"You heard me,” he said, “You just weren’t listening.”

Not many folks have asked me about my “break” for lack of a better word. What was it that got my attention? I’m assuming most think it was Netter pulling me back to reality and making me go on vacation. In truth, that was part of it. But it wasn’t what got my attention.

I’m not going to lie. Work right now is stressful. There was a levy. There is a lot of change. There are some challenging customer interactions.

In November this all came to a head for me, and there was this perfectly nice customer who I had helped earlier in the day tracking me down on my way back from the hospital coffee shop.

“Hey! Excuse me! Hey! Mr. Library Man! Hey!”

I’d like to say that I didn’t hear him, but in truth I was trying hard to ignore him. But not just him, everything. Absolutely everything.  I wasn’t on the clock. I was trying to take a break and he was tracking me down on “my time,” a time when I was already feeling overwhelmed.

Finally, my conscience kicked in and I wheeled around. “Do you need something?” I asked.

He had a few questions about some local services. I knew a few of the answers, but I still was clearly coming across as “you’re bothering me.” I knew it, but I didn’t care. When we were finished, I said: “Sorry Man. I guess I didn’t  hear you.” His reply: "You heard me,” he said, “You just weren’t listening.”

I walked a few steps and suddenly felt the shame wash over me. “What kind of incredibly selfish person am I? What is wrong with me?” I thought.

I ran after the man and approached him with my hand extended.

“You’re right” I said, as I shook his hand. “I’ve got a lot going on right now, and I’m kind of stressed out, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

He looked puzzled, but he shook my hand and said: “I accept your apology.”

I encouraged him to come up to the 3rd floor of the library where I knew we had material on some of the services he was asking about. He said he would, and then I left to return to work.

I was just beginning my assessment. I just didn’t know it yet.

I know it now.

Check back, and I’ll tell you about it.

Life Doesn't Fit in a Box

tiny intro - Alright - this one is for my friend Mo, and it is also according to the math in the sidebar the 100th post on The Life of Jimmer. My friend Cammie got more than 100 comments on her 100th post. I don't see that happening here. Perhaps you'd like to prove me wrong. (Wouldn't be the first time.)

I've been working on a project at work that has been kind of an "on the fly, seat of our pants type of operation." It had to be that way. We saw a need. It had to be filled. The moment had to be seized and such. The iron was hot. (Insert your cliche here.)

In other words, we didn't go through all the normal planning and testing and piloting and on and on and on that is so much a part of "the process."

I'm okay with that. This one didn't fit in a box. It had to be malleable. We needed to be able to adjust on the fly.

You know - a lot like life.

Many folks are finding out this year that even the best laid plans are subject to failure. Jobs are being lost. Debts are being incurred. Mortgages are being foreclosed and on and on...

And a lot of people feel like failures for no justifiable reason other than circumstance. A friend who is being "laid-off" said to me just a couple weeks ago that he was becoming very depressed over the whole situation, primarily because he was not going to be the main provider for his family for the first time in 20 years.

What do you say to that? He hadn't done anything wrong. He went to work everyday, paid his bills on time, was a good husband and father -- all the right things, all the "supposed to" things, and yet here he was planning for a future he knows nothing about, trying to remake himself at the age of 38.

I've spent a lot of the last year kicking myself for not having done some things, not making changes, not planning better, not being better with money, (Oy vey money), not being a better Daddy and on and on.

I've taken a lot of inventory as I turned 40, but not because of the number so much as because I realized that a great deal of my life had become so focused, too focused on the negative.

I feel like I've made a lot of progress and turned a lot of things around. But up until a couple of months ago there were still some things I couldn't let go of.

One April evening out of nowhere it hit me. Just like that project doesn't fit in a box, neither does life. There are just too many variables, too many unknowns, too many adjustments to be made, and too many answers we just don't see.

We can play by all the rules and "they" can change them in a second.

It was like a cloud lifted as I sat in my office and decided that I needed to live life forward instead of spending so much time looking back.

We don't have any control over the past. It's done. It's gone. It's over. If we made mistakes we can only learn from them and hope to do better next time. If we make a bad decision we can't be afraid to make a decision the next time for fear we might be wrong again. The fear of the unknown, paralysis by analysis as they say.

I know that some of this is "so obvious." What can I say? Sometimes I'm not the sharpest tack on the bulletin board.

As I talked to my friend that day and wondered what to say, I decided that the best thing I could do for him was to be a good listener, a shoulder to lean on, a sounding board for ideas. I decided that the best thing I could say to him was the same thing I had said to myself just a few weeks before.

Sometimes the answer is you just have to be nice and give yourself a break.

With all due respect to teachers...

As I'm sure most everyone is aware, I love to train. I love to teach. I love to coach.

A friend recently asked me why I didn't become a teacher. "You'd be really good at it," she said.

I looked her square in the eye, and I said: "No, I would really suck at it and I'll tell you why. I couldn't lie to kids and tell them that what they were going to learn was going to prove to be useful in their life experience."

Now, I'm not saying that the three R's aren't key to being a good citizen, but when push comes to shove... Well, be honest how much of what you learned in your later years in school do you really use everyday, or even most days?

That's what I thought.

The truth is that kids don't really learn how to live in the classroom. They learn it on the playing field. They learn it on the stage, and in the arena. They learn it by just living and experiencing everything.

To deny that, at least from my perspective is to deny the obvious.

Recently, our local school district's decision makers, (you'll note I did not say leaders) decided to take that opportunity for learning away from our children, or at least put it in jeopardy so it was eventually taken away.

The deal went something like this. Vote FOR the levy, (that did not pass in the fall) to continue to support our bloated budget and lack of fiscal responsibility, (admittedly exacerbated by the current economy) or we will take all extracurricular activities away from your children.

No, I'm not kidding.

"Pay to play?" you ask. Not an option.

This is the same school district that, when they didn't pass their last levy decided to go to split sessions.

Fortunately, our girls were in Catholic schools at the time and unaffected.

Still, I'm here to tell you, nothing will make a voter change their mind more quickly in the voting booth than watching a kid get off the bus sometime between 6:00 and 8:00 at night...

on Halloween.

Again, not kidding.

So this time, though our feet were again put to the fire - as you may have guessed our district did not pass the levy. The nays took the vote at 56%.

Of course, although I felt pressured to do so, we voted FOR the levy as it directly impacted our children.

I'm not sure what exactly to make of the folks who voted "No." While I understand that they are tired of paying more taxes, I can't help but wonder what they think will happen to their property values.

I'd venture a guess that the amount lost in property value is much greater than the comparatively small amount of extra tax money that would have been paid.

Can you imagine trying to sell a home in a school district where the doors to the school close at 4:00 and don't open until the next morning?

You read that right. Absolutely no activities. You name it, that after school program has been nixed.

I found out last week that drama, choir, and band, i.e. the activities my kids are involved in are part of the regular curriculum - so my girls will not lose the ability to learn those things.

But they will miss out on the opportunity to learn the things that come with those things, the true reward of the Friday night performance, the joy of hearing the crowd cheer for your effort. The things that make kids work harder, try harder, learn more to come back and experience again...

Gone. Buh bye!

Oh, they say they'll have "in school performances," but I'm not holding my breath to see how those turn out, or how many parents, and family members will be able to take the time off from work, (you know - where they earn the money to pay those taxes) to attend.

Of course it goes without saying that my heart goes out to those athletes who cannot perform "in school," including my former neighbor a sophomore next year, and a pretty darn good quarterback by all accounts.

How good? Well, let's just say a former OSU quarterback just spent some time with him, and discussions were under way to work together during the summer.

"The extra time, the extra mile, working toward a greater reward, learning about being a responsible member of a team, finding confidence when you may not have in the classroom..."

Gone. Buh bye!

The final irony here is that our kids have been told from the day they entered junior high, and high school that involvement in these same activities that are now being taken away from them were to have been key to their continued academic success and advancement. How are our children supposed to process the loss of that key?

So what now?

Word on the street is that we'll have a special election in August to try and pass this levy again. I will be there voting yes, but I wonder if the district really thinks they're going to change that many minds.

Are they just trying to teach us a lesson? I wonder what that might be?

I do know this; when you take the vote, a treasured American institution, and make a mockery of it with the threats, and the bullying...

Well, I feel like all my kids are learning is that the bully wins.

Define Free

It seemed innocent enough.

Last month a friend took me to see a hockey game between the Columbus Blue Jackets and the Calgary Flames. As we entered the arena a woman with a clipboard was waiting to see if we wanted to sign up to win a "prize," including maybe a vacation / cruise.

Well, Netter and I haven't been on a "real vacation," let alone a cruise in quite some time so I thought - sure I'll sign up.

My friend and I talked about it as we walked away.

We thought if we did "win a prize," we'd win the lowest prize on the rung.
We knew that there was probably some "come listen to our presentation" gimmick involved in actually claiming the prize.
We both agreed that the only way we would go listen is if we won the cruise.

We then enjoyed the CBJ's 5-0 trouncing of the Flames and I forgot all about the prize.

Fast forward to just 2 weeks ago. (Did that sound funny?) Our home phone rings, and for some unknown reason I decide to answer it.

We've been talking about losing the home phone for quite sometime now. We all have cell phones, and take the larger majority of our calls on that mobile device. Initially we had kept the land line because we had a DSL connection. Recently however, we had switched to cable, (Anybody need a DSL modem?) and I have been trying to track down all the places that have our home number to change that contact information. I'd say we're about 95% of the way to having that accomplished and getting rid of the home phone altogether.

Oh, I forgot to mention what may be the most important reason we want to lose the home phone. You ready for this?

Telemarketers

Since we have started changing over our contact info just about every time the home phone rings we know it is probably a telemarketer.

And still I answered it.

Me: Hello
Caller (April) : "Hi this is April from Sundance Vacations." (I considered putting a link there, but don't want to give them the traffic.) Is this James?
Me: It is, and I am not interested.
April: Don't you want to know what you're not interested in.
Me: Trying to be nice here.
April: Well you signed up for this.
Me: Okay, tell me what I signed up for.

April then went on to relate to me that I had signed up at the hockey game, gave me the date of the hockey game, included the score of the game and said that for an hour of my time I was "guaranteed a cruise."

I repeated what she said verbatim, and my very alert wife said - "What about airfare to get where the cruise is leaving from?"

Of course, I repeated the question for April. She informed me that they had a limited number of airfares available, but that if I could come before Saturday they would have airfare for me. It was already Thursday evening. We had an activity of some sort on Friday and I worked on Saturday.

As nicely as I could I told April that I really appreciated the call and her patience, but we just weren't interested and to please give the prize to someone who either had a free schedule at a moments notice or could afford the airfare. I hung up.

About a week later there was a message on the chalkboard in our kitchen - from April.

What the heck?

The next day I called Sundance Vacations and explained to Mandy, who took the call because April was on another line, that we were not interested, could not afford the airfare, etc... and so on.

Mandy said - Oh we have airfare. We have everything. I don't know why April told you we didn't. We just need an hour of your time.

Intrigued I said "Really, airfare and everything?"

Mandy answered in the affirmative. I told her I would have to check my schedule, (i.e. run this by Netter) and I might just call her back.

Then right before she hung up Mandy said, Okay, that's a cruise for two, and airfare. All you would be responsible for is taxes.

AH HAH! I knew it. I just started to laugh. Free my Eye! (Okay, I didn't say Eye, but this is a family blog.)

I didn't go off on Mandy like I wanted to. I couldn't. I was laughing too hard. Instead I just said goodbye and hung up the phone. My might call had obviously just turned into I'm not calling, though I did share the story with Netter when I got home and we had a good laugh.

You'll never believe what happened next.

No Really.

Yep, they called back. Unfortunately for them, they called right before the Red Wings' playoff game yesterday evening - like in the last 30 seconds before I was going to answer any phone for the next 2.5 hours.

"Hi we're calling from Sundance Vacations..."

I couldn't help it. I cut them off totally saying - pretty loudly actually.

When are you people going to get it? We don't want your prize. We can't afford the prize. We can't afford the taxes. It's not free and you know it. Please take us off your list and stop calling us NOW!

I wonder if they got it?

I get that it's really my fault for even signing up in the first place, but still very frustrating, very frustrating indeed.

Bureaucracy

I had to do it. I had to go. The dreaded place. The one place in the world none of us would want to go. It's dark there. It smells funny. It's hot. It's cramped. They are rude to you. They are mean to you. They make you follow rules that are...well they just seem arbitrary.

You know where I'm talking about... Anyone over the age of 16 knows exactly where I'm talking about.

Today I went to:

The

B

M

V

AAAAAAAAAAAaaaHHHHHHhhhhhhhh!

I know right?

It couldn't be avoided. We need to get a title, registration, plates and such for our new (to us) van.

So this morning, I dropped my lovely wife off at work and went to visit our friends at the BMV. It was 8:40 a.m. For me, on my day off, I call that "o'dark thirty."

I was ready though, I had some Starbucks. I took my iPod. I had my cell phone to text or maybe even tweet.

My first sign of trouble came when I started to walk from my truck to the building. In HUGE RED LETTERS across the front window: "No Food or Drink."

Sigh! Okay, coffee goes back into the truck. I'm pondering the question of why you can eat or drink at the library where there are hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of computers and books, but you can do neither at the BMV where you might spill on ... on... What? The floor? The line divider? Maybe the hard wooden bench or card table chairs they have for some to sit on?

Walking in the door, I noted that the line didn't seem very long. Wow! That's different. Okay, let me just check my cell - Oh, look at that big sign. NO CELLPHONE USE WHATSOEVER - Okay, never mind.

Not even gonna risk the iPod with the short line.

Shortly it was my turn. "Next" came the shout from "Corky." Now, I'm not judging, but "Corky" is your baseball coach, or your bartender. Do you really expect Corky to be the lady behind the counter at the BMV?

"Hi," I said, "I bought a van and I need to get a title, plates, the whole nine yards."

"We don't do titles here," Corky explained. "To get a title you have to go to 1970 Broad Street, where they do titles. Unless you want us to do it, but it won't be ready for two weeks." Corky then handed me directions to 1970 Broad Street.

I couldn't help but wonder how it could take two weeks to get my title from 1970 Broad Street to where we were in Hilliard. Is that a covered wagon trip? Bicycle courier with a lot of breaks in between? Pony Express?

"I can wait," I said which led to this little exchange.

Corky: Do you have plates?

Jim: We have plates.

Corky: From another car?

Jim: No, there are plates on the car from our friends who sold us the van.

Corky: Those are no good as soon as you buy the vehicle. We can sell you a temporary tag while you wait for your title though.

Jim: How much is a temporary tag? (All the while considering gas costs for the obviously long trip to 1970 Broad Street.)

Corky: $10.50.

Jim: Okay, what do we do next?

Corky set about entering whatever she needed to enter in her "not visible to me" computer? I'm guessing.

A young man came to the counter to be helped by the lady next to me. He was playing football at Ohio State he explained (I didn't recognize him. He'll probably win a Heisman or something) and he needed to get his license switched from Florida to Ohio. The woman at the counter told him that he would need his social security card. "Where is your social security card?" She asked. "Um, in Florida." Poor kid, bet he had to go to 1970 Broad Street too. I didn't hear the rest of the transaction clearly.

Another young man approached. (Corky was taking her time.) "I need to get my i.d." he said handing what looked like a photocopied birth record of some sort to the lady. "OH," she said, "this is a photocopy." She then went on a long rant about how it was obviously a photocopy from a scrapbook, and she really wasn't concerned about how it was all the young man had and all his mother had to give him, and NO she could not accept that. She could see notebook marks on it even.

Ouch?

"What color is the vehicle?" (Corky was ready for me again.)

"Champagne," I said. Hey, that's what Netter called it.

"Point to the chart." Corky said, clearly irritated.

Sure enough, on the counter there was a chart for vehicle color. Our van is not champagne at all. It is number 15, tan.

Alrighty then.

Corky asked a co-worker to figure out my sales tax, told me to write my check to Northwest Kiwanis, (not the BMV?) and $265 later I have a piece of cardboard / temporary tag, a certificate of registration, and a promise that in two weeks I can come back and buy my real license plates.

Just waiting on the covered wagon I guess.