We are all different in this world. Some take themselves to different places and some stay with what is comfortable.
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/05/sports/playmagazine/05robicpm.html?pagewanted=print
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
lessons
There are three things that I have learned up until this point in my life, which I feel are very important.
These are (in no particular order):
• Always try to be with those of more experience
• Always want to do the things no one else wants to do
• Be your best when things are the toughest
I hope this list continues to grow.
These are (in no particular order):
• Always try to be with those of more experience
• Always want to do the things no one else wants to do
• Be your best when things are the toughest
I hope this list continues to grow.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Dust
“What piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable; in action how like an angle, in apprehension how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
- [Hamlet—2.2.327:322]
- [Hamlet—2.2.327:322]
I-TO
With the recent ascent of I-TO by the Giri-Giri Boys, I was reminded of my own thread to the honorable Jack Tackle. It is an experience I hope to remember for the rest of my life—though one I should probably be trying to forget.
I was a young self-righteous punk working in a gear store in the Rocky Mt region as a buyer and floor manager. The Rocky Mt region was always considered 'the place to be', so I was lucky in that I got to work there and occasionally got to rub elbows with my heroes in the upper brass of the industry and lifestyle.
Our shop was in a large Quonset hut with partitions providing the walls. They didn’t go all the way to the ceiling so there weren’t very many secrets. I was in the back working at my desk. The mornings were generally very hectic for me because I usually got there three minutes late and spent the next three hours catching up. My boss, who also had rough starts to his days, had just told me, in his most begrudging tone, that the “new guy from BD was coming in to meet everyone and talk about the show.” “OK. Great. The new guy,” I said with a fair amount of dread in my voice, “Do you know anything about him?” “Nope, new rep for BD,” he mumbled not looking away from his computer screen. Behind me I hear his sister say in a half-joking way, “yeah, new guy,” while not looking up from her catalog. She was new to the industry, which meant she reasonably treated all of us as half a joke. In my case, she was right.
The OR show was coming, so all the eager reps were making their rounds pushing that season’s shit, working to tie up pre-seasons, and hawking swag to the staffs. As I said, I was a punk, so my attitude was generally bad, especially this time of year when it seemed like I was dealing with extreme sales pressure several times daily. I was not well suited to being a caravan trader. I liked many of the reps and learned a lot, but some were hard to take, especially new ones trying to make quotas, and BD had a new one coming in today.
A few minutes later, the longhair working his job for the discounts, comes in to tell me the “BD guy” is here. I stand up, talking unknowingly loud, “Great! The new guy?” I ask with as much sarcasm as I can muster. He affirms. “Well, let’s go see what this is all about,” I say to the boss mockingly upbeat as I stand and head for the door, him still not budging from his computer. Did I mention how sound could travel through the building? You can imagine my horror, as I round a corner, beaming with confidence having just anonymously belittled someone in support of my own fragile ego, to find a black driving cap and a just as black moustache standing right in my face. Apparently, the “new guy” had followed the longhair back when he came to rally the bosses. My stomach hit the floor with my chin not far behind. His hand comes out, “Hi, I’m Jack Tackle,” he says. “Yes sir, I know who you are,” I stutter. “Who’s the asshole new guy now?” I think.
Congratulations to the Giri-Giri Boys for their ascent on Mt. Logan. While I aspire for their thread, and wish my own I-TO to Mr. Tackle was bumping into him on a glacier or getting advice allowing me to achieve one of his lifelong pursuits, it is not. Mine is dealing with embarrassment, humility, and keeping my mouth shut—all learned through letting my alligator mouth outrun my canary ass.
Thanks for the lesson Mr. Tackle. It was well deserved and received.
I was a young self-righteous punk working in a gear store in the Rocky Mt region as a buyer and floor manager. The Rocky Mt region was always considered 'the place to be', so I was lucky in that I got to work there and occasionally got to rub elbows with my heroes in the upper brass of the industry and lifestyle.
Our shop was in a large Quonset hut with partitions providing the walls. They didn’t go all the way to the ceiling so there weren’t very many secrets. I was in the back working at my desk. The mornings were generally very hectic for me because I usually got there three minutes late and spent the next three hours catching up. My boss, who also had rough starts to his days, had just told me, in his most begrudging tone, that the “new guy from BD was coming in to meet everyone and talk about the show.” “OK. Great. The new guy,” I said with a fair amount of dread in my voice, “Do you know anything about him?” “Nope, new rep for BD,” he mumbled not looking away from his computer screen. Behind me I hear his sister say in a half-joking way, “yeah, new guy,” while not looking up from her catalog. She was new to the industry, which meant she reasonably treated all of us as half a joke. In my case, she was right.
The OR show was coming, so all the eager reps were making their rounds pushing that season’s shit, working to tie up pre-seasons, and hawking swag to the staffs. As I said, I was a punk, so my attitude was generally bad, especially this time of year when it seemed like I was dealing with extreme sales pressure several times daily. I was not well suited to being a caravan trader. I liked many of the reps and learned a lot, but some were hard to take, especially new ones trying to make quotas, and BD had a new one coming in today.
A few minutes later, the longhair working his job for the discounts, comes in to tell me the “BD guy” is here. I stand up, talking unknowingly loud, “Great! The new guy?” I ask with as much sarcasm as I can muster. He affirms. “Well, let’s go see what this is all about,” I say to the boss mockingly upbeat as I stand and head for the door, him still not budging from his computer. Did I mention how sound could travel through the building? You can imagine my horror, as I round a corner, beaming with confidence having just anonymously belittled someone in support of my own fragile ego, to find a black driving cap and a just as black moustache standing right in my face. Apparently, the “new guy” had followed the longhair back when he came to rally the bosses. My stomach hit the floor with my chin not far behind. His hand comes out, “Hi, I’m Jack Tackle,” he says. “Yes sir, I know who you are,” I stutter. “Who’s the asshole new guy now?” I think.
Congratulations to the Giri-Giri Boys for their ascent on Mt. Logan. While I aspire for their thread, and wish my own I-TO to Mr. Tackle was bumping into him on a glacier or getting advice allowing me to achieve one of his lifelong pursuits, it is not. Mine is dealing with embarrassment, humility, and keeping my mouth shut—all learned through letting my alligator mouth outrun my canary ass.
Thanks for the lesson Mr. Tackle. It was well deserved and received.
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