Bad Bosses or Poor Followers? Perception Matters

Bosses can be Boneheads.  We’ve all had one.  Some of us have been one. No one wants to work for one, to be sure.  Few will follow them very far.

I have worked for boneheads.  I have been called a bonehead.  And I have probably been the bonehead.  I didn’t like operating in either space as all were quite painful!

During the times I worked for less than stellar bosses, I promised myself I would never be such a dork.  I knew I could do it better because I had a better understanding about what employees like me cared about and how we wanted to be treated.  At least that is how I thought about it.

Discontent with bosses extends beyond the mere boneheads however. Many of those “in charge” have no clue about how their employees think or feel.  Some really don’t care.  If they would only listen more.  If they would just leave us alone to do our jobs.  We knew what we were doing and didn’t need someone looking over our shoulders.  Most of the time I cared about my followers, but my “style” likely caused them to think differently.

As a follower my assignments were almost always successful.  Customers and colleagues seemed to like me.  I was dependable, budget conscious and always willing to take initiative.  In fact, I was a great employee if I do say so myself!  I even had one boss tell me I was the best employee he ever had!  With all of this going for me — Mr. wonderful employee — it just never made sense that someone would not let me have the run of the house and of course, pay me more. A lot more please.

Like many followers I thought like this and was full of myself for years.  That is until I ascended to the top of the heap and became president.  All it took was my first meeting with my first employee to realize that perhaps I may have underestimated what I knew about working from the other side of the oak desk.  Over the next several years, I focused on trying to make my employees happy, because I believed happy employees equaled loyal and committed employees.  Nope. Unfortunately creating a happy workplace amidst growing workloads, budgets cuts in an organization struggling to survive, is like getting kids to like vegetables when all they want is candy. You almost have to force feed them and the after taste lingers like the wrong kind of onions.

For me the lingering after taste was part bewilderment about why followers would be mean when I was constantly trying to be nice.  It took me a couple of years to understand that they took the management decisions I had to make personally.  And I guess I would have done the same thing.

Costa Rica – Vacation or Dental Daredevil?

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Let me preface this post by saying, that I had hoped to plan a bit more before coming on this trip. But, due to family circumstances my summer was consumed differently than expected which caused me to allow a failing root canal to linger to a point where even chewing a smoothie caused discomfort!

So, the planning for the vacation part of this experience meant winging it once I got to Costa Rica. I had planned to bring my son along, but school and fall sports had just begun so this wasn’t practical. So off to Costa Rica I went all by my lonesome.

Once in bustling city of San Jose, CR and under care, the combination of pain meds, malaise, work projects and language barriers caused me to stay close to the B&B and Ginette Luarin who was taking such great care of me.

So I spent my time locally in Escazu enjoying the culture and people instead of riding tour buses to volcano’s and rain forests, or buying t-shirts saying “I Love Costa Rica!”.

But there certainly is no shortage of tourist trips, trinkets or t-shirts to be had. Of course there is opportunity in everything so staying local allowed me make stronger connections with my hosts and chill out which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Ginette even took me to see her Shaman to have my Chokra’s read, which was quite enlightening because I wasn’t even sure where my Chokra’s reside! The experience left me in a happy mood . . . until that next dental encounter and the whirring of the miniature drill!

Charlie!! Dental Concierge Extradonaire.

Meanwhile, Charlie was great about getting me out of the house and took me on outings to a sports bar, and a bus adventure to downtown San Jose. I enjoyed being in the flow of the local people while standing outside of one of many McDonalds. I found it hard to believe these people could embrace Big Macs over mango smoothies, but perhaps it was the novelty of something different that drew them into the golden arches.

For a while I was on my own to walk about to restaurants and shops and enjoyed a jog or two around the neighborhoods. The mouth invasion I had agreed to required me to lay low for a couple of days and being that I was 3,000 miles from home, I followed the dentist’s instructions explicitly between visits to avoid any complications . . like infections!

My temporary home, Casa Laurin is located in Escuza, which is a suburb of San Jose…about 6 miles from the city’s center. You can ride a bus for very cheap and it is quite safe. San Jose has a nice huge park downtown and brand new soccer stadium which stood out among what was otherwise a busy old looking city. I had been warned about crime, so I carried very little with me and kept my phone and cash in my front pockets. To my delight, no one paid much attention to me as I blended in easily with the local crowd.

Once downtown, I toured the Gold and Currency museum which was ok for about an hour, but candidly the best part of it was the air conditioning. Charlie had left me to do some of this stuff on my own, which allowed me to wander around and use my now even less refined Spanish.

With Charlie’s coaching I avoided dressing like a gringo tourist which meant I wore levis, loafers and bland colors. It was hot and humid, but pretty much all the locals dressed in long pants. It made no sense to me, but I could easily pick out the gringo tourists and was glad I listened to Charlie in spite of my now very sweaty legs!

The most interesting part of the city was the market which was smack in the middle of town. It seems every food vendor was selling roasted chicken, with prices that were all over the map. If you didn’t want to try local food, I passed at least 4 McDonalds, 1 Wendys, 2 Burger Kings, KFC  and there was always the Walmartback in Escuza, albeit, with Market of Choice prices.

Shopping!

Perhaps all of these American brands were the cause of the rising cost of living in Costa Rica. In fact on a visit to Walmart with a fellow B&B guest, I realized that Walmart was more expensive than any other shopping option.

Charlie told me Costa Rica used to be a very inexpensive place to live.  You can still acquire real estate relatively cheaply, but I personally wouldn’t live in this very crowded part of the country. San Jose is a city of roughly 2.5 million people, many of whom on the surface appear to be fairly poor. As foreigners continue to seep into the country, the gap between the haves and have nots grows, which is validated by the many bicycles, motor bikes and bus riders.

San Jose’s infrastructure is inadequate to handle the volume of mixed vehicles which creates a degree of chaos not seen in my humble little town of West Linn, OR. I was surprised to learn that there are far fewer vehicle accidents than one would expect, especially given the many many motorocycles and bicycles weaving in an out of traffic every where you go and it is rare for someone to get hit by a car.  I certainly pushed the envelope on that statistic!

For me the most unusual aspect of this central American world had to be security. As with most Latin American cultures, private security rules the day. While Police ride on small motorcycles and bicycles in tandem in the heart of San Jose, virtually all residences and businesses were “gated in”.

Casa Laurin was no different, which on the one hand allowed me to sleep safely, but on the other gave me a feeling of being caged in. With guard shacks every few houses and heavy metal gates surrounding most homes, crime in the suburbs while on the rise, seems to be kept under control.  It is a bit of an odd feeling to walk down a residential street and be given the once over repeatedly.

But, candidly after a week behind bars, I was beginning to miss the comfort and freedom of West Linn where police actually knocked on my door in the middle of the night to tell me my garage door had been left open!  With several days before my crowns would be ready, I decided to leave the worries at home and experience the life of a local during my time in Escazu.  So it was back to Walmart for more ice cream!

NEXT: Time to Be Crowned!

In the Dental Chair In Costa Rica

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First off  you need to know that I am a business consultant and coach Chiropractors on how to run a customer focused practice.  So when I am exposed to any small business, especially one that involves healthcare, my antennas are up for how well the process goes.

I generally dislike dental visits because I fear sharp instruments and pain.  But I also hate being told I have to wait until the doctor has sharpened his/her instruments til I can go in so “thank you for being patient.”  If you’ve seen the movie Marathon Man, you get my angst with dentistry in general.

However, I was already comfortable with this particular dentist because both his staff and he had promptly responded to my many questions via email.  It all felt “safe” and my sense was that those involved in this adventure into my mouth were had passed basic training and wouldn’t turn me into a toothless old man.

Given that Charlie the concierge and Ginette at the B&B were going beyond what I would have expected, my comfort level was high . . . for the moment.

So as Charlie and I arrived 30 minutes early to my doctor after a nice walk from the B&B, I was pleased that the office team worked me into the flow immediately.  What?  No waiting.  Does this mean they don’t have enough customers or something equally as ominous? But to my delight the team was attentive, patient and pleasantly endured my small talk efforts in Spanish.  Habla English?  Un pocito . . .

But candidly, I wasn’t sure if my attempts to converse in Spanish were building a bridge or a creating a potential problem at this point.  So much for those A’s in high school language courses I thought.

When the dentist arrived, he was as pleasant in person as he was in his email.  His reassuring conversation and focus on doing both what I wanted and what was in my best interest seemed genuine.  I had heard from two other guests at the B&B who had used this dentist that I was in great hands, and this jived with the references I had gathered prior to my trip.  Plus, he skied in Colorado which for some reason made me see him as even more successful!

So after a thorough inspection of my mouth he explained my options, reviewed the costs (on paper) and sent me across the street to have a thermograph done so he could have a Google Earth like view of my mouth.  This experience was also quick, professional and would cost about ¼ of the same mouth map taken with the same equipment in the good ole US of A.

When I returned with photo disc they asked if I was ready for the chair.  This was 1.5 hours earlier than my appointment and I had not eaten much so I opted to grab a quick bite and return in 20 minutes.  The dental assistant who would have had to skip her own lunch to accommodate this earlier appointment breathed a sigh of relief as she was on her way out for lunch as well.

Clearly this doctor was into being efficient.  This became even more apparent upon my return.  After a quick bite I returned to the clinic and they immediately sat me in “the chair” and we were off to the races.

By now you might expect me to describe dental torture different than one would expect stateside.  For those into horror stories, it might even be the gruesome version.  The reality was that replacing a filling, pulling four teeth and drilling to install implants was done pretty much as it would be in the ultra modern US, only in this case much more quickly.

Once the doc confirmed the lay of the mouth, out came the needles, power tools and sharp instruments and my mouth was attacked with an efficiency I had never seen.  My upper broken tooth was numbed and worked started.  Five minutes into this, Doctor Costa Rica paused to do the nasty needles on my lower gums so they would shut down while he finished the upper work.

Then came the pliers to yank out the lowers. Well they could have been pliers.  When I asked him if he had the first tooth out, he laughed and said, senor Terry, I was done pulling four teeth long ago, I have been installing the implants!

Thank god I thought, get er done!  Long story short, the bad upper had a temp in it in 15 minutes and the work on the lowers took just over an hour and 15 minutes.  No coffee breaks, no going to see other patients.  Just direct attention to the pain at hand.

To be clear, the process still sucked.  Sharp needles, grinding down of teeth, drilling into bone….well I don’t care where you get this done…..it ain’t pretty.  The assistants were gentle when they held me down for the drilling, otherwise the process was without incident.  The doc went about things quickly, explained what was happening along the way and gave me clear instruction as to what to do during the five days between this and my next visit.

Thankfully he also gave me an ample supply of pain meds to get me through what I expected to be a long five days.  While I walked away from this appointment clearly feeling that my mouth had been violated, I was no worse for the wear as I search the town for some Ben & Gerry’s or Hagen Dais ice cream, my favorite comfort foods!

NEXT: Lingering between visits in Costa Rica.

Arriving In Costa Rica for Dental Implants

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“Ladies and gentlemen please put your tray tables up, seats to upright position and turn off all electronic devices.  Flight attendants, please prepare for landing.”

My flight from Portland, Oregon to Costa Rica included a generous layover in Houston.  I used these three hours to brush up on my Spanish (Costa Rican Spanish) which was probably too little to late…but what the heck, I had the time.

From Houston it was another 3 ½ hours to San Jose which made this day’s travel about 11 hours.

It was dark upon arrival in San Jose so all I could see out of the window were thousands upon thousands of lights.  I asked the traveler next to me what the population of San Jose was.  When she replied around 2.5 million, my jaw dropped.  This is going to be interesting I thought to myself.  I hope the beaches aren’t too crowded.

After breezing through customs with weak attempts at buenos dias and gracias I walked out of the terminal to a mob of Costa Ricans waiting to kidnap me into their taxi cab.

After saying no gracias for the 15^th time, I finally found my ride, Eduardo holding a sign with Mr. Sooolivan and was on my way to my bed and breakfast.  Eduardo spoke English so I was able to learn a few things about the area I would be staying in for the next week.

He weaved seamlessly through twenty minutes of random traffic (speeders, bikers, and slow pokes) until we arrived at Casa Laurin where I was introduced to Ginette, a lovely French Canadian woman who owned this well run business.  Her home was lovely with white tile floors and jungle foliage in the back yard.  So far no monkeys though.

After a quick food run to El Pollo for a casa dias, I enjoyed a pleasant conversation with Ginette (discovering we had much in common which further eased any angst). Then it was off to my king size bed in anticipation of who knows what at my dental appointment would bring the very next day.

Meet My Concierge, Charlie.

As I mentioned earlier, one of the reasons I chose this particular dentist was the connection I had made through what I call a Dental Concierge.  My new foreign friend is 58 year old Charlie from of all places, Georgia.  Charlie and I had spoken several times before I booked this adventure and he assured me that he would take great care of me to ensure that my non-dental stress was minimal.

He showed up the next day for our 1.5 mile walk to my appointment and we quickly became comfortable in each others’ company.  Charlie landed in Costa Rica through his daughter’s dental experience and liked it so much here he decided to turn his newly found knowledge into a lifestyle business.

The service he offers is connected to his referral to a well-qualified dentist and his friendship with Ginette and her very comfortable bed and breakfast, http://www.casalaurin.com/.

Once his client (aka…me) is settled on these two basic choices, his role is to act as a local guide teaching you the ropes that may otherwise be missed by a novice in this country. Since I am not an experience traveler outside of the English speaking world, I am quite happy to have Charlie by my side.  While some of what he teaches might seem obvious to the average observer, tips on getting around can be quite valuable.

As an example, on our walk to my dental appointment he taught me that only the cabs with yellow triangles on top and with meters (marias) inside should be used for my travel.  “Once you locate a legitimate cab” he coached, “if you don’t see the maria, simply say maria? So that they can point it out.

The fare should begin at $5.50 and should not turn over for a couple of kilometers,” he said. “And once you get going, don’t tell them the destination, direct them onto the route you know to take.  They hate this, but it will save you time and money.”

I neglected to ask what I should do if no maria, but I assume, get out immediately would be the right answer.

Charlie also taught be about where to walk, currency values, what to pack and what not to wear (i.e. don’t look like a gringo tourist) and not to tip in restaurants.   The only thing he could improve on is his fearless walking in traffic.  As we walked in the street (didn’t want to step on dog poop???) cars zipped by us.  “Don’t worry” he said, “they’ll go around us.” I chose the sidewalk whenever possible just in case.  Between the buses, bikes, autos and lack of traffic cops, I wasn’t taking any chances.

Charlie is an example of the many ex patriots who choose to live in Costa Rica for reasons that include everything from an inexpensive lifestyle to a much slower pace than we typically endure in the U.S.  It is not unusual when you meet an ex Pat here to inquire jokingly….”what are you running from?”  If they respond with a glare, you know to change the conversation to “how about that Alabama game!

Charlie left the U.S. about year ago after going on his on dental adventure in Costa Rica and hasn’t returned since. Before that he was a missionary in Peru. Clearly he was street smart in this Central American country.  “Do you ever go to the US to visit,” I asked.  “Haven’t since I came here and don’t miss it a bit” he replied.”

As we walked, he quizzed me about where we had been to ensure I could find my way back should he desert me.  Then Charlie not only waited through my appointment (nearly 2 hours), he walked with me home and made sure I took my pain killers, antibiotics and water.   Clearly he had this drill down and was committed to his role.  In fact, yesterday he took me to a sports bar owned by ex Pats and tonight we are going to downtown San Jose.  Either I am great company (doubtful) or he likes getting out and about.

Charlie is now referred to as my papa and the B&B owner, Ginette is my mom.  Both have been kind, helpful and as a bonus are quite engaging to talk with.  The only stress I am experiencing is tied to my teeth.  For a guy who hates dentist this is no small thing. Tomorrow, close encounters of the dental kind . . . eke!

Choosing My Pliers Gripper

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Under most circumstances I would hesitate to travel alone to a country where I don’t speak the language. But making this Costa Rican Dental “vacation” comfortable were the facts that thanks to George Sonera leaving the classroom during exams,  I had aced two years of Spanish in high school so was at least familiar with the language, (ha) I had a concierge to greet me upon my arrival and I was staying at a bed and breakfast where a few other patients of this same dentist would be housed.
Now my initial dentist contact via Skype was with a doctor who had been referred by a childhood friend who had actually lived in Costa Rica for several years. While he seemed quite legitimate on line, he did not offer any of the services others provided to make the trip less stressful. Look, I was going to likely have at least two teeth removed so minimizing travel stress had moved high up on my list. My wife who was a bit more nervous than me about this adventure was somewhat comforted by the concierge opportunity. But only somewhat.
Another important factor in my choice of dentists was that I wanted a one step implant protocol vs. the two steps that require a return trip in four to six months. And, the two US dental opinions I got were for bridges that would impact at least 6 (SIX!) teeth and would likely last 10 years before I would have to undergo another extensive oral remodel. Being a skeptic, I formed the opinion that their prescribed care had more to do with their own limited experiences and pocket book needs than my best interest. As I said, I am a skeptic.
While Costa Rica is much closer than New Delphi, it’s still required 10 to 14 hours of travel time (including layovers). If you’ve traveled for that amount of time, you understand my hesitation.
As it turned out, I found a well-qualified dentist among the many options in Costa Rica. He was trained in the states, had his own lab to fabricate teeth and ample experience doing the one step protocol. In addition, he used top of the line materials (lifetime guarantees) and he could complete the entire process in 5 working days, which candidly felt too good to be true.
I had met this dentist through a business man in the states who had a referral business with a dental concierge in Costa Rica, who had a referral arrangement with the Dentist. Sounds like a lot of middle men to me, however after directly emailing the dentist and reviewing my needs, the solution for my mouth would be longer lasting and less than half the cost of my lowest US quote . . . and this INCLUDED my travel expenses!! Plus, I would get to visit the beaches of Costa Rica! Or so I hoped.
Suffering through a dental vacation to save $7,000+ somehow seemed like a logical adventure to me, so I booked my flight, secured my room, renewed my passport, flossed yet again and was ready to be on my way.  Btw, I like to travel about as much as I enjoy sitting in a dentist’s chair, so you really need to understand, I am motivated to get my teeth issues fixed!

My Dental Vacation to Costa Rica!

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Ok, I realize Dental and Vacation aren’t as embraceable as peanut butter and jelly.  But read on through this series of blogs if you want to hear a real life story by the last person you might expect to bypass the US medical system.  I am not nuts.  Nor am I broke.  But like many US citizens I am tired of paying exhorbinant prices to care givers who quite frankly don’t care.  I heard of an alternative and decided to take a chance.  Following is my story.  I believe you’ll be surprised.

Why I Ditched My Local Dentist

My need for dental care began with a root canal that basically expired. My own dentist was surprised his work lasted so long and on my last exam with him, he said it was time to get it repaired and implants were the likely solution.
Being a relatively healthy 50 year-old, this advice didn’t sit well with me, but what really bothered me was the way he delivered the message.
“You’ll probably need at least 2 implants” he said
‘but I wouldn’t go to just anyone.” My colleague here in West Linn does great work and uses only state of the art materials, so I wouldn’t even consider going somewhere else,” he said.
“How much I asked?” “Oh, implants are $3600 each so you can figure $7200 plus office visits, thermography and other miscellaneous stuff should bring it at least $8,500, he said off handedly.”
Gulp. I certainly didn’t like this number, but I like it less that he said it as if money was no object and that I shouldn’t even bother doing any comparisons. Even if I had an extra wad like that sitting around waiting for a spending spree, the tone of the conversation pissed me off enough that I would validate this estimate with a couple more opinions.
I left his office and headed for the internet to explore other dentists and ultimately to determine exactly what I needed and how much of my kids college savings I was going to spent on my teeth instead of their education!

Skyping With A Costa Rican Dentist
As I looked at my laptop screen and chatted with the dentist from Costa Rica, I had to chuckle to myself. My initial internet search had taken me to a couple of new local (Portland) dentists who saw my problem as much worse than my original dentist and the cost estimates ranged between $15k and $22k depending upon how many healthy teeth these plyer grippers wanted to extract from my otherwise healthy mouth. (it ranged from 4 to 7 . . . both of which used to be my lucky numbers.)
The reality that I was now looking at a full year’s tuition for new teeth bothered me enough that I expanded my search for another dentist beyond the Portland region.
I had heard about medical vacations through Leslie Stahls on 60 Minutes. Less than a year ago she featured a woman who traveled all the way to India for a hip replacement. Not only did the women get awesome care, she was treated like a queen instead of like an annoyance as so many medical practitioners seem do in the U.S. Meanwhile she was able to make a grand vacation out of the experience, including bringing her daughter along for moral support . . . and . . . she still saved money!
So I started in India based on my Leslie Stahl referral, but quickly discovered I didn’t have to go to a country on the other side of the world where they eat dogs and revere cows to get world class dental care.
In fact, I could go as close as Mexico, El Salvador and Costa Rica. Costa Rica. Hmmmm. I had heard so many people rave about their trips to this tropical paradise, that I quickly focused my search to this tiny country in Central America.
Am I really doing this I wondered? Is this doctor from a clinic in San Jose, Costa Rica really looking at my emailed xrays and rendering his opinion about my care needs on Skype? Am I really serious about traveling 3000 miles to a somewhat third world country to get first class dental care? Will they really charge me Walmart prices or is there a bait and switch?
I like to be thorough with fact-finding so I had a very long list of questions and of course referrals. The mere fact that someone as conservative as me is willing to entertain such an option speaks volumes about the growing disfunction of the US healthcare system. But money is money and we are in a recession so if world-class dental care can be had for less than 1/2 the cost of comparable care in the US, this is at least worth exploring.
What do I have to lose other than my teeth I thought! And so began a journey that has introduced me to a friendly French Canadian inn keeper, a Hungarian US conspiracy theorist, a former Georgia missionary, a muy gaupo Costa Rican dentist and a host of others involved in helping others in my situation turn what might be a painful dental appointment into an international adventure!  Next . . .  Choosing My Dentist.

Southwest Airlines Planes Are Old

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As I laid my head back on the aging 727 early Sunday morning, my thoughts drifted to a noon arrival in Portland, hugs for my kids, a bike ride and then perhaps a nap while watching golf.

What is that odor I wondered.  Is it the old guy sitting in front of me?  Maybe it’s the lady who is asleep by the window?  Perhaps its the Greek guy behind with the slicked back hair.  Lord knows this wouldn’t be the first time someone anonymously snuck a little gas out on an airplane.

But this odor had a bit of an electrical burn to it that even my dog, Donnie couldn’t replicate.  Hmm — I now wondered if something besides someones underwear might be melting on this plane.  Meantime, the engine speed seemed to shift and it felt like we might be turning in the wrong direction.  I want to go north, I thought, please don’t go back to LAX!

Then I overheard the guy behind comment to his wife, “we are turning around.  It must be that electrical burning smell.”  Having been in LA for nearly a week helping my dear wife manage through the challenges of her father’s death and her mother’s physical issues, I was ready to be home.  My amazing sister was staying with my kids, but I knew that in spite of how amazing my kids are, she must be ready to go home after 5 nights away.

Then the captain came on the loud speaker announcing something was wrong with the plane.  Instead of being annoyed by inconvenience, I now simply hoped our 100 year old plane could land safely.   Honestly since we were already in the air 15 minutes and San Jose was only 35 more minutes away, I thought it made more sense to just continue north and deal with the trouble there.

But no one asked my opinion so it wasn’t long before we were back on the ground at LAX.  As we were instructed to deplane, thoughts about how and when I might get home raced through my mind.  I could see others on their smart phones logging onto the SW Airlines web site looking for options.

Instead of getting stressed I used my new found patience to try and trust the operations team, even though I was pretty sure they weren’t wondering how quickly they could get Mr. Terry Sullivan home.  Turns out I was right.  The twenty one of us who were connecting to Portland were sent off to gate 4 for further instruction.

They rescheduled us according to our priority boarding so those with A numbers got the best rebooking options.  When it was my turn to receive my new flight instructions, I kindly asked why I had to go east to Phoenix before heading north to Portland.  “next” announced the flight reorganizer.  So much for SW love I thought.

So here I sit, hoping my flight departs on time as I only have 30 minutes to connect to Portland.  I’m sure some nice person will allow me to deplane quickly to catch this connection and another equally nice traveler will save me an aisle seat.

The reason I am writing this blog (other than I have been gifted some free time) is to pass on this little tip.  In dealing with rebooking passengers on cancelled flights, SW Airline’s uses its A, B, C seating system to prioritize who gets love first.  Yet another reason to pay the $10 for EBS.

When we come back down to LA in a couple of weeks, I think I’ll choose to drive.  Those 727s sure look, smell and feel as old as they are.  And, it may actually be faster.

Fruit Loops or Oatmeal? Such Choices.

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Every day we are bombarded with little choices.  It begins as my weary eyes glance into the pantry and I consider . . . sugar cereal or healthy oatmeal.  While this choice may appear simple enough on the surface let’s explore life a little deeper to consider such seemingly simple options.

My Catholic upbringing has left scars of guilt that somehow permeate even the most basic of choices.  Fruit Loops represent the sinner in me.  I want them.  I need them.  I must have them.  Fruit loops simply taste good. They are crunchy (enough to tear the roof of my mouth even), bring a variety of flavors to stimulate my taste buds and clearly are more fun to eat. Not to mention they are quite colorful. Fruit loops represent yummy.

Now oatmeal is a completely different deal.  Oatmeal is boring.  Oatmeal represents good behavior.  Oatmeal is grey and doesn’t really look edible. But oats are regular and candidly keep me regular.  I know that if I opt for oats over loops I’m probably going to feel better a bit later in the morning.  In fact, eating them oats can almost guarantee my reading room schedule will be honored for yet another day.  At my age, somehow this has become important.

But, this moment is now and BMs are later.  Eating loops will be more fun.  Eating loops will bring instant gratification.  And let’s face it, we Americans are all about instant gratification!  How else can you explain someone with a $50,000 income having $100,000 in credit card debt.

Buy now, pay later.  It is truly the American way.  Even our government subscribes to this sinful philosophy.  Which makes me wonder if they feel the same Catholic guilt that some of us feel when we make such wrong decisions.   I sure hope so, although I’m not sure guilt affects sociopaths.

But back to the oats and loops.  Opting for oats is clearly the right thing to do.  On my best days (let’s say 3x per week), my short term choices integrate my longer term benefits.  This is probably above average based on my scientific observation (another blog for another day).

When I eat oats I not only feel better physically, but somehow I feel better mentally as well.  I did the right thing.  I passed the good judgment test.  I did what was right and most importantly I supported my longer term choice (made much earlier in life) that I would live a healthy life, never be overweight and always be in the top 5% of runners in my age group.  Ok 2 out of 3 isn’t bad is it?

I have made other big choices.  My own siblings might even claim that I prefer to make big choices than all of those little ones that support the big ones that I seem to make so often.  Some friends even accuse me of being addicted to big choices.

Addicted?  As in I get a rush from quitting jobs, buying businesses or otherwise complicating my life.  I guess it’s possible, but addicted? I hope not. Quitting that type of addiction cold turkey could bankrupt me!

Back to little choices.  In the moment choices are really about those bigger decisions we have made and supporting them with dare I say . . .  discipline.  I tend to claim out loud to others that I am over my Catholic guilt. I am in fact disciplined!

I like to believe I make good choices because I am so highly evolved and conscious about my life.  On my best days this rings true.  On my worst days, I guess I let the Catholic guilt do its thing so that I might stay the course.  Candidly, I sometimes wonder how those who weren’t raised Catholic actually stick to their decisions without the benefit of guilt.

It must be quite difficult to choose properly without the image of Father Brennan in his long black dress glaring down at you, shaking his finger and nodding his head back and forth.  Tsk tsk, Terry.  Tsk tsk.  That’s all it took.

Regardless of any religious persuasion, next time you look in the pantry and consider fruit loops, remember . . . oatmeal is the right thing to do!  Even though the fruit loops taste way better.

What’s Next? Choosing End of Life

Writing about death is not my forte nor is it something I woke up anxious to explore.  However, given that an extended family member is in hospice, my elderly mother in law is in the hospital after a bad fall and one of my favorite aunts and I recently chatted about how she and her remaining five sisters (all in late 70s to 90’s) are openly wondering who is going to pass next — this subject is on my mind.

Plus my own 85 year old mother recently shared that she certainly doesn’t want to make it into her 90s given her limited mobility and now eight years of widowhood.   Meanwhile a college acquaintance just died from cancer and a group of high school friends recently gathered for what they believe will be their last time spent with a classmate who they have been friends with since grade school.

As a part of the sandwich generation and a late arrival baby boomer, I am surrounded by opportunities to consider life by observing the end of life for others (or near end as the case may be).  These are but a few examples.  I’m sure those reading this blog have many of their own.

A favorite line of mine comes from the Shawshank Redemption, one of the best films I have seen.  “Get busy living, or get busy dying.”  When we are nose to nose with what may be the short term in our physical body, we again have an opportunity to choose.  Just like we get to choose whether to let life happen to us or make life happen for us, we can face death as victims of circumstance or as an opportunity to grow yet one more time and contribute to others.

For my cousin and her husband in hospice the choice is around how much pain is worth enduring when there is so little light at the end of the tunnel.  For my mother in law, the choice may be how hard to fight when the effort to recover from a broken hip (and other complications) may require more than she can gather considering the myriad of other health interferences that have sapped zest for living from her latter years.

My high school friend has chosen to connect with as many friends as possible and turn his last year into a celebration rather than a mourning.  The energy from this even through facebook is inspiring and has obviously united old friends in new ways.

Probably not coincidentally in a recent issue of the local paper some statistics were shared around the last six months of our lives.  They compared US averages to Oregon averages to New Jersey averages.  NJ was in the mix as a point of reference on the high side of costs and life spent in hospitals before passing.

Anyway, these stats while favorable to Oregon residents in terms of lower costs, less time in hospital, ICU and hospice caused me to pause and consider just how much differently each individual views life when confronted with the reality that it is most certainly going to end…and in some cases very soon.  Equally as important is how we the observers outwardly process and react to these realities.

For some talking about death out loud is just plain uncomfortable so is to be avoided.  For others, talking about death out loud is the only way they can overcome their fear of this eventuality.  Some even have the words they want on their tombstone already selected.  Many of us learn through our experiences with death how to be supportive and flow with those who are in the process according to their comfort level with their situation.

When my own father passed nearly nine years ago, the experience was prolonged enough that I was able to tell him good bye.  This was much different than when my older sister was taken from us suddenly when I was in my teens.  Not only did I not say good bye to her, the grief was so heavy in our household that it was an unspoken rule that we could not talk about her as the pain it brought my parents was simply too intense. For years I was quite uncomfortable around the topic of death.

My own father’s passing allowed me to learn that talking with someone whose death is imminent can be a very comforting experience for both people.  Attending funerals is a great way to support the families and friends who have lost someone so close.  While I haven’t evolved to the Harold and Maude fascination with funerals, I no longer feel awkward at them.

In chatting with my elderly aunt, I can see that she and her sisters are very comfortable with death as they have such a strong belief in the afterlife.  While I’m not sure what happens to us after this life (i.e. heaven? hell? reincarnated as a squirrel?) I think it best to live well, behave and otherwise choose to make this life the best one we’ve ever had!  It beats the heck out of getting busy dying.

Detachment From Expectations Can Bring Nice Surprises

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It’s been a couple of years since we tied our kids up and forced them on a family road trip.  But this year we decided we better do this soon or the next opportunity may be when they take US on their family’s road trip.

We warned them well in advance (2 months) and promised to go somewhere new and exciting.  My wife and me weren’t sure what to expect from our now teenage children when we made this little announcement, but we figured that once we got on the road any resistance might be replaced by their resignation that we’re doing this so we might as well enjoy it.

Day one of the journey brought us a surprise.  They actually were enjoying another trek in the family van.  It certainly helped that my son is 15 and gets to take driving shifts, but nonetheless, he proclaimed he liked going on these trips.  Wow!

To be honest, I wasn’t too thrilled about 12 to 14 hours in the car on day one (Portland to Orem, Utah), but I since I had not driven past Boise before, I had vowed to make this trip sometime and why not now.  The real part of the journey I was anticipating was Southern Utah as we planned to see Bryce Canyon, Zion National Park and the mother of canyons, The Grand one.

As we ventured down the road I decided that I would have no expectations other than to make this time with my quickly growing children a very positive experience.  This meant, not reacting to any complaining, not worrying about our budget and enjoying the opportunity to see places I had never been.

So we’re on day three of our journey and if I had to go home today, the trip has already been worth it!  The sights alone have been amazing (and we haven’t even begun to explore Zion, the Grand Canyon or Las Vegas yet), but the time with my family has exceeded any expectations I might have had.  Save for a couple of close calls in evening traffic in Salt Lake City, my son’s driving has been excellent.  And my daughter who by far prefers to be active and busy to car rides has been entertaining us as she seeks to capture a tan (not easily done in the car btw).

We spiced the trip up (yeah right), by stopping in college towns along the way and exploring what college campuses look like.  Who’d have thought they would think La Grande, OR was a cool town?  And walking on the blue football field at Boise State was a treat we didn’t expect.

As we embark on what looks like a full day of going slow (no driving for 2 days…wahoo), I’ve decided that the only thing I should expect is that I will have a great time with my family. How we experience this doesn’t matter.  What we see isn’t important.

That we have this awesome time together is enough.  And if we continue to have dessert show up in the form of hikes at 8,000 feet among natures wonders or just quiet times sitting on a deck gazing at rock formations that must have taken millions of years to form then so be it.  My kids can sleep in as long as they want.  They’ve already earned the space by exceeding any expectations I may have had about them enduring time on the road.

Detaching from outcomes other than experiencing family joys has proven to be the way to go.  It sure is fun to be part of their time growing up!

Career Change: Craft Beer or Show Me Money?

Enjoy The Good Stuff

Recently I have had the opportunity to connect with some old friends and local business friends who are either encountering or initiating major shifts in their careers.  In two of these cases, the people involved are in their 50’s and venturing down the path of the unknown is new to them.  To be sure, making significant shifts in one’s career can involve many more questions than answers . . . initially.

Not to brag (most would criticize me for this actually), I’ve been through so many career shifts in my short life that its not uncommon for even my siblings to ask “so what are you doing now, Terry.”  One of my core beliefs is that change is exciting and can create an interesting life.

When I was younger and making changes it was often to find something better.  I started my “career” right out of college in radio broadcasting and at that point in my life was committed to entering the world of sports broadcasting and who knows, maybe one day replace Chick Hearn as the voice of the Los Angeles Lakers.  A guy can dream can’t he?

But a funny thing happened in my early twenties that somehow became a pattern over time and lead me into what turned out to be a successful career financially, but certainly not what I thought would be my life for so many years.

So back in the day I’m doing an afternoon news gig for a podunk radio station five days per week and then bar tending four nights per week so I could afford to pursue my career.

Along comes some guy who is into sports marketing (referred to me by a college professor) and his offer of twice my income to help run his business (in sports no less) was enough to rationalize making a shift from fun career to profitable business career….hopefully….

Had this nice man not spent all of his profits on racing his Turbo Saab instead of delivering on his promise to his customers, perhaps we’d still be in business today.  But so it goes and from there I pursued income, positions, influence and authority with an unspoken promise (to self) that when I had enough chips stored away, I would pursue those things that I was more passionate about and stop chasing money.

Well the money race lasted a long time (25+ years) and while I learned, developed, grew, accumulated and saved until one day enough was apparently enough, I finally bailed for the good life.  When I jumped shipped, I wasn’t really afraid because I preferred hope over fear and my career involved working for conservative executives who had too much to say about where I might end up.

But I don’t think this is the norm so appreciate the fear others feel facing these types of transitions.  Which brings me back to my two friends who now in their 50’s are heading down new paths of uncertainty.

For those in this mid life channel, big changes are often perceived differently than when we are young.  We now have stuff to lose and of course kids heading towards college are going to need some extra financial love from us if we are not to cast them into eternal debt via college loans (remind me to blog on this big issue another day).  Point being, young with nothing to lose is perceived as anything goes versus established and don’t want to tank what I have accumulated!

Often career changes are driven by one of two things.  Running towards opportunity or running away from pain.  And then there are those that happen because someone above you has decided to reorganize and unfortunately your position and services are no longer needed.  See ya.

Understanding why you’re leaving a situation is important, but knowing what motivates you to choose what is next is critical.  Are you dashing towards something you love?  Are you running away from a painful situation?  What would be your optimum situation?

Ok, I get that we need to earn a living so finding something new that pays the bills is likely a foundational piece of your next choice.  But be careful about chasing money.  It may reward you, perhaps NOT for doing something you love or at least really enjoy.  We get to live consciously just once (until someone proves this otherwise….) so being purposeful about how we spend our professional time should be an essential component of transition decisions.

As I have told my two friends, transitions are a great time to explore who you are and better yet, who you truly want to be.  Sometimes our fear of what others will think about our choices stops us in our tracks.

After all, if we’ve become the CEO, Senior Sales VP or another title that describes what we have done for so long, it can be quite uncomfortable to have to “explain” the changes we want to make without actually knowing whether they will turn out as we expect.  So we might choose to do nothing different for fear of being judged as “crazy” “too risky” or “why would you leave something so secure.”

I’ve learned to basically not give a rip what other people think about my life, because candidly, it is MY life and someone else’s fears are not my fears.

If I fail a time or three, so be it. But living life in fear of what others think is important is about as fulfilling as a six pack of Bud Light and in this time of abundant micro brews, I say step up to the bar and taste the interesting stuff.   For my friends and those of you contemplating transitions, build your next journey around a hopeful belief that you can indeed have your beer and drink it to.  Life is short.  Experience it with your eyes wide open.