Not so Trival Tuesday: sending signals

Mike and I did a job for a new customer this morning. It was a tricky one, but all went well and we were "in and out" by lunchtime. This was one of those rare customers who likes to watch but doesn't like to interfere. He's a big NASCAR fan, and so is Mike, so there was quite a bit of friendly banter--just short of the "less talk and more action" point. This customer, Jack's his name, offered us coffee and food, even beer. We gratefully drank his coffee. Jack is also one of those exceedingly rare customers who smokes inside his own home. I'm so used to stepping outside to take a cigarette break, that it felt very strange to light up indoors. (I don't really miss it anymore, though it was annoying at first when the restaurants had to ban smoking.)

As I said, the job went very well. Mike and I work well together, and there were no glitches or product defects. This was our very first job for T. McKenna Plumbing, Inc.--so the fact that it went more than OK was wonderful. The real treat came while we were packing up. I noticed that Jack was on the phone. Then I realized he was calling our new employer. (This almost never happens, except in the case of unresolvable problems.) Jack made his call in front of us, without fanfare, but in such a way that we couldn't help but overhear. He was calling to say what a fine job we had done, and to compliment our employer and us. He also mentioned several times how nice the job turned out: it was a specialty, all-custom shower door in gleaming bright brass. Any tiny error would have been glaring.

I've had compliments before, even received some very nice tips. Every now and then, a customer will send a note to the office expressing his pleasure. Anyone in any service industry knows how much we treasure these beyond-price rewards. This was, however, the first time I'd ever actually been privy to a customer's "I'm so happy" telephone call. What a great feeling!

This got us talking. Jack was well aware of the effect his call had on Mike and me. We are all familiar with the opposite phenomenon. A displeased customer makes no bones about his feelings. You can be sure his displeasure will be aired, one way or another. It's all part of the squeaky wheel syndrome, and the fact that it's much easier to be negative than positive in life. How often have you seen signs planted in someone's yard protesting this or that, with the big red circle-slash over the disliked event? It takes someone with self-confidence, awareness, and empathy to offer up unsolicited positive feedback. Of course, the very rarity of compliments in everyday life also reinforces their value to us all. If everybody was thoughtful and nice, would we even notice?

Wrapping this thought up--think about this for a moment: how do you say nice things to other drivers? We have all sorts of gestures for various road infractions. The most popular, of course, is the flipping of the bird. Translate as appropriate to the offense. We can say "what the heck?!!?" by flaring both hands in the air. Several other more specific gestures are available, depending on the occasion. Anyone who drives busy roads has seen them all, and even sent some out to other drivers, I'm sure. On the other hand, unless you want to wave someone ahead ("you go first" or the like), we lack the means to communicate friendly or helpful thoughts car-to-car.

How would you tell another driver he has a headlight out? Or that his left turn-signal isn't working? Can you think of a way to say "nice car!" with your hands? Maybe a thumbs-up would do it, though I doubt the recipient would be sure of your intent. I once spent nearly ten miles trying to communicate this thought with another motorist: "all your personal belongings are flying out of your boat and landing in the road." It wasn't until we pulled alongside him, and my son rolled down the window to yell across to him, that we finally gave him the news he really needed to have. I still laugh about that one; I'm sure it wasn't the least bit funny to him! He probably thought I was trying to get by his truck and boat--that I was in some big hurry and wanted him to move over--right up until he finally got the message.

Years ago, some enterprising entrepreneur came up with what probably seemed to be a very good idea. He or she devised a simple system of signs with messages for other drivers. It was a cute little flip-chart on a stick, with various printed blurbs: "you're hot!" or "nice car!" or "wanna race?". Stuff like that. I thought it was a great idea at the time; but I never bought one. I doubt I ever saw one for sale. Those are probably worth a few bucks now. I'm sure you can't buy them new. I think most people are happy with the current system. You always have that one particular finger handy, whenever you need to tell another motorist he's "number one." And it's free, too. Maybe someday someone will conceive a brilliant solution to this whole communication breakdown. (My youngest says we should all have electronic signs in the back window that would display assorted messages--a cool idea, but expensive and unwieldy, IMO.) Until such time, I'll continue to work on the hand signal for "your back tire is almost flat, have a nice day!" How does that one go, again?

By the way, Happy Valentine's Day!

Tuesday Trivia meets the Friday Song

Sometimes when you miss a deadline, you have to crunch your assignments together. You might call it cheating; but the results can be interesting. Returning readers know that my regular Tuesday Trivia posting is missing in action. However, it's already Saturday night here, so my Friday Song write-up is also late. I had to ask myself: should I trivialize the Friday Song? Or, should I set the trivia to music? Easy choice, obviously. Let's talk about more than one song, then. I'm sure that will turn out trivially. (Is that even a word? Trivially? I'm not sure.)

Country music has taken an interesting turn in the last few weeks. Well, maybe it's been longer than that. As usual, we have to point first blame in the direction of my favorite groundbreaker, Gretchen Wilson. You know Gretchen; she's the one who made it cool to be trailer-trash. Rich trailer trash, now. She's also the same artist who followed up Redneck Woman with When I Think About Cheatin'. The second song was actually about deciding against cheating, but Gretchen started something none-the-less. There was a time when every country singer sang about cheating, but things got all military and patriotic there for a while and pushed the whole subject aside. Not for long, though. A whole slew of artists have returned to the fold; and they're talkin' about cheatin' again.

Time was, all the cheating songs dwelled on sadness and broken hearts. Times have changed. The focus has shifted to what I'll call "she'll be just fine without that jerk" compositions. I've even written here in the past about one or two of these. George Straight's brilliant She Let Herself Go (currently number 3 on the charts) comes to mind. Canada's sweetheart, Terri Clark, was Mad for Awhile; but things got worse from there. Clark's latest release tells the story of a young mom who's bum of a partner walks away. She Didn't Have Time, with the help of a well-crafted video, shows us good things happen to she who waits. This song's single mom struggles to raise her very young daughter alone, through ballet class and tee-ball, while working full-time. Only a flat tire and luck finally hooks mom up with a studly guy to brighten her world. I wasn't worried, though; I knew the mom would triumph in the end.

That's the new trend, and it's definitely a positive one. For years we heard about scummy men who left their women lost and alone. We even heard about heartless women who left their men behind. (The guys always wanted the walk-away girls to come back. The reverse was rarely true.) That just ain't the way things work no more! Now the lovely songstress, Sara Evans, has joined the party. Evans, happily married and mother of three, has released a powerful single called (surprise!) Cheatin'. The refrain says it all: "You should have thought about that, when you were Cheatin'."

Her companion video clarifies any misconceptions we might have had about the dirtbag ex-husband described in the lyrics. He's a dirtbag, and he got what he deserved! More to the point, story-wise, the woman got the best end of the deal. She's driving his slick pick-up truck, living in his house, and generally lovin' life. He, meanwhile, is driving a clunker, living in a rented trailer, and eating pork and beans. Dirtbag. You have to see the video to enjoy this guy-basher. I'm a guy; and I'm man enough to enjoy it, I think.

Two other artists' current releases deserve mention here, as well. Miranda Lambert's hot new Kerosene reveals a lot of bitterness, but hints at better days ahead. (This one will probably get more discussion as a full-fledged Friday Song.) Nashville newcomer, Danielle Peck, offers up (Jesus Loves You) I Don't. You don't have to be a musical genius to figure out the message in that one. I Don't doesn't clearly say the girl gets the best of the break-up; but she certainly knows her mind. And she's not taking his calls, either, I'll bet!

You might think I'm being sarcastic here, but I assure I'm not. Lots of guys really are scumbags, and lots of women end up as single moms. That's reality, every day of the week. It's not funny, and there's enough pain to go around for everyone involved. (Yeah, I'm speaking from experience here.) The guys have had their say in the past, over and over again. So I'm happy to see the perspective shift to "her side." I think it's best for all concerned when things work out well for women who've suffered bad relationships. When there are kids involved, especially little kids, it becomes even more important. And, finally, like anything else involving important life issues, it's good to talk about it. That's one of the beautiful things about popular music: we listen, we consider, and then we talk about the message. That's a win-win, in my book.

[Artists' links, and some source material, courtesy of CMT.com.]

Tuesday, er, Thursday Trivia: assorted!

If only there were thirty-six hours in a day! Or, is that "my, how time flies"? Good thing no one is paying me for these posts. I'd have been fired by now. But I have been busy. Give me that much credit, anyway. As you can see by the lead-in post which I've 'stickied' to the top of this page, I've been dabbling in book selling at Amazon.com. It's not difficult, but there is so-o-o much to learn, unless one wishes to operate in ignorance (not advisable as a sound business model). Then there's that whole get-up-and-go-to-work-every-day thing. Yeah, it's a drag (sometimes), but the daily grind keeps my creditors happy. Excuses, excuses... Tonight's column is actually dedicated in the fashion of syndicated columnist Sydney Harris' Things I learned while looking up other things, which he published about once a week years ago. I always liked that title, and used to read those articles religiously. (I'm not certain, but I think Mr. Harris has gone on to his deserved reward. I could look it up...)

Now, then, I'll mention three interesting things I learned while perusing this month's Discover magazine (which I'm pretty sure is a primary source for Jeopardy questions each month). I discovered this magazine originally at my chiropractor's office; it was good reading while waiting for my turn. The articles are short but very well written and cover a broad range of topics under the heading of Science. Here are three snapshots from this month:

Astrophysicists have detected information from a star (or quasar, maybe) which dates back to the supposed beginning of the universe. They place its age at about three and a half billion years (less than our planet), but its light began the journey to here ten billion years ago. In other words, this stellar object is roughly ten billion light years from Earth. That is, to me at least, an incomprehensible number. Even using the fictional 'warp speeds' used to drive the plots of Star Trek, no one can imagine ever traversing distances that outrageous. If you had some really good pot, maybe you could make some sense of it, but I doubt it.

Dolphins have really bad dandruff! According to an article discussing the incredible speeds that these mammals can reach, dolphins shed their entire outer layer of skin at the rate of once every two hours. Marine biologists believe that all that skin-flaking serves an important purpose for the porpoises (ouch!). Studies using fluid-dynamics test methods (using glitter to represent dolphin-dandruff) appear to demonstrate an advantage: the flakes change typical drag-inducing patterns of turbulence somehow, reducing the drag. Scientists have pondered dolphins' apparently inexplicable swimming speeds (they can sprint at nearly twenty-five knots!) for most of the past hundred years. How cool is it that dandruff may be an important component of the answer? This could be huge for NASCAR--how about glitter-covered racecars? Hey, it could work!

Last for tonight, there was an intriguing new investigation into an old topic: did the Spanish conquerors in the New World really wipe out millions of Aztec natives? When Hernando Cortés and his band of military adventurers first reached what is now Mexico, they entered a land populated by at least twenty million natives. In the decades following their invasion, that number was reduced to about two million. Guns and steel only account for a fraction of those horrific losses; the rest have traditionally been attributed to disease, especially smallpox, thought to have been introduced to the defenseless natives by the invading Spanish.

However, new translations of well-regarded historical documents from that period tell a different story. King Phillip II had sent a Surgeon General of sorts to the New World, a man with impeccable credentials (for that era). The doctor interviewed hundreds of victims and performed dozens of autopsies. He diligently recorded his observations in Latin, but those extensive records remained lost from modern awareness for over four hundred years. Brought to the light of contemporary review, and subjected to new scrutiny, those descriptions don't support the smallpox hypothesis. So what was the disease which (apparently) decimated the Aztecs? Hemorrhagic fever--like Ebola and Hantavirus, which is spread by rodents (not Spaniards). Enlightening, and scary. There is neither cure nor treatment for this sort of plague, not then and not now.

OK, it's Thursday Trivia

The holidays are suddenly passed, and I'm back to work, still buried in an over-booked calendar. Tuesday's job lasted well into the evening, and my fingers were too tired to type. Those are my excuses. At least the dog didn't eat my homework, but I don't have a dog anyway. I used to have a dog, when I was younger. The first one got hit by a bus; his name was Scotty. My second dog, a wonderful Border Collie, was struck by a car while we waited for the schoolbus. He died later that day. I had a regular Lassie-style collie, too, later on. His name was Champ, after "Champ, the Gallant Collie"--a book I read when I was about twelve. Champ needed far more space than we could give him. I think he went crazy.

I finished a sweet little book last week, My Life in Dog Years, by Gary Paulsen. My younger son, Nick, recognized the author's name immediately. Paulsen writes for school-age readers, but his style is fine for adult reading and his content is amazing. This guy has lived a very interesting life. In the final chapter he mentions that he's had "hundreds" of dogs. The book highlights the more entertaining and intelligent of those. Nicky read it in about two hours flat. Sadly, I've never had a dog worth writing about. I will anyway, though--write about my dogs. (Wow, just call me "Mr. Language Guy"!)

You hear the phrase, a boy and his dog, now and then. Meaning, I suppose, a boy needs a dog. Or dogs go with boys. Something to that effect. I never really got that concept. Don't get me wrong--I loved my dogs, and even mourned their passing. But I don't miss them. Maybe I'm missing an important dog-gene. Or maybe I need a bigger yard. I do miss having someone around to pick up the table scraps I drop. We have a cat for now. She acts like a dog--around me, at least. Cats aren't as much fun as dogs; but they're not nearly as needy, either. I can take them or leave them, too. See, I haven't actually written about my dogs, after all, have I? That's probably for the best. I promise next week's Tuesday Trivia will be posted on a Tuesday. Maybe it won't be quite as trivial as this week's piece. Then again...

Happy New Year, one last time!

Tuesday Trivia has its ups and downs

I started this Tuesday Trivia post because there are lots of odd little thoughts that occur to me; it's only fair that I share these tidbits with whoever else might read these posts. Why should I be the only one with annoying random thoughts running around my brain? Tonight I want to talk about ups and downs, literally. Some things we do "up" and others we do "down." Why is this so? Who came up with this odd bit of language?

Here's a topical example: we all fill-up our gastanks. That makes sense. So, what's a break-up? Isn't it less than what you had before? And why isn't break-down the opposite of break-up? (I'll stop italicizing now, and assume you can supply your own emphasis.) Here's another: when you come to a stop-sign do you slow-down or slow-up? Sure, either one will do. Okay, then, why do touch-down and touch-up have absolutely nothing to do with each other? Sit down, please. Now sit-up. No, don't do a sit-up. How about "spit-up"? It's almost never up, is it? But no one spits down, linguistically speaking. Have you ever had to back down, when you were backing up? Sometimes you just have to yield the right of way, huh?

Choke-up on the bat, but don't choke down that hotdog after the game. When your company is about to shut down, do you shut up? Or do you speak up? No one speaks down, although they often talk down. That's after they get done talking up their latest deal, of course. When work winds down on Friday afternoon, do you get wound-up? Have you ever taken a shake-down cruise? Did you get shook-up? Give me the low-down on that one; but don't bother with the low-up: that's not even a word.

Would you put up with a put-down? Let up when you've been let down? Is it proper to show up at a show-down? If you went to jail, would they lock you up or lock you down? Why does a hurricane blow down your house, but a bomb blows up a building? If you were feeling run down, you might run up your credit card bill. That's up to you, don't you think? I'm down with that. Until next time...

Tuesday Trivia: mind-clutter

I'll call this a trivial matter. I'm referring to the mind-boggling amount of mind-clutter we all must assimilate just to get by. What the heck am I talking about? Take a moment, for the sake of illustration vs. explanation, and go get your remote. Doesn't matter which one (since most of us have a whole freakin' fleet of them!). OK, quick -- where's the Volume control? That was easy. You remember which button to press.

The point is, that little example is just one of the hundreds of little details we learn, then store for everyday use. People with lots of keys on their chain know what I mean. You have to know which key is for what lock, and you probably know which keys turn clockwise or not. You know LOTS of tiny little things! You have memorized the entire dashboard and control system in your car. You probably have a pretty good mind-map of your spouse's car, too, if he or she ever lets you drive it. How many VCR's or DVD players do you own? Three? At the very least, you know how to turn each one off and on. Mind-maps.

When you stop for coffee at the Hess station on your way to work, you know right where everything is there, too. Don't believe me? Try a different coffee-stop, even just a different location for the same brand. You'll spend at least two extra minutes navigating the new place, just for a cup of coffee. More's the point, you have a similar mental picture for every place you go regularly. For every remote control you use. For every appliance you operate. For every piece of office equipment in your work area. You even know the complete layout for your favorite newspaper. You could probably name the comic strips you read, in order!

So what? you may ask. Fact is, you can't help it! This is how our brains work, helping us cruise through our daily lives on auto-pilot. Imagine if every day was a whole new experience, and you had to learn all these little details from scratch each time. Trouble is, all those little mind-maps really add up. They're taking up a whole bunch of valuable room up there. No wonder it's so hard for older folks to learn new stuff! There's just no place left to put the new stuff, with all that other clutter piled to the rafters.

[reprinted from October]