Too Small To Fail: Learning How To Manage Again

Thirty years ago, my father-in-law, who had been CEO of two companies before that term became an mild expletive, took on a project: helping me find a job. He was a brave one.

If he had been fazed by the fact that I didn't know squat about business, he didn't show it. He had been in the navy, and besides, he had been sent on his mission by a higher authority. Eventually, and with some help from the feeble, I found out that most people in business don't know much about it either, but that was much later. 

The most enduring lesson he taught me was about something called Management. He had borrowed his definition from the American Management Association (AMA), where he sent each of his company's execs to learn this fine art. I had my Darling Girl wife, fiance' at the time, copy it down for both of us. Here it is (above, left); it reads:

"Management is the art of getting people to do what they're supposed to do when they're supposed to do it how they're supposed to do it the way their supposed to do it because they want to do it."

Most of us would amend this definition today, since it assumed the kind of top-down management that fell out of favor over the last 30 years, with the stunning exception of China. Having one big guy in a huge corner-office telling everyone what, when, how ceased to work well in our individual-crazed Twitter culture.

But, after allowing for some "decentralization,"  the fundamental idea still works pretty well, especially the last part, wanting. Getting people to want to do something together is what makes Management an art: the art of teamwork

          "The vision, dedication, and integrity of managers determines whether there is management or mismanagement." - Peter Drucker

Gen X and Y may find this very hard to believe, but basic management of people, operations (now called process), quality, customer service, and R&D were actually taken seriously by Busy-ness Schools as recently as thirty years ago. Perhaps even harder to believe is that respected corporations  had their own management training programs. Gasp!

So, what happened? The Numbers.

"....A million zeros joined together do not, unfortunately, add up to one...." - Jung

Too many of the "best and brightest," the T-Rexes of the business world,  began to treat wise teachers like Peter Drucker and W. Edwards Deming, the quality expert,  as if they were writing science fiction. The MBA fast-trackers thought that learning the art of management was  a waste of their precious time, which they believed could be better applied to learning shortcuts to personal wealth.

Instead of the nuts and bolts of business management, they fell in love with, and I'm not kidding, Accounting. Then,  they cleverly married Accounting to Higher Math, re-branded it as, da-da, Financial Management! The rest, as they say, is hysteria.


 Cue "Synergy," the Internet Bubble and our current calamity, MortgageGate. These are what happen when you mistake managing The Numbers for managing the whole Enterprise.

            "It's amazing how difficult it is for a man to understand something if 
            he's paid a small fortune not to understand it." - Upton Sinclair       

That little slip of paper with the definition of Management on it came to mind recently, when I read  several headlines in the newspaper of record (No, not that Foxy WSJ, yet):

                                       UNEMPLOYMENT AT 9.6%

          TOP BANK HALTS ITS FORECLOSURES IN ALL 50 STATES

                      STATE IGNORED RED FLAGS ON TEST SCORES

And one from today:

                                      PARALYSIS OF THE STATE!

Banks can't even foreclose on their own messy deals. We treat schools as if they were purely political institutions. We spend more money on prisons than on schools (this is actually true in CA). And, we're leaving out the the Hardy Boys' Search For The Missing WMD's caper (a novel way to burn a $Trillion or so).

It is very fitting that Election Day closely follows Halloween. It gets scarier every year. Why? Mostly because we know that, whoever wins, we will continue to mismanage. We will not know whathowwhen and we most certainly will not want.

Here's a proposition: mandatory Management courses in every grade level of every school in the country. Home of the Free and the Brave, yes! But, wouldn't it be nice to be the Home of the Smart for a change? Wouldn't it be nice to drive into your town and see a sign up there with the State High School BeeKeeping Championship that said: Home of Citizens Who Learned How To Manage Again?

Yes. It would.

Ed Note: Okay, we admit that our explanation for calamity is a little simplistic in that it appears to blame everything on people in accounting/finance. Also, we employed some hyperbole (look it up). We wish to note that any appearance of bias against the financial world, where I have many friends, is completely, totally with merit. 

Doing A Columbus

Mention the name, Christopher Columbus, in most households and the reaction will be mild glee at the thought of a day away from school or work. The more historically-minded among us might even feel a tinge of nostalgia for the bygone schooldays in which the name evoked adventure, courage and discovery rather than greed, intolerance and violence.

But, mention the name in our house and family members run for the hills. It all began innocently enough several years ago, when my youngest child asked me to tell her "about Columbus," while we were sharing a pizza. I seem to recall that she was about to write a school paper at her Country Day & Bond Trading School and she had been hearing some pretty bad things about old Chris. My answer, apparently, was a little long-winded. Some have claimed that it was very long-winded, applying several thousand words towards a fifty-word answer.

This became known forever more as dad "doing a Columbus." After that pizza, and the long walk home that followed it, anyone in the family asking me a question, and there arose far fewer instances of this, prefaced it by saying, "Without doing a Columbus....can you explain the infield-fly rule....or ....without doing a C, who invented the SAT's and did they execute him/her for that?"

Let's just say that they were all thrilled when I took up writing three blogs, known affectionately in my own home as Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria.  Now, I can do a Columbus and even, on occasion, get paid for it. Talk about gold in the Indies!

Somewhere between Samuel Eliot Morrison's view of CC as heroic "Admiral of the Ocean Sea" and contemporary scholars' venom against CC's "capitalist, colonialist empiricism" lies a pretty simple truth: here was a fairly gutsy European human, who had one very good idea about the earth's roundness keeping  his ships from tumbling off into space. He was right about that.

As for finding a direct route to the Indies, we can say that in a real sense, he failed. How was he to know that there was a land mass, which would one day become one huge SUV parking lot and mortgage swindling emporium! Where's Leif Ericson when you need him!

But seriously, Friends. We hear a lot of advice today from experts on how we can "transition" our lives, and a lot of this advice includes first becoming familiar with failure, as odd as that may sound. I have more than trifling experience with this method, as it happens, and I cannot yet say if there is indeed a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow of many small failures. But, we could do a lot worse than take a look at Columbus's example of imagination, courage, determination as we sail our own little boats to a million different versions of the "Indies."

As usual, Saint Robert of Hibbing, who is still strumming in his cave high above the river,  weighs in on this brilliantly if not so clearly:

                                "....She knows there's no success like failure
                                   and that failure's no success at all...."

Still, we must sail along our routes, somehow keeping our crews from hunger, mutiny, and not seeing this week's JCrew catalogue.

 I like to think of Chris, alone each night in his bunk (protective dagger under his pillow) praying for a sign that he was not really off his rocker, or the Italian equivalent of that. And, I think of him on that morning, when the call came from the crow's nest high above him that land had been sighted. Phew! That was a close one!

I do not think that  he really failed in any meaningful way in that moment, especially since that landfall turned out to be close-by my beloved Bahamian isle of "Saint James."  Those of us who land in unlikely places, which may be different form the ones we set out to find, may discover that "doing A Columbus" is not so bad after all.

We'd do well, I think, to just say Amen,  and get on with living on the rock we have found.
                

Pre-Election Issue: Excerpts From 3G Editors' Interviews With Senators, Candidates, Others

"I'm nuts?
  You got no n@#s!"


- Carlus Buffalunus

"Give me Liberty, or give me a Double Whopper with Cheese, Large Fries and a super-sized Coke."

 - Partius Teaus

"Tax your car,
tax your death,
tax your booze,
tax your breath."
- Taxus Maximus





                            

                        

                                         " Guns,
                                            Gunners,
                                            Gun-nests!"
                                                - Juneau, Goddess

"Bettor Schools.
 More Teechers."
-M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i-a

                         " A New Dea...
                            A New Contra...
                            A New Morni...

                            A Newt!

                            -Foxus Gingus Newtus

                                
          

              "Angry? Of course I'm angry.
                  I am angry with such a mighty anger
                  as all of you are angry. I am so angry that I could,
                  could.......even.......campaign a little.
                  Talk about angry!"
                         - Prince Andrus Democratus of Como                    

    

       "Tea at my party?
          You must be joking.
           Goin' Uptown
           With Charlie, where
            We'll be really smoking"
      -Ga-Gaddess
    
          
          
          

"Low tax levies,
deficits high,
all your Treasuries
We will buy."

- Chairmanus

Weeeeeeeee!                        
     Weeeeeeeee!

                                                        
- Pincus Geicus

Too Small To Fail: Water From A Stone

1.     I used to think that I was the only one fighting the battle against the insidious foe shown on the left, the touch free "automatic" faucet. But, keen observation has proven that you too, Friends, have been waving your hands and swaying your elbows in dry vain, looking as though you were practicing a Rest Room form of Tai Chi. 

Some well-intentioned person designed these to actually save water by rationing the amount that we could use and preventing wasteful dripping. He or she succeeded beyond their wildest dreams, since so many of us have completely failed, on a regular basis and in  embarrassing ways to coax a drop of dampness from these machines. Bring back analog faucets!

2.     Many of you may also fondly remember the relatively simple paper towel dispenser on the right. Some of the same engineers who took away our easy water, also created new touch free towel dispensers. Once again, we must raise up our hands, as if in prayer, trying to get that red eye to lend us a towel. We estimate that 50% of the time it fails to see our dripping hands. What a way to save the trees!

Instead, we must resort to using our pant-legs, shirttails, and skirts to dry. Is it any wonder that so few can get hired, when those who succeed in washing their hands return to the conference room or restaurant table from the Rest Rooms of America with wet stains on their pants and skirts, to say nothing of that major deal-killer The Wet Handshake!

3.    Here is a photo of a "package" of Gillette razor blades I purchased at Costco. It took me three days to open it, because I was determined to open it without using any tools other than my hands and my teeth, and, to be honest, I have a tennis elbow.  I failed miserably and finally resorted to using scissors and a small mallet.

Why would Gillette make a package so lethal that it might more properly be called a weapon? These things must send thousands of their customers to Emergency Rooms each year with fingers sliced and hands shredded.

Inside this package are Mach 3 Turbo Fusion razor blade cartridges, which Gillette spent millions developing so that they would shave your face extremely close WITHOUT CUTTING YOU. If engineers can put 3 to 5 super-sharp blades together in such an ingenious way that they will not cut you and you can carry them on a plane, why can't they make a box, a simple box, that is safe? Insane.

5.     The Pay-For-Parking machines in my town dispense paper receipts. This is nice, except that there is no requirement to place the receipt on the inside of your windshield, under your wipers, or anywhere else. Apparently, the meter reader gets the info directly from the machine into another machine, in order to discover who is in violation.

Who needs a useless receipt for $.50? And, if there is a use for it, why not have the machine or the receipt explain what that is?  Instead, we toss the paper on the ground or into the green trash receptacles conveniently located near the machines just so we can toss the receipt.

Perhaps this makes sense, but I do not know any citizen who has yet been able to explain it to me. Are the receipts meant to be proof that you paid in the unlikely event that you encounter the Sheriff Of Parkingham, who has just placed a Royal Decree in the form of a $25 ticket on your vehicle?

Strange.

6.     While we're on the subject of parking in my town, we have an opportunity to mention the theft of a favorite parking space in favor of a new Stop sign.

Perhaps we should say more accurately that it has been replaced by two bodyguards for the Stop sign. Now, admittedly, these signs are temporary, so this is just a caution to the proper authorities; however, since these are likely to be permanent soon, we say that this parking space needs to be returned to its rightful users: drivers of Wranglers and other superior, right-sized machines.

We like parking where we can get a paper, a coffee, a slice of pizza, a baguette, an own-made cone and much more in a few seconds.

7. Finally, we draw (sorry) your attention to a rapidly developing phenomenon, which, if it goes unchecked, might turn into a real problem. I refer, of course, to the new habit of illustrating the make-up of families through stick figure decals, which are shown on the rear and side windows of mammoth vehicles. It does not seem to matter that said vehicles are most frequently filled with one adult human. Do we all need to know the exact make-up of each family, including pets (and coyotes)?

No, we do not. Wave goodbye, please.

Ed Note: If this post gave you mild enjoyment, you might like to watch Seth Gordon's This Is Broken video, which can be found at:  http://www.ted.com/

What's Better Than Summer?

                                                  
                                                   Next Summer.

                                        

The News: Off The Record

Sports

• There are twelve American women in the 2010 US Open. There are sixteen Russian women in the tourney. Three of the Americans rank in the Top 100, while every Russian player but one (103) ranks in the Top 100.
• Fifteen American men are playing in the Open, five are in the Top 100. France....France has fourteen players in the Open, nine of whom are in the Top 100. France, Spain, and Germany have a combined 38 players.
• All but two of the nine Argentine men in the Open are in the Top 100 and one of them is 101.

It's a good thing that the Open is not played in Arizona; half the players would be detained. What's so US about the US Open?

Whether

Breaking News: The earth is not flat and no more hand-wringing about whether or not global warming is a hoax. As one pol famously said, "All warming is local." Efforts from the political right to take Al Gore and his Global Warming scheme to the Supreme Court have faded in the hottest, most uncomfortable summer in history.

First, it was suburban coyotes. Now, it's flamingoes enjoying their new habitat in the local millpond next to their friends, the wild turkeys, who prefer the deep cover of the marshlands. Can manatees be close behind?

Maybe it's time to trade in those Durangos and Escalades, the size of small houses, that locals drive across town to yoga class to firm the thighs and soothe the souls?

Coyote Watch

Speaking of these critters, they have been scarce this summer.

One possible explanation: a friend swears that she saw a Suburban full of coyotes headed North on 95, and later saw them on the Nantucket ferry. 

Well, it's August on the Gold Coast, did you think they'd be visiting relatives Yellowstone?

Politics (Sorry)

No comment as yet from Albany or White Plains NY on reports of a secret master plan to convert the famous Rye Playland ferris wheel and roller coaster into a super-efficient wind turbine and atom smasher respectively.

Costs of the project would be covered by revenue from an undecided number of video slot machines owned and operated by the C. Rangel Corporation. The new plan may also allow operators to bring "fireworks" to a whole new level.

Movies

There are no movies: none, zero, zilch.

We would have to count Dinner For Schmucks, which makes Jersey Shore look like it was directed by Ingmar Bergman.

We met better schmucks at the Knish Knosh on Queens Boulevard in Forest Hills every day of the week.

Way back when....

More Way Back When....

Way back when....

....we got our advice from Mick & Keith, not Ben & Tim.

....the City had more money than the Mayor.

....there was no Weather Channel, and nobody took Uncle Wetherbee, the five o'clock weatherman, very seriously.

....your office building's lobby was not a fortress.

....you actually wore a sweater around your shoulders on a breezy summer night and you weren't even near the shore. No, it's true.

.... The Bowery was where your parents said you'd wind up dead, if you did not go to law school, so you did, and guess where your daughter just found a little place " to die for?"

...."Jersey Shore" wasn't an insult.

....you couldn't afford the Upper East Side, had to settle for the East Village, and you couldn't tell anybody.

....the High Line was where you waited your turn at Studio 54 and once saw Halston.

.... "deli" was a place you went for lunch from your job, not the place they moved your job, while you were out to lunch.

....we met at Bloomingdale's, instead of over our Bloombergs.

.... a cheeseburger, fries, and a coke wasn't a misdemeanor.

....a cell phone was the thing hanging on the wall in the little jail in that college town, from which you had to call your mom for bail.

....before Manhattan moved to Brooklyn, Disney moved into midtown, and The Village People began to look more real than those new people in the West Village.

....your date said, "Let's get a slice," instead of your life-partner saying,"How about that new tapas place on Ludlow?"

....the meat in the Meat Packing District was not referred to as tartare, and the burgundy on Bowery was made in Hoboken.

....before the annual cost of local school taxes was higher than the total four-year cost for your college degree. Sorry, make that five-years!

... Twitter was a female twit.

....Way back when, way back then....

Ed Note: For those who might not recall Tex Antoine's Uncle Wetherbee, try: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tex_Antoine. And, for those who want a real taste of New York, try our friend Willie Nile's song,The Streets of New York. Unfortunately, there is currently no video that we think is good enough to share.