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The Question That Trumps The Answer
"If you know you can do it, then do it."
I honestly don't remember where I heard that phrase. Perhaps it was early in my broadcast career, but I can't seem to place it. It sounds like something about six people I have known or currently know would say, which makes tracing it back to any one of them more of a task.
If you've been following my adventures over the past year, you know that, instead of one full time job (which had been my adult life up to the end of 2010), I've taken on several smaller projects. 2011 wasn't the year my wallet got fatter (and fortunately my waistline didn't get fatter either). But I feel as if I did strike it rich on a personal development level. I was forced to take inventory of what I had learned so far, and make it work out in the "real world," the universe outside the newsroom that most of the world calls home.
I knew I could do this. So I did it.
This particular post comes from my year of trying new things and reinventing myself. Part of the process was applying for jobs, and there was one in particular I applied for that really got me thinking. It wasn't the application...it was the questionnaire. They were good questions with no wrong answer possible. The point wasn't to see what you answered; it was to see how you would answer.
I want to share some of the questions, and my answers. I don't think my answers were that terrific, but I loved the exercise and the thought process it sparked. Attention newsroom managers: If you put the time into it, I would highly suggest you, and really any other manager out there, consider asking candidates the following:
In this case, the questions easily trump the answer. Whether or not you'd hire me at this point, you have a better idea of who I am.
My challenge to you employers wading through hundreds and thousands of resumes...give us a chance to stand out. Make the effort to ask a question that has no correct answer. Let us answer it, and by doing so, you'll only have to fill the position once.
I honestly don't remember where I heard that phrase. Perhaps it was early in my broadcast career, but I can't seem to place it. It sounds like something about six people I have known or currently know would say, which makes tracing it back to any one of them more of a task.
If you've been following my adventures over the past year, you know that, instead of one full time job (which had been my adult life up to the end of 2010), I've taken on several smaller projects. 2011 wasn't the year my wallet got fatter (and fortunately my waistline didn't get fatter either). But I feel as if I did strike it rich on a personal development level. I was forced to take inventory of what I had learned so far, and make it work out in the "real world," the universe outside the newsroom that most of the world calls home.
I knew I could do this. So I did it.
This particular post comes from my year of trying new things and reinventing myself. Part of the process was applying for jobs, and there was one in particular I applied for that really got me thinking. It wasn't the application...it was the questionnaire. They were good questions with no wrong answer possible. The point wasn't to see what you answered; it was to see how you would answer.
I want to share some of the questions, and my answers. I don't think my answers were that terrific, but I loved the exercise and the thought process it sparked. Attention newsroom managers: If you put the time into it, I would highly suggest you, and really any other manager out there, consider asking candidates the following:
Compare and contrast the terms entrepreneur, manager and worker.
My Answer: I want to start simply with this: An entrepreneur dreams, a manager motivates, and a worker is motivated to help make the dream come true. It may not be the comparison you’re looking for, but I’m not certain these terms contrast each other. In others words…I believe you can find each quality (and they are all qualities) in the same person. And when you do find this person, you have found future success.
This person dreams, and dreams big. And because it’s his dream, managing the process and the people involved becomes more personal: There’s much more at stake, including pride. So much pride, that entering the trenches and working alongside his team isn’t considered out of the ordinary…it’s second-nature.
Describe entrepreneurial spirit as it pertains to you. Give specific examples from your career where you met your ideal for entrepreneurial spirit or where you failed to do so.
My Answer: In the past year, I’ve been away from a working newsroom for the first time in my 20+ year career. It’s required a re-invention, of sorts. Over the course of three months, I was able to identify that many of the skills I’d learned in the newsroom were applicable in the “real world.” Skills like branding, programming, writing, creative services, event coordinating, public relations, and media relations prompted me to begin my own business, offering those services to smaller non-profits who contract with me to do as much or as little as they need.
A strong entrepreneur never starts from ground zero: He constantly evaluates past experience, and re-shapes it to be relevant to his current situation.
That being said, it doesn’t always work out. I remember serving as a News Director to a department of 36 people. It was easy to assume the title and instantly come up with different ways of getting things done. It was much more difficult to motivate people to see and embrace my vision. While I’m proud of my management career as a whole, I also freely acknowledge it was the time I learned the most about myself, and about inspiring people around me. You never get 100% buy-in on all your ideas…but eventually I learned you can get 100% respect, which prompts your team to at least try to embrace your vision.
Okay, still with me? Again, there were no wrong answers in this questionnaire. And I'm certain you could have answered in a much more stellar and meaningful way. By presenting this questionnaire, this potential employer was able learn more about me as a person, including but not limited to my character, my disposition, and my motivation. Here's a couple more:
What one thing don’t you know right now that you’d really like to know? (Any topic – does not have to be work-related).
My Answer: Spanish.
I’m a guy who will try nearly anything. I usually don’t have success with everything I try, but I always learn something about myself by at least attempting success. This being said, there are a few things that intimate me, and those things are much more difficult to try.
While learning Spanish doesn’t sound very intimidating to you, I’m scared to death. It’s not just a way a speaking, it’s an entirely different way of putting thoughts and sentences together. Just imagine the intimidation factor for me: putting a thought together in my native tongue…while eventually striking gold…sometimes bites the dust in the early stages. J
What is your plan to learn what you need to know about that topic by two weeks from today?
My Answer: Darn it. I should have known this was coming.
OK, I’ll check into Rosetta Stone. But I’m warning you, this might not be pretty.
Tell the story of your single biggest accomplishment in life. It does not have to be something work-related.
My Answer: 2011.
Personally and professionally, far and away, making my way through 2011 is my biggest accomplishment to date. I’ve won the National Murrow, I’ve helped program award-winning formats, and I’ve created unique shows, but nothing compares to being given the time to reflect, rebuild, and recharge yourself. On so many levels, I’m happier with who I am in 2012, because I had the difficulties, struggles, and eventual salvations of 2011.
Why did you pick this accomplishment?
I picked it because you want to know me better. You already know I’m well qualified experience-wise for anything you throw at me. You would rather know who I am personally, and I believe being able to be open about a tough year of struggles and personal growth reveals more than any resume. Character counts, or at least, it should.
In this case, the questions easily trump the answer. Whether or not you'd hire me at this point, you have a better idea of who I am.
My challenge to you employers wading through hundreds and thousands of resumes...give us a chance to stand out. Make the effort to ask a question that has no correct answer. Let us answer it, and by doing so, you'll only have to fill the position once.
Learn, Grow, Adjust
"I have a proposition for you," he said, with such a serious look on his face I was positive I must be in trouble.
Three years earlier I had come to this place. A brand new building, all new equipment, lots of space, and it offered some of the most gorgeous views of any building I had ever worked in.
I was asked to come here. After years of working my way through broadcast newsrooms, I received an invitation to join this team. I accepted, because I knew the terms I asked for and received would be part of my next step in my broadcast evolution.
As part of my terms, I wanted to learn television broadcasting. Up to this point, I was a radio guy. I loved radio, and was very passionate about it, but I also knew I wanted to try television. My radio mentor had done television in his past, and had always tried to steer me away from it. So when I finally did get the opportunity to be on television, I thought telling him wouldn't go over well. I was wrong, he was proud.
This building housed both radio stations and a television station. So it seemed a natural place to get the "feel" for TV. My first few years there, I was all radio. Then came the moment described in the opening line.
"When you first came here, we made a deal that we'd teach you television," he continued, still sounding like the other shoe was about to drop...in a not-so-good way.
Then came the unexpected invitation. You see, I had always assumed that when it was time to train in television, I'd naturally begin as a reporter. I had been a reporter and news anchor on the radio, so this seemed like the easiest transition.
"You realize that most people learn television in much smaller markets than Seattle," Jim Tellis, the TV news director informed me. "With the exception of one, the talent here all began in markets the size of Yakima (Washington) or smaller."
He had set me up to expect the worst, then he delivered one of the biggest surprises of my career.
"How do you feel about training as a weather forecaster?" Jim asked sincerely.
I hummed a few a seconds, paused, then it hit me as he continued.
"You strike me as a guy with a lot of good personality, and that really fits a weather caster. And besides, Brian, I have a spot open right now to train to be part of our weather team."
This was going to be sweet. Jim Tellis is no longer with us, but I will always think of him and smile, because he was the guy who believed in me enough to put me on television.
For the next couple of weeks, I trained with the very talented Todd Johnson and Steve Pool, the steeds of the KOMO weather stable at that time. I learned how to read weather models, how to put the graphics together, and most importantly...how to consider each factor that can influence the weather, and come up with a forecast.
I never said I was super accurate at it, but isn't that the curse of all weathermen? The weather, just like life, changes on a dime sometimes, leaving even the best forecasters in the fog, or the doghouse if they were on duty during your daughter's outdoor wedding. Just remember friends, the weather forecaster doesn't control the weather; he/she merely plays the odds. Based on what we're seeing, today there's a good chance of clouds with scattered sunbreaks and possible drizzle.
Look at that, I just covered every possibility today except snow (please, don't snow on a day I didn't see it coming!).
For the remainder of my time at KOMO-TV, I did get the opportunity to serve as a reporter and an anchor, but more often, I was called on to pinch-hit when the weather team was down a member. I enjoyed this assignment the most, because it allowed me to be me. I'm referring to the personality side of me. I like to smile, I like to laugh, and as the weather guy, you're allowed to do both. And face it, as a news watcher, it must be somewhat refreshing after seeing all the mayhem of the day to then hear about the weather from someone with a sunny personality, right? Even a rainy day is easier to stomach if the weathercaster takes the time to tell you when the sun will return.
When I left KOMO earlier this year, I called on the several friends I knew at other stations in town and in other cities nearby, and really tried to find a new home in the business. No one had room at the time, so for the first time on my adult life, I had to begin considering a career outside of broadcasting. I began trying other things, and felt tremendous personal growth as i stretched myself to apply what I had learned in news to the real world (he says with a sly smile). I took on projects and performed things like branding, marketing, PR, even teaching teams about social media. I had a chance to work intimately with a few non-profit organizations, and got to spread my wings as a voice artist for commercials and other projects.
Thinking that a return to the newsroom would be way down the road, if at all, I began working on a couple of new Internet projects. And just as these little gems are getting off the ground, this week happens.
A short process of emails, phone calls, and meetings later, I'm returning to the weather desk. Starting in January, you'll see my mug on Northwest Cable News, a regional news station (Think CNN, only focused on the northwest).
I don't believe in chance or random timing. Down to the core of my being, I'm convinced that there's a reason things happen when they do. Perhaps 2011 was supposed to go down in the books of my life as they year I grew a little; professionally and personally. So many new experiences, so many new friends, and so many old friends sanding by my side and believing in me. While being without full time work in this economy is truly very scary at times, I think I needed this year to happen the way it did. If anything, it has helped better prepare me for a promising 2012. Grin.
Starting next month, I'll have the wine show, the beer show, and my weather gig to keep me busy...and I love all three projects. And oh yeah, there's the work I like to do with Pacific Science Center that will continue in 2012. I have a couple of voicing jobs to do, including becoming the new "voice" for a major transportation entity. For a guy that didn't have much to do over the summer, I'm kind of busy again, and I love it.
At risk of this sounding like a diary entry, there's actually a point I wanted to share with you.
I'm very thankful, and the obvious things I'm thankful for are the new sources of income that weren't there just over a month ago. But I'm also thankful for the reminder of an important lesson I learned through the broadcasting business that I believe holds true in many other industries:
Be open to learn, be willing to grow, be able to adjust.
Today's world seems more and more like a place where the comfortable fall too easily, and the traditionalist finds himself isolated. New technologies are fueling businesses to do things differently, and the changes come annually in some realms. There's no room anymore for the person who does one thing, and one thing only. Today's success seems more and more connected to how you have adapted yourself to the ever-changing world around you.
So learn, grow, and adjust. Trust me, it pays off in more ways than you think.
Three years earlier I had come to this place. A brand new building, all new equipment, lots of space, and it offered some of the most gorgeous views of any building I had ever worked in. I was asked to come here. After years of working my way through broadcast newsrooms, I received an invitation to join this team. I accepted, because I knew the terms I asked for and received would be part of my next step in my broadcast evolution.
As part of my terms, I wanted to learn television broadcasting. Up to this point, I was a radio guy. I loved radio, and was very passionate about it, but I also knew I wanted to try television. My radio mentor had done television in his past, and had always tried to steer me away from it. So when I finally did get the opportunity to be on television, I thought telling him wouldn't go over well. I was wrong, he was proud.
This building housed both radio stations and a television station. So it seemed a natural place to get the "feel" for TV. My first few years there, I was all radio. Then came the moment described in the opening line.
"When you first came here, we made a deal that we'd teach you television," he continued, still sounding like the other shoe was about to drop...in a not-so-good way.
Then came the unexpected invitation. You see, I had always assumed that when it was time to train in television, I'd naturally begin as a reporter. I had been a reporter and news anchor on the radio, so this seemed like the easiest transition.
"You realize that most people learn television in much smaller markets than Seattle," Jim Tellis, the TV news director informed me. "With the exception of one, the talent here all began in markets the size of Yakima (Washington) or smaller."
He had set me up to expect the worst, then he delivered one of the biggest surprises of my career.
"How do you feel about training as a weather forecaster?" Jim asked sincerely.
I hummed a few a seconds, paused, then it hit me as he continued.
"You strike me as a guy with a lot of good personality, and that really fits a weather caster. And besides, Brian, I have a spot open right now to train to be part of our weather team."This was going to be sweet. Jim Tellis is no longer with us, but I will always think of him and smile, because he was the guy who believed in me enough to put me on television.
For the next couple of weeks, I trained with the very talented Todd Johnson and Steve Pool, the steeds of the KOMO weather stable at that time. I learned how to read weather models, how to put the graphics together, and most importantly...how to consider each factor that can influence the weather, and come up with a forecast.
I never said I was super accurate at it, but isn't that the curse of all weathermen? The weather, just like life, changes on a dime sometimes, leaving even the best forecasters in the fog, or the doghouse if they were on duty during your daughter's outdoor wedding. Just remember friends, the weather forecaster doesn't control the weather; he/she merely plays the odds. Based on what we're seeing, today there's a good chance of clouds with scattered sunbreaks and possible drizzle.
Look at that, I just covered every possibility today except snow (please, don't snow on a day I didn't see it coming!).
For the remainder of my time at KOMO-TV, I did get the opportunity to serve as a reporter and an anchor, but more often, I was called on to pinch-hit when the weather team was down a member. I enjoyed this assignment the most, because it allowed me to be me. I'm referring to the personality side of me. I like to smile, I like to laugh, and as the weather guy, you're allowed to do both. And face it, as a news watcher, it must be somewhat refreshing after seeing all the mayhem of the day to then hear about the weather from someone with a sunny personality, right? Even a rainy day is easier to stomach if the weathercaster takes the time to tell you when the sun will return.
When I left KOMO earlier this year, I called on the several friends I knew at other stations in town and in other cities nearby, and really tried to find a new home in the business. No one had room at the time, so for the first time on my adult life, I had to begin considering a career outside of broadcasting. I began trying other things, and felt tremendous personal growth as i stretched myself to apply what I had learned in news to the real world (he says with a sly smile). I took on projects and performed things like branding, marketing, PR, even teaching teams about social media. I had a chance to work intimately with a few non-profit organizations, and got to spread my wings as a voice artist for commercials and other projects.
Thinking that a return to the newsroom would be way down the road, if at all, I began working on a couple of new Internet projects. And just as these little gems are getting off the ground, this week happens.
A short process of emails, phone calls, and meetings later, I'm returning to the weather desk. Starting in January, you'll see my mug on Northwest Cable News, a regional news station (Think CNN, only focused on the northwest).
I don't believe in chance or random timing. Down to the core of my being, I'm convinced that there's a reason things happen when they do. Perhaps 2011 was supposed to go down in the books of my life as they year I grew a little; professionally and personally. So many new experiences, so many new friends, and so many old friends sanding by my side and believing in me. While being without full time work in this economy is truly very scary at times, I think I needed this year to happen the way it did. If anything, it has helped better prepare me for a promising 2012. Grin.
Starting next month, I'll have the wine show, the beer show, and my weather gig to keep me busy...and I love all three projects. And oh yeah, there's the work I like to do with Pacific Science Center that will continue in 2012. I have a couple of voicing jobs to do, including becoming the new "voice" for a major transportation entity. For a guy that didn't have much to do over the summer, I'm kind of busy again, and I love it.
At risk of this sounding like a diary entry, there's actually a point I wanted to share with you.
I'm very thankful, and the obvious things I'm thankful for are the new sources of income that weren't there just over a month ago. But I'm also thankful for the reminder of an important lesson I learned through the broadcasting business that I believe holds true in many other industries:
Be open to learn, be willing to grow, be able to adjust.
Today's world seems more and more like a place where the comfortable fall too easily, and the traditionalist finds himself isolated. New technologies are fueling businesses to do things differently, and the changes come annually in some realms. There's no room anymore for the person who does one thing, and one thing only. Today's success seems more and more connected to how you have adapted yourself to the ever-changing world around you.
So learn, grow, and adjust. Trust me, it pays off in more ways than you think.
The Next Big Thing...
"I just need to walk away," I said, not confidently, but more stoically.
At the time, it was an easy, yet bittersweet, thing to say. For several months, I knew there were changes all around me. I was still me...dedicated, professional, skilled, and versatile. And yet, that was feeling more and more like it wasn't going to be enough. My surroundings were changing, people were coming and going, and as the days lingered, I knew there may not be a place for me for much longer.
"I understand," was his response.
His tone and the grimace on his face told me he really did understand. You know when you're sad to see someone go, yet you know it's the right thing for them? My boss got it; he knew it was time.
I had been a part of this crew since the very beginning, matter of fact, I was recruited away from another company to begin this endeavor. I helped launch this product, which makes it easier for you to understand why I felt so close to it. So close, I knew when it was time to move on.
Since leaving KOMO in January, I've experienced my first period of life when I've not been a part of the broadcast news industry. While it's not a "fish out of water" feeling for me, it does feel a bit alien. After all, I really loved telling stories and coming into your living room or riding in your passenger seat everyday. I miss that connection with you, I truly do. And maybe someday, I'll be back with you in that capacity.
This year, I've been fortunate to have the time to discover other things I really enjoy. I love telling stories, and have been able to work with a handful of groups in telling their stories. It's a different experience to do so without the context of a newsroom. Is it better? I would never be so bold to say that...as each medium has it's strengths. It's just different, and for the first time in my life, I'm doing things differently. At times there's an uneasiness because it's unfamiliar. Other times, there's a comfort level almost comparable to a busy newsroom...because you know that through your work, you're making a difference.
Today is Thanksgiving, and the true point of my ramblings is to express my thankfulness for the opportunity to "live outside the box." I've always enjoyed thinking this way, but have not yet been in the scenario to wake up each day and have the ability to embrace something new. Mind you, all this living outside the box doesn't pay as well as my former professional life. Then again, I've also learned this year that money isn't everything, and for that, I am thankful.
It seems like nearly every week this year, I've had a chance to learn something new about the world, the workforce, and myself. I didn't realize how many things I actually know how to do. Some I do alright, other things I do very well. And perhaps the most heartfelt thing I've picked up...how to lean on others. I'm very thankful, after years of doing my best to be a rock for those around me, to be able to cling to and take refuge in my friends and family.
At this moment, I don't really know what the next best thing for me will be. But whatever it is, it will be one of my best experiences ever because of who I've become over the last several months.
In my opinion, that's the real paycheck for living outside the box.
At the time, it was an easy, yet bittersweet, thing to say. For several months, I knew there were changes all around me. I was still me...dedicated, professional, skilled, and versatile. And yet, that was feeling more and more like it wasn't going to be enough. My surroundings were changing, people were coming and going, and as the days lingered, I knew there may not be a place for me for much longer.
"I understand," was his response.
His tone and the grimace on his face told me he really did understand. You know when you're sad to see someone go, yet you know it's the right thing for them? My boss got it; he knew it was time.
I had been a part of this crew since the very beginning, matter of fact, I was recruited away from another company to begin this endeavor. I helped launch this product, which makes it easier for you to understand why I felt so close to it. So close, I knew when it was time to move on.
Since leaving KOMO in January, I've experienced my first period of life when I've not been a part of the broadcast news industry. While it's not a "fish out of water" feeling for me, it does feel a bit alien. After all, I really loved telling stories and coming into your living room or riding in your passenger seat everyday. I miss that connection with you, I truly do. And maybe someday, I'll be back with you in that capacity.
This year, I've been fortunate to have the time to discover other things I really enjoy. I love telling stories, and have been able to work with a handful of groups in telling their stories. It's a different experience to do so without the context of a newsroom. Is it better? I would never be so bold to say that...as each medium has it's strengths. It's just different, and for the first time in my life, I'm doing things differently. At times there's an uneasiness because it's unfamiliar. Other times, there's a comfort level almost comparable to a busy newsroom...because you know that through your work, you're making a difference.
Today is Thanksgiving, and the true point of my ramblings is to express my thankfulness for the opportunity to "live outside the box." I've always enjoyed thinking this way, but have not yet been in the scenario to wake up each day and have the ability to embrace something new. Mind you, all this living outside the box doesn't pay as well as my former professional life. Then again, I've also learned this year that money isn't everything, and for that, I am thankful.
It seems like nearly every week this year, I've had a chance to learn something new about the world, the workforce, and myself. I didn't realize how many things I actually know how to do. Some I do alright, other things I do very well. And perhaps the most heartfelt thing I've picked up...how to lean on others. I'm very thankful, after years of doing my best to be a rock for those around me, to be able to cling to and take refuge in my friends and family.
At this moment, I don't really know what the next best thing for me will be. But whatever it is, it will be one of my best experiences ever because of who I've become over the last several months.
In my opinion, that's the real paycheck for living outside the box.
A Second Impression
"Tell him to please stop playing so much of that guy."
Remember when we used to use paper around the office? There were pieces of scrap paper with scribbled notes taped-up to the desk. I remember having a collection of those yellow Post-It notes all over one of my cubical walls. And when the receptionist would take a message for you, he or she wrote it on one of those pink "While you were out" pads. Yeah, there was actually a pad of paper specifically created for taking messages!
Remember returning from the office, and instead of dreading going through your email inbox, you would thrust your hand into a cubby hole that features your name, and retrieve a handful of pink notes?
On this particular day, rather than reaching into my very own box to retrieve my phone messages, this one was handed to me. The giant hand reached toward me clutching the single pink sheet.
"Read this," he said in a not-very-friendly voice.
My eyes glanced from left to right. Then again, and again. The short message (the one at the top of this post) was a quick read. I braced myself...because I felt I knew knew what was coming next. But I was wrong, it was even more extreme.
"No more," he said. "No more Sinatra records!"
It's quite possibly the biggest dose of blasphemy that can be issued to a fan of 'Ol Blue Eyes. But before you begin convulsing, trust me, there's a lesson here.
Mister Wilson was my mentor and teacher, and got me started in the broadcast business. Early in my music radio career, I had become a giant fan of Frank Sinatra. I played 2-3 of his songs per shift for a while. It wasn't because I wanted to push the Chairman on anyone; He was just one of two of my favorite male singers of all time. I couldn't get enough.
Well, the listeners of this radio station were perfectly frank about Frank: They appreciated smaller doses. And this message from a listener written on the pink slip of paper was the last straw. For the next several weeks, my radio show was devoid of "Strangers in the Night," "New York, New York," and his countless other classics. It was tough going for a young guy in his second year of radio work. I eventually would make a deal that would get me one Sinatra song per week.
I mentioned that this was year two of my radio career. Flash forward years later to my 5th, 6th, and 7th year in the business. My memory stinks sometimes, and perhaps yours can be unreliable. But years after the "Too Much Frank" incident, I was continually haunted by the mistake (Mistake may be too severe of a word....let's instead called it an amateurish move).
"Oh yeah, you're the guy who plays a lot of Sinatra."
Whether we were at remote broadcasts or making our yearly visit to the county fair to meet the countless numbers of listeners, the comment was the same years later. Sometimes it was delivered in a negative tone, other times, it was more of a "I love ya a lot, I just wish you wouldn't play so much of him" disappointed kind of tone. The last 6 years I was at the station, i played one Sinatra song a week, and yet, you wouldn't know it by what the listeners were saying.
I am very proud of those years of my career, as I learned a ton about the business, and about being a man. I also learned the gravity of a first impression. Mind you, my first impression could have been a lot worse, but the fact remains, it haunted me for the rest of my career in that small town. I am eternally grateful that most of the listeners gave me the chance to make a second impression, and ended up loving me like one of their own.
If you're lucky, you will get the chance to make that second impression. But it's been my experience that once someone forms an opinion of you and your work, try as you may to change their view...that first impression has been made, noted, and filed away.
In my last post "Will That Be Cash, Credit, or Credibility?" I wrote about an error made by a news person, and how that factual glitch can impact one's credibility. Sometimes, a listener/viewer/reader doesn't give you a second chance. Blow an obvious fact, and you're labeled biased or unreliable. Like it or not, we as a collective are quick to judge. And sometimes that judgement is based on what seem to be the littlest and irrelevant things.
A friend and fellow newsie of mine wrote a post along the same lines. Paul addressed about typos:
Brian here again. Thanks to Paul Balcerak for adding to the conversation.
In a world where things move so quickly, don't risk not getting a second chance. It's likely very worth your worth your while to take the time to make a good first impression.
Remember when we used to use paper around the office? There were pieces of scrap paper with scribbled notes taped-up to the desk. I remember having a collection of those yellow Post-It notes all over one of my cubical walls. And when the receptionist would take a message for you, he or she wrote it on one of those pink "While you were out" pads. Yeah, there was actually a pad of paper specifically created for taking messages!
Remember returning from the office, and instead of dreading going through your email inbox, you would thrust your hand into a cubby hole that features your name, and retrieve a handful of pink notes?On this particular day, rather than reaching into my very own box to retrieve my phone messages, this one was handed to me. The giant hand reached toward me clutching the single pink sheet.
"Read this," he said in a not-very-friendly voice.
My eyes glanced from left to right. Then again, and again. The short message (the one at the top of this post) was a quick read. I braced myself...because I felt I knew knew what was coming next. But I was wrong, it was even more extreme.
"No more," he said. "No more Sinatra records!"
It's quite possibly the biggest dose of blasphemy that can be issued to a fan of 'Ol Blue Eyes. But before you begin convulsing, trust me, there's a lesson here.
Mister Wilson was my mentor and teacher, and got me started in the broadcast business. Early in my music radio career, I had become a giant fan of Frank Sinatra. I played 2-3 of his songs per shift for a while. It wasn't because I wanted to push the Chairman on anyone; He was just one of two of my favorite male singers of all time. I couldn't get enough.Well, the listeners of this radio station were perfectly frank about Frank: They appreciated smaller doses. And this message from a listener written on the pink slip of paper was the last straw. For the next several weeks, my radio show was devoid of "Strangers in the Night," "New York, New York," and his countless other classics. It was tough going for a young guy in his second year of radio work. I eventually would make a deal that would get me one Sinatra song per week.
I mentioned that this was year two of my radio career. Flash forward years later to my 5th, 6th, and 7th year in the business. My memory stinks sometimes, and perhaps yours can be unreliable. But years after the "Too Much Frank" incident, I was continually haunted by the mistake (Mistake may be too severe of a word....let's instead called it an amateurish move).
"Oh yeah, you're the guy who plays a lot of Sinatra."
Whether we were at remote broadcasts or making our yearly visit to the county fair to meet the countless numbers of listeners, the comment was the same years later. Sometimes it was delivered in a negative tone, other times, it was more of a "I love ya a lot, I just wish you wouldn't play so much of him" disappointed kind of tone. The last 6 years I was at the station, i played one Sinatra song a week, and yet, you wouldn't know it by what the listeners were saying.
I am very proud of those years of my career, as I learned a ton about the business, and about being a man. I also learned the gravity of a first impression. Mind you, my first impression could have been a lot worse, but the fact remains, it haunted me for the rest of my career in that small town. I am eternally grateful that most of the listeners gave me the chance to make a second impression, and ended up loving me like one of their own.
If you're lucky, you will get the chance to make that second impression. But it's been my experience that once someone forms an opinion of you and your work, try as you may to change their view...that first impression has been made, noted, and filed away.
In my last post "Will That Be Cash, Credit, or Credibility?" I wrote about an error made by a news person, and how that factual glitch can impact one's credibility. Sometimes, a listener/viewer/reader doesn't give you a second chance. Blow an obvious fact, and you're labeled biased or unreliable. Like it or not, we as a collective are quick to judge. And sometimes that judgement is based on what seem to be the littlest and irrelevant things.
A friend and fellow newsie of mine wrote a post along the same lines. Paul addressed about typos:
One of the most irritating things in the world to me is when I’m sitting in a movie theater and someone’s cell phone goes off. I know I’m not alone because of the ubiquity of those “please turn off your phones” ads that play right after the dancing candy before every movie.
It’s not so much that it’s overtly rude or inconsiderate — though it is, and it is — it’s that when you’re in a movie, you’re immersed in a world; your mind is in a dreamlike state and a cell phone ring has the same effect as your mom shaking you awake from a dream saying, “It’s time for school!”
A similar thing happens when someone comes across a typo in your writing.
Think about being lost in a good book that you’re reading for the first time when suddenly, you see something like: Dno’t Panic.
It’s a tiny blip — two letters reversed in a sea of tens of thousands — but it’s enough that, now you’re thinking about the typo more than the world you’re supposed to be in.
You’ll never know what you lost from one typo
Your blog is likely not anyone’s favorite book, and given the nature of the medium, people are probably skimming rather than getting lost. Blogging does allow you to go back and fix a typo once you’ve published, but while you can take back typos, you can never take back someone’s first (often only) time reading.
After someone is jolted by a typo, will they keep reading long enough to want to share your post? Save the link? Link to it in one of their posts? Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to keep typos away at all costs.
Brian here again. Thanks to Paul Balcerak for adding to the conversation.
In a world where things move so quickly, don't risk not getting a second chance. It's likely very worth your worth your while to take the time to make a good first impression.
Will That Be Cash, Credit, or Credibility?
"We thought we'd bring you up to date tonight on those protesters, the Occupy Wall Street movement."
She came across as comfy as your mom sitting in the living room, reciting the list of things she had observed during the day. I know from experience she had a teleprompter with a script, but in that moment, she appeared to be "vamping" a bit. My suspicion is she was just trying to make a comfortable transition form one story to the next.
It happens a lot in a newscast, as broadcasters segue between stories. The news reader's nightmare is not having adequate time to proofread combined with someone falling asleep at the switch. The end result? A "murder and mayhem" type story immediately followed by something that...well is completely the opposite and shouldn't follow. It's a true art form to smooth-out that situation when you're "live," and very few can pull it off. One of my favorite non-success stories:
"The President placed the traditional wreath at the National Cemetery and met with the families of soldiers recently killed. In other news, it's was all laughs and smiles at today's holiday parade..."
Ouch.
The worst part is I was the one who fell victim to that cluster. It was my own fault for not proofreading carefully. And come on, can you tell me one graceful way to recover once the above paragraph falls out of your mouth? There was no ad-lib, that was the actual script (or at least as close as I can remember).
Maybe she didn't proofread either?
"As of tonight," she began, "it (the protests) has spread to more than 250 American cities..."
I thought to myself "Wow, this thing is huge."
But then, in less time than it takes a scoop of ice cream to fall from the cone I'm holding onto the ground, I began to doubt her numbers.
"...over a thousand countries, every continent but Antarctica."
I hit pause on the remote. My magical DVR/Cable Box allows such a privilege.
I'm no geography whiz, but the phrase "over a thousand countries" struck me as wrong, dead wrong. The funny thing, I wasn't really doubting Diane Sawyer's facts yet. I was stuck on the question "Are there really a thousand countries on this planet?"
Depending on the source, there are between 189 and 196 countries on our home planet.
While some cry "Well, that's just the liberal media!" or "I don't like Diane Sawyer anyway!" I think there's something bigger we all need to consider.
You know I'm a news guy at heart, and I always will be, but I learned early-on that one of the first things you do is check your facts, and one of the last things you do is check your facts. I remember Mister Wilson carefully explaining the concept of news credibility.
"Once you say something that ain't true, you might as well stop reading 'cause everyone's gonna doubt ya."
He was an Oklahoman at heart, so his life lessons were always salted with a little accent, and peppered with words he forbade me to use on the air.
My point isn't to pick on any one newscaster.
Words mean things, and when they're given as fact, they're taken as fact, until you give people a reason to believe otherwise. And when you do cross that line, can you blame them for turning the channel?
"Come on, Brian, if that were the case, you wouldn't watch any newscast and you know it."
You're right. I still watch the news, but I watch it the exact way the newscast itself should be prepared: Any fact gets double-checked and I don't rely on a single source for my news and information.
In my humble opinion, the newsroom that figures this out, and creates a product that is not only correct but fosters a sense of confidence and trust, is the newsroom that not just survives, but enjoys success. Consultants may tell you pretty faces and flashy graphics and slight exaggerations are part of what brings people to your product, but I think viewers and listeners are smarter.
I know they are smarter.
She came across as comfy as your mom sitting in the living room, reciting the list of things she had observed during the day. I know from experience she had a teleprompter with a script, but in that moment, she appeared to be "vamping" a bit. My suspicion is she was just trying to make a comfortable transition form one story to the next.It happens a lot in a newscast, as broadcasters segue between stories. The news reader's nightmare is not having adequate time to proofread combined with someone falling asleep at the switch. The end result? A "murder and mayhem" type story immediately followed by something that...well is completely the opposite and shouldn't follow. It's a true art form to smooth-out that situation when you're "live," and very few can pull it off. One of my favorite non-success stories:
"The President placed the traditional wreath at the National Cemetery and met with the families of soldiers recently killed. In other news, it's was all laughs and smiles at today's holiday parade..."
Ouch.
The worst part is I was the one who fell victim to that cluster. It was my own fault for not proofreading carefully. And come on, can you tell me one graceful way to recover once the above paragraph falls out of your mouth? There was no ad-lib, that was the actual script (or at least as close as I can remember).
Maybe she didn't proofread either?
"As of tonight," she began, "it (the protests) has spread to more than 250 American cities..."
I thought to myself "Wow, this thing is huge."
But then, in less time than it takes a scoop of ice cream to fall from the cone I'm holding onto the ground, I began to doubt her numbers.
"...over a thousand countries, every continent but Antarctica."
I hit pause on the remote. My magical DVR/Cable Box allows such a privilege.
I'm no geography whiz, but the phrase "over a thousand countries" struck me as wrong, dead wrong. The funny thing, I wasn't really doubting Diane Sawyer's facts yet. I was stuck on the question "Are there really a thousand countries on this planet?"
Depending on the source, there are between 189 and 196 countries on our home planet.
While some cry "Well, that's just the liberal media!" or "I don't like Diane Sawyer anyway!" I think there's something bigger we all need to consider.
You know I'm a news guy at heart, and I always will be, but I learned early-on that one of the first things you do is check your facts, and one of the last things you do is check your facts. I remember Mister Wilson carefully explaining the concept of news credibility.
"Once you say something that ain't true, you might as well stop reading 'cause everyone's gonna doubt ya."
He was an Oklahoman at heart, so his life lessons were always salted with a little accent, and peppered with words he forbade me to use on the air.
My point isn't to pick on any one newscaster.
Words mean things, and when they're given as fact, they're taken as fact, until you give people a reason to believe otherwise. And when you do cross that line, can you blame them for turning the channel?
"Come on, Brian, if that were the case, you wouldn't watch any newscast and you know it."
You're right. I still watch the news, but I watch it the exact way the newscast itself should be prepared: Any fact gets double-checked and I don't rely on a single source for my news and information.
In my humble opinion, the newsroom that figures this out, and creates a product that is not only correct but fosters a sense of confidence and trust, is the newsroom that not just survives, but enjoys success. Consultants may tell you pretty faces and flashy graphics and slight exaggerations are part of what brings people to your product, but I think viewers and listeners are smarter.
I know they are smarter.
A True Classic
"Um, excuse me, sir?"
I was trying to be humble, trying to be polite, and most importantly, I was trying to remain calm. Not an easy task when you're 19, and one of your two favorite singers of all time is within 10 feet.
"Hey, how are you doin?" he said in a friendly, welcoming voice.
"Uh, I'm..."
Crap.
That's where all intelligence stopped and my voice ended. Could I possibly be any more hopeless than I am at this moment? 'Oh Great!' I remember thinking to myself as I began to quiver and felt like my knees could give way at any moment. Why was this so difficult? I never really thought I was the type to get "star-struck," then again, I had never been within spitting distance of a star! Oh no, did I just spit on him? Utter hopelessness.
Finally, after reaching down into the depths of my soul for just an ounce of composure, the words came out of my mouth.
"Can you sign my ticket?"
Just like he knew what he was doing, he took the ticket from my hand, scribbled his signature, and handed it back. But this near-disaster wasn't over yet. My friend who was with me asked if we could have a picture.
"Sure," was all he said.
I moved in closer. Mind you, this entire episode took less than a minute in real time, but in the moment, the clock ticked at a much slower pace. Each step towards this icon took what seemed to be an hour, and required an effort equal to that of rolling a large boulder uphill. Well, you'd think I'd just moved a large mountain by the amount of sweat that now dripped from my forehead.
He'd definitely seen this many times before. I can only imagine the thoughts running through his head (which added to my torment of the moment). God, please don't let this kid pass out or wet himself. I didn't put that in quotes because there's the distinct possibility both of us were thinking that.
"It's okay, come on over," the musical hero said to his fan.
I can't explain what happened in my head that would justify what happened next. All I can say is put yourself in my shoes. You're 19, and you're now about to have a picture with not just a famous entertainer, but one of your all-time favorite singers. It's funny, because you wouldn't think this guy would be revered so much by Brian the kid.
For context's sake, I had just completed my first full year as a DJ for KAJO. The format was something known as "Middle of the Road." That basically meant we could play nearly any genre as long as it was easy on the ears. After a full year at the control board, my favorites became the classics. I was quickly branded the staff "Sinatra-head" and at several points, was lectured for playing too many of Frank's records (I know, oh the humanity! Is there such a thing as too much Sinatra??). I finally worked out a deal that allowed me to play one Sinatra record per week. As inhumane as that seemed, I think I'm a better man for it today, as that forced me to really select a good one. Imagine the pressure of choosing wisely?
I had other favorites...mostly the singers of the 40's and 50's who knew how to swing. I developed boy crushes on the likes of Keely Smith, Peggy Lee, Rosemary Clooney. I was a huge fan of the Nelson Riddle Orchestra, and especially the arrangements he made for Frank. While my peers were watching MTV and listening to the biggest pop hits of 1989, my musical taste was stuck back in 1959.
"Mind if I do this?" I sheepishly asked as my left arm raised, then lowered, then landed across his shoulders. Before he could answer, the camera snapped, and history was captured. He did say "Sure," but it was too late.
I already had this...
Yep, that's a very youthful me (nice 'stash, Brian) with none other than the incomparable Tony Bennett. The classic crooner was out on tour, and made a stop in southern Oregon for an outdoor concert. In a matter of months, he would tape his classic MTV Unplugged show, which catapulted him back into super-stardom among all age groups, meaning he'd likely not have to play my small town ever again.
Mister Bennett along with Sinatra are my two favorite singers of all time. Everyone has reasons for having a favorite, and yet mine may not be what you think. I met these two and their music at an awkward time in my life. I had graduated high school, attempted college, and was now a real working man trying to learn a skill. I was living away from home, yet still tethered enough that going to see Mom at lunch everyday was common. Socially, I was about as awkward as you can get. Most of my friends were off in college, and the people I worked with were nearly twice my age. Add to that the people I met while working at a station that plays older music. I will always be grateful for the multitudes of adopted parents and grandparents who loved me and listened to me faithfully.
And yet, it remained an awkward time for a young guy who still wasn't completely sure what he was going to do with his life. My constant companion: Music. And more specific, the great storytellers in the music world. Say what you want about how Sinatra lived his life, but admit the guy could tell a story and connect with almost anyone. Both Sinatra's and Mister Bennett's abilities became my safe-haven. During a time when the entire world around me was changing, I could close my eyes and sing along with these guys, and was moved to a good place. Anyone who really knows me will tell you I'm a lyrics guy. For me, it's the words of a song that enlighten me. And it's how those words are delivered that move me. For this reason, in my book, it doesn't get any better than than these two pop music icons.
Tony Bennett will perform at Seattle's Paramount Theater on December 17th, and I just bought my tickets. I think thats probably why I felt moved to write this particular post. I can't wait to see you, Mister Bennett.
Who are the true classics in your life? Maybe it's a person you know, or a person you know of. Maybe it a place or a favorite vacation? Perhaps it is your God. I define a true classic in a very personal sense: Something that means a lot to me. By simply thinking of this person, activity, or deity, I'm flooded with positive feelings and most likely past memories of the good that came to me as a result of knowing or experiencing that "true classic."
Every now and then, I'll have "One of those days" and it always helps me to have a perspective check during those low points. Today started out kind of a blah day. Then, I saw the ad that Tony Bennett was coming to town. It made me think of the time I met him and what his music means to me. I bought my tickets, and suddenly, the day is better. A complete attitude adjustment, and all I had to do was think about something that means a lot to me...a true classic, if you will.
Today, it was you, Mister Bennett, who pulled me up and made me smile. Thank you, once again, for making this kid's day.
I was trying to be humble, trying to be polite, and most importantly, I was trying to remain calm. Not an easy task when you're 19, and one of your two favorite singers of all time is within 10 feet.
"Hey, how are you doin?" he said in a friendly, welcoming voice.
"Uh, I'm..."
Crap.
That's where all intelligence stopped and my voice ended. Could I possibly be any more hopeless than I am at this moment? 'Oh Great!' I remember thinking to myself as I began to quiver and felt like my knees could give way at any moment. Why was this so difficult? I never really thought I was the type to get "star-struck," then again, I had never been within spitting distance of a star! Oh no, did I just spit on him? Utter hopelessness.
Finally, after reaching down into the depths of my soul for just an ounce of composure, the words came out of my mouth.
"Can you sign my ticket?"
Just like he knew what he was doing, he took the ticket from my hand, scribbled his signature, and handed it back. But this near-disaster wasn't over yet. My friend who was with me asked if we could have a picture.
"Sure," was all he said.
I moved in closer. Mind you, this entire episode took less than a minute in real time, but in the moment, the clock ticked at a much slower pace. Each step towards this icon took what seemed to be an hour, and required an effort equal to that of rolling a large boulder uphill. Well, you'd think I'd just moved a large mountain by the amount of sweat that now dripped from my forehead.
He'd definitely seen this many times before. I can only imagine the thoughts running through his head (which added to my torment of the moment). God, please don't let this kid pass out or wet himself. I didn't put that in quotes because there's the distinct possibility both of us were thinking that.
"It's okay, come on over," the musical hero said to his fan.
I can't explain what happened in my head that would justify what happened next. All I can say is put yourself in my shoes. You're 19, and you're now about to have a picture with not just a famous entertainer, but one of your all-time favorite singers. It's funny, because you wouldn't think this guy would be revered so much by Brian the kid.
For context's sake, I had just completed my first full year as a DJ for KAJO. The format was something known as "Middle of the Road." That basically meant we could play nearly any genre as long as it was easy on the ears. After a full year at the control board, my favorites became the classics. I was quickly branded the staff "Sinatra-head" and at several points, was lectured for playing too many of Frank's records (I know, oh the humanity! Is there such a thing as too much Sinatra??). I finally worked out a deal that allowed me to play one Sinatra record per week. As inhumane as that seemed, I think I'm a better man for it today, as that forced me to really select a good one. Imagine the pressure of choosing wisely?
I had other favorites...mostly the singers of the 40's and 50's who knew how to swing. I developed boy crushes on the likes of Keely Smith, Peggy Lee, Rosemary Clooney. I was a huge fan of the Nelson Riddle Orchestra, and especially the arrangements he made for Frank. While my peers were watching MTV and listening to the biggest pop hits of 1989, my musical taste was stuck back in 1959.
"Mind if I do this?" I sheepishly asked as my left arm raised, then lowered, then landed across his shoulders. Before he could answer, the camera snapped, and history was captured. He did say "Sure," but it was too late.
I already had this...
Mister Bennett along with Sinatra are my two favorite singers of all time. Everyone has reasons for having a favorite, and yet mine may not be what you think. I met these two and their music at an awkward time in my life. I had graduated high school, attempted college, and was now a real working man trying to learn a skill. I was living away from home, yet still tethered enough that going to see Mom at lunch everyday was common. Socially, I was about as awkward as you can get. Most of my friends were off in college, and the people I worked with were nearly twice my age. Add to that the people I met while working at a station that plays older music. I will always be grateful for the multitudes of adopted parents and grandparents who loved me and listened to me faithfully.
And yet, it remained an awkward time for a young guy who still wasn't completely sure what he was going to do with his life. My constant companion: Music. And more specific, the great storytellers in the music world. Say what you want about how Sinatra lived his life, but admit the guy could tell a story and connect with almost anyone. Both Sinatra's and Mister Bennett's abilities became my safe-haven. During a time when the entire world around me was changing, I could close my eyes and sing along with these guys, and was moved to a good place. Anyone who really knows me will tell you I'm a lyrics guy. For me, it's the words of a song that enlighten me. And it's how those words are delivered that move me. For this reason, in my book, it doesn't get any better than than these two pop music icons.
Tony Bennett will perform at Seattle's Paramount Theater on December 17th, and I just bought my tickets. I think thats probably why I felt moved to write this particular post. I can't wait to see you, Mister Bennett.
Who are the true classics in your life? Maybe it's a person you know, or a person you know of. Maybe it a place or a favorite vacation? Perhaps it is your God. I define a true classic in a very personal sense: Something that means a lot to me. By simply thinking of this person, activity, or deity, I'm flooded with positive feelings and most likely past memories of the good that came to me as a result of knowing or experiencing that "true classic."
Every now and then, I'll have "One of those days" and it always helps me to have a perspective check during those low points. Today started out kind of a blah day. Then, I saw the ad that Tony Bennett was coming to town. It made me think of the time I met him and what his music means to me. I bought my tickets, and suddenly, the day is better. A complete attitude adjustment, and all I had to do was think about something that means a lot to me...a true classic, if you will.
Today, it was you, Mister Bennett, who pulled me up and made me smile. Thank you, once again, for making this kid's day.
Summer, I Hardly Knew Ye
It has happened again.
Granted, it's been a year of new challenges and projects for me personally, but something was very much the same. And it's not just me. I caught up with some friends last night who seemed at first shocked, then shrugged their shoulders as if to say "What did I expect?" Go ahead, ask yourself or your friends where they've been over the last three months, or ask them what they've been doing. Most will give your a blank stare, and act as if every memory chip in their being has just melted down.
Yes, Summer has come and gone so quickly once again. On the calendar, we get just about as many days of Summer as we do Fall, Winter, and Spring, and yet we always feel short-changed when summer comes to a close. No wonder "How I spent my summer vacation" was a standard essay in the classrooms of yesteryear...teachers were trying to show us something more than how to write using good grammar. The real lesson was to remember those long days in the sun, and savor them just a little bit longer.
I am a Seattle resident, and as such, have become accustomed to the fact that we really only get two seasons here: The Rainy Season, and The Not Rainy Season. Most years, the "Not Rainy" season transpires over the same months as summer, with a little bleed over into Fall. But you'd think someone like me, given the cold hard facts that the dry season isn't long, would take the time to saver Summer. You know, remember every nuance of every beautiful day?
Instead, all I can recall is a lot of yard work, followed by too many bicyclists on my favorite walking path, and then the days when I sat inside because it was "too hot."
Perhaps Summer is meant to be somewhat of a tease. Summer could be more of the proverbial carrot at the end of the stick. You know, dangling out there in front of us, helping us trudge through Fall and Winter, coaxing us into getting through the days of gray. And then, like the carrot, once we've eaten it, we're so hungry for it we devour it...and forget to savor each bite. What's worse: Once we've consumed it, we long for another. Reality sets in, and then depression, as we realize that the next carrot is approximately nine months away.
Ugh.
So Summer, let's make a deal. I promise to do a better job savoring you and remembering you next year, if you promise to gently ease me into Fall and Winter. No dramatic shifts from super nice weather to super poop weather: Be gentle, and hang on to give me a few more weeks near 70 degrees.
Please?
Granted, it's been a year of new challenges and projects for me personally, but something was very much the same. And it's not just me. I caught up with some friends last night who seemed at first shocked, then shrugged their shoulders as if to say "What did I expect?" Go ahead, ask yourself or your friends where they've been over the last three months, or ask them what they've been doing. Most will give your a blank stare, and act as if every memory chip in their being has just melted down.
Yes, Summer has come and gone so quickly once again. On the calendar, we get just about as many days of Summer as we do Fall, Winter, and Spring, and yet we always feel short-changed when summer comes to a close. No wonder "How I spent my summer vacation" was a standard essay in the classrooms of yesteryear...teachers were trying to show us something more than how to write using good grammar. The real lesson was to remember those long days in the sun, and savor them just a little bit longer.
I am a Seattle resident, and as such, have become accustomed to the fact that we really only get two seasons here: The Rainy Season, and The Not Rainy Season. Most years, the "Not Rainy" season transpires over the same months as summer, with a little bleed over into Fall. But you'd think someone like me, given the cold hard facts that the dry season isn't long, would take the time to saver Summer. You know, remember every nuance of every beautiful day?
Instead, all I can recall is a lot of yard work, followed by too many bicyclists on my favorite walking path, and then the days when I sat inside because it was "too hot."
Perhaps Summer is meant to be somewhat of a tease. Summer could be more of the proverbial carrot at the end of the stick. You know, dangling out there in front of us, helping us trudge through Fall and Winter, coaxing us into getting through the days of gray. And then, like the carrot, once we've eaten it, we're so hungry for it we devour it...and forget to savor each bite. What's worse: Once we've consumed it, we long for another. Reality sets in, and then depression, as we realize that the next carrot is approximately nine months away.
Ugh.
So Summer, let's make a deal. I promise to do a better job savoring you and remembering you next year, if you promise to gently ease me into Fall and Winter. No dramatic shifts from super nice weather to super poop weather: Be gentle, and hang on to give me a few more weeks near 70 degrees.
Please?
Being Social
"So, what are you up to tonight?" I asked.
"I think I'm gonna head home and catch up with some friends," she replied.
"Oh, are you having someone over?" my third degree questioning continued. She laughed, and I thought I detected a short sigh.
"Nah, I'm gonna catch up on Facebook," she said, so matter-of-factly that I felt I was being scolded for even remotely thinking that was strange.
How many millions of people connect with their family, friends, and colleagues through social media outlets like Google+, Facebook, and Twitter? My guess is the number is pretty high, and I am definitely among them. I love to not only write about what I'm up to, but it's even more fun seeing what everyone else is up to.
And yet, part of me worries.
Has social media replaced being social? Or is it equally as acceptable? And does the world we live in today find it equally as acceptable to shake hands via the Internet as shaking hands or giving a hug in person?
In my opinion, I'm not seeing anything wrong with this, sans one concept. I don't have any case studies to cite, just personal observations to draw from. But I am beginning to think there may be a new group of people so enveloped in social media relationships that they are forgetting how to hold a conversation. And the real rub, some of these people may not even be aware they're missing out; They're so engrossed in saying things in 140 characters that they don't realize what they're missing.
Okay, I'm taking a breath.
Again, I don't want to demonize social media. I love using social media for several reasons, a few of which I've already listed. But I also find it equally important to get out there and have conversations in person with something that's breathing (I know, talking to my dogs doesn't count. Or does it?)
Think about the last 10 conversations you had. These conversations could have been with colleagues, family members, or friends. What did you talk about? And more importantly, how long did that conversation last? Once again, I'm not expert, but in my experience, conversations are getting shorter and shorter. Many of mine that lasted 5 to 10 minutes years ago are now under a minute. And it's not because I'm not trying...it's usually because the other person isn't willing to invest the time. And in some cases, they just don't know how or are not comfortable looking me in the eye and talking.
That's another thing: Eye contact. Think about it the next time you have a conversation with someone. What are you looking at? You don't have to stare at them and make them uncomfortable, but are your eyes wandering?
Being social in 2011 means being online and engaged through social media to a lot of people. But being a social person in 2011 means in addition, you're taking the time to have personal contact as well, shaking hands, hugging people, and being engaged in meaningful conversation.
The next time you say "How's it going?" a) Really want to know how that person is doing and b) Don't settle for just "good."
When Will We Ever Learn?
Every generation has it's moment.
In this case, the moment is the single event when everyone stopped, and a lasting impression was made on their soul. For the Greatest Generation, it was the attack on Pearl Harbor. For the Baby Boomers, the moment was the murder of President Kennedy. Gen X had the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the more recent generations have September 11th, 2001.
These are the moments when the country...and really...the entire world stopped. Then as a group, we first experienced a stomach-wrenching shock, then endured hours of heartache, followed by breathing a collective sigh. And as the dust settled on the day, we find ourselves holding the hand of a stranger in order to comfort that stranger as well as ourselves.
Everyone has a story from 9/11. Here is mine:
"Where are you?" said the voice on my cell phone.
"I'm on the Viaduct, heading towards the station," I replied.
I was awakened like several others that day. The phone rang, and the voice on the other end said "Turn on your TV." Some heard panic in that voice, others heard sheer disbelief, and others detected a sense of utter bewilderment. The phone call was brief, and yet demanded immediate action. I remember jumping out of bed and running into the living room. I didn't even have to think "what channel?" The voice that awakened me had convinced me it would be very easy to find what I needed to see with my own eyes.
Reporters and news people in general often get a bad rap for the way they are seemingly desensitized to an event that leaves the rest of the world in tears. But on days like this, a stoic reporter's voice was the only calm I could find in a sea of smoke, chaos, and devastation. I remembered this, because before too long, I knew I would have to be reporting this story myself. This wasn't a time for me to cry or process what had happened; this was a time for me to help others know what they needed to know so they could process.
"How close are you to the Space Needle?" Pete asked me.
After seeing 10 minutes of the coverage of what was happening in New York, I quickly dressed and jumped into my news car. I figured I needed to get to work. I was flying down the Viaduct when my Editor called with my assignment.
"Brian, we don't know a whole lot, but there's information out there pointing to more terrorist targets throughout the country," Pete said.
That took me back for a second. In the coverage I had seen on TV, it was still early, and most still believe a plane had accidentally crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. I was listening to the radio when the second plane hit the other tower, and still, hadn't made the connection that this was foul play.
"They've listed the Columbia Tower and the Space Needle as possible targets," Pete told me. "Head to the Space Needle."
Looking back, I can now smile about this. In that moment, I never even questioned the logic of pointing my news vehicle toward an object that could be the target of terrorists. I will never forget the moment my mother called. I had been parked a couple blocks away from the Space Needle for about an hour.
"Where are you?" the frantic voice asked.
"I'm underneath the Space Needle," I calmly responded.
"Do you know what happened in New York, Brian?"
"Yes mom, that's why I'm here"
"Why would you be at the Space Needle?" the concerned voice pondered.
Without thinking, I told her what Pete had told me about potential terrorist targets. As you might imagine, my mother's reaction was a predictable as rain in Seattle.
"Get away from there!" she yelled into the phone.
I had three minutes to talk my mom down before my next live broadcast on the radio. I was not successful, and it was one of the few times in my life I had to hang up on my mother. It was a terrible thing to put her through, but I knew my job, and had convinced myself I needed to do the best I could with her irrationalities with the time I had. For those of you thinking I'm the worst son ever, I made it a point to call my mother nearly every hour for the remainder of the day to assure her I was okay.
The hours passed and it became clear that no, I was not sitting underneath a potential terrorist target, and the focus of our coverage of 9/11 shifted back to the East Coast. The hours turned into days, the days turning into weeks. Why did this happen? How did this happen? Could we have prevented it? Will we find the remains of everyone lost that day?
I felt compelled to write about the 10th anniversary of 9/11 because I know there are plenty of others who will be doing the same. And each post, each article will affect it's reader differently. Each recollection will touch those who need to be touched, will comfort those who need to be comforted, and will anger those still dealing with the questions surrounding that day.
Everyone processes things differently. We grieve differently, and we heal differently.
And yet, my most vivid memory of the events of 9/11 is not about our differences. Anything that would mark us as dissimilar and unfamiliar was checked at the door that morning, and for the first time in a long time, we were all the same. Strangers were holding strangers, neighbors who never spoke were having dinner together, and you couldn't find an American flag for sale even if you were Bill Gates (It took me three weeks and a trip south to Portland to finally find the flag decal I proudly displayed on the back of my Jeep). We came together for what seemed like months. The unity lasted well into the holiday season, which propelled it into early 2002.
The question I asked as the title of this post has to do with this feeling. While I know there are some who believe with every hair on their head that it just takes tragedy to meld hearts, I believe otherwise. Why can't we wake up each day with at least the intention to be proud of where we live, to be compassionate to those around us, and to be united in seeking what's right.
When will we ever learn?
In this case, the moment is the single event when everyone stopped, and a lasting impression was made on their soul. For the Greatest Generation, it was the attack on Pearl Harbor. For the Baby Boomers, the moment was the murder of President Kennedy. Gen X had the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the more recent generations have September 11th, 2001.
These are the moments when the country...and really...the entire world stopped. Then as a group, we first experienced a stomach-wrenching shock, then endured hours of heartache, followed by breathing a collective sigh. And as the dust settled on the day, we find ourselves holding the hand of a stranger in order to comfort that stranger as well as ourselves.
Everyone has a story from 9/11. Here is mine:
"Where are you?" said the voice on my cell phone.
"I'm on the Viaduct, heading towards the station," I replied.
I was awakened like several others that day. The phone rang, and the voice on the other end said "Turn on your TV." Some heard panic in that voice, others heard sheer disbelief, and others detected a sense of utter bewilderment. The phone call was brief, and yet demanded immediate action. I remember jumping out of bed and running into the living room. I didn't even have to think "what channel?" The voice that awakened me had convinced me it would be very easy to find what I needed to see with my own eyes.
Reporters and news people in general often get a bad rap for the way they are seemingly desensitized to an event that leaves the rest of the world in tears. But on days like this, a stoic reporter's voice was the only calm I could find in a sea of smoke, chaos, and devastation. I remembered this, because before too long, I knew I would have to be reporting this story myself. This wasn't a time for me to cry or process what had happened; this was a time for me to help others know what they needed to know so they could process.
"How close are you to the Space Needle?" Pete asked me.
After seeing 10 minutes of the coverage of what was happening in New York, I quickly dressed and jumped into my news car. I figured I needed to get to work. I was flying down the Viaduct when my Editor called with my assignment.
"Brian, we don't know a whole lot, but there's information out there pointing to more terrorist targets throughout the country," Pete said.
That took me back for a second. In the coverage I had seen on TV, it was still early, and most still believe a plane had accidentally crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. I was listening to the radio when the second plane hit the other tower, and still, hadn't made the connection that this was foul play.
"They've listed the Columbia Tower and the Space Needle as possible targets," Pete told me. "Head to the Space Needle."
Looking back, I can now smile about this. In that moment, I never even questioned the logic of pointing my news vehicle toward an object that could be the target of terrorists. I will never forget the moment my mother called. I had been parked a couple blocks away from the Space Needle for about an hour.
"Where are you?" the frantic voice asked.
"I'm underneath the Space Needle," I calmly responded.
"Do you know what happened in New York, Brian?"
"Yes mom, that's why I'm here"
"Why would you be at the Space Needle?" the concerned voice pondered.
Without thinking, I told her what Pete had told me about potential terrorist targets. As you might imagine, my mother's reaction was a predictable as rain in Seattle.
"Get away from there!" she yelled into the phone.
I had three minutes to talk my mom down before my next live broadcast on the radio. I was not successful, and it was one of the few times in my life I had to hang up on my mother. It was a terrible thing to put her through, but I knew my job, and had convinced myself I needed to do the best I could with her irrationalities with the time I had. For those of you thinking I'm the worst son ever, I made it a point to call my mother nearly every hour for the remainder of the day to assure her I was okay.
The hours passed and it became clear that no, I was not sitting underneath a potential terrorist target, and the focus of our coverage of 9/11 shifted back to the East Coast. The hours turned into days, the days turning into weeks. Why did this happen? How did this happen? Could we have prevented it? Will we find the remains of everyone lost that day?
I felt compelled to write about the 10th anniversary of 9/11 because I know there are plenty of others who will be doing the same. And each post, each article will affect it's reader differently. Each recollection will touch those who need to be touched, will comfort those who need to be comforted, and will anger those still dealing with the questions surrounding that day.
Everyone processes things differently. We grieve differently, and we heal differently.
And yet, my most vivid memory of the events of 9/11 is not about our differences. Anything that would mark us as dissimilar and unfamiliar was checked at the door that morning, and for the first time in a long time, we were all the same. Strangers were holding strangers, neighbors who never spoke were having dinner together, and you couldn't find an American flag for sale even if you were Bill Gates (It took me three weeks and a trip south to Portland to finally find the flag decal I proudly displayed on the back of my Jeep). We came together for what seemed like months. The unity lasted well into the holiday season, which propelled it into early 2002.
The question I asked as the title of this post has to do with this feeling. While I know there are some who believe with every hair on their head that it just takes tragedy to meld hearts, I believe otherwise. Why can't we wake up each day with at least the intention to be proud of where we live, to be compassionate to those around us, and to be united in seeking what's right.
When will we ever learn?
Is That Really A Color?
I said it as if it were a completely natural thing to say. There was no hesitation; it came out as naturally as reciting the alphabet or one's ATM pin.
"My favorite color is gray."
My head turned from left to right as I began to read the room. On a few faces I found signs of bewilderment, on others, doubt. There were those awkward few seconds left dangling in the the room...to give me a chance to formulate my explanation, and to let my statement ruminate. It worked. I watched the eyebrows lift and the smiles begin to appear as the fullness of what I had just said began to sink in. A couple of people gathered around the table even gave the impression that they could relate to my statement.
When I first began working in television, I was an easy target for the consultants. I likely still am, but in the beginning, before I began refining my TV news look, I made their work tremendously easy. Being a few pounds overweight, the comments came as naturally to the consultants as me making the statement about gray.
"Grow your hair longer, and only wear dark suits."
Those of you who are large boned like myself understand completely. Longer hair makes the face look less chubby, and darker colors are very flattering to a larger person. I didn't mind; I wanted to look good on TV. I was out to make Jim Tellus happy he decided to even give me a chance in front of the camera. Thank you, Jim, for this gift. I will never forget you.
So there I was in Macy's buying my new suits. I selected black, navy blue, and a dark charcoal. They had brown, but it wasn't dark enough. The consultants had created my look: Dark suit, plain white shirt, and a solid, brightly colored tie. That was to be how I would be presented to those of you glued to your small screens. funny thing about that, I really liked the look as well, and to this day when I'm in front of the camera, my attire is much the same.
The suit i gravitated to most was the gray two-button. Sorry, but I looked good in it, and could rock almost any color tie. This suit fit me the best, and as I lost a little weight, was taken-in to show off my success. I looked the best in this one, so it was my "go-to," if you will.
Things changed. I bought new black, brown, and blue suits that fit better and frankly were a higher quality. All of them fit well, and the consultants quickly ran out of helpful suggestions. Just Kidding. If you've ever worked in front of a camera with consultants, you know that you can do everything they ask, and they still have a knack for finding something to "fix." I say this with all the respect in my being, and yet must admit I'm smirking a little.
I had the newer suits, but I naturally gravitated back to my old friend. I began thinking about why this was happening, worried that my News Director was going to say "Stop wearing that gray suit!" She never did, and finally the day came when I realized there was something more.
Gray had become my favorite color.
First, it was flattering. I look pretty good in gray and black. But there was something else about gray. It was beginning to dawn on me that the color was more than a color; It was a way of looking at the world.
Imagine a world without extremes. If you embrace the extreme you could be more comfortable, but you also tend to be in the minority. What if instead of looking at things as "black and white," we began the conversation somewhere in the middle? Gray isn't just a favorite color for me. Gray is where I challenge myself to begin each conversation, each debate, and each day. Not the gloomy type of gray. No, no, I like to think of it as the "If we start here things can only be more enlightening" type of gray.
I didn't get the job I was interviewing for when I made the statement at the beginning of this post. But I'd like to think I still had a positive impact on everyone in that room with my explanation of why gray is my favorite color.
Embrace the gray with me?
"My favorite color is gray."
My head turned from left to right as I began to read the room. On a few faces I found signs of bewilderment, on others, doubt. There were those awkward few seconds left dangling in the the room...to give me a chance to formulate my explanation, and to let my statement ruminate. It worked. I watched the eyebrows lift and the smiles begin to appear as the fullness of what I had just said began to sink in. A couple of people gathered around the table even gave the impression that they could relate to my statement.
When I first began working in television, I was an easy target for the consultants. I likely still am, but in the beginning, before I began refining my TV news look, I made their work tremendously easy. Being a few pounds overweight, the comments came as naturally to the consultants as me making the statement about gray.
"Grow your hair longer, and only wear dark suits."
Those of you who are large boned like myself understand completely. Longer hair makes the face look less chubby, and darker colors are very flattering to a larger person. I didn't mind; I wanted to look good on TV. I was out to make Jim Tellus happy he decided to even give me a chance in front of the camera. Thank you, Jim, for this gift. I will never forget you.
So there I was in Macy's buying my new suits. I selected black, navy blue, and a dark charcoal. They had brown, but it wasn't dark enough. The consultants had created my look: Dark suit, plain white shirt, and a solid, brightly colored tie. That was to be how I would be presented to those of you glued to your small screens. funny thing about that, I really liked the look as well, and to this day when I'm in front of the camera, my attire is much the same.
The suit i gravitated to most was the gray two-button. Sorry, but I looked good in it, and could rock almost any color tie. This suit fit me the best, and as I lost a little weight, was taken-in to show off my success. I looked the best in this one, so it was my "go-to," if you will.
Things changed. I bought new black, brown, and blue suits that fit better and frankly were a higher quality. All of them fit well, and the consultants quickly ran out of helpful suggestions. Just Kidding. If you've ever worked in front of a camera with consultants, you know that you can do everything they ask, and they still have a knack for finding something to "fix." I say this with all the respect in my being, and yet must admit I'm smirking a little.
I had the newer suits, but I naturally gravitated back to my old friend. I began thinking about why this was happening, worried that my News Director was going to say "Stop wearing that gray suit!" She never did, and finally the day came when I realized there was something more.
Gray had become my favorite color.
First, it was flattering. I look pretty good in gray and black. But there was something else about gray. It was beginning to dawn on me that the color was more than a color; It was a way of looking at the world.
Imagine a world without extremes. If you embrace the extreme you could be more comfortable, but you also tend to be in the minority. What if instead of looking at things as "black and white," we began the conversation somewhere in the middle? Gray isn't just a favorite color for me. Gray is where I challenge myself to begin each conversation, each debate, and each day. Not the gloomy type of gray. No, no, I like to think of it as the "If we start here things can only be more enlightening" type of gray.
I didn't get the job I was interviewing for when I made the statement at the beginning of this post. But I'd like to think I still had a positive impact on everyone in that room with my explanation of why gray is my favorite color.
Embrace the gray with me?