Internet, I am going to let you in on a secret. Most of us working in retail management did not aspire to these great heights, it just sort of happens. But now that I have reached this career pinnacle, my Olympus, if you will, I figure I have earned the right to lob a few Zeus-ian (or is it Gene Simmons-ian) thunderbolts of advice.
You see, retail managers burn out from equal parts customer shenanigans, corporate bunk rolling downhill, and having to babysit smarmy, lazy, know-it-all twentysomething shithams. It is the last of these I would like to address directly:
Hi guys. I don't know what kind of leadership you have been given previously, and, truthfully, I can't promise what type you'll always receive here, but I have a few tips for you. Dress up for an interview. Shorts are not appropriate. Look people in the eye. Unless you set it up for Minute Maid, you may want to leave your lemonade stand off your resume. Act like you care, even when you don't. It takes more than showing up to earn a paycheck. Speaking of showing up, you may want to do that (on time) every time you are scheduled. You may (Gasp!) have to sacrifice something fun because you are scheduled to work. Guess what? I do it all the time. Listen, remember, write it down; I am not teaching you how to do something for my health. I actually expect you to retain and use this information. Don't bullshit me; I have been lied to by better than you. Don't tell another manager one thing and tell me the opposite. Why yes, we are open every day except Thanksgiving and Christmas. Yes, we do need to staff the store on Christmas Eve. I also want to see my family, but we CHOSE to work in retail. Praise is necessary, but don't expect me to hand you a cookie or do a touchdown dance every single time you complete a task that is a minimum expectation of your position. If you don't know or remember how to do something, ask. You may think you are saving face, but I assure you that you look twice as stupid trying to fake your way through something and doubling down by lying to me about it. Don't be so stupid as to doodle, sit down, ignore customers, text on your phone or steal(!) on camera. Don't act offended when I correct your behavior. And, PLEASE, for love of everything holy, please don't tell me how to do my job on your first day.
I know this post will be dismissed by some as a "Get off my lawn/When I was your age/Kids these days" rant. To me, it is more a call to action. Kids unprepared and/or unwilling to work hard are not Bernie Sanders' fault. They are not this way because "everybody gets a trophy." That's too easy a narrative to slip into, too broad a brush with which to paint. I will not lay this at the feet of Millennials and Generation Z. I know plenty of young people that are killing it. Frankly, killing it with passion, direction, and effort that I did not possess at age twenty-three. I work with some young people who attack even the most mundane of tasks with enthusiasm, hard work, and a smile. They do what is asked of them and more. Sadly, in my experience, there is not enough of them.
No, this is not bashing all young adults; it is a call to action for parents. The problems I described are not endemic to an entire generation; they are born in the home. Mom and Dad must lay the foundations of responsibility, work ethic, and sense of right and wrong. Our observant children learn from us their social cues and behavior modification. Parental Guidance isn't just a label on a movie poster. Only through our lead, will our children be receptive to criticism and lessons from teachers and coaches. Parents, I beg you, let your children be disciplined in school, let them be coached on the field, reprimand them at home. You are doing them a disservice if you don't.
I hear, almost daily, complaints from parents about the roadblocks thrown in front of their kids by the "system." Parroting critiques of Common Core and whining about summer reading assignments. You would think the parents themselves were being asked to turn off Netflix and pick up Hemingway. I witness incredulous mom after angry dad try to find the shortest books for their child. God forbid we expect our child to work their way through 300 pages of Austen or Faulkner. Hell, we should be encouraging it. What rankles me more, though, is that I am even speaking to the parent. Why isn't the sixteen-year-old asking me for help instead of standing nearby rolling his eyes or scrolling through her phone with the bored countenance of a Kardashian? Little pleases me more at work than when a young child, empowered and encouraged by their parent, asks for help locating a book. I have to restrain myself from high-fiving that parent. Such small steps can make a huge difference in preparing a child. It is not that far a leap from confidently asking me for help as a kid to being able to look me in the eye during a job interview as a college student.
Mom and Dad, you want your child to be good citizen? Act like it.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Friday, May 13, 2016
Dad Plaid
Recently, I looked in my closet and realized I have unconsciously altered my wardrobe a bit. I have developed a uniform. I still have Converse and flip-flops, and plenty of khaki shorts. I also saw an alarming number of plaid shirts. I'm not complaining, I was just surprised at how many plaid shirts were populating my closet. Long sleeve, short sleeve, lightweight cotton, heavier flannel, it is a rainbow smorgasbord of Dad Plaid. Dad Plaid- the mid-sized sedan of men's attire. Like a white picket fence you can take with you wherever you go. Dad Plaid- timeless, efficient, dad-like. Timeless? Heck yeah. Dads throughout history have sported the plaid, linking fathers across generations. Efficient? You bet. It allows dad to be comfortable, colorful, and boring simultaneously. And, yes, a plaid shirt is dad-like in its versatility. Tuck it in for instant Business Casual. Untuck for Casual Casual. Perfect for a picnic. (Sometimes you even match the tablecloth!) It is lightweight enough to throw on at the beach. Your plaid shirt is dressy enough for dinner somewhere nicer than Taco Bell, but is not formal or stuffy. Its handy single front pocket is great for stashing a pen at the office or protecting whatever random piece of jewelry your daughter asks you to hold while she twirls/flips/barrel rolls across the playground. Untucked, it hides (I hope) the flaws of my dad bod better than a clingy golf shirt. Although, that is a lot to ask of a shirt. There is only so much masking you can do when you are a man of larger carriage. Plaid is, indeed, rad.
A closet full of Dad Plaid indicates you have settled into that sweet middle ground of somewhat giving a shit. Your fraternity days are long passed. You have places to be where you can't show up looking like a total slob. Dance recitals, preschool graduations, homeowners association meetings. But if you want to spend your day off binging on hot wings and ESPN 30 for 30 documentaries, well your plaid is quite the comfortable choice of garment. Just pop an extra button and settle in. Yes, a closet full of plaid shirts indicates I have landed where I want to be: a gentleman of leisure, a suburban stalwart, a DAD.
Tuesday, May 03, 2016
Indiana Votes and the End of the Republic!
How do I differ from Senator Cruz? Let me count the ways. First, to my knowledge, I've never been referred to as "Lucifer in the flesh". Fortunately for the world at large, most people, my self included, refrain from mentioning my flesh at all. I don't even show off this doughy dad bod at the beach. You're welcome. Secondly, I have yet to demonstrate enough hubris to select a running mate before being nominated. Who does this guy think he is? Maybe he has read The Secret one too many times. Wishing hard that you are the nominee does not make you the nominee. You have to be patient like me, attempting to steal the nomination at the convention. Duh. (However, I will break a little news. Currently on my VP short list: Peter Dinklage, Spud Webb, and Kevin Hart. Dad jokes!) Thirdly, unless you are my seven-year-old, I have not lectured you in a pretentious, condescending, speaking-slow-so-you-can-keep-up manner. Fourthly, have you ever seen Senator Cruz in red pants? Look at the picture up there; they are magnificent!
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I am not a fear-mongering, hate-fomenting scare tactician trying to drum up votes on the backs of people already bullied enough. This transgender bathroom nonsense has to stop. People choosing to use the public restroom assigned to the gender they identify with pose no more harm (probably less) to our children than a non-transgender person. I have given this matter much consideration. I have debated it with smart people. I don't know what these smart people can't see about the situation. The people I have debated are not bigots. Perhaps they are scared of what they don't know or understand? I simply don't get it.
My favorite part of this argument and these proposed laws is that many of the proponents, sponsors, and supporters of these bills identify as small government champions. It is hypocritical on their part to propose unnecessary laws. Laws which will be enforced how? Oh, oh, I know! We can expand government further by creating a Potty Police Force to perform cup checks in every public restroom nationwide. Give me a break.
Of course, the biggest outcry from supporters is,"What about the children?!?!" Yes, the world is a scary place. We venture out into this frightening place every day and face much bigger obstacles than what may trans-pire (See what I did there?) in a public restroom. Here's a few things about the fear Cruz and his ilk try to drum up. My daughter uses public restrooms A LOT. In fact, Grace has never met one she didn't "need" to use. I am frightened of public restrooms because they are fetid bastions of germs and piss-covered toilet seats. I also think about who could be lurking inside. I send my daughter into the ladies' room knowing full well someone in there could be shooting up, could be a homeless person setting up camp, could be a lesbian "allowed" to be in there waiting to prey upon a girl or another woman, or could be a lady filling a stink bucket with a nose-wrinkling load. And, you know what? There could even be a dude hanging out in there waiting to pounce. Because if a dude has already made the deal with his moral code that he is going to rape or molest, do we really think he will be deterred by a symbol on a bathroom door? I ease my fears by teaching my daughter to be aware of her surroundings. I tell her to scream her head off if something goes South. You can believe I will kick in the door of a ladies' room if I heard Grace scream out.
My point is, Grace is in no more danger than normal because a woman born in a man's body shares a bathroom with her. She has probably already been in restrooms with ladies who were born dudes. I have probably shared restrooms with dudes who were born ladies. Why do we care? Think about how scary the world might be if you were transgender. Think about how scary life might be if you truly felt you were born in the wrong body. How scary it might be if at every turn you were ridiculed (or worse) because of it. If using a certain bathroom gives these folks a slice of peace and comfort, then I am all for it. It doesn't harm me (Or you, America!) in the least. I'd venture to say transgender people know themselves a whole lot better than the rest of us. Maybe we should invest in a little more introspection. Or better yet, maybe introduce yourself (preferably not in the restroom) to somebody who is "different" than you. White, black, gay, straight, mentally ill, in a wheel chair, nerd, Republican, Democrat, introvert, Kanye, transgender...we're all "different". All with more in common than what divides us. All deserving of dignity and respect.
Now, come on, Empathy, Introspection, Red Pants...are these not the things you seek in a candidate?
#Hailey2016 #EverForward
It Ain't Easy Being Red.
After Game 3, I feel there are, once again, mystical powers at work. Forces that we can not explain with rationality, common sense, or logic. There will be no dictating circumstances; we all, players, fans, announcers alike, are just along for the cosmic joyride. Two specific areas of this series are currently up in the air, beholden only to the whims of the Universe. One, is how the Capitals respond to the seemingly annual tradition of failing to win a playoff game they dominate. The second is the impossible task of trying to deduce how the NHL will deal with Kris Letang's dirty hit on Marcus Johansson.
Longtime readers likely assume that on Point One I am feeling as dreary as this morning's downpour. A safe bet, to be sure, but one they would lose. Yes, virtually everything that transpired during last night's game would suggest that these are the same old Caps: plucky buggers who simply will not overcome the Hockey Gods that perpetually conspire against them. Yes, the Caps peppered the latest "hot goalie", Matt Murray, with forty-nine (49!) shots only to come away with a paltry two goals. Yes, presumed Vezina winner Braden Holtby gave up goals on two of the first three shots he faced, including a tip-in and a deflection off a forward's back. Yes, our boys in red finally played the full sixty minute game we have been begging them to bring. Yes, the Caps did everything correct EXCEPT WIN THE GAME. These are all evidence that this series is another in a string of playoff misfortune that routinely befalls this franchise. All omens, talisman, or signs that "here we go again." Fellow fans, I can't blame you if you feel that way. It makes sense. Well, nothing about Washington's postseasons ever make sense. I simply mean I understand why you would feel that way.
It is also a line of thought of which I have grown tired. Maybe I'm delusional. Maybe I'm drunk on Red Rocker Kool-Aid. Today, I choose to see the good. To see the sparks of hope from Game 3. I must admit, it feels weird, like when you drive someone else's car. You know how, it's just not what you are used to. I know the Pens, the League, or the Caps themselves could snuff out those sparks of hope quickly tomorrow night. However, if you look objectively, not through "The Sky Is Falling" lenses, the omens of the tide turning were present. First, Alex Ovechkin was everywhere last night. He scored his first goal of the series, which was also his first against the Penguins all season. He looked like he could have scored a half dozen more. (That would have been nice, eh?) He was destroying people with huge, clean hits. He skated, competed like a champion, and LED this team. Secondly, Justin Williams hopped off the side of a milk carton and into the series. His first goal was a big one. If he can continue land on the score sheet for something beyond a penalty, our guys might be okay. Thirdly,we have a coach that exudes confidence. For all I know it is an act, but Barry Trotz looked comfortable in the postgame press conference. He knows his guys are good. He knows they face only a one game deficit. He knows it is a BEST OF SEVEN. I trust Barry Trotz. (Though, I do have one small piece of advice for him. Unlike fans, coaches don't usually believe in superstitions. However, I have noticed, largely through no fault of his own, that the team is now 0-4 in the playoffs with Taylor Chorney in the lineup. Just sayin...) Maybe he hasn't yet been swallowed by the Caps Curse, but I will take Trotz's mindset over Bruce Boudreau's red-faced uncertainty any day. Finally, and this will sound ridiculous on the surface, by losing Game 3, it is now mathematically impossible for the Caps to blow a 3-1 series lead. Silly, right? Who wouldn't want to be up 2-1 or 3-1? Maybe these guys. This team plays better when desperate. Playing from ahead, listening to the whispers of playoffs past rarely works for them. If they can escape Pittsburgh with the series tied 2-2, the Caps will be looking good.
Winning Game 4 may be a task made easier if Pens defenseman Kris Letang doesn't play. Whether or not he is suspended is the second great mystery coming out of Game 3. In the first period he caught Marcus Johansson with a high, late hit to the head. The shot was as dirty, as unnecessary, as punishable as Brooks Orpik's hit in Game 2. As of the time I write this, the NHL has not levied a punishment for the hit. I thought Orpik deserved a one game suspension. He received three. Because I think the hits are equitable, I would lobby for Letang to also receive three games. Unfortunately, several factors lead me to believe the NHL will not drop the hammer on Letang. One, he is a star player for the Pens. It shouldn't matter, but it does. Secondly, even though he has one prior suspension, Letang does not have the same headhunting reputation that Orpik carries. Finally, from what I have read from hockey writers since the hit, the league's Office of Player Safety factors the extent of the injuries sustained into the equation. The thinking goes that since Olli Maata has missed time from the Orpik hit, Orpik's suspension may be longer than Letang's because Marcus Johansson was able to stay in the game last night. Personally, I feel this SHOULD NOT factor into the decision. If the league truly wants to eradicate these head shots it must punish the act, not the intent of the checker or the extent of the injury. We will see how the NHL acts later this afternoon. My prediction is a one game suspension. Let's just say I have more faith in my Caps, even with their record of failure, than I do in the often inconsistent Office of Player Safety.
Maybe Kris Letang will be suspended, maybe he won't. Maybe the Caps will be swept up in another doomed postseason, maybe they won't. The signs are there to be read however you'd like to see them. Today, I look to the positive. Today, I Rock the Red. Let's Go Caps!
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