Plan B Might Not Be Enough

This summer a nearby roadway was re-surfaced, but not raised.  City officials did not raise the roadway because it had no other history of flooding other than two years ago.

Conventional wisdom would indicate we all need a Plan B.  If I don't get the first job I applied for I need to chase the second opening.  Spare tires are good but what if two flats occur simultaneously.

Plan B works for conventional events, conventional market opportunities and standard organizational decision making.  It would be easy to add Plan C, D, E, etc. but those, too, follow convention.  Spend time on scenarios that change the playing field.  Study major paradigm shifts that caused the best to flounder.

My Plan A & Plan B was to find another position of similar character.  Envision the opportunities that 'might' happen and be first in line...or better yet be in charge of the line.

Regarding the roadway...who would have thought the Endangered Species Act of 1973 would have come into play on a Twin Cities metro roadway.  Cows falling from the sky could be next.

"So You Are A Big Shot"

My paternal grandfather was a Norwegian immigrant.  Arriving in the States with a small bag and the address of a farm in rural MN he worked for seven years as a hired hand, glad to have work.  After retrieving his wife-to-be from "the old country" he rented land and farmed.  The birth of no sons and the third daughter brought the proclamation "you can't farm with girls" and he moved his family to town.

For thirty years he worked at Wilson and Company.  At the center of the photograph is a six-story ramp that led from the stockyards to the killing floor.  Without fail for all those years he drove livestock up the ramp all day.  He was in pretty good shape but retired at 70 and lived to 100.

When I was first starting in my professional working career he asked me what I did.  At the time I wrote reports, did statistical analysis on crime data and dabbled in the computer world.  None of this seemed relevant to a guy whose first trip across the ocean took 21 days and who's life's work was at the fragrant end of some exhausted horses or panicked beef cattle.  Finally I said that I did "book work" and sat in an office.  "So you are a big shot!"  I think, in his Norwegian stoicism, that he did care a small amount about me but really I think he thought my work was pointless and a waste.

For most of the next 40 years my "work" became increasingly digital and abstract in nature.  In a big corporate move in 2001 we moved to a new corporate headquarters.  My input to that plan was broad but specific to the nature of storage and work stations.  "We don't need to buy very many file cabinets.  Our world is going digital."  By 2008 we were giving away scores of thousand dollar file cabinets and three thousand dollar architectural plan tables. During the eleven years I spent in that office I put total of about five file folders in a file cabinet.

Were I having that conversation with him now I could not really even claim to do "paperwork" and I'm not sure how to explain "digital" other than saying it's "electronic" and that's no better explanation.  Broad multi-dimensional applications that integrate systems, resources and real-time and future-time and imagined/conceptual/virtual (pokemon) systems are the new "big shot" jobs, I guess.  Here I am trying to put that in words.  My almost three-year reprieve from that "big shot" job world  has been good.  I'd like to go chase some cows up that ramp to reflect on his real work but the building is gone.  Beef-processing technology has changed.  Gravity is not as important a factor as it once was. 

Cloud Storage, Negatives, "About Schmidt" (Jack Nicholson)

The 2002 film, "About Schmidt", profiled an insurance executive, proud of his actuarial legacy, who leaves his job (reluctantly), finds his life work in a dumpster during a visit to the workplace, and embarks on a journey unencumbered.  It's a tough trip.

With regrets at mentioning the '27-year gig', I must.  Had I simply printed out all that was important (most of which is not) or made copies and placed in boxes to accompany me on 'my journey' they'd certainly been dumped on the desert by now.  Unfortunately I uploaded it all to a couple of fee-based cloud storage sites.  Almost three years have passed and I don't want to pay for any further storage and decided to download it to storage at home (and forego concerns of backup).

Each of those documents was important for content, creative, innovative work, etc., or something that I might need on my next gig.  Austin Kleon's books have made it very clear that even creative people steal from others and leveraging work from one organization to another, while perhaps questionable, would be creative...and creative is always good.  So goes the justification.

Reading each document before determining it's retention in this 'almost three years later' pass has caused me to smile, chuckle, reflect and be annoyed at some of the same roadblocks and tools (that's 'tool' in a negative personality sense).

This afternoon my daughter asked me if disposable cameras were still available.  She talked about the process of taking in a camera or film, waiting for the film to be processed, deciding on 3x5, 4x6, matte or glossy and then waiting.  Digital has made us all film processors as much as photographers.  What we lack is that box of prints and negatives that sit in a closet for years, until we die, and our relatives pick through them, remarking about changes, parties, events and vacations sites of past.  With digital we rarely print.  Dying without a URL, user name and password leaves our image legacy in the cloud.  It's probably not even deleted but remaining without access.

Negatives were always a challenge to review.  In the lab we'd do proof sheets, aggregations of small images, select from that and printer larger that we wished to print, mount, distribute and enjoy.  It would appear that I'm doing some sort of electronic proof sheet (no, not a thumbnail).

It seems that my electronic work legacy is all about negatives, too.  I have to open them and transport them and that causes me to review and revisit.  My childless 100 year old aunt asks who would want to look at all her photographs but struggles to throw them out (ironic even more as her vision fades and she cannot see what she has).  We hold on to things under the illusion that we'll use them, need them, share them or that someone else will want them.

After moving most of these files from a fee-based storage to a storage device in the office (it feels like moving valuables from a temperature and humidity controlled storage facility to a damp garage) I wish someone would have simply checked all the boxes and hit 'Delete.'  'Someone' always limits forward progress.

Garrison Keillor, my material, his balls

Garrison Keillor's last show was good.  The midwestern guy underplayed the transition, made it sound a natural process, timely.  It might prove to be a struggle.  Not being in charge of something you created is a challenge.

He is a writer, remarkably creative and cleverly funny, taken in doses.

I've talked of being a writer.  Lately Amazon has delivered numerous tomes on the craft of writing.  Similar, they've encouraged me to simply write about the round-about of reading books and watching videos, but like many wanna-be's is a passing idea.

Long before personal computers Mr. Keillor used some material I sent in.  At the time Bertha's Kitty Boutique was a recurring topic in the weekly Lake Wobegon news.  Perhaps I have a copy, but probably not.  Generally the story (my story, his presentation) was about sending your feline pets to Cat Camp in the Catskills, the days spent catamaran sailing, mandatory catnaps, etc.  The 'etc.' is lost to time but it was several minutes.  I would have appreciated "John from St. Paul..."

Years later a friend who lived on the first floor of a Grand Avenue duplex asked me to go golfing.  Not having any clubs he said the the upstairs tennant's clubs were in the basement.  That summer, numerous times, I borrowed the clubs without asking, and yes, played with Garrison Keillor's balls.

Small Business...

Several years ago we drove from Arkansas back to Shoreivew on US 65. We passed through many small towns, most with the lights off in the historic downtowns, some with no business districts (or businesses) left at all. Buying groceries or finding a place to eat was difficult. 'Beige food' from convenience stores seemed to be the only option for the rural midwesterners; that's not healthy.

About the time we began the Marianne's Kitchen adventure we crossed paths with Brent Olson who was attempting to keep a small town cafe alive in Clinton, Minnesota. You can follow him on Facebook at the Inadvertent Cafe. His commitment was for four years, the deadline soon approaching. We traded commentary on the returns and challenges of small food venues in the sparse prairies and the food-sparse suburbs. Before he closes we're going to drive almost to South Dakota for breakfast.

Remodeling...

The remodeling project is done.  The carpet installation was a scheduling disaster.  After it was in the quality of the install was awful.  Complaining led to the troubleshooter (carpet guy) who found the carpet was delaminating.  A few days after going in it's coming out.  My work is done.  Now I want a real job.

Write & Wrong

Revisiting not having a dumb job...

"You were done when your new boss knew your were sharper than him.  He wanted a 'yes' man."  



Gall Bladder -> Hospice...
It appeared to be appendicitis but turned out to be gall bladder sludge.  Your liver produces three to five cups of bile per day.  The gall bladder doles it out into your intestine to aid in the digestion of fatty foods, probably the stuff you shouldn't be eating anyway.  Of course taking down a wooly mammoth and eating ten pounds of warm fat is all in a day's work and that's why we have a gall bladder.  The sludge is irremovable so the gall bladder is the departing organ of choice.

Waiting around is a bore.  I concluded that all the renovations included images that were those we might be surrounded with at the end of life.  Sailboats, trees, peaceful streams, leaves falling gently to the forest floor.  What a BOS.  I'm not dying, I'm here for a CT, ultrasound, blood work, etc.

I'm going to write a letter to the health company CEO.

In the closet...

all within a theme

We were leaving for a couple of parties Saturday evening and it was 90+ Fahrenheit.  A short sleeve shirt was in order.  The closet presented my past.

It would be convenience to say that I'd narrowed the variety of my executive wardrobe when I was running the process improvement program and focused on 'eliminating waste.'  That was not how it happened.  'Matching sock' time is shortened when you wear the same socks every day (not the same pair but the same color/style).  Blue slacks, black cap toe shoes, grey Gold Toe socks, some sort of blue shirt, plain or plaid, not striped...that was the program.

This costume wardrobe has been utilized three times in the past two and three quarter years, once for a wedding and twice for a funeral visitation.  My conclusion is that in my former gig I was attired for the dead.  Change is good.  May it all remain in the closet is my wish du jour.

Regarding the short sleeve shirt...advice from my better half "just be comfortable.  No one is going to look at you.  No one cares what you wear."  As a guy it's clear that you go invisible at 55 or so (this to the opposite gender [I can't speak to same gender orientation...I just don't know]).

Write & Wrong...
A year ago I bet my son $40 that Trump would take the Republican nomination and another $40 (non-contingent) that Trump would win the Presidential election.  It appears that no money will exchange hands.

Approximately a year and half prior I committed to writing daily in this blog.  The same son remarked "you'll fail."  As a parent it's important to set goals for children.  Five is always a good number.  That's five goals.  Achieving all five is great but achieving fewer is not a failure.  There are many excuses for not sitting down and writing.  Every book on improving your writing, creating a career as a writer,  every motivational piece addresses all the excuses one thinks they have, the most common being to busy or lacking a topic.

Red Hot Chile Peppers

My distraction for the past 48 hours has been the weather, a couple of acres of grass to mow (still undone) and animals living in the attics (and their dutifully chewed access locations), the ninety+ degree heat, small business time demands and other lesser ideas and imagery.  Even now I could focus were it not for the common theme of the past 48 hours, recurring watching/listening of Red Hot Chile Peppers videos/music.

'Write & Wrong" came to me as an idea for a blog post topic.  It was going to identify issues with strategic planning, innovation and verbal and written articulation.  It was a good title.  If' I'd take off my headphones, quit the distraction of one of the great punk bands, quit tapping my foot to the second greatest bassist of all time I could bring some focus.  Well, perhaps tomorrow.

"I can call someone" and "I don't do Facebook"

This past week a guy came into the small business with his forearm tatted up with "Buy American of Die."  Looking around the parking lot and noting the absence of any Harley Davidson rides it led to "hey, sir, that's a commitment."  He was a welder and a trucker and younger than me and we conversed about that quality of foreign-made goods (e.g. cheap wrenches) and the lack of motivation and ability of American youth.

Fourteen years ago I started updating a rural home.  There was an aggressive 18 month schedule.  Life became complicated.  Five years ago I stopped at a garage sale and ended up purchasing a John Deere LX280 with 20 hours.  The seller's life was falling apart.  The sale gave him more than enough money to get to California and a new life.

Moving the mower from place to place required some ramps for the trailer.  Five hundred pounds is heavy.  A couple of 8' 2x12s and metal brackets from Northern Tool on one end filled the bill.  Many on-loadings and off-loadings have taken place with this and other even heavier equipment.

Two weeks ago I looked at one of the ramps and thought "that's going to break.  I need to reinforce it."  During today's off-loading my vision of lying under a five hundred pound mower was set in motion.

We have a customer at the small business who wants to move far away from people, certainly at the end of the road and preferably a bit further.  Over the past months I've suggested many approaches and given lists of equipment and tools that one needs out there on the edge.  His response normally has been "well, I can call someone."  My comment to that is that he is not suited for rural living.

As I dug around the garage and pulled out a circular saw, some wrenches, exterior screws and a partial sheet of plywood that I've saved for twenty years in anticipation of today's event I chuckled over "I can call someone."  A Google search for "ramp repair person" really would have left me with one ramp and a lawn tractor on a trailer.  

I don't do Facebook...
Facebook is annoying but I don't know how you function in today's world, how do you stay current, if you don't have at least one foot in at least one social media platform.  Luddite.

Balance: Left versus Right

When I ran the 'lean process improvement' program we'd look at opportunities to eliminate many types of waste.  Bringing people together we'd begin by flowcharting the process.  Often people who worked together daily would look at each other and state "you do that?"  Communication, documentation, the correct tools and resources and a commitment to continually measuring and improving the process was the desired outcome.  The left did not know what the right was doing.

Years ago I worked in manufacturing.  I did stuff. Running turret lathes, automated drilling machines, punch presses and large power shears were my deal.  As per the union contract the company was to provide certain supplies like aprons, safety glasses (no hearing protection in those days) and gloves.  The guy who handed out gloves would only give out a new pair if both gloves were worn out. 

I was reminded of him today.  As a predominantly left-handed but somewhat ambidextrous worker the wear patterns make no sense but this is how all my gloves wear.  It would be nice to partner up with someone with the opposite wear pattern.  Back in the 'plant' the simple fix would have been to hand out 'left' or 'right' or 'both.'  It was not the only manufacturing plant in the US with the same wear patterns.

Little Blue Stem

Remodeling Caffeine

Door 'Shim' Debris