I was complaining about the state of my tennis game. I started playing the game later in life and I wasn’t particularly athletic during my school years. I play two types of players: Guys half my age that seem to run down my best shots effortlessly and guys around my age that have been playing since they were two years old. I was lamenting my sad fate to my buddy when he asked me why I played the game. “Because I love it,” I said.
Then he said something to me that completely changed my outlook. “Len, you’ve been successful in other areas of your life, why do you feel you have to be so successful at tennis? Could tennis be a game you just play for fun without worrying about whether you win or lose?” Had I been undergoing a brain MRI when he said those words the technicians would have been treated to a light show rivaling the Pinball Wizard’s pinball machine.
How many times in your life does someone drop a gem into a casual conversation that wipes the clouds away, and allows you to see things with the clarity of the Hubble Space Telescope? It’s not the kind of thing that occurs every day but when it happens we are more than grateful. My friend’s tip wasn’t a life changing experience. Yet it has helped me enjoy tennis even more and, I am happy to note, my game seems to have improved now that I’ve relaxed. (If by some chance you’ve seen me play recently, go along. It makes the story better.)
Once in a while someone says something to you that does dramatically change your life for the better. It’s happened to me more than once. My wife said yes when I asked her to marry me. Certainly men and women I have worked for have given me a nudge in a better direction, often when I was drifting. I write because friends and colleagues said I had potential.
Saying something insightful requires exquisite timing, an impeccable choice of words and a listener who has stopped watching The Food Channel just long enough to connect the dots. With the possible exception of motivational speakers, being profound is not the kind of thing one goes around doing all the time. It would be nice to be able to routinely dispense sage advice. But who can plan for such moments? I suppose the best we can do is listen carefully for opportunities to help, do our best to keep our motives pure and speak the truth as we know it, recognizing that our “truth” has its limitations. Naturally, knowing when to say something and when to be still is yet another challenge. Silence at the right time can also be profound.
As a sophomore in high school, Brother Quigley, a member of the Irish Christian order, said something that stuck with me. “When your life is over,” he said, “even if you don’t make it to heaven, you will be amazed by how much good you’ve done.”
Well, if we each have a heavenly bank account that stores good works, all I can say is this: The longer I live the more I worry about whether my account balance is large enough to alleviate some of the things I’ve done that would have been better left unrecorded. Does helping someone improve his life for the better count if I do it by accident?
Most of us have not chosen lives in any way similar to Mother Teresa’s. Yet, in our daily lives we probably unknowingly say and do things that inspire others to change their behavior, take a chance, or become more giving in their relationships. It isn’t always immediately obvious when someone’s words and actions change the way we think or feel. Too often probably, we don’t appreciate the impact others have on us in the moment. When someone’s good work finally dawns on us, how often do we make the effort to tell them how much it meant to us? And do we get points for that too? Don’t laugh! I’m in the September of my years.
My friend probably never imagined he was dispensing marvelous wisdom about my tennis game. At least not consciously; most likely, he felt he was just going along with the flow of the conversation. Sometimes my friend reads The Observer. I hope he recognizes himself. If he doesn’t I’ll have to tell him what his words meant to me. I need the points.
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
That Enthusiastic New Kid
Pity the new employee. She comes into the job excited that her new boss picked her over a slew of other candidates. She is ready to love her new co-workers. She’s ready to make dramatic changes in her department.
She’s also the only person in the office that doesn’t know the tribal secrets. With just a few false steps she can and will be voted off the island. If she lasts long enough to become a full fledged member of the tribe she may wish she had been voted out. More likely, she’ll rue the day she agreed to set foot in the office she now believes is Limbo, Dante’s first circle of hell.
As my friend Heather said, “We’ve all seen the enthusiasm of the new person at work. It’s intriguing to watch what happens to them.” All of us have been in the new kid’s shoes at one time or another. It’s hard not to feel a little pity for her. At the same time it’s probably even harder not to find the newbie’s rose colored glasses annoying. Maybe it’s because we envy her. For those of us who have chosen the rat race, is there a better feeling than the notion, however fleeting, that we can make a difference?
What happens to the enthusiasm of the new person? I’m sure you know, but let’s review for old time’s sake. For starters, exactly three months after your first day on the job, they make you turn in your halo. Until that moment your brain works perfectly. You are infallible. Every idea, every suggestion and every analysis is greeted with knowing nods of agreement. You’re a breath of fresh air, bright and even funny. The boss thinks you’re wonderful. After all he picked you didn’t he? Who are the chowder heads in the chorus to disagree? But, once the halo is gone, turned over the guy who started work this morning, you suddenly morph from sage to sagebrush. Wasn’t that why you left your last job?
Right around the time the halo is transferred to the newer kid, you hear a rumor, never confirmed, that someone with less experience and the work ethic of the proverbial grasshopper is making a lot more than you do.
Then you decide that accountability is not exactly the coin of the realm in the organization you came to change. Your co-workers seem vaguely annoyed that they are required to show up for work to be paid. Would expecting them to do something productive during the 40 hours they are on the premises be unreasonable? You notice that their supervisors spend an inordinate amount of time on Monday mornings collecting money for lottery tickets. On Fridays they make the same rounds for the weekend’s football games. Once the Super Bowl is over and done, March Madness is on the horizon. Anyone whose team makes it to the Final Four is exempted from answering phones or responding to emails until the boss notices they’ve stopped working.
It’s about this time that you come to believe the guy in the corner office is crazy. By no means is this a metaphorical term. It’s merely an unkind word for a legitimate, if non-specific, diagnosis. The chief executive insists on making all the decisions, including the most important decision of all, which is not to make them. He schedules an all day meeting with an agenda full of important topics. After a six hour monologue he closes the meeting by saying, “We got a lot done today.” As you nod your head in vigorous agreement it dawns on you, now the formerly enthusiastic new person, that it’s over. It’s not going to be different here than it was the last place you worked.
If you’re nodding your head in agreement, thinking, “Yes, I have been there and done that,” an eerie feeling should come over you. What if this is the best Americans can do now? Obviously there are many people in this country doing great things and succeeding admirably. But I worry about creeping mediocrity in too many areas of our lives. A flight went down over Buffalo last winter while the pilot and co-pilot of a doomed commuter plane discussed their inexperience and lack of expertise in coping with icy conditions. Recently the media ran a story about a couple given the wrong embryo.
Shouldn’t we embrace and then emulate the enthusiasm of the new person? The pursuit of excellence is a communicable condition. Catch it if you dare.
Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
She’s also the only person in the office that doesn’t know the tribal secrets. With just a few false steps she can and will be voted off the island. If she lasts long enough to become a full fledged member of the tribe she may wish she had been voted out. More likely, she’ll rue the day she agreed to set foot in the office she now believes is Limbo, Dante’s first circle of hell.
As my friend Heather said, “We’ve all seen the enthusiasm of the new person at work. It’s intriguing to watch what happens to them.” All of us have been in the new kid’s shoes at one time or another. It’s hard not to feel a little pity for her. At the same time it’s probably even harder not to find the newbie’s rose colored glasses annoying. Maybe it’s because we envy her. For those of us who have chosen the rat race, is there a better feeling than the notion, however fleeting, that we can make a difference?
What happens to the enthusiasm of the new person? I’m sure you know, but let’s review for old time’s sake. For starters, exactly three months after your first day on the job, they make you turn in your halo. Until that moment your brain works perfectly. You are infallible. Every idea, every suggestion and every analysis is greeted with knowing nods of agreement. You’re a breath of fresh air, bright and even funny. The boss thinks you’re wonderful. After all he picked you didn’t he? Who are the chowder heads in the chorus to disagree? But, once the halo is gone, turned over the guy who started work this morning, you suddenly morph from sage to sagebrush. Wasn’t that why you left your last job?
Right around the time the halo is transferred to the newer kid, you hear a rumor, never confirmed, that someone with less experience and the work ethic of the proverbial grasshopper is making a lot more than you do.
Then you decide that accountability is not exactly the coin of the realm in the organization you came to change. Your co-workers seem vaguely annoyed that they are required to show up for work to be paid. Would expecting them to do something productive during the 40 hours they are on the premises be unreasonable? You notice that their supervisors spend an inordinate amount of time on Monday mornings collecting money for lottery tickets. On Fridays they make the same rounds for the weekend’s football games. Once the Super Bowl is over and done, March Madness is on the horizon. Anyone whose team makes it to the Final Four is exempted from answering phones or responding to emails until the boss notices they’ve stopped working.
It’s about this time that you come to believe the guy in the corner office is crazy. By no means is this a metaphorical term. It’s merely an unkind word for a legitimate, if non-specific, diagnosis. The chief executive insists on making all the decisions, including the most important decision of all, which is not to make them. He schedules an all day meeting with an agenda full of important topics. After a six hour monologue he closes the meeting by saying, “We got a lot done today.” As you nod your head in vigorous agreement it dawns on you, now the formerly enthusiastic new person, that it’s over. It’s not going to be different here than it was the last place you worked.
If you’re nodding your head in agreement, thinking, “Yes, I have been there and done that,” an eerie feeling should come over you. What if this is the best Americans can do now? Obviously there are many people in this country doing great things and succeeding admirably. But I worry about creeping mediocrity in too many areas of our lives. A flight went down over Buffalo last winter while the pilot and co-pilot of a doomed commuter plane discussed their inexperience and lack of expertise in coping with icy conditions. Recently the media ran a story about a couple given the wrong embryo.
Shouldn’t we embrace and then emulate the enthusiasm of the new person? The pursuit of excellence is a communicable condition. Catch it if you dare.
Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Job Interview? I Might be Rusty
I heard from a recruiter the other day who, against all odds, thought I might be a good candidate for a management position with a health care company. Interested in me? I’m at the age now where my resume is far less interesting than my Outlook contacts list.
I’m more than happy to help of course, working on the assumption that those who preceded me may have mentioned my name and given my career a boost. Still, it is flattering to be asked whether I might be interested in an opportunity. Somewhere between age fifty and today, the calls dwindled down to a precious few. I have loads of experience and enough energy to stoke the growth engines of a company on the move, but my hair is gray and no matter what the hair color commercials say, a return to black won’t change the fact that I was in the class of ’70.
Regardless, I got to thinking about how I might handle an interview. I’m a bit rusty and the role of the green, eager beaver on the make is a distant memory. Do interviewers still ask the same questions they were asking ten or fifteen years ago? Some of the questions are bound to trip me up. Interview queries I used to handle with aplomb might turn into a bomb if not handled carefully. Consider some of the time honored questions and responses I might offer having spent six full decades on earth.
“Where would you like to be in five years?”
“Not dead,” comes to mind immediately. It’s honest but probably not what my prospective employer has in mind. Could I keep a straight face if I give the response conventional wisdom demands? “I hope to be in a position with more responsibility once I have proven my ability and added value to the company in my current position.” Chances are I will have already accomplished more than my new and much younger boss has even attempted with 14 months of experience in his current position. Let’s face it, in five years I hope to be still turning down Social Security payments because, having won the Power Ball lottery, my annual annuity is way above the SSA threshold.
“Why are you thinking of changing jobs?” Again the traditional response, “I am seeking a new challenge that will help me to grow…” seems woefully inappropriate. Lately my interests run toward not growing things like tumors and the size of my stomach. The most accurate answer might be, “I’m here because I can’t believe you saw my resume, guessed my age and still asked to meet me.” I have to admit I would be excited if the interviewer turned out to be around my age. Maybe my new boss will be as perplexed as I am about exactly how annuities work. We would have a lot in common I’m sure.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Yikes! “How much time do you have?” Thanks to the natural shrinkage of my frontal lobes, the part of the brain that enables us to edit ourselves, my answer could run long and might include an episode where I called a high level executive an SOB and nearly blew a multi- million dollar deal.
“Tell me about a time when you overcame a serious problem and how you did it.”
“Weren’t you listening? Or didn’t I mention that I hid in my office for two years every time the SOB came to our company for a meeting.”
“Why should we hire you instead of someone else?”
Here again experienced professionals know that this is a good time to reiterate your strengths, accomplishments and burning desire to be part of an outstanding team. At this stage of my life though, I am sorely tempted to say, “How should I know? You’re the one doing the interviews. If you like, I’ll interview the other candidates and give you an assessment.” Of course it’s quite possible that I will come out the winner. If nothing else I’ll be able to answer the interviewer’s query specifically. “You should hire me because the other candidates don’t have enough experience. And I might add I have yet to be indicted for anything.”
“Would you like to have this job?
“Maybe. How far is the restroom from my office?”
“When can you start?”
“Thursday assuming the Power Ball ticket I bought Wednesday is another five bucks down the drain.”
Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
I’m more than happy to help of course, working on the assumption that those who preceded me may have mentioned my name and given my career a boost. Still, it is flattering to be asked whether I might be interested in an opportunity. Somewhere between age fifty and today, the calls dwindled down to a precious few. I have loads of experience and enough energy to stoke the growth engines of a company on the move, but my hair is gray and no matter what the hair color commercials say, a return to black won’t change the fact that I was in the class of ’70.
Regardless, I got to thinking about how I might handle an interview. I’m a bit rusty and the role of the green, eager beaver on the make is a distant memory. Do interviewers still ask the same questions they were asking ten or fifteen years ago? Some of the questions are bound to trip me up. Interview queries I used to handle with aplomb might turn into a bomb if not handled carefully. Consider some of the time honored questions and responses I might offer having spent six full decades on earth.
“Where would you like to be in five years?”
“Not dead,” comes to mind immediately. It’s honest but probably not what my prospective employer has in mind. Could I keep a straight face if I give the response conventional wisdom demands? “I hope to be in a position with more responsibility once I have proven my ability and added value to the company in my current position.” Chances are I will have already accomplished more than my new and much younger boss has even attempted with 14 months of experience in his current position. Let’s face it, in five years I hope to be still turning down Social Security payments because, having won the Power Ball lottery, my annual annuity is way above the SSA threshold.
“Why are you thinking of changing jobs?” Again the traditional response, “I am seeking a new challenge that will help me to grow…” seems woefully inappropriate. Lately my interests run toward not growing things like tumors and the size of my stomach. The most accurate answer might be, “I’m here because I can’t believe you saw my resume, guessed my age and still asked to meet me.” I have to admit I would be excited if the interviewer turned out to be around my age. Maybe my new boss will be as perplexed as I am about exactly how annuities work. We would have a lot in common I’m sure.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Yikes! “How much time do you have?” Thanks to the natural shrinkage of my frontal lobes, the part of the brain that enables us to edit ourselves, my answer could run long and might include an episode where I called a high level executive an SOB and nearly blew a multi- million dollar deal.
“Tell me about a time when you overcame a serious problem and how you did it.”
“Weren’t you listening? Or didn’t I mention that I hid in my office for two years every time the SOB came to our company for a meeting.”
“Why should we hire you instead of someone else?”
Here again experienced professionals know that this is a good time to reiterate your strengths, accomplishments and burning desire to be part of an outstanding team. At this stage of my life though, I am sorely tempted to say, “How should I know? You’re the one doing the interviews. If you like, I’ll interview the other candidates and give you an assessment.” Of course it’s quite possible that I will come out the winner. If nothing else I’ll be able to answer the interviewer’s query specifically. “You should hire me because the other candidates don’t have enough experience. And I might add I have yet to be indicted for anything.”
“Would you like to have this job?
“Maybe. How far is the restroom from my office?”
“When can you start?”
“Thursday assuming the Power Ball ticket I bought Wednesday is another five bucks down the drain.”
Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Disneyland or MY Hotel Room...Hmmm
So I’m sitting in my hotel room in Anaheim, California not two blocks from Disneyland and I have nothing to do. Now some people might take a stroll over to the famous amusement park and take in the sights, jump on a few rides and buy a set of Mickey Mouse ears. Not me.
Call me boring but the idea of visiting a place that has loads of couples and families reveling in the Magic Kingdom is unattractive to say the least. As I write this I’m not lonely. I have a book and my laptop to keep me company in my non-smoking, king bed cocoon. Yet, if I were to venture out to be among all these people, loneliness would set in like the thick fog that settles into the smoker’s lounge at the airport. Not having someone to turn to and say, “Isn’t that Dumbo over there” is depressing you know?
This is the nature of business travel really. My work here is done. All I have left to do now is fly back to Nashville tomorrow morning. People that don’t travel for business often think the road warrior’s life is glamorous. To be honest, when you first start traveling it is exciting. You feel as though you are doing important work; so important that the company is sending YOU to the meeting in Boston. It’s YOU that is flying off to San Francisco, through two or three time zones, to meet with the prospect that can change everything. Certainly cities like Boston and San Francisco come to mind when non-travelers fantasize about hitting the road. It never occurs to them that, more often than not, people are headed to places like Springfield, MO and Waterloo, IA.
And it’s not until you’ve done it for a while that you notice the looks on the faces of other business travelers. They look weary. They look bored. Some of them look angry. When you’ve run your laptop and shoes through airport security checkpoints enough times, eaten a fishy tasting piece of chicken in yet another chain restaurant, and slept in a strange bed for enough nights that it adds up to years of your life, glamorous is not the word that comes to mind.
Yes, business travel has its perks. There are travel related points that you can use to pay for vacations. (If your vacation requires air travel, your companion may have to resort to gunplay to get you to board.) You meet many fine people you would otherwise never know. I’ve made friends that have made my life immeasurably better. Of course, business travelers also meet people they could live two lifetimes without meeting and be eternally grateful. Then there are a few people who make it clear that you fall into that category for them.
Another travel perk is you might get to sit near a famous person on a flight. I’ve sat behind Fred Thompson, (bored) across the aisle from Bob Dole, (weary) and within shouting distance of one of the Mandrell sisters who definitely looked angry. None of them said or did anything I could blog about though.
You do get to see landmarks and other points of interest. Mostly you see them from your rental car, often limited to a fleeting, accidental glimpse because you are lost. Having no chance to make it to the all important meeting on time, you aren’t actually happy to see the Washington Monument when it comes down to it. Speaking of Washington, years ago I attended a seminar there that was worse than a sleepless night in hot, muggy weather. A colleague and I decided to skip an afternoon session to see the White House and the Smithsonian. It was delightful but another employee thought it was a good idea to tell my boss about it. That’s something non-travelers probably don’t consider when they are envying your expense account. Squeezing in a little time for sightseeing isn’t as easy as you might think. The boss was kind but only because my colleague had actually witnessed him shaking hands with Goofy on another trip. I’ll bet he wouldn’t have done it had he been there alone.
I wouldn’t want to discourage anyone form taking a job that requires travel. The pay tends to be good and here’s the best part. No matter what you tell people about the trials and tribulations of business travel, they won’t believe you. They’ll think you have it made.
Copyright 2009 len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Call me boring but the idea of visiting a place that has loads of couples and families reveling in the Magic Kingdom is unattractive to say the least. As I write this I’m not lonely. I have a book and my laptop to keep me company in my non-smoking, king bed cocoon. Yet, if I were to venture out to be among all these people, loneliness would set in like the thick fog that settles into the smoker’s lounge at the airport. Not having someone to turn to and say, “Isn’t that Dumbo over there” is depressing you know?
This is the nature of business travel really. My work here is done. All I have left to do now is fly back to Nashville tomorrow morning. People that don’t travel for business often think the road warrior’s life is glamorous. To be honest, when you first start traveling it is exciting. You feel as though you are doing important work; so important that the company is sending YOU to the meeting in Boston. It’s YOU that is flying off to San Francisco, through two or three time zones, to meet with the prospect that can change everything. Certainly cities like Boston and San Francisco come to mind when non-travelers fantasize about hitting the road. It never occurs to them that, more often than not, people are headed to places like Springfield, MO and Waterloo, IA.
And it’s not until you’ve done it for a while that you notice the looks on the faces of other business travelers. They look weary. They look bored. Some of them look angry. When you’ve run your laptop and shoes through airport security checkpoints enough times, eaten a fishy tasting piece of chicken in yet another chain restaurant, and slept in a strange bed for enough nights that it adds up to years of your life, glamorous is not the word that comes to mind.
Yes, business travel has its perks. There are travel related points that you can use to pay for vacations. (If your vacation requires air travel, your companion may have to resort to gunplay to get you to board.) You meet many fine people you would otherwise never know. I’ve made friends that have made my life immeasurably better. Of course, business travelers also meet people they could live two lifetimes without meeting and be eternally grateful. Then there are a few people who make it clear that you fall into that category for them.
Another travel perk is you might get to sit near a famous person on a flight. I’ve sat behind Fred Thompson, (bored) across the aisle from Bob Dole, (weary) and within shouting distance of one of the Mandrell sisters who definitely looked angry. None of them said or did anything I could blog about though.
You do get to see landmarks and other points of interest. Mostly you see them from your rental car, often limited to a fleeting, accidental glimpse because you are lost. Having no chance to make it to the all important meeting on time, you aren’t actually happy to see the Washington Monument when it comes down to it. Speaking of Washington, years ago I attended a seminar there that was worse than a sleepless night in hot, muggy weather. A colleague and I decided to skip an afternoon session to see the White House and the Smithsonian. It was delightful but another employee thought it was a good idea to tell my boss about it. That’s something non-travelers probably don’t consider when they are envying your expense account. Squeezing in a little time for sightseeing isn’t as easy as you might think. The boss was kind but only because my colleague had actually witnessed him shaking hands with Goofy on another trip. I’ll bet he wouldn’t have done it had he been there alone.
I wouldn’t want to discourage anyone form taking a job that requires travel. The pay tends to be good and here’s the best part. No matter what you tell people about the trials and tribulations of business travel, they won’t believe you. They’ll think you have it made.
Copyright 2009 len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Ever Work in a Factory?
Have you ever worked in a factory? It’s been many years for me but I remember well the summer jobs I had while in school. They were punishing enough to make me long for fall semester, classes and even homework. I have no idea of what factory work is like in 2009, but in the sixties it was like this:
• The work was repetitive and boring
• There were long stretches of sitting or standing in one place
• Breaks were few and far between
• Wages varied from minimum wage to a living wage but no amount of overtime could make you rich
• Nobody thought a thing about workplace ergonomics or workplace environment
As I saw it, men held the great majority of factory jobs back then. No doubt, factory floors had plenty of women, just not in the industries where I found jobs. With apologies to the women that worked their fingers to the bone under bad lighting, I’ll speak of the men I watched and worked with, knowing that for women it must have been infinitely harder.
There wasn’t much to keep laborers going in plants like these. There was nothing attractive about the surroundings or the smells. Foremen stood watch to be sure workers kept working. Not much to look forward to but a lot to fear like layoffs, accidents and debilitating illnesses. How did they do it? These men lived on dreams. For many the dreams were about quitting time, about Fridays and making it to payday so they could pay the rent and buy groceries. And on a good week there might be a little left over for a beer at the corner tavern on the way home.
Some men stood over their lathes, knees hurting, and shoulders aching; dreaming only about boilermakers, the kind one drank after all those very noisy hours staring at a machine. For them, bliss was the shot that took the edge off, allowing them to forget the bone crushing, spirit smashing work they had to do every day. The tavern was a second home for some of them. Some let their wives worry about raising their kids. And, one way or another, they paid for their sins.
Men working a drill press, packing parts and pieces for shipment, loading those packets onto long hot…cold trailers bound for places they would never see, were dreamers too. They silently counted the long days until they would have a week off. Spare change placed in a can, their wives scrounging for a few extra pennies, sons and daughters collecting pop bottles for the deposit money, just so they could spend a week, a glorious week, at the beach. Never in the big cottage of course, but thanks to a little overtime, maybe a night or two on the boardwalk, Philly cheese steaks and snow cones all around. Later they watched the kids thrill to the Tilt-a-Whirl ride, wondering as they sweetly held hands, whatever happened to their childhood.
Some of the men; forklift drivers, men that put tires on new Buicks or riveted their way from skyscraper to skyscraper, dreamed bigger dreams. Johnny Junior would get an education. He would not go to work every day wearing a workman’s uniform with his name on it. He would not have to lather his hands with sand soap when the work day ended. Little Linda Sue would be a nurse or a teacher and live with her husband in a fine A-frame home that they owned. What really drove those men to work day after day were their families. Home was a sanctuary. It made their labor possible and gave it meaning.
Most of us work in service industries today. There are difficult challenges to be sure but most of us come home clean, our lungs clear. I have never met anyone that experienced both a drill press and data processing that would choose the former, given a choice.
Factory workers then and now have done their jobs. America grew and became greater than ever thanks to the strong backs, the iron wills and the dreams of these men. Labor Day is a great day for a barbecue, a swim in the community pool and yes, a day off from work. But we wouldn’t be where we are today without the men that answered the whistles call and punched the time clock. Just before you take your first bite of a hot dog, before you dive into the deep end, remember someone in your family who was willing, as JFK said, “To bear any burden,” Then whisper these words: Thank you.
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
• The work was repetitive and boring
• There were long stretches of sitting or standing in one place
• Breaks were few and far between
• Wages varied from minimum wage to a living wage but no amount of overtime could make you rich
• Nobody thought a thing about workplace ergonomics or workplace environment
As I saw it, men held the great majority of factory jobs back then. No doubt, factory floors had plenty of women, just not in the industries where I found jobs. With apologies to the women that worked their fingers to the bone under bad lighting, I’ll speak of the men I watched and worked with, knowing that for women it must have been infinitely harder.
There wasn’t much to keep laborers going in plants like these. There was nothing attractive about the surroundings or the smells. Foremen stood watch to be sure workers kept working. Not much to look forward to but a lot to fear like layoffs, accidents and debilitating illnesses. How did they do it? These men lived on dreams. For many the dreams were about quitting time, about Fridays and making it to payday so they could pay the rent and buy groceries. And on a good week there might be a little left over for a beer at the corner tavern on the way home.
Some men stood over their lathes, knees hurting, and shoulders aching; dreaming only about boilermakers, the kind one drank after all those very noisy hours staring at a machine. For them, bliss was the shot that took the edge off, allowing them to forget the bone crushing, spirit smashing work they had to do every day. The tavern was a second home for some of them. Some let their wives worry about raising their kids. And, one way or another, they paid for their sins.
Men working a drill press, packing parts and pieces for shipment, loading those packets onto long hot…cold trailers bound for places they would never see, were dreamers too. They silently counted the long days until they would have a week off. Spare change placed in a can, their wives scrounging for a few extra pennies, sons and daughters collecting pop bottles for the deposit money, just so they could spend a week, a glorious week, at the beach. Never in the big cottage of course, but thanks to a little overtime, maybe a night or two on the boardwalk, Philly cheese steaks and snow cones all around. Later they watched the kids thrill to the Tilt-a-Whirl ride, wondering as they sweetly held hands, whatever happened to their childhood.
Some of the men; forklift drivers, men that put tires on new Buicks or riveted their way from skyscraper to skyscraper, dreamed bigger dreams. Johnny Junior would get an education. He would not go to work every day wearing a workman’s uniform with his name on it. He would not have to lather his hands with sand soap when the work day ended. Little Linda Sue would be a nurse or a teacher and live with her husband in a fine A-frame home that they owned. What really drove those men to work day after day were their families. Home was a sanctuary. It made their labor possible and gave it meaning.
Most of us work in service industries today. There are difficult challenges to be sure but most of us come home clean, our lungs clear. I have never met anyone that experienced both a drill press and data processing that would choose the former, given a choice.
Factory workers then and now have done their jobs. America grew and became greater than ever thanks to the strong backs, the iron wills and the dreams of these men. Labor Day is a great day for a barbecue, a swim in the community pool and yes, a day off from work. But we wouldn’t be where we are today without the men that answered the whistles call and punched the time clock. Just before you take your first bite of a hot dog, before you dive into the deep end, remember someone in your family who was willing, as JFK said, “To bear any burden,” Then whisper these words: Thank you.
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Just Like Larry
Occasionally people ask me why I write columns and then post them to my blog. Since we’re in the dog days of summer and I’ve been out in the heat, I’ll tell you why I write the Observer. I’m waiting to be discovered. I want to be a media big shot like Larry King. You don’t think it’s possible? Was Larry born behind a microphone? I realize he might well die behind a mike, but I can assure you he was a nobody before he was a somebody.
With every column I write I hope this is the one that goes viral, the one that everyone forwards to fifty of their closest friends. Then those people send it on to even more people. Eventually somebody, not thinking clearly perhaps, sends it to his cousin who happens to be a bigwig at MSNBC. Upon reading my stuff she says, “Get me Serafino.” Yes! A well stocked limo picks me up at the airport. My agent negotiates a long term contract. (Possibly I’m having a touch of sunstroke.)
Why would I want to be on television? The same reason Larry King likes being on TV. Being a celebrity is the only thing really worth being anymore. Like other celebrities, wherever Mr. King goes, he creates a buzz. Whether it’s the 21 Club, Charlie Trotter’s or The Dining Room, when someone like Larry strolls into these elegant spots, people notice. Well I have no trouble admitting that I want people to notice me. When I’m waiting for a table at the Cracker Barrel, I want to overhear someone say to his wife, “Isn’t that Serafino over there? The guy looking at the banana Moon Pies.” And don’t tell me you don’t want the same thing either. I know you do.
I’ll be smart like Larry too. He used to interview former presidents, well regarded actors and fabulously successful business people. Now his shows seem to focus a lot more on people who are either missing or dead. I mean really, who wants to hear what a former Secretary of State has to say? If you want to keep making all that money (I almost forgot. I want the money too) you must change with the times. Above all else keep your ratings high. Otherwise you’ll find yourself standing in line with everybody else at the local Olive Garden. No way! If you have to run a “Michael Jackson is dead” show every night for a couple of months to avoid that unhappy fate, then do that.
My show will be everything we have come to expect from cable news today and more. Not only would I have the Jackson siblings on, Michael himself would be my special guest. He probably wouldn’t say much but since his body is still around, why not break new ground? And don’t tell me you wouldn’t be watching. When you hear the promo, “Tonight on Serafino Speaks, Michael Jackson live…more or less,” you’ll be watching, TiVo-ing and tuning in for more.
I’ll be rubbing elbows with other celebrities too, all of them eager to tell us stories about their latest project, explain their most recent faux pas or best of all, share their outrageous plans for the future. “Len, I want you to be the first to know. I just signed a deal to host a new reality show called, Wedding Moos, BAAAs and Oinks. Contestants will marry farm animals, move to the city and compete for big prizes.”
Another great thing about being a TV celebrity is that behaving badly actually gets you more attention. That means higher ratings. And, of course, even more money. Listen: One day I mentioned to my wife that with my own show I could afford a trophy wife. She kinda put a damper on that one though. “I am your trophy wife,” were her exact words; hard to argue with the truth. But celebrity offers other opportunities for foolishness like speaking out on complicated issues without the advantage of understanding them. Real knowledge is hardly the point. High ratings equal gravitas. Wait till you hear my thoughts on neuroleptic discontinuation.
Having my own cable TV show, making millions of dollars and being famous to boot, doesn’t seem that far fetched to me. If I’m willing to put my scruples in the corner, consider shame an outdated emotion and feel my responsibility to viewers is secondary to my status among the media glitterati, I can have it all. But, until that glorious day I’ll have to keep writing the Observer. Keep forwarding please. CNN is this close.
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
With every column I write I hope this is the one that goes viral, the one that everyone forwards to fifty of their closest friends. Then those people send it on to even more people. Eventually somebody, not thinking clearly perhaps, sends it to his cousin who happens to be a bigwig at MSNBC. Upon reading my stuff she says, “Get me Serafino.” Yes! A well stocked limo picks me up at the airport. My agent negotiates a long term contract. (Possibly I’m having a touch of sunstroke.)
Why would I want to be on television? The same reason Larry King likes being on TV. Being a celebrity is the only thing really worth being anymore. Like other celebrities, wherever Mr. King goes, he creates a buzz. Whether it’s the 21 Club, Charlie Trotter’s or The Dining Room, when someone like Larry strolls into these elegant spots, people notice. Well I have no trouble admitting that I want people to notice me. When I’m waiting for a table at the Cracker Barrel, I want to overhear someone say to his wife, “Isn’t that Serafino over there? The guy looking at the banana Moon Pies.” And don’t tell me you don’t want the same thing either. I know you do.
I’ll be smart like Larry too. He used to interview former presidents, well regarded actors and fabulously successful business people. Now his shows seem to focus a lot more on people who are either missing or dead. I mean really, who wants to hear what a former Secretary of State has to say? If you want to keep making all that money (I almost forgot. I want the money too) you must change with the times. Above all else keep your ratings high. Otherwise you’ll find yourself standing in line with everybody else at the local Olive Garden. No way! If you have to run a “Michael Jackson is dead” show every night for a couple of months to avoid that unhappy fate, then do that.
My show will be everything we have come to expect from cable news today and more. Not only would I have the Jackson siblings on, Michael himself would be my special guest. He probably wouldn’t say much but since his body is still around, why not break new ground? And don’t tell me you wouldn’t be watching. When you hear the promo, “Tonight on Serafino Speaks, Michael Jackson live…more or less,” you’ll be watching, TiVo-ing and tuning in for more.
I’ll be rubbing elbows with other celebrities too, all of them eager to tell us stories about their latest project, explain their most recent faux pas or best of all, share their outrageous plans for the future. “Len, I want you to be the first to know. I just signed a deal to host a new reality show called, Wedding Moos, BAAAs and Oinks. Contestants will marry farm animals, move to the city and compete for big prizes.”
Another great thing about being a TV celebrity is that behaving badly actually gets you more attention. That means higher ratings. And, of course, even more money. Listen: One day I mentioned to my wife that with my own show I could afford a trophy wife. She kinda put a damper on that one though. “I am your trophy wife,” were her exact words; hard to argue with the truth. But celebrity offers other opportunities for foolishness like speaking out on complicated issues without the advantage of understanding them. Real knowledge is hardly the point. High ratings equal gravitas. Wait till you hear my thoughts on neuroleptic discontinuation.
Having my own cable TV show, making millions of dollars and being famous to boot, doesn’t seem that far fetched to me. If I’m willing to put my scruples in the corner, consider shame an outdated emotion and feel my responsibility to viewers is secondary to my status among the media glitterati, I can have it all. But, until that glorious day I’ll have to keep writing the Observer. Keep forwarding please. CNN is this close.
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Could Technology Have Saved Turkish Taffy?
Sometimes I worry that technology is moving so fast that I have no hope of keeping up. For example, I know how to use an Excel Spreadsheet. That is I can handle the basics. When I watch my younger counterparts in the office manipulating data, changing scenarios and moving numbers around at the speed of light, I think about God’s wisdom when he created retirement. (On the seventh day He rested.)
Coping with technology in the workplace is not an easy task for people over a certain age. Some of us can still remember when an adding machine had numbers you punched and a crank to get those numbers imprinted on a slip of paper. The idea that paper itself, not to mention the machines, would one day be unnecessary occurred only to the wizards that invented the technology.
Adapting to rapid change isn’t limited to the work place. Even as consumers we are forced to deal with the intricacies of an electronic, cyber driven world and the seeming absurdities of time saving technologies. The other day I was trying to get a cup of coffee and an egg sandwich at a local eatery. The woman behind the counter entered the information into the cash register. Did I say cash register? This was a high powered, intelligent, touch screen marvel that happens to dispense cash but more importantly perhaps, collects oodles of information about our preferences. Unfortunately, she made a mistake. No doubt you’ve had this experience a time or two. She was flummoxed by the register, immediately trumping my blood pressure medication in the process. I knew we would be extending our relationship well beyond the amount of time it usually takes to exchange the money, get the coffee cup and move on. I’m sure she was a nice lady but I had more important things to do. My cell phone call was ringing.
Our transaction (and relationship) over, I walked away thinking that technology which is supposed to make life easier often does the opposite. With an old fashioned cash register the woman would have punched the keys, the drawer would have opened and she would have handed me my change…quickly. If she made a mistake she would not have needed a manager to help her figure out how to decline white cheddar and insert pepper jack cheese in its place. Although the guy making the sandwich was not more than ten feet away, she did not have the option of saying, “Yo! Sam make that pepper jack instead of white cheddar.” The correct cheese had to be in the computer for him to do his job and for me to get my change.
As we get older it’s tempting to assume that everything was better in the so-called old days. On reflection though, the restaurant incident isn’t exactly a prima facie example of technology run amok. For one thing, the information collected by these computer driven registers helps managers to manage their inventories and keep their costs down. That keeps our prices lower. For another, it’s not a bad thing when proprietors can validate consumer preferences rather than fly by the seat of their pants. For my money we would still be able to buy Bonomo’s Turkish Taffy if only Big Brother had come around sooner.
Then too, in the old days we didn’t use credit cards for everything and traffic in stores wasn’t nearly as heavy as it is today. Lines would certainly be longer if we didn’t have technology. The truth is that putting up with a delay caused by an occasional mistake is a small price to pay for progress.
When it comes to technology there are always tradeoffs. Like wonderful new curative drugs, side effects are found in the fine print. Great technical advances have drawbacks.
Recently, my friend Chuck observed that a major difference in today’s technology advances is that they are no longer passive. Radio and TV were passive advances. Our grandparents sat in the parlor and gathered around the radio to be entertained and hear the news. Not so today. From video games to blogging, it’s an interactive world. So many jobs today demand creativity engineered by computerized applications. We can no longer rely on the geek in the tiny cubicle to “work this contraption.”
Listen: We can spend as much free time as we like remembering the good old days. But the deal is this: Get in the game or you will have even more time to reminisce. Now, when is the next Excel class?
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Coping with technology in the workplace is not an easy task for people over a certain age. Some of us can still remember when an adding machine had numbers you punched and a crank to get those numbers imprinted on a slip of paper. The idea that paper itself, not to mention the machines, would one day be unnecessary occurred only to the wizards that invented the technology.
Adapting to rapid change isn’t limited to the work place. Even as consumers we are forced to deal with the intricacies of an electronic, cyber driven world and the seeming absurdities of time saving technologies. The other day I was trying to get a cup of coffee and an egg sandwich at a local eatery. The woman behind the counter entered the information into the cash register. Did I say cash register? This was a high powered, intelligent, touch screen marvel that happens to dispense cash but more importantly perhaps, collects oodles of information about our preferences. Unfortunately, she made a mistake. No doubt you’ve had this experience a time or two. She was flummoxed by the register, immediately trumping my blood pressure medication in the process. I knew we would be extending our relationship well beyond the amount of time it usually takes to exchange the money, get the coffee cup and move on. I’m sure she was a nice lady but I had more important things to do. My cell phone call was ringing.
Our transaction (and relationship) over, I walked away thinking that technology which is supposed to make life easier often does the opposite. With an old fashioned cash register the woman would have punched the keys, the drawer would have opened and she would have handed me my change…quickly. If she made a mistake she would not have needed a manager to help her figure out how to decline white cheddar and insert pepper jack cheese in its place. Although the guy making the sandwich was not more than ten feet away, she did not have the option of saying, “Yo! Sam make that pepper jack instead of white cheddar.” The correct cheese had to be in the computer for him to do his job and for me to get my change.
As we get older it’s tempting to assume that everything was better in the so-called old days. On reflection though, the restaurant incident isn’t exactly a prima facie example of technology run amok. For one thing, the information collected by these computer driven registers helps managers to manage their inventories and keep their costs down. That keeps our prices lower. For another, it’s not a bad thing when proprietors can validate consumer preferences rather than fly by the seat of their pants. For my money we would still be able to buy Bonomo’s Turkish Taffy if only Big Brother had come around sooner.
Then too, in the old days we didn’t use credit cards for everything and traffic in stores wasn’t nearly as heavy as it is today. Lines would certainly be longer if we didn’t have technology. The truth is that putting up with a delay caused by an occasional mistake is a small price to pay for progress.
When it comes to technology there are always tradeoffs. Like wonderful new curative drugs, side effects are found in the fine print. Great technical advances have drawbacks.
Recently, my friend Chuck observed that a major difference in today’s technology advances is that they are no longer passive. Radio and TV were passive advances. Our grandparents sat in the parlor and gathered around the radio to be entertained and hear the news. Not so today. From video games to blogging, it’s an interactive world. So many jobs today demand creativity engineered by computerized applications. We can no longer rely on the geek in the tiny cubicle to “work this contraption.”
Listen: We can spend as much free time as we like remembering the good old days. But the deal is this: Get in the game or you will have even more time to reminisce. Now, when is the next Excel class?
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
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