[Fair Warning: Although the Middle Zone is, and always will be, G-Rated, I should still warn you; this post contains elements of a rather, um, manly nature. It's about an incident that occurred in a men's room. I'm just sayin'.]

It has been said, no doubt ad nauseum, that those who ignore the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them. The good news, though, is that most of the time, when we make mistakes they aren’t all that big a deal, you know?

For instance, making a right instead of a left on the way to the store, forgetting to feed the cat – or even wearing white after Labor Day – well, you have to admit those are pretty innocuous. And in the long run, they simply don’t matter a whole heck of a lot. (Although wearing white after Labor Day may take a bit longer to get over.)

On the other hand, that time you forgot your spouse’s birthday, accidentally ran into that major client’s car in the parking lot, or when boarding a plane you asked the flight steward to hang up your “light jacket” and they thought you said “hijack”; well, stuff like that can get a little dicey, if ya get my meanin’.

One thing’s for certain, though; those are the kind of mistakes you’d better learn from the first time! Which brings us to the subject of today’s post… cell phone use and/or abuse.

Hey, all I can say is, whatever happens, don’t do this! Just sayin’.

My First Cell Phone

I got my first cell phone back in 2001. (Yes, I’m a slow adapter. So what’s your point?) Oh, it wasn’t because I really wanted to join the already vast hordes of the “instantly connected”, believe me. It was more like an emergency use thing, you know?

However, now that I had one hangin’ on my belt, I figured I might as well use it. So I decided to finally throw caution to the winds and give it a try. The honor of being the first victim recipient (after than Mrs. MZM, of course) would go to a good friend of mine whom I knew wouldn’t mind a getting a totally pointless call from me.

Now at the time, I was working in a rather cramped office building; one of those businesses you’ll find crammed into a somewhat dilapidated warehouse-like building. (It wasn’t the best place I’ve ever worked, but I’d been unemployed for awhile, and hey, it was a job!)

My first problem was finding a private spot to make the call. Like I said, we were crammed in there pretty tightly, so there wasn’t anywhere except the men’s room that had even a semblance of privacy. The only problem with that was, well, you know.

After wandering around the office for a while, though, I concluded there was simply no good spot available in the building. With no options inside, I did the next most obvious thing and headed out the front door. Alas, no joy there either. Unfortunately, our building happened to be right next to a major freeway, and the noise level was only slightly less than that of a jet airliner taking off.

The Echo Chamber

Finally, I gave up and said to myself, OK; the men’s room it is, and headed that way.

First thing, of course, was to make sure I was alone. Lesse now… nope; no feet showing under any of the stall doors. Although I felt like a first-class idiot, it had to be done. OK; so far, so good. Y’all still with me?

The other problem with using this particular location is the fact that every surface in the place is like it’s, well, specifically intended to reflect and magnify sound. To tell you the truth, it’s kinda embarrassing, really. If you walk in with, say, hard soled shoes on, the resulting multiple echoes always make it sound like an army came in the door with you. It’s distracting, to say the least.

Anyway, having ascertained the coast was clear, I pulled out my (sound of scream) cell phone and punched the speed dial. (Hah! Gotcha, didn’t I?) Wonder of wonders, it worked perfectly! Within moments, I was speaking with my friend.

Naturally, I didn’t mention my, er, current location. Yeah, I know; it’s not like cooties could somehow reach through the airwaves and, you know, get him or anything. But I’m guessin’ some folks are kinda weird about that sort of thing, so I sorta figured I’d keep that little factoid to myself.

Bad Habits

Unfortunately, the conversation went on… and on… and on… and I was dismayed to find that I suddenly had, you know, the urge.

Anyway, even that would have been no big deal (and he’d never have been the wiser) except for the fact that (and I promise, it was entirely out of habit) when I was finished, I reached up easy as you please and, well, flushed the danged thing! (sound of EXTREMELY LOUD WHOOSHING NOISES)

When it was over, I could clearly hear the stunned silence on the other end of the line.

My first inclination was to hit the “off” button. But after a moment’s thought I decided not to, figuring it would sound like I’d accidentally flushed the phone. Then, I thought about faking those hissing noises you’d hear when the connection starts to break up. Alas, by then several seconds had passed and I figured the damage was already done.

Finally, I hit upon the only solution possible, considering the, er, circumstances: Once the noise died down, I just picked up the conversation again as if nothing had happened.

Although I know he knew what had happened, my friend kindly played along. (What a pal!) And to this day, we’ve never spoken of “the incident”. But still; I knew he knew, you know?

Lessons Learned

I have to admit; that’s one lesson I’ll never forget! So what the heck; I’ll pass that one, and perhaps a couple more, on to you regarding cell phone use and abuse:

• Make the effort to find a quiet spot (preferably with little or no echo). It may take a while, but believe me, it’ll be worth it!

• Be aware of any background noises. Although you may not notice it, that jackhammer in the background may completely cover up that stock tip you’re tryin’ to pass along.

• While on the phone, use your inside voice. I’m constantly amazed at how many people are guilty of this one. C’mon; give those around you a break!

• And finally, er, whatever you do, please do not call me from the restroom!

_____________________________

[NOTE: This post is my entry for my most excellent good buddy Brad Shorr's "Cell Phone Users and Abusers" contest. And, although I tell you this at great personal expense (because frankly it may reduce my chance of winning!), if you'd like a chance to win one of several cash prizes (up to $500!), then Bubba, you'd better click on that cute little link and read all about it!

P.S. If you decide to join the party, feel free to steal this badge!]

_____________________________

Photo Credits:

No Cell Phones at Leland Inn Liquor, by John Kannenberg

Silence Cell Phones, by Lulu Vision

Ashes of Rude Cell Phone Users, by seamy @ flikr

Weird bald guy screaming on phone, by – I have no idea!

______________________________

[This article is my entry for this month's groupwrite project, What I Learned From My Friends. You're invited to join us! Just click the link or see the bottom of this post for details.]

Ya know, words are pretty powerful things, aren’t they? (Yes, I’m surely preachin’ to the choir here.) A few well-timed words can really make all the difference, can’t they? It never ceases to amaze me how just a couple of words can totally change a situation, even to the point of turning defeat – into victory.

For the last several weeks, I’ve been busily setting up and executing a one-day client engagement. It was particularly exciting for me because it was my first “sale” (sound of crowd cheering) since I moved over to the consulting side of things at the Engineering firm where I work. Pretty cool, eh?

My plan (no wait, let me put sneer marks around that: my ‘plan’) was to use this short engagement to generate much more business with this particular client. It’s the ol’ tried-and-true foot in the door sales technique, used since some guy named Gutenberg invented the printing press and right off the bat started printing coupons for 50 cents off your next purchase of Twinkies at the local Food Farm.

Well, last week it finally happened. I flew to Canada (and boy, are my arms tired!), we did our thing, and based on the initial feedback, it looks like we accomplished what we set out to do. (Insert Elvis impression here: “Thank you; thank you very much.” And don’t forget to swing your hips.)

Now the fun began; all we have to do is win the rest of the work. Easy, eh? (Funny; while I was there, I never heard one single Canadian say “Eh”. ‘Course, I was only there one day. Or is that a stereotype? Anyone?)

Not as Easy as it Sounds

I’m tellin’ ya; for such a simple-sounding project (I mean c’mon – it was only a one-day thing, fer cryin’ out loud!) for a while there I almost at the point of despair! I don’t think I’ve ever experienced as much aggravation from such a small project before. It was ‘way more than what poor little ol’ me is used to.

To begin with, I’d been working on this deal for going on six weeks. Then, when it finally turned serious (you know; the moment when the client suddenly stops talking about doing it and says, “OK, let’s do it!”), well, the amount of time I had to get everything in place turned out to be ridiculously short. Think: less than two weeks.

Yikes! Hey, you’d have been proud of me, though; on the outside I didn’t bat an eye. I must admit, however; on the inside I was a mite concerned.

So I switched to high-speed mode (which is consultant-speak for “running around like a chicken with its head cut off”), tryin’ to make sure all the t’s are dotted and the i’s are crossed. I mean, among other things there was a Subcontractor Agreement to write, a Purchase Order to set up, contractual stuff to sign, visits to the Legal Dept. (sound of terrified scream), etc., etc. I mean, even with preparation it’s next to impossible to hurry some of this stuff up, you know?

And have you ever tried to get a series of signatures on a document – in a limited amount of time? So as ol’ Dr. Phil is fond of sayin’, how’d that work for ya? Yup; thought so. It never fails, right? There’s always at least one who’s out of the office or otherwise unavailable. Every. Stupid. Time.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, even more roadblocks began appearing. For instance, it took nearly a week to finally get a P.O. from our client. Alas, only then did I discover I sorta, er, neglected to tell them to put the amounts in US instead of Canadian dollars (yes, it was clearly my fault *sigh*). Say, what’s the exchange rate these days? Oh well; a simple change can fix that, right?

Then the client’s purchasing system inexplicably decided to lock everyone out. I said to myself (after much head-thumping on my desk, of course), “Self, these are mature computer programs, right? Hey, I’m sure it’ll be fixed in a minute hour day, right?”

In the meantime, I managed to acquire enough assurances from the various parties that we could go ahead and book our flights. No worries, and no need to panic – but I gotta tell ya; buying those tickets sure made me feel vulnerable. And not in a good way.

As the deadline approached like a runaway Space Shuttle, just to throw a wrench in the works we had to stop and celebrate a National holiday here in the States (Labor Day was Sept. 1). Although I always enjoy taking paid time off, it essentially shortened what little working time I had left by two full days.

Anyway, I figured at least the corrected P.O. would be in my inbox when I got back to the office. After all, Canada doesn’t celebrate our holidays, you know. Well, that’s what I get for figuring, because (and you knew this was coming, didn’t you?) it, um, wasn’t.

The Perfect Time to Panic

Right about then the distinctive flutter of butterfly wings (probably Callophrys sheridanii lemberti, also known as “Lembert’s Green Hairstreak – which also adequately describes what was happening to my remaining hair) were tickling my stomach (if not outright stomping around in it with jackboots on) as a sense of panic began to peek over the horizon.

I desperately pounded the Easy button on my desk (yes, I really have one), but the pesky thing chose that moment to malfunction as well. Strangely, instead of hearing the usual word, “Easy”, the silly thing inexplicably started laughing hysterically. I don’t know about you, but I really hate it when that happens. I instinctively know that can’t be good.

The Tuesday after Labor Day dawned, leaving me with only one day left to wrap things up (everyone was supposed to fly out the next day). Not only do I still have no PO, but we’re already committed to considerable expense because of the aforementioned airline tickets. (It’s a sensation not unlike have your, er, nether regions hanging out a window overlooking the Interstate – and Chopper Dave is focusing the Channel 7 traffic-cam on it).

Finding the End of Yourself

Well suffice it to say, my friends, at this point I’m thinkin’ to myself, “Self, this ain’t exactly the most auspicious start to a fine (and preferably long-term) consulting career!” (Yes, I talk to myself a lot. So what’s your point?)

You know that moment where you realize there is absolutely nothing more you can do to make things work out? You know, when you’ve done everything humanly possible, you’ve (if you’ll pardon the expression) reached the, er, end of yourself (sorry!), and the whole shebang is all in God’s hands?

I distinctly remember reaching that point about midday on Tuesday.

OK; I won’t leave you, er, hangin’ (sorry again!) By the end of the day, all signatures were collected, documents emailed, and contracts executed (sound of giant sigh of relief). Everything finally fell into place within 30 minutes of the end of the day. I finally received the official “go” from my boss to actually, you know, go.

The Last Word

Before I left his office, however, I thought it worthwhile to try and salvage the remains of my seemingly vastly diminished future career as a consultant. I mean, wouldn’t you? Admittedly, some of it was, well, self-inflicted (the P.O. currency snafu, for instance). But much of the remaining aggravation was simply out of my hands.

I began to summarize, and just as I reached the “… I’ll do better next time” part of my semi-prepared speech, he just smiled and held up his hand to stop me. He then told me something that totally changed my entire outlook about the whole sordid mess.

He simply said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. This sort of thing happens three times a week around here.”

Now, I don’t know how often you’ve found yourself in the midst of a high-stress situation (OK; let’s just call it what it was – a panic button moment), but it is most definitely not fun. Oh sure; you can (if you’re paying attention) learn a lot from situations like this (like, for instance, make sure you get the currency right, ya big galoot!), but it’s not something you’d want to do every day, ya know?

Here I was, really pretty much exhausted by the entire last couple of weeks’ ordeal, and frustrated because of the hassles, aggravation, and outright mistakes I’d encountered (and yes, made). As my brainy friends, the Good Doctors Ellen Weber and Robyn McMaster will tell you, that sort of thing quickly drains all the vitality out of you in no time at all.

But when my boss told me those few little words, well, it was like being handed a glass of ice cold water after a hard slog through the desert. I mean to tell ya; it was truly an amazing moment. Within a matter of seconds, it literally transformed me from a position of weakness – to a position of strength!

Just a few words… how powerful is that?

It’s YOUR Turn Now

You know; you can change people’s lives with just a few words. Be they uplifting… or spiteful… they can make a difference that won’t be soon forgetten. Wanna try an experiment with me?

Your task, should you choose to accept it, my friends, is to find an opportunity to do the same thing to someone you know that my boss did for me. When you encounter someone who is obviously under tremendous stress (or maybe they just got through one), then try giving them an uplifting word or two.

I’d be willing to bet that you’ll not only have the amazing experience and joy of seeing someone completely transform right before your eyes, but you’ll learn a lesson you won’t soon forget! C’mon; be the water!

Let me know how it went, if you would. I’ll leave the light on for you.

[As I mentioned up at the top, this is my entry for this month's What I Learned From... groupwrite project. I'd like to invite you to join us with your own story of lessons learned. The topic this month is What I Learned From My Friends, and we're open for entries thru Sunday, Sept. 14^th. If you'll click on that cute little link there, you can read all about how to participate.]

Passing Ferry, by cmiked

Question: Can strict limitations enable interesting opportunities? We often think of limitations in terms of negatives, right? They keep things from happening, prevent advancement, and otherwise minimize possibilities. But can limitations provide opportunities that were otherwise not possible?

Head for the Beach!

When I was a kid, the best holidays I can remember were the times we went to Galveston Island. Back then, as far as I was concerned a day at the beach was pretty much the perfect holiday.

I mean, what’s not to like? You had a great big ocean (well, in our case it was the Gulf of Mexico, but it looked like an ocean to me), lots of sparkly sand to squish between my toes, zillions of teeny tiny crabs that absolutely hated being picked up, an occasional dead jellyfish or two – not to mention seashells galore – absolutely none of which were available at our oh-so-humdrum house back in Houston.

Most times, we spent our holiday at Stewart Beach, on the ocean side of the eastern end of the island. It’s easy to find; you just follow Interstate 45 South from the mainland over the causeway into the city of Galveston, where it becomes Broadway. Follow that until it hits Seawall Boulevard, and voila! you’re there!

You had to be ready for crowds, though; on particularly nice days, about a bazillion other people had the same idea. But hey, that never bothered me; more people meant more interesting, you know, stuff going on (besides, I didn’t have to, you know, drive). And you know how kids thrive on activity, right? (Not to mention, er, hot dogs, popsicles and Kool-Aide, but that’s neither here nor there.)

To secure a decent spot, we’d usually leave fairly early in the morning. Then, after a hard day of having fun, sometime around late afternoon we’d pack up and head back home. But before hitting the highway, we always – without fail – made a side trip to ride the ferry.

The Galveston – Bolivar Ferry

I don’t know what it is about ferries. They’re just… I don’t know, different. It’s an experience so totally unlike any other form of water transportation, such as traveling on a cruise ship, motorboat, or tramp freighter. (Gee, is there such a thing as a respectable freighter or must they all be tramps? Never mind.)

Now bear in mind, riding the ferry wasn’t something we had to do. The route we took to and from Houston didn’t go that way. No, it was more like a “because it was there” sortof thing. One simply didn’t go to Galveston without riding the ferry, don’cha know. It’s not even that long of a ride, either: from the northeastern end of the island across the Houston Ship Channel entrance to a narrow spit of land called Bolivar Peninsula, it was an actual distance of less than three miles.

There’s a lot of large ship traffic that passes through on its way to the Port of Houston, though, so at the very least there were usually interesting ships to watch for. It was always fun to imagine what exotic lands they might have come from (Africa? Japan? New Jersey?) and what fabulous cargoes they carried (gold? jewels? rendered whale blubber?)

It was the same ritual every time: Wait in line until the ferry docked, wait for the cars to get off, load up more cars in the other direction, then once we were all packed in like big metal sardines, off we went! It only took about 20 minutes to cross.

As soon as we got off, we’d go down the road about a half-mile, then turn around and get back in line. If there wasn’t too much traffic waiting, we could sometimes get back on the same boat for its return trip. Even if we had to wait for the next boat, though, the whole adventure never added more than an hour or so to our day before heading back home.

A seagull for every post!

One of the things I remember clearly was how stable the crossing was. I mean, once we left the dock, it was pretty much rock solid (other than a distant vibration from the engines, but that didn’t count). Rarely were the waves big enough to (if you’ll pardon the expression) rock the boat.

Most fascinating was how supernaturally smooth the departure was. At first, the ferry moved so slowly it was easy to pretend the land itself was moving away, not us. On either side, large bundles of worn piles, nearly black from weather and age, provided a fine roost for the inevitable legions of seagulls (only one per pile, please!). Their raucous chorus celebrated our departure.

Most of the gulls took wing as we got under way, following us across the water. Diving like missiles for small fish kicked up by our wake, the rest flew in complex and ever-changing traffic patterns just off the stern, waiting for tidbits tossed into the air by passengers. Feeding the gulls was as much a part of the ferry ritual as the ride itself. We always had the remains of the day’s loaf of sandwich bread ready to toss at them.

Sometimes, if you stretched up as high as you could and held your hand just right, an enterprising gull would separate himself from the traffic pattern and come close enough to snatch the bread from your fingers. I’m tellin’ ya; that was a magical moment!

Then there was the inevitable “waving at the other ferry” routine as we passed the other ferry on its return trip. Without fail, folks would line up on that side of the boat and wave like mad. It was silly, sure; but like I said, it was sortof like a, you know, rule.

The Value of Routine

Don't bite the hand that feeds..., by KM&G-Morris

When you think about it, driving a ferry seems like an almost certain recipe for boredom, don’t you think? I mean, it runs the same course back and forth, over and over, day after day, week after – well, you get the idea. Doesn’t seem like much creativity would be allowed in a job like that, does it? Yep; it was a severely restricted regime, to say the least. No variation allowed. Very narrow limits of performance. Routine.

I’ve often wondered if the various Captains ever got tired of it, day in and day out. What would happen if one day the Captain suddenly made a hard turn to starboard (that’s to the right for you landlubber folk) and set off for a distant adventure?

But here’s the thing. That routine – going back and forth – made so much more possible. Here’s a couple of random thoughts illustrating what I mean:

Connection – The ferry provided a connection between two isolated communities (well, you know what I mean, I hope). What used to be a many-mile trip turned into a simple 15-minute commute. The truth is, all kinds of interesting things can happen when you eliminate barriers between folks.

Separation – Even though the communities are linked, because of the ferry both sides can still retain their own distinctive characters. On the peninsula side, it’s quiet, peaceful, tranquil – but on the Island side, there’s activity, excitement, and it’s filled with people to see (not to mention things to do). Though short in actual distance, it’s enough to provide an effective separation, allowing the two sides to preserve their own distinct and unique cultures.

Opportunity – People over on the peninsula no longer had to drive a zillion miles to get to the things Galveston Island had to offer. Likewise, those on the island had the chance to experience a different atmosphere. Both sides benefit when they take advantage of the opportunity to see how the other side lives. In a similar way, the flow of people allowed ideas to spread from one side to the other and back again. Everybody benefits from that.

Other Stuff – Plenty of other, well, peripheral things become possible because of the existence of this ferry line. For instance, compared to a plain ol’ ordinary bridge crossing, a ferry ride was an event. Not only that, but the event itself made possible lots of other, secondary events, too. The chance to wave madly at total strangers on the other ferry as it passed – coaxing a seagull to pluck food right from your fingers – a fresh sea breeze with its distinctive salt-water smell, blowing in your face and ruining your hair – the sun’s afternoon rays sparkling upon the water – the seagulls’ plaintive cries – the list goes on and on.

Sometimes, some of life’s simplest pleasures come about because of enforced limitations. Sometimes, they can help you see.

Your Turn Now

So are there any routines in your own life that may be, shall we say, underappreciated? I’ll bet you can think of at least a few. But here’s the big question: Which of those limitations actually enable you to do more or maybe greater things? Care to share ‘em with the rest of us? The floor is yours…

[What the hey; since I had another animal story handy, here's yet another entry for this month's What I Learned From Animals group writing project. If you've ever learned something from the animal kingdom, well, why don't you join us? Just click on that cute little link to read all the details!]

Give any thought lately to the amount of information people pick up about you, just by “listening in” to your words? Stuff like blogs, email, phone conversations, letters – it all contributes to the flow of information.

Psychotic Psychic Cats, and Other Strange Phenomena

Over the years we’ve had our share of critters, mainly cats and/or dogs. Oh, sure, when I was a kid I had the inevitable turtles, fish, and for a short while, a snake, but mainly we stuck to the mainstream, as it were.

One cat in particular, who Mrs. MZM and I named Cookie, was a real piece of work, I’ll tell ya. (She was very similar to the one in this photo.) She had some really, er, endearing personality quirks.

In fact, she had amazing psychic powers. No, really. For instance, like a magician, she could materialize me anytime she wanted, dragging me out of wherever I happened to be through some sort of wormhole or something.

Hey, don’t laugh – I’m serious! Here’s how it worked. Every day at precisely 5 minutes prior to my arrival home from work, she’d come out (from wherever it was in the apartment she spent her days), sit down in front of the door, and commence staring at it.

Presto! After 5 minutes or so of intense feline concentration, I’d magically appear at the door! Amazing, no? I imagine she thought she was pretty good at this sort of thing, in a “legend in her own mind” sortof way. (Come to think of it, I know some people like that. But I digress.)

Another thing she would do was, when I opened the door, she’d flop down on the floor, attempting to bar my path. She did this, of course, as a means to get my immediate attention. It always miffed her when I stepped over her to kiss Mrs. MZM first. (Jealousy comes easy to a cat, for whom the universe exists to serve.) As soon as I stopped moving, though, she’d be right there in front of me once again – and continue this routine until I stopped and gave her tummy a good rubbing.

But that’s not so strange, you say? Well, no, not really. But hold on, pardners; I’m just, um, easin’ you in.

Another strange thing she was good at was, well, how can I put this? OK; let’s try it this way. When she got mad at you (like, for instance, getting shouted at for sharpening her claws on the furniture), she had a way of turning her back and twitching her tail that was quite distinctly, well, rude. It put one in mind of what we here in America call the “one finger salute” (only substitute the tail for the offending digit). Oh yes, Cookie was an expert at expressing here feelings quite clearly!

But don’t get me wrong; all her quirks weren’t bad. Some were just inexplicable. But then again, she was, you know, a cat.

For instance, Cookie was always deathly afraid of strangers, although we never figured out why. When the doorbell rang, or there was a knock on the door (unless it was me – and how she knew, we’ll never know), before the “ding” in the doorbell’s “ding-dong” had even fully formed, she’d make an instant beeline to the farthest corner of the apartment. It was like a Road Runner cartoon; any loose papers that happened to be lying around would get scattered everywhere as they got sucked into the vacuum from her lightning-quick exit.

However, this latter quirk had a couple of additional, er, sub-quirks, so to speak. (You just knew there had to be more to this, didn’t you?)

One evening, our Pastor stopped by to visit. Naturally, at the first sound of the doorbell, Cookie streaked like a grey, furry lightning bolt to the apartment’s nethermost regions. (Good thing we’d had her declawed – or my lap would never have been the same!)

Anyway, our visit lasted about an hour or so, and as he got up to leave, he of course invited us to have a word of prayer with him, which we did. But here’s the weird part. No sooner than we had begun to pray, but Cookie came out of her hiding place, moseyed up to the Pastor as if he were an old friend, and parked herself right on top of his feet!

Now, we’d never seen this behavior before! Somewhat nonplussed, our Pastor nevertheless remained undeterred and kept on praying. When we finished, though, we all had a good laugh. However, we noticed the pastor didn’t, as you might expect, reach down and give Cookie a caress (which, as we knew, was the total purpose of her existence).

As it turned out, he was allergic to cats! We hadn’t mentioned the cat’s presence when he arrived, of course, since we assumed Cookie would pretty much stay in the hole she’d found for herself. But for some inexplicable reason, in this man’s presence, Cookie went completely against all previously observed behavior and acted, you know, normal.

Maybe They Really ARE Psychotic

I’ve often wondered just what it was Cookie sensed whenever our Pastor was around. (She did this every time he came over. Never to anyone else, mind you; just him.) Did her furry little nose pick up a certain subtle, er, aroma or something as a result of his allergies? Or maybe he was unknowingly broadcasting the message I’m allergic to you; please come irritate my sinuses by some other means (the all-cats, all-the-time channel, maybe?)

Who knows; maybe she was truly psychic after all. Whatever it was, there was just something about him she picked up on, every time.

You realize, of course, we humans are pretty much the same way? Whether you realize it or not, you’re actually broadcasting a wealth of information to pretty much everyone you come in contact with. That includes:

• Blogs – Your personality, prejudices, thought processes and leanings come out loud and clear here. Yep; whatever you write is there for everyone to see, and what’s worse – you can never take it back!
• Twitter – I’ve often thought twittering encourages quick responses – sometimes, unfortunately, without pre-thought. Yikes! As usual, the best rule is: think twice, publish once.
• Post comments – Your comments tell others a lot about whether or not you even paid attention. Attitudes can come through loud and clear here, even if you don’t mean for them to.
• Email – Far too easy to be more – harsher, sillier, dumber, whatever – when you don’t get immediate feedback. A one-way channel like email is probably the worst way to communicate, particularly when you need it to be rich in information. Try the phone instead.
• Conversations – Still the best communication on the planet, although the method used can dramatically effect what’s heard and what’s not. We like to think the Internet enhances conversation – but it only gives us the tools. It’s up to us to make sure we actually, you know, communicate.
• Friends – Does anyone NOT believe who you hang out with, or are associated with, affects your reputation? Seriously now, folks; if you aren’t on board with this one, well, your head is in the sand, I’m afraid.

… and the list goes on and on. The fact is, literally everything about you broadcasts information about YOU to everyone else.

So I guess the $64,821 question is, what are YOU telling folks, without even realizing it?

Ah, now that’s the question, isn’t it? All too often we want folks to get one message, but they actually end up getting a completely different message, don’t they? Things like reputation (both online and off), intent, motivations, goals – well they all have their subtle (and some not-so-subtle!) signals.

There might be several problems with that, though. What if your signals aren’t getting out clearly enough? What if they’re mixed? What if the recipient can’t pick up on them? What if – heaven forbid – their own preconceptions cause the message to be misread?

So Tell Me A Story

And now I’ll leave you with some questions for your contemplation.

The list of possible communication channels above is far from complete. What channels would YOU add?

When was the last time you experienced a communication breakdown? How did you find out there was a problem? What did you do to resolve it? Were there side effects of the miscommunication? Did it affect more than one or two people?

What about the other side of this issue? What assumptions and/or conclusions have you made about folks, based on the information similar to the above list? Have you (eek!) repeated them to others without confirmation? Why or why not? Have you ever discovered your conclusions about someone were totally wrong?

NOTE: To further celebrate our upcoming Anniversary this week (May 1), I’m sharing some of our honeymoon adventures.

Despite the fact that Kauai is absolutely chock-full of remarkably beautiful sights, we still managed to find a few that left us somewhat, er, underwhelmed at best. (Question: I know it’s possible to be overwhelmed, but can one simply be “whelmed”? But I digress.)

Old Russian Fort

For instance; remember that main road I mentioned earlier? Our trusty guidebook (yes, the same one that led us to the infamous Barking Sands) mentioned that somewhere on the southwest part of Kauai was an old Russian fort; the only one in Hawaii. Well, this seemed worth visiting, so we headed on over.

Off the main road, we discovered a sign confirming our arrival. There was nothing else in sight except a small parking area, in which ours was the only car. Hmmm… obviously not exactly a tourist hotspot, but what the hey.

Although there were no directions, a rough path lead us toward a clump of low trees and overgrown vegetation. After walking for about 5 minutes or so, we found ourselves surrounded by low, heavily weed-covered mounds. Within another few minutes, we came across a sign detailing the history of the fort, and it was then we realized we had been walking right through the middle of it!

I mean, c’mon! Granted, it’s a genuine chapter in Hawaii’s history, but in the condition it’s in, it’s not exactly exciting, you know? In fact, the only reason we remember it at all is the actuality was so much less than promised!

Spaulding Monument

One of the things we discovered on Kauai, and was later confirmed during our stay on Aruba, is that when you’re on a small island, there are only so many things worth looking at. Although Kauai is seven times larger than Aruba (552 square miles vs. 75), only a small part of it is easily accessible by car (the island is basically one big, and luckily extinct, volcano). So we ended up with little more than the same area to explore. (Besides, since we were on our honeymoon, I had no desire to try more physical means of exploration, such as hiking, etc.; I mean, you understand, don’t you?)

Anyhoo, it got to the point where we were almost desperately searching for something new to see. Therefore, every time we found a road we hadn’t explored yet, we just pointed the car and went.

Well, this one time, the road we picked at random (the ocean was the other direction, so at least we knew there wouldn’t be a big wet surprise at the end of it!) seemed to just go on and on. For several miles at least, we drove down this dirt road seeing nothing but cane fields on either side. And, just to make things more interesting, the cane was so tall and dense (at least 8-9 feet) there were no landmarks, either. It was like an endless, roofless green tunnel.

Every so often, we looked at each other and asked ourselves, “Keep going, or turn around?” However, the spirit of adventure still being present, we kept going. Finally, we came upon a small sign that read: “Spalding Monument” with an arrow that pointed ahead. This struck us both as kinda funny, since there was clearly nowhere to go but straight ahead.

After a few more minutes (which seemed to take forever), we finally came upon a split in the road. There was a small cleared space in the “Y” that had a low, stone and concrete “thing” on it. “Aha!” we thought; “at last, the famous Spalding Monument!”

Well, once again, the promise, such as it was, was somewhat, er, less than expected. It turned out this particular monument had been erected by a former cane plantation owner to himself! Ah well, at least there was a great view, the cane having receded enough at this point.

Oh, well. All I can say is, if you ever visit Kauai, don’t bother with either of these two spots. I’m just sayin’.

Promises, Promises

So what can one learn from this, anyway? Well (and you no doubt knew this was coming), allow me to point out something.

Here’s the thing. When you make a promise, you need to make sure the promise is what it seems to be. By that, I mean make sure the recipient gets what he or she thinks they’re going to get. Notice, now; this is a little different from the statement, make sure the recipient gets what you promised.

Why the distinction? Well, you have to remember; perception is critical, especially when it comes to promises. That first statement is from the recipient’s point of view, while the second one is from yours. Here’s the question: Which one is more important?

I’ll leave you to make whatever application you want here, but suffice it to say, it’s important to make sure what they hear is what you meant to say.

See, when we saw something mentioned in the guidebook, we naturally assumed it would be actually something worth seeing. I mean, who wouldn’t? Thus, an implied promise was made. But, when we arrived, the result was disappointing at best. Although neither the book nor the signs made explicit promises (come see the stupendous Old Russian Fort! Thrill to the sight of the Spalding Monument!), in our minds there was at least a promise of value, so to speak.

The result is, of course, disappointment. Interesting, don’t you think, that those disappointments are still well-remembered, even 26 years later?

_____________________

For our other Hawaiian Honeymoon adventures, see:

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 1: Dignity; Always Dignity

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 2: When Skies Are Grey

Bwa-ha-ha-ha! I bet you thought this was going to be a tutorial on the basics of Feedburner, didn’t you? Well, sorry ’bout that, but I just couldn’t resist the title.

Hey, check it out! For the first time, Middle Zone Musings hit triple digits (on Wednesday, April 16, 2008) in the Feedburner gizmo thingie over there in the sidebar! (Sound of audience cheering wildly; cue the fireworks; cue the band; and hey – where’s that red carpet?)

Now, I realize this may seem small potatoes (or is that ‘pot-ah-toes’?) to many of you out there in Bloggerville. I mean, there’s still a ways to go to get close to ruling the world the numbers Darren Rowse pulls in (46,557 last time I checked). But what the hey; it’s a milestone on the way!

Gee, and it seems like only yesterday when I first installed it (showing, by the way, a grand total of 4 readers). Yep; I was just a young whipper-snapper of a blogger back then, still pretty wet behind the ears. Well, we sure have come a long way together since then, haven’t we?

Hmmm… After 22 months, that comes out to about, uh… let’s see now… multiply by 16… carry the 92… er, what’s the square root of pi again? (Hold on, y’all; I’m gonna hafta take my shoes and socks off for this one…) Wow! That’s an increase of about 2500%! (Give or take a percent or two.) Not too shabby when you look at it that way, eh?

Anyhoo, I just wanted to thank all y’all out there who made it possible. I mean, without you folks, I’d be just another lonely ol’ cowboy, woofin’ it into the breeze, if you know what I mean. So I want to say thanks for stopping by… and especially for stickin’ around!

Although there’s not enough time in the day to possibly thank everyone (much as I’d like to) who’s had a part in making the Middle Zone a great place to spend time each day, I’d still like to mention a few particularly special folks:

• Amy Palko
• Brad Shorr
• Ellen Weber
• GL Hoffman
• Jackie Cameron
• Jean Browman
• Jeanne Dininni
• Joanna Young
• Karen Hanrahan
• Karin H
• Laura Spencer
• Lillie Ammann
• Liz Strauss
• Mike DeWitt
• Pete Aldin
• Robyn McMaster
• Sam Brougher
• Sterling Camden
• Terry Starbucker
• Trevor Hampel
• William Tully
• Yvonne Russell

Thanks, y’all; you really make me feel special! And of course, no MZM “thank you” would be complete without a big ol’ tip o’ the hat to ya!

Actually, this post serves as something of a Public Service Announcement. (You know, one of those things you see on TV or hear on the radio where people or organizations publicly demonstrate they’re watching out for your welfare.)

So consider this post as fair warning: You folks up in the Chicago area (laughingly known to us Texans as “the frozen north”) – well, you’d better hide the silverware! Yep, that’s right; I’m on my way to Chicago on May 2 for the Next Big Thing – SOBCon08 (sound of women and children screaming in fear crowd cheering)!

Liz Strauss, Terry Starbucker, and the whole gang have really gone all-out to make this year’s edition of SOBCon a huge success, and believe you me, it shows! Dubbed as a “Biz School for Bloggers”, it promises to once again be the keystone event of the year:

Whether for love or money, if you blog for readers or community, you’re in the business of blogging. This conference can help you achieve your goals, faster with more confidence, and more predictably.

I must admit, I spent a lot of time trying to decide whether or not SOBCon08 was right for me or not. After all, the Middle Zone isn’t a business (it’s really more of a state of mind), and I don’t monetize it in any way, shape or form – other than the priceless currency of your readership and good fellowship. But that’s not really what caused me to hesitate.

To tell you the truth, I didn’t understand the value proposition. I mean, when you get right down to it, what is it about SOBCon08 that justifies the not insignificant cost? To put it bluntly, what’s in it for me? (C’mon, admit it; if you’re still unsure about going then you’re probably thinking the same thing.) Naturally, being the pragmatic fellow that I am, I started to wonder – just what are the benefits?

After all, even though I don’t monetize the Middle Zone, that doesn’t mean I won’t try to make money from blogging someday, right? After all, as more and more businesses turn to blogging to get closer to their customers (and quite a few other reasons), the chances are pretty good that I’ll need to better understand the business of blogging, right? Besides, we’re not necessarily talking here about hard cash, you know.

So, if you’re like me (and if you are, I offer my sincere condolences), in no particular order allow me to count the ways…

Knowledge – Like I said, knowing how to do something is never a bad thing, even if you don’t actually, you know, do it. Besides, you never know when you might be able to synthesize that knowledge into some other endeavor, right? Like my old scoutmaster always used to say, “Be prepared.”

Ideas – There’s nothing like being with a large, like-minded (yet still diverse) group of folks to stir up the ol’ creative juices! Not only will you get to hear from 200+ others, at some point we’ll be working in teams to help each other build business plans, action plans, and maybe plain old share an idea or two – whacky or otherwise – that could be useful to us and our customers. This could be worth the price of admission all by itself.

Relationships – It’s a chance to meet up with the folks we may only know electronically. At the last SOBCon, I was still relatively new at it, and didn’t really know too many people. Since then, however, I’ve forged some wonderful relationships – many of whom (or is it who?) will actually be there too. What a great way to strengthen the bonds of friendship! For me, this is probably the biggest immediate benefit. But who knows where it can lead?

Show Off – I know this sounds a bit odd, but the fact is, many of us have grown considerably during the last year. Hey, here’s a chance to demonstrate your own expertise. C’mon; take a bow, why don’t you – there’s nothing wrong with that! After all, we make money off our expertise every day, right? Besides, it gives the rest of us a chance to celebrate and encourage each other, too.

Networking – I’m tellin’ ya, ever since I realized the value of networking for life, I’ve tried never to miss the opportunity. Although in person I tend to be rather shy and retiring (no, really!), it’s something I’ve made myself do because, well, we all benefit from knowing as many people as possible. And I don’t mean just their names, either.

Hey, there’s plenty more than these few things I just listed, but I didn’t want to hog ‘em all. If you’re still sittin’ on the fence, though – well Bubba, why not take a moment to consider these five thoughts. Heck, add your own reasons, why don’cha!

I can tell you this – SOBCon08 promises to add up to one exciting event! Do yourself a favor and drop by the site and sign up. Hey, if you do decide to come, then by all means, drop me a note and let me know. And be sure and tap me on the shoulder (just look for the hat); I’d be downright honored to meet you. I’ll be staying at the Hotel 71 around the corner, so I’ll be close by.

In the meantime, to you folks in Chicago… like I said, you’d better hide the silverware!

See ya!