Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Handshake Project: Doorman

I couldn't remember if I'd been writing about "The Handshake Project" or not, so I did a Google search operator on my own blog and the answer... nope, not at all. I must have been Twittering about it (follow me on Twitter!). Let's remedy that!

The Handshake Project is an experiment that I've been testing since the beginning of the year. Each time that I encounter a situation where there exists a physical counter between me and the person on the other side, I reach over the top of the counter and introduce myself before we get down to business.

So far, without having to ask, I've gotten a free upgrade to first class on a flight, a giggle from a McDonald's employee, and a whole over-sized dump truck load of smiles. I have no goal for this experiment; I'm not trying to "get" free stuff. I'm simply opening the door for someone to feel good about themselves by showing them that we are equals. Most people that sit/stand on the other side of the counter must deal with the problems of the world all day long... it's easy to understand how they might approach each new face with pessimism and think, "What's your problem?"

There are times when I'm in great need of service--a major problem that needs a solution--but most of the time, I just want to give someone a smile. When I do so, they want to make me smile and will go out of their way to make it happen, consciously or subconsciously.

My latest experiment was with a doorman/security in Irving Park who greets a thousand people per day. When I reached across the counter, he was surprised. With an "Oh" and a smile, he quickly stood up, shook my hand and we traded names. Didn't need anything. Didn't get anything. But, definitely, gave someone a smile. Someday I might need him to call me a cab or recommend a restaurant and maybe, just maybe, he'll remember me and do so gladly.

So, straighten up your tie, reach across the counter and say, "Hi."

13/52: "Love Is The Killer App" by Tim Sanders

Book #13 = "Love Is The Killer App" by Tim Sanders, 4/5 Stars
There were two reasons why I've had this book on my list for some time: 1). I worked with Tim and most of the people that he mentions during my broadcast.com/Yahoo! years, 2). I always heard that Tim had something to say and was someone to meet. Honestly, If we ever met, it was in passing... and my job during those years was to wage war with GeoCities in the battle to see who would ultimately lead the Yahoo! Small Business/Site Hosting division. It wasn't a pleasant time and I regret that I didn't focus more on being a "lovecat" by creating a reason to stay in touch with the amazing people I met. As Tim says in his book and I paraphrase here, "I'll try to make up for that the rest of my life and hopefully I will be a success."

The book is a great read, with simple strategies to employ simple concepts to, simply put, be a great success!

  • Nurture and share your knowledge and network with compassion.
  • "The purpose of collecting contacts is to give them away."
  • "The act of listening is absolutely critical to the act of connecting."
  • "Your business relationships have greater longevity when based on human feelings rather than circumstances."
GOAL: 52 books in 52 weeks!

Book #12 = "Fight Club" by Chuck Palahniuk, 4.5/5 Stars
Book #11 = "The Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger, 5/5 Stars
Book #10 = "The Finder" by Colin Harrison, 3.5/5 Stars
Book #9 = "Veronika Decides To Die" by Paulo Coelho, 1/5 Stars
Book #8 = "By The River Piedra I Sat Down & Wept" by Paulo Coelho, 3/5 Stars
Book #7 = "Stiff" by Mary Roach, 2/5 Stars
Book #6 = "Love in the Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia-Marquez, 1/5 Stars
Book #5 = "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy, 3/5 Stars
Book #4 = "Eleven Minutes" by Paulo Coelho, 2/5 Stars
Book #3 = "The Good Guy" by Dean Koontz, 3/5 Stars
Book #2 = "My Ishmael" by Dan Quinn, 2/5 Stars

Book #1 = "The Zahir" by Paulo Coelho, 3.5/5 Stars

READ MORE!

Message of DOOM!

I always have unchecked voicemail. Always. I've taken to telling people that the best way to reach me by phone is to check your horoscope, rub your rabbit's foot and call in a few favors from your reserve shooting stars. I pretty much only answer my phone if it happens to be in my hand and I was about to send a text, but the phone rang in the millisecond before I hit send and accidentally hit answer. And it doesn't matter who you are: family, friends or potential true love.

So, why is it that I never check my voicemail?

Because I know there's an impending MESSAGE OF DOOM. Weird. I'm a glass half-full optimist, yet there is something leery about voicemail: hospitalization, breakups, accidents, emergency work initiatives... there must have been something in my past that I found out about through a voice message, though I can't think of what it might be. And it must have stuck to me like glue, because more often than not my voicemails are a bunch of messages about missing me and meeting up for drinks. All good.

So, to my peeps in the world I say, "Even though I rarely answer, keep calling! Your messages always make me smile when they aren't MESSAGES OF DOOM!"

However, if you want me to respond immediately, then I suggest a text message... or, if you must know, a stripper-gram.

[Post inspired by a friend's new blog. Check out Glenn Slonecker!]

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

The Killer Cocktail

Picked up a book that was chillin' on a friend's desk while I was up here in Chicago, "The Killer App," by Tim Sanders. I've intended to read the book for quite some time, largely because I worked with and knew many of the people that Sanders writes about during the time that we were both at broadcast.com & Yahoo!

I got about 40 pages into the read and was giving my friend the gist before we took off to see a place that I'd never been off the Damen Blue Line stop, aka Wicker Park, called The Violet Hour. This place is the mecca of mixology: an obscure wooden door leads into a dark hallway, heavy velvet curtains line the walls and provide room division, while a dimly lit interior draws your eye away from the patrons and toward the wall of alcohols in bottles of brands that you've never seen in your life. We sat down and started watching the barkeep concoct fancy drinks with liquors, eyedroppers and fiery, citrus zest.

It was the perfect example of what Sanders is trying to say in his book about knowledge, network and compassion.

Knowledge: As he made the drinks, he pontificated the source and history of every alcohol that was being used in the drinks. Foreign ones. Rare ones. Homemade bitters.

Network: His network of distributors and friends were the ones that helped him to locate all of the ingredients from around the world. In fact, the barkeep himself was lured out of NYC as one of the best bartenders in the country.

Compassion: He went out of his way to share his knowledge and his network with us, whether we asked for it or not.

That barkeep was a big time LOVECAT.

Monday, April 06, 2009

Introducing: Promise & Soupy

On the night of my thirteenth birthday, I had a dream that I’d never forget for the rest of my life. It was the first time that I’d heard a voice in my head that seemed more familiar to me than my own Mother’s.

You must find me. That is your mission in life… to find me.
“Who are you?”
I’m your dream.

“Yeah, well that’s obvious, just look around,” I said. I was sitting cross-legged in a small, round room that was completely black aside from one light that glowed behind this angelic voice. The walls were well above my height should I have been standing, but the wall between the voice and myself was built only high enough to prevent me from seeing the other side from my seated position. The floor felt dusty and smelled slightly of fallen leaves, while above me, there was no ceiling at all; just an endless, dark night. Upon closer inspection, the wall between us was actually built of various sized, shaped and colored Etch-a-Sketch tablets; the discarded toys from my past.

I continued, “I mean, you’re right here, doesn’t that mean I’ve already found you?”

You must find me in the real world, Soup, not the world of your dreams. I know this world—the world of dreams—and I’m here to help you navigate through it so that you can better understand your reality.

As I looked more closely, the surrounding wall of the circular room was also built from the toy-like bricks that made up the wall between us. The main difference between the walls of the room and the wall between us was that they were black and in constant motion. They etched words, shapes and some even scribbled randomly without direction.

Pay no attention to them; they represent all that is going on in your mind right now.
“My mind is an Etch-a-Sketch?”
Hundreds of them, apparently, it may be my world, but it’s “your” dream.

In the real world, I would have thought I’d gone insane, but in the world of my dreams, where anything could happen, I just went with it.

Though I was curious about our conversation, the world outside of our walls proved to be a distraction. It sounded as if things on the outside wanted frantically to get inside. I’d not yet mastered the concept of flying in my dreams, though I’d been getting better with years of practice behind me, so I began flapping my arms erratically, which I knew would start a slow ascent from where I sat. With great and ridiculous-looking effort, I reached a height of twenty feet off of the ground and hovered so that I could look around. Even in the night, it was easy to discern that a desolate land at the top of mesa surrounded us; sparse shrubbery grew in the cracks of the land where it could hide its roots from the torturous sun and spying moon. There were no lights to be seen in any direction all the way where land met sky. I hadn’t gained much altitude, but from my hovering perch, I could see that our room resembled a circle with a slash dividing it into two halves; commonly called a Do Not Enter symbol.

Don’t leave me yet, Soup, your mind wanders and we have much to discuss.

Though above her, I couldn’t make out any physical features of the voice that was speaking to me, but I felt like I’d known her for my entire life. On her directive, it felt wise to obey, so I floated silently to the ground and resumed my cross-legged pose.

“How do I find you in the real world?” I asked.

Despite what others believe, life is not mandated, predetermined, or about fate; it’s simpler than that. In life you are given a mission, call it homework or a task to complete if you like, but it is that mission that ultimately defines who you are. When they look back on your life, you’ll be graded solely upon how effectively you’ve accomplished your life’s mission. Completing your mission becomes your contribution to the good of the world.

“They?”
Yes, they.

I knew I wouldn’t get much more from her about “them,” plus I was still bewildered by the mission that she’d thrust upon me. “I don’t know you, so how am I supposed to trust that this mission to find you is actually my true path? That’s like programming me without my questioning the programmer. I wouldn’t be able to accept that I’m just a drone.” I couldn’t tell how many, but several of the black Etch-a-Sketches shook hastily back and forth.

Think, Soupy. You are the ultimate believer in true love and you always rise to a challenge. No one will have walked before you down the path that you must take. It’s not that clear. There are no footprints to follow. You’ll have to make your own path. If you want to show the world that true love actually exists, then you will make it your life’s mission to find me.

My inquisitive self gave way to acceptance. All of the Etch-a-Sketch tablets shook like a low-grade earthquake.
You can look at them now.

In unison, they all sketched the shape of a heart and filled it in.

I smiled though still confused, “But how will I know when I’ve found you?”

You will know because our togetherness will prove the existence of true love. We will be a beacon of light for others; an example to emulate in their own lives. The world will once more believe in love and will use this belief to heal itself.

“Great, not only am I in this weird place, but your answers are purposefully vague. I’m confused.”

You will learn at least one thing from every person that you meet in your life. Dating will always be about your heart; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I know you well enough to know that you begin measuring whether you want to spend the rest of your life with a woman from the first moment that you set eyes on her. So, make darn sure that you learn something from every woman that you date in your life.

“Okay.” Though I was new to my teenage years, I’d already learned that kissing a girl just to kiss her felt emotionally hollow.

You’re too young to completely understand what I’m telling you about your mission because you’ve so many things in your head that you believe are important to accomplish in life. You’re young and overly focused on short-term goals.

“Yeah, it’s hard to think that I’m supposed to find a love that will shine when I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”

This task that I’ve given you, it’s a numbers game, a game of volume. Only by accumulated experience will you eventually figure out who I am and where to find me. So, like I said, make sure you learn from everyone because each woman will unlock another piece of the puzzle. You will fail at finding me over and over again. You will fail with consistency until you succeed. It sounds daunting. It doesn’t sound like much fun. In fact, it sounds down right miserable for someone that lives in a glass half empty world. But you, Soupy Heller, I know that you live in optimism. I know that you’ll learn from both failure and success. You will come off as brash, at times, but you will develop a sense of “knowing.” And from this sense, you will learn to manage your failure. Believe this, Soupy, and believe in me. When you find me then you’ll have found success and that success is true love.

“Perhaps you can make my task a bit easier by telling me your name?”
Until you find me in the real world, call me “Promise.”
“Do you promise, Promise?”
Like I’ve never heard that one before? You’re such a dork, but I love you for it.
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Sunday, April 05, 2009

Objective Observer. Passive Participant.

We all do it; we sit there watching a movie or the television and we scream at the woman to watch where she's running so she won't trip and get decapitated by the evil bad guy... we yell at the man to turn around and tell the woman of his dreams how he really feels because she's there waiting for him to declare his love.

We know what to do when we're the objective observer. Why do we so often miss the right thing to do when we have to do it ourselves?

I know, there's a whole industry dedicated to this: objective observers telling us what to do with our lives. I'm going to start a competitive product, the "Step Outside of Yourself Pill." It'll be a marketing sensation, the killer app (pill), and we'll make a bankload of dough because everything in life will suddenly become totally obvious. In fact, we'll ship it with a bag of microwave popcorn and a small soda so you can feel like you're watching your own movie--the movie of your life.

Jump out. Jump back in. Live life to win.