Get this: Given a choice of super powers, 28% of Americans would pick the ability to read minds. Yes, according to a recent Marist Poll, people of all ages would like to be able to read your mind. I can see the attraction in a way. If I knew what you were thinking now for example, I would know whether you were glad you opened the link to my blog. I would also know if you liked my writing, and when you stopped reading and why.
As a sales professional think of how much time I could save if I knew what the customer was thinking. “Listen to this guy! He goes on and on. Does he ever take a breath? And speaking of breath, what exactly did he have for lunch today?” Well, you can’t make a sale on every call I guess.
Regardless, I am sure there would be some other advantages in knowing what others are thinking, but what if I couldn’t control it? I mean suppose I had to know what you were thinking whether I was interested or not? Would I have room for my own thoughts or would I be inundated with the mundane thoughts of others? Believe me if they’re anything like mine, every day would feel like hard time at Shawshank. Imagine listening to endless meanderings like “I’m tired and I still have to take out the garbage.” Or, “What day is it anyway?” “Did I take my blood pressure pill? Damn it I have to count my pills again.” No doubt your thoughts are considerably more profound. I sure hope so.
By the way, when it comes to super powers the ability to time travel was just as popular. That’s right 28% of Americans think that would be cool. I like that one. I think it would be great to go back to say, August of 2004 so I could buy as many shares of Google as possible. Then I could pay somebody else to count my pills.
I might also want to take a trip to the future to see how the world turns out. I would be particularly interested in whether the New York Yankees win the pennant in 2048, the hundredth anniversary of my arrival on earth. Not to mention whether I might be in attendance on opening day that year. Probably not but it would be nice to know.
Invisibility didn’t score that high. Only 10% of us think being invisible would be a good super power to have. For my money it beats the heck out of reading people’s minds. For one thing I would rather be able to pick the people I wanted to snoop on and hear what they have to say out loud. Tell me you wouldn’t want to be in your boss’s office when he was discussing your performance with his boss. “I keep telling this guy he’s got to stop eating onions for lunch. Customers are complaining.”
How about keeping an eye on your kids while they’re in school? Well, perhaps not. Most of us would be depressed. Based on what we saw and heard, we probably would be in line at the super power store that very afternoon. We’d be hot to trade our invisibility for time travel so we could go back to when the world was perfect, which according to the “remember when” emails I get, was around 1956.
The ability to fly didn’t score much better than invisibility. Just 16% of us would like to fly. For my money, flying wouldn’t be a great super power to have unless you were invulnerable to cold air and bird strikes. And you would have to be able to fly at a leisurely pace, reasonably low to the ground too. Listen, if it’s 24 degrees out and you’re doing 600 miles an hour at 30,000 feet, I’m guessing frostbite becomes an issue pretty quickly. A flock of migrating geese could give one pause as well.
Every since super heroes like Batman and Superman came to life in comic books, people have dreamt about having a super power. I’m surprised that the pollsters didn’t offer other choices like invulnerability, x-ray vision or the chance to be China. Which super power would you pick? Take your time and please, remember the old saying. Be careful what you wish for…
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Where She Stops Nobody Knows
I was in Detroit again, Ann Arbor to be exact. At the end of a long day of sales calls my colleague Fred and I checked into the Candlewood Suites. It was my first time staying at this Holiday Inn property. A young man greeted us at the check-in counter ready to process our reservation. I couldn’t help noticing a prize wheel sitting on the counter to my right.
You know the type. You’ve seen them at carnivals. You put your money down and spin the wheel. Let’s say you placed your money on a stuffed animal, maybe a platypus. If the wheel stops on that prize you win. Of course at carnivals, the wheel has about 2,000 choices. Your odds of actually winning something are only slightly better than the likelihood you will be the next President of the United States.
At the Candlewood Suites in Ann Arbor the wheel only has ten choices, three once you boil it down. There are four chances to win a can of Coca~Cola, two chances to win $3.00 worth of snacks and two chances to win 1,000 Priority Club points. There are, as it turns out two other possibilities. I was so looking forward to trying my luck with the Candlewood Suites prize wheel. Who doesn’t like a little game of chance?
I quickly signed the registration sheet, got my room key, and then gave the wheel a spin. As it came to a stop that other possibility, one I didn’t really notice in my excitement, came into focus. It said, “Better Luck Next Time.” You might think I was chagrined beyond belief by my bad luck but I was actually quite happy with the result. Had I won the 1,000 point prize or even a can of Coke, I’m sure I wouldn’t have given the moment a second thought. Instead I was flabbergasted by the idea that someone in the Candlewood Suites organization, no doubt a marketing professional, thinks it’s a good idea to send some customers to their rooms feeling like losers.
I looked at the desk clerk who was obviously prepared to sympathize with me over my bad luck. I couldn’t help it. I was laughing. I said, “I’ve been on the road all day. I’m tired and I have never stayed at your hotel before. Do you really want to send me to my room cursing my bad luck? Are you trying to make me connect the Candlewood brand with feeling like a loser? Why don’t you go all the way? Instead of saying ‘Better Luck Next Time’ why not say ‘Drop Dead?’ Seriously, why not let me feel the full weight of your indifference?” He smiled back at me and shrugged. Marketing wasn’t his department.
Listen: I get it that the prize wheel is supposed to inject a little fun, even excitement in what is an otherwise mundane activity. But the hotel used it in a way that surely has unintended and certainly unwelcome side effects. I am sure that many if not most people would spin the wheel and laugh it off if they lost. What I can’t help wondering though is whether it’s worth the risk that some people might avoid the hotel next time they’re in town, simply because…“there is something about that place…I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t like…” Instead of better luck next time I think the options should be a new Buick. I’m just saying.
I’ve experienced the prize wheel before by the way. Years ago not long after we were married, my wife and I were buying carpet. There was a sale going on. Big discounts were promised. Once you selected your carpet and padding you had to spin the wheel to see how big your discount would be. As I recall, discounts went from 3% to 12%. I spun and it landed on 9%, not bad. It wasn’t until later that it dawned on me that they were prepared to give us an additional 3% discount if the prize wheel landed on 12%. Why should I accept anything less? My colleague Fred who frequently stays at Holiday Inn property’s rightly insisted on the 1,000 point prize for that very reason. Why should he accept less? Alas, its years too late to make my case on the carpeting. Better luck next time I guess.
Copyright 2011 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
You know the type. You’ve seen them at carnivals. You put your money down and spin the wheel. Let’s say you placed your money on a stuffed animal, maybe a platypus. If the wheel stops on that prize you win. Of course at carnivals, the wheel has about 2,000 choices. Your odds of actually winning something are only slightly better than the likelihood you will be the next President of the United States.
At the Candlewood Suites in Ann Arbor the wheel only has ten choices, three once you boil it down. There are four chances to win a can of Coca~Cola, two chances to win $3.00 worth of snacks and two chances to win 1,000 Priority Club points. There are, as it turns out two other possibilities. I was so looking forward to trying my luck with the Candlewood Suites prize wheel. Who doesn’t like a little game of chance?
I quickly signed the registration sheet, got my room key, and then gave the wheel a spin. As it came to a stop that other possibility, one I didn’t really notice in my excitement, came into focus. It said, “Better Luck Next Time.” You might think I was chagrined beyond belief by my bad luck but I was actually quite happy with the result. Had I won the 1,000 point prize or even a can of Coke, I’m sure I wouldn’t have given the moment a second thought. Instead I was flabbergasted by the idea that someone in the Candlewood Suites organization, no doubt a marketing professional, thinks it’s a good idea to send some customers to their rooms feeling like losers.
I looked at the desk clerk who was obviously prepared to sympathize with me over my bad luck. I couldn’t help it. I was laughing. I said, “I’ve been on the road all day. I’m tired and I have never stayed at your hotel before. Do you really want to send me to my room cursing my bad luck? Are you trying to make me connect the Candlewood brand with feeling like a loser? Why don’t you go all the way? Instead of saying ‘Better Luck Next Time’ why not say ‘Drop Dead?’ Seriously, why not let me feel the full weight of your indifference?” He smiled back at me and shrugged. Marketing wasn’t his department.
Listen: I get it that the prize wheel is supposed to inject a little fun, even excitement in what is an otherwise mundane activity. But the hotel used it in a way that surely has unintended and certainly unwelcome side effects. I am sure that many if not most people would spin the wheel and laugh it off if they lost. What I can’t help wondering though is whether it’s worth the risk that some people might avoid the hotel next time they’re in town, simply because…“there is something about that place…I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t like…” Instead of better luck next time I think the options should be a new Buick. I’m just saying.
I’ve experienced the prize wheel before by the way. Years ago not long after we were married, my wife and I were buying carpet. There was a sale going on. Big discounts were promised. Once you selected your carpet and padding you had to spin the wheel to see how big your discount would be. As I recall, discounts went from 3% to 12%. I spun and it landed on 9%, not bad. It wasn’t until later that it dawned on me that they were prepared to give us an additional 3% discount if the prize wheel landed on 12%. Why should I accept anything less? My colleague Fred who frequently stays at Holiday Inn property’s rightly insisted on the 1,000 point prize for that very reason. Why should he accept less? Alas, its years too late to make my case on the carpeting. Better luck next time I guess.
Copyright 2011 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Where Have You Gone Kit Carson?
Imagine if you will the early American pioneers traveling in wagon trains from Missouri all the way to California. Rugged men, women and children all, they battled weather, tricky terrain, unpredictable rivers and angry Native Americans to reach their new homes. It could be argued that these pioneers defined the American can-do spirit. These men and women had an insatiable thirst for adventure. Traveling for as long as six months to reach their promised land, they consistently demonstrated independence in thought and action. America is a great country because these brave souls wouldn’t accept the conventional wisdom that it wasn’t safe to make a 2,000 mile journey in a wagon. They believed in themselves and in the future of America.
Now imagine what would have happened if, when they reached the Rocky Mountains, they found a band of fellow Americans wearing uniforms with patches that said TSA on their shirts. Picture an agent of the Federal government requesting identification, demanding that the men remove their belts and boots. Imagine the women being subjected to a pat down through their petticoats. Can you hear the TSA agent telling them they could not take their water-filled canteens another step further because they weren’t purchased at the entrance to the mountain range? When the TSA agents insisted that the men leave their weapons behind, I’m guessing a riot would have ensued which the history books would no doubt refer to as the Massacre of South Pass, Wyoming.
I was standing in line before 6 a.m. at the Nashville International Airport last week trying to get to Detroit. There was an unusually large crowd that morning trying to get through security, nervously checking their watches and praying they would make their flights. That is when they weren’t distracted by emails and text messages or listening to Maroon 5 on their i-Pods. Like sheep we all did exactly as we were told. We handed over our boarding passes along with our picture IDs just to get into the line.
As we got closer to the gray buckets and conveyor belts we ran through our mental checklist: Wallet, jewelry, cell phone, coins, belts, tiny toiletries and oh yes, laptops. We know that all these items along with any jackets and shoes must be removed and placed in the buckets. We gently pushed them along, careful to smile at any TSA agents that might look in our direction. It makes no sense to look like an independent, non-compliant American citizen. No one wants to submit to the public pat down or electric wanding that suggests you’re either a potential threat to national security or a dummy who doesn’t even know how to fly to Detroit.
With plenty of time on my hands, I found myself scrutinizing the faces of my fellow travelers. I was looking for any signs of rebellion in the ranks. Maybe we’re too distracted to rebel. Perhaps a bit self satisfied that life is good enough so why make waves? It doesn’t take that long to get through the line anyway. Seriously, shouldn’t we carefully examine gray-haired old men and women, checking even their canes to be sure we can fly safely? Doesn’t it make sense to send innocent 5 year old red-blooded American children through an x-ray machine? I feel safer don’t you?
I go through this process nearly every week. Usually it doesn’t take very long but it is frustrating nevertheless. That morning I couldn’t help thinking about the American spirit and whether we have any fight left in us. What will it take for us to say, enough!
“Sir, before I let you board the plane you will have to recite the Pledge of Allegiance and sing God Bless America into this microphone or you can’t fly today.”
“Excuse me miss, we have your identification and your ticket is valid but our clerk here is going to perform a full cavity search live on television which will be seen by anyone sitting in the food court.”
I understand the need for airport security. No one wants a repeat of 9/11. But we have become much too willing to accept patently absurd notions about safety because it’s easier than fighting the craziness. Passenger profiling need not be based solely on ethnic or racial stereotypes. In fact experts say it would be a mistake. Regardless, our current security system makes air travel a nuisance. If only we had the ingenuity of our forefathers. Surely we could find a better way. Most of us know America can do better. Our ancestors would have done something about it.
Copyright Len Serafino 2011. All rights reserved.
Now imagine what would have happened if, when they reached the Rocky Mountains, they found a band of fellow Americans wearing uniforms with patches that said TSA on their shirts. Picture an agent of the Federal government requesting identification, demanding that the men remove their belts and boots. Imagine the women being subjected to a pat down through their petticoats. Can you hear the TSA agent telling them they could not take their water-filled canteens another step further because they weren’t purchased at the entrance to the mountain range? When the TSA agents insisted that the men leave their weapons behind, I’m guessing a riot would have ensued which the history books would no doubt refer to as the Massacre of South Pass, Wyoming.
I was standing in line before 6 a.m. at the Nashville International Airport last week trying to get to Detroit. There was an unusually large crowd that morning trying to get through security, nervously checking their watches and praying they would make their flights. That is when they weren’t distracted by emails and text messages or listening to Maroon 5 on their i-Pods. Like sheep we all did exactly as we were told. We handed over our boarding passes along with our picture IDs just to get into the line.
As we got closer to the gray buckets and conveyor belts we ran through our mental checklist: Wallet, jewelry, cell phone, coins, belts, tiny toiletries and oh yes, laptops. We know that all these items along with any jackets and shoes must be removed and placed in the buckets. We gently pushed them along, careful to smile at any TSA agents that might look in our direction. It makes no sense to look like an independent, non-compliant American citizen. No one wants to submit to the public pat down or electric wanding that suggests you’re either a potential threat to national security or a dummy who doesn’t even know how to fly to Detroit.
With plenty of time on my hands, I found myself scrutinizing the faces of my fellow travelers. I was looking for any signs of rebellion in the ranks. Maybe we’re too distracted to rebel. Perhaps a bit self satisfied that life is good enough so why make waves? It doesn’t take that long to get through the line anyway. Seriously, shouldn’t we carefully examine gray-haired old men and women, checking even their canes to be sure we can fly safely? Doesn’t it make sense to send innocent 5 year old red-blooded American children through an x-ray machine? I feel safer don’t you?
I go through this process nearly every week. Usually it doesn’t take very long but it is frustrating nevertheless. That morning I couldn’t help thinking about the American spirit and whether we have any fight left in us. What will it take for us to say, enough!
“Sir, before I let you board the plane you will have to recite the Pledge of Allegiance and sing God Bless America into this microphone or you can’t fly today.”
“Excuse me miss, we have your identification and your ticket is valid but our clerk here is going to perform a full cavity search live on television which will be seen by anyone sitting in the food court.”
I understand the need for airport security. No one wants a repeat of 9/11. But we have become much too willing to accept patently absurd notions about safety because it’s easier than fighting the craziness. Passenger profiling need not be based solely on ethnic or racial stereotypes. In fact experts say it would be a mistake. Regardless, our current security system makes air travel a nuisance. If only we had the ingenuity of our forefathers. Surely we could find a better way. Most of us know America can do better. Our ancestors would have done something about it.
Copyright Len Serafino 2011. All rights reserved.
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