from our lives.  He had clearly gotten ill at night based on the evidence in his kennel outside, but he made it back to his bed, and was laying like he always does, but sadly, this time he would not pop right up.  We knew the day was coming, but we expected a gradual decline and a tearful but peaceful goodbye with the 3 of us.  I pray that it was still peaceful, but it still haunts us that he was alone.  In his last 24 hours on this Earth, he got to spend a mere 15-20 minutes with his 'family'.  We hope he wasn't in pain and we hope in his solitude that he wasn't scared.  We hope he knew how much he meant to us, and hope he felt loved until his last breath.   

It has been a hard week.  We want our dog back.  He was the sweetest, most gentle dog ever.  He brought joy to a gloomy day, and he loved my wife and daughter tremendously.  It has been 8 days, but there are still plenty of tears, and plenty of depressingly sad moments, but the hardest thing is the empty spots of our day that Buddy filled.  Morning coffee on the deck with the pooch at our side. Barbecues punctuated with those begging eyes. Thunderstorms spent with an uneasy dog inside having his nerves calmed.  The voids that are left are the hardest to overcome. It will happen in time, but for now, our grief rules the time we are not focused on work.

Our solace is now he has no more cancer.  No more plated leg.  No more kennels. And all the triangles of love you can eat... at least I hope so. As author Will Rogers once wrote, "if there are no dogs in heaven, then when I die, I want to go where my dog went".

There are some, very few, but some, that will point out he was just a dog.  For the rest of us that have experienced the love and loyalty a dog can give, we know there is no such thing as 'just a dog'.  He was our Buddy.  Poocherrrr.  Boopy.  He was never just a dog.  

He was our Bud-dog, and we miss him.

Defining the fan

fan  

/fan/

Noun An apparatus with rotating blades that creates a current of air for cooling or ventilation. A person who has a strong interest in or admiration for a particular sport, art or entertainment form, or famous person. I am a fan.  A fan of sports - pretty much all of them.  Baseball.  Hockey.  Badminton.  Curling.  If a score is kept, I want to know the rules and how to win.  I delve into statistics like a madman.  If I follow a team, I scout our opponents and know their tendencies.  I know our weaknesses and strengths, what we have and what we need.  It is a sickness - and I am afraid there is no cure.  I do like to think I know what I am talking about and at nearly age 51, I have experienced a LOT of sports, HUNDREDS of teams, and THOUSANDS of coaches and players.  I am not a smart ass when I talk sports, but I will not back down when I share my thoughts, especially on the rare occasion I am correct.  One thing that irks me the most about being a fan - being called 'just a fan'. I have been, on occasion, reminded from insiders that I am 'just a fan'.  "You have no idea what we go through".  Coaches, owners, players, and player's families have all uttered that phrase to me at some point of my years of being a fan.  Of course, I have been a player, a coach, and a General Manager of teams myself, so yes, I do have an idea what is going on.  I know the hurt I cause when I bench a player - I see the anger draped in disappointment emanating from their eyes.  I know the distrust I got from players families when I said we needed to fund raise fast and furious or else our American Legion baseball season would be lost. Even my own family dealt with the fact of me playing 116 games for my softball team one summer and they were not the slightest bit happy about it.  So I understand...completely. With that, I offer my latest foray into fandom.  I recently made a 3 word statement about our minor league hockey team for which I have purchased season tickets to the last 3 years.  I have a fairly good idea how they are performing and how they have in the past.  They are a solid team - make no mistake.  They have great goaltenders, a good defense, a great captain that will go through walls for his team, and capable scorers.  A few of them are scoring, including the captain - but just a few.  With the last place ranked offense in the league, something has to give.  More people needed to score or someone had to be brought in to do so.  Our top scorer from the previous season then made his intentions known that he wished to come back for the last 3rd of the season and playoffs, so knowing what many sportswriters have been calling for the majority of the season - an offensive spark to augment what could be a strong scoring attack, I did what fans do and said those 3 fateful words... Bring Back Konrad. And the firestorm ensued.  Now let's back up a little.  I SHOULD have said, "We are on the cusp of breaking out but can't seem to get over the hump.  Maybe if we brought back Konrad that would be the spark we need". What it turned out to be was an assault on the rest of the team, and for anyone that knows me, I do not do that...period.  I am always arguing with people that are down on the team and extolling their virtues, so for this to be taken as an attack on the team was a shocker and stung a little.  If I was a coach or GM and was quoted in the paper saying we need an offensive spark and we are looking at bringing someone in that has had success here in the past, I would have been looking out for the team.  Since I am 'just a fan', it offended some people who reminded me that I do not know the whole story.  They are right, I do not know the whole story.  I also hope they know that the whole story includes a fair amount of sports knowledge and an even better amount of business knowledge.  Combining the 2, you get someone that is concerned that the unhappiness fans were having with the offense parlays into seats going unsold.  It hasn't happened in the regular season, but just in my section alone, I have had 5 people tell me they are not taking the playoff ticket package because they are afraid it would be a short run anyways. From there, I go on the offensive.  I remind them that in the playoffs, defensive teams generally get on a roll, and having 2 of the top 5 goalies and what now is the 2nd ranked defensive unit puts us in a good position.  At the time, I told them we will get a scorer and watch out - everyone else will catch fire too.  The scorer has been signed and no, it was not Konrad, but a weapon for sure.  THAT is what the fans, the media, and clearly management and ownership were calling for all along.  It was not to disparage the players that were on the team, it was to add another facet that makes it harder on the opponent.  It may not happen, but that has not stopped me from purchasing playoff tickets.  I go on the offensive on the forums stating that what we do have can carry us, but adding another weapon makes it harder to key on the weapons we have now.  One more to stop opens up the floor a liiiittle bit more for the guys that have put the work in all season.  A little more room on the ice gives our captain and the rest of our existing scorers a little better chance at burying more goals, but even more so, helps the ones that aren't get a better look too.  Add in the scoring touch that the new guy brings and I wholeheartedly believe that we will raise our scoring, as a team, enough to be a very scary team for the remainder of the season. And that was the only intent that my 3 word post had.  A lot, and I mean A LOT, was read into it and that was simply not the case.  So let me say to those one more time - I am sorry that it was taken that way, that was not my intentions at all.  I have personally heard from a few people and read a lot more posts and comments from posts, but I want everyone to know, especially the players, that it was a very simple comment about bringing a fan favorite back and addressing a need with one signing.  I have even had 2 players on the team say to me that they hoped they did EXACTLY what I advocated because of the need for offense, and they obviously were not disparaging the rest of the team that has been performing well. The Statement, as it will go down in the annals of time, wasn't the grumblings of 'just a fan'.  It was that of a fan that has an eye for all things sport, and understands the game, and knows what the team needed.  We needed a solution, the man wanted to come back, and the answer was simple.  Bring back Konrad.

The Haves and the Will Nots

And with a few clicks, the blogging portion of my life embarks.  I may have some decents views, I may have some garbled views, and I may have some that come off as righteous views.  However, they are just that - views.  I write, just views..

We have all heard of the social classes the Haves and the Have Nots.  Families of privilege, and those that struggle endlessly.  Growing up, I believed that money was a hereditary benefit of others, but that with hard work and a little luck, I might see a little of it myself.  Those that struggled would also pass on their tribulations to their kin and this was just they way the world wound itself.

As a young worker washing dishes, stocking grocery shelves, mixing mortar, mixing drinks, raking sand traps, and ringing up everything from Tylenol to Bikinis, I too struggled with earnings.  Fortunately, I did see the benefits of a little extra effort.  I may not have always deployed those efforts, but when I did, I saw the appreciation employers had for any glimpse of work ethic.  It wasn't until I started with RadioShack and being given the managerial duties of running a store did the tides really turn.  I needed people to do their job and if not, I would find someone that does.  When the employee didn't work out, we would just replace them with one that did.

Fast forward 27 years.  I am still with RadioShack, now as a Franchisee instead of corporate manger, but the same holds true today as it did in 1985 - replace a malfunctioning employee with one that works.

One Problem.  There are too many malfunctioning ones out there.  Today's worker 25 years old and younger may be the most delusional generation ever to come along.  My generation was not a work of art by any means, but applicant after applicant fails to impress.  When the least wretched become new hire after new hire, many arrive with a chip on their shoulder and a air of 'how did you ever get along without me', when the thing that goes through my mind most frequently is 'what did I see in this person during the interview?'  Don't get me wrong, a gem does come along once in a while, but I have to polish a lot of cement before I unearth a precious stone.  As of this writing, I have a pretty good staff.  Maybe the best in years, but it took a LOT of weeding out the chaff to get there.  That was not always the case.

Just to set the record straight, any future applicants may want to avoid past gaffes made by 'Mensa' associates:

• Your birthday may have come before my need for you to work.  Fine, have a nice birthday.  See ya.
• Yes, I am aware that this is the 5th 85-degree day you have called in sick, and then shown up with a sunburn.  See ya.
• OK, you stopped drinking last night, but I don't know when.  My guess is that since you smell like a dive bar and are slurring your way through the English language that it wasn't too long ago.   For the third time in 2 weeks. Buh-bye.

I have heard so many reasons (excuses) not to work, that if you could put that energy put into coming up with new excuses towards actually working, you'd be rich.

So it boils down to the Haves and the Will Nots.  Those willing to overcome CLAS, or Chronic Lazy Ass Syndrome, will Have.  They will have success and be able to have their heads high for giving an honest effort and the rewards that come with it.  The Will Nots are the polar opposite.  They will not have success because they will not make an effort.  They will not understand that our whole system of commerce depends on the efforts of its workforce.  Those that have a disability are exempted, but those that will not because they know they can get away with it are part of our problems in these economically tough times.  Get out, make an effort, and reap the rewards.  Otherwise....see ya.

Election Night 2012

Now that the election is over, I have to admit the shock I have from some of posts I have seen trickle through my Facebook stream.  I have seen accusations of how uneducated we Americans are.  That we should move to Canada.  That the 47% got their way (even though by the end of the night, Obama had won the popular vote too).  I have seen ‘let the handouts begin’ and ‘what shape will we be in after 4 years’, ‘Let the degradation of our country begin’ and finally, ‘Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups’.  There you go 50+ million voters…you’re stupid.  Wow.

I have questions for those of you who feel the election has jaded your view of this country.  If you were serving in a war, would you care less if the person that was supposed to have your back was Republican or Democrat, or just glad they are an American?  How about if it was your son or daughter?  Do you think our troops in Afghanistan gives a rat’s behind whether the guy they are searching for IEDs with is Republican, Democrat, or any other party, or that he/she is precise and thorough in their job?  Think about it – every soldier that has gone to war has done so for his country, not his party.  I wholeheartedly support our troops – from every party – as I’m sure you do too.  We have more battles in front of us, some literal and some figurative.  I could care less about the party of the people with which I will go to battle.  I would love to see changes made in a lot of things, but it won’t come easily.  One asset is that as Americans, we share a patriotism that very few countries share.  All too many times we see the tragedy of countries embroiled in civil war, and the slaughter of each other’s people.  We learned the hard way that just doesn’t work.  We became the UNITED States of America, but somehow have lost the definition of united.  Change will be a lot easier if we find the meaning again.

As I listen to Mitt Romney give his concession speech, he says it’s time to end bipartisanship, it’s time to reach across the aisle and work together.  He calls for an end the political posturing, and to support the leader this country has chosen.  If he had won, this is what would have expected of the Democrats had they lost.  Be disappointed your party’s candidate lost, fine, but to admonish the very freedom we have to elect a leader by trashing those who have made the decision is un-American. 

I saw two posts tonight by people that gave me hope that after the dust settles, we will all head down the path together.  John Hess says, “My personal professional and economic success does not rely on a President.  It is a reflection of myself and my work ethic. It always has been and always will be. The economy may change, markets may change, but I will always try to rise above”, and Russ Ludens says, “If the candidate(s) that you voted for won, then I congratulate you.  If they lost then I send you my sympathies.  BUT I WILL NOT STOOP TO RUBBING IT IN ANYONES FACE.  The right to vote your convictions is too precious and too sacred to gloat about.  I will accept the outcome and pray that we move on to a better country for all of us to live in.”  Well said gentleman.

My personal feeling is that we have some work to do, and my country elected a leader to lead us.  We do not have to be lemmings and follow everything, as it is our obligation to correct our leaders when the path they are taking may lead us astray.  However, we do have moral and ethical duty to accept what the vote has determined.  He won the electoral AND popular vote, so clearly America has spoken and whether I agree or disagree with the outcome, I stand behind our leader. 

It boils down to this for me… whether it is a city, state, or national issue, nothing will be achieved by the person pointing the finger, but will be by the person lifting one.