The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for November 2014

You Met The Worst Salesman Ever

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Frieze: dunce
‘Come at me bro’ is universally recognized as a poor way to open a conversation yet there are those who see it as both appropriate and practical but not I.

If you read She Saved My Heart you know that even though the Grinch is my hero I still possess a shred of compassion and own a tiny black heart that much like the little engine that could never quit(s).

But those truths aren’t enough to prevent my inner Taurus from feeling the need to stomp, gore and trample those who make the mistake of gaining the wrong sort of attention from me.

The Telephone Rang

The telephone rang twice during the late afternoon.

The first was a butt dial that disappointed me because I didn’t get to listen to anything interesting, educational, informative or exciting. And everyone knows the best part of being butt dialed is getting to listen to something special.

Call number two came from a man who said he had found my resume online and thought I had the qualities of someone who would be successful.

“Hello, Mr. Steiner, I am in receipt of your resume and I believe you have the qualities of someone who could be successful. Would you like to hear about this opportunity?”

I was fairly certain I knew what he was going to sell me but I figured I would make sure by listening to what he had to say.

“What would you say Mr. Steiner if I told you that I could offer you an opportunity to be your own boss and make a very fine living?

“I’d wonder if you were about to tell me that you were going to give me control of my dream to own 16 McDonalds. Do you know how many Chicken Nuggets and Big Macs I can eat?”

He surprised me by not slowing down and told me he wasn’t going to fulfill my dream by providing me with 16 McDonalds but that he would tell me about how I could earn enough to buy 16 on my own.

“Well Mr. Steiner if you are open to learning something today than I can tell you about how this would be possible on a part-time or even a full-time basis.”

I might have grown slightly irritated when he wouldn’t allow himself to be pulled off of script to play along with my dream and tried to tell me about a great opportunity that was only available if I was open to learning.

Part of that is because I didn’t have to do the math to know that no one makes enough cash in a year to buy 16 McDonalds working part-time and that even full time would be a stretch, at least it would be being a broker.

Don’t tell me that I am being close-minded and that it is possible because I know it is. I know that if I got licensed to sell stocks or life insurance I might have the contacts to make that kind of money.

Maybe my pal Froah Damonkeylover is a multimillionaire who decides he is willing to help me make my year by helping me hit the jackpot but it is not likely.

There is a much better shot of me buying a house in Cleveland and agreeing to deal with flaming rivers and frigid rivers than of hitting that jackpot.

Anyhoo I decided it was time to cut to the chase and asked the fine fellow on the phone if he was talking about a position that was salaried or commission only.

That was when he tried to explain that bonuses and residuals and a sense of satisfaction made a salary less attractive and I responded by laughing.

You Aren’t Open

“Mr. Steiner, you aren’t really open to learning about new opportunities are you. That is really a shame because this one is special.”

“How long have you been with the company? What else have you sold? Have you been working for more than 5 years? Between studying for the license, taking the test and waiting for the state to acknowledge I passed we are probably talking about a realistic start date of some time in January right.”

I suspect the rapid response and multiple questions caught him off guard, but he tried to answer.

“I have been with the firm for almost a year and selling different items for about five. You can have a license in about three weeks.”

I told him I had interviewed with one of the major players in the industry and they told me it would be at least five weeks and said I had more faith in that response because it came from someone who had been in the field for more than a decade. And then I told him I was disappointed that he wouldn’t go off script and kept insisting the unlikely and improbable was possible.

“Mr. Steiner, I don’t think it is appropriate to ask all these questions over the telephone and not in person. I don’t have time to answer them. You need to stop asking them and come in to meet with me.”

His “Come at Me Bro” response earned him a full Steiner drubbing which would have been far more fun to do in person but I wasn’t about to give him the time.

“Let’s establish a few things here, you called me. It is not my fault or my problem if you don’t have time to talk. Someone needs to retrain you and help you understand that when you contact prospective employees you are selling the company and the opportunities it offers. You can’t do that when you insult the prospects and or get upset when they don’t react/respond as you want them to. I am among the best salespeople you have ever met because I know when to tell the story and when to shut up and listen.”

You Met The Worst Salesman Ever

“Mr. Steiner, I don’t believe that. I believe that people leave you thinking you met the worst salesman ever. If you are so good at your job why are you on the phone with me looking for work.”

“Maybe it is because I own 16 McDonalds that I earned from working hard and now I am the Duke of Burger Flipping and Earl of Mcnuggets.”

Sadly there is no more tale to tell because we were disconnected, it was too bad because I was about to really say ‘Come at me Bro.”

Something Deep Inside Of You

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1967 Chevy Camaro, Joe Ross
1967 Chevy Camaro, Joe Ross

There is a secret world waiting to be shared with the one and the few who are offered entrance into it. Under endless blue skies we ride in our car into a future we can’t see but with more excitement than fear.

It is because some of us recognize the biggest regrets in life come from the chances you don’t take and the doors you choose not to open. It is not always easy to take that chance because uncertainty and insecurity chip away at bravery and present fear as prudence.

But those who are willing to be brave for a moment understand that there are amazing worlds living underneath the surface of the sea. Some call them secret worlds and say they can only be shared with a few but the great contradiction is that some secrets are hidden in the open.

Shot by Beverley Goodwin Sunset, Crosby beach
Shot by Beverley Goodwin
Sunset, Crosby beach

I feel like I am looking down upon my body. I see myself sitting in the chair, fingers flying across the keyboard as I try to show you what lies beneath the surface of my mind.

The man in the chair just published She Saved My Heart and now he is staring out the window but I am not sure what he is looking at or if he is thinking about anything.

I see him surfing through posts and reading one called Spit Or Swallow. He stops to read a quote contained within and I can hear the wheels turning inside his head.

Harris: I’ve been thinking about myself and I think I can become the kind of person that’s worth you staying for. First of all, I’m a man who can cry. Now it’s true, it’s usually when I’ve hurt myself, but it’s a start. You see I know there is something that would make you stay, I know it. I know there is some move I can make, the right word, attitude, plan. But these are all just tricks, just things I would think up and try. So let’s forgo that.
Let’s assume that whatever that thing is, that whatever it is that would make you stay has already occurred, that it has happened and that my hand has already gone down your throat and grabbed your heart and squoze it.

He is nodding his head because he thinks this will help illustrate some point. He thinks it will help build an understanding and that understanding will lead to connection but I am not sure.

I am not sure if he is thinking clearly. I am not sure if he recognizes what is going on because he can be single minded of purpose and that doesn’t always lend itself to the outcomes a person wants or wishes for.

He waves a hand at me and shakes his head. It angers me. I won’t be dismissed this easily.

I am not a teacher, but an awakener.• Robert Frost

The words stop me in my tracks. I don’t know if I heard them, read them or if they were painted upon the blackboard of my mind but they are stunning.

He is awake and I am awake which I suppose means we are awake because I am him and he is me.

How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?• Robert Frost

These words are written upon my heart. I understand them intellectually and emotionally and recognize that I am not who I was or who I thought.

I am someone different and deeper but without having experienced it all I could never have been who I have chosen to become. One doesn’t dance in the fire without evolving.

DSC01203

Thirty years ago off the coast of Maui I spent an eternity under the sea. The air tank on my back made it possible to float far beneath the surface while those armed only with snorkels were able to take a minute to see the wonders that lay below.

It was the secret world that lay waiting for those who knew how to enter it. I watched tiny air bubbles float towards the surface and wondered if they carried word of the promises I made to come back and to share this secret world.

Decades later I have become who I said I would be and yet I am not him at all. I am the man working on becoming him.

Walking the line through rings of fire towards a promise of somewhere down the road.

Every night I look for the ghost riders in the sky and prepare myself to move when I see them again because the next time I see the riders come I won’t watch them pass me by.

The next time I will find the entrance to the secret world again and this time I’ll make a copy of the key.

She Saved My Heart

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Broken Heart Grunge
There is magic in a heart that has been torn apart and rebuilt.

Don’t know if she would agree or maybe I should say I don’t know if she would admit she does. She might. She has surprised me more than once, first by reminding me that love was so much greater and deeper than I had remembered or believed.

If I told you about how she squeezed my bicep and gently held on to it as we walked you might roll your eyes or not care. You might not care or understand if I told you how every time she slipped her hand into mine it felt like it could stay forever and that is ok.

You don’t have to understand, accept or believe because it is not your deal, it is ours.

And if I told you about how she made sure I got the scan that confirmed my heart was clear of obstruction you might nod your head and say so what again and that would still be ok.

Ok because it is the little moments that matter and when you lie awake in the dark and think about whose eyes you see during night or day it makes an impact on you.

The Rituals Of Life

I don’t know if she and I ever discussed the rituals of life but they exist. Some of them are big things and some are little but I liked those we had time to develop together and those yet to come.

If I told you she is an Eishes Chayil, a Woman of Valor you might ask for a deeper explanation. She’d probably yell at me for saying it, tell me it is not true or to think harder about what I am saying but in the quiet of the night she’d wonder why I said it.

And if she asked, I’d answer…

Because.

Sometimes there is joy in being non specific, especially when people know you are capable of communicating with precision and detail except sometimes you can’t.

Sometimes you can’t because you asking someone to explain why a sky painted in streaks of orange, blue and red is beautiful or why certain chords make your heart jump.

Sometimes you can’t because your fingers extend into the sky and touch the face of god, because sometimes when two people share a moment in time it changes them and lasts forever.

And that is why I look for rituals.

Because sometimes the simple ritual is the most meaningful and most beautiful. Sometimes sitting next to or across from someone who has eyes the light dances in and a smile that lights up their face is the most meaningful thing of all.

Could be pizza and beer or a fine steak and cocktails–neither matters because the two of you take that moment in time and transform it.

Sometimes We Call It Melodrama

Sometimes we ask hard questions and fear makes us call the answer or the question melodramatic. We ask the other what would happen if they were to hear we had died in a car crash or what they would do if they heard we were terminally ill.

It is not because we hope for or want such things but because sometimes that piece of us that doesn’t operate based upon sight or sound but upon gut feeling instructs us to pay attention to losing the opportunity to have more moments.

Sometimes you react and respond by asking, what would you do if you heard I died. What would you do if I called you and said that there was a more definite answer to how long I was going to be walking upon this earth.

Would you respond by saying our time has always been finite and this is all we were granted or would you say no. Would you do what you had to do to try to slow or stop those sands of time.

The answers are important but hopefully we will never learn for real what they are.

But if I said it would tear apart what had been rebuilt it would be honest and if I said I would want you to rebuild yours so would that.

Still, I don’t really worry or think often about such things. Don’t do it because the numbers say there is no real reason to do so. The numbers that the actuaries use and that statisticians rely upon says don’t and that speaks volumes.

Not as much as the feeling in my gut or the song in my heart because those are the truer measures I monitor. Don’t care if that makes me sound like a crack or a crank.

I do as I do and feel as I feel and none can tell me that is right or wrong, it simply is.

She Saved My Heart

Those four words should be enough. They should be enough for any person or so the Greek poets might say because some of them love their tragedies.

They love a hero with a tragic flaw. They love to tell a story about magic and magnificence destroyed by some simple and obvious flaw.

But there are other poets and other writers who dare to paint a different picture. Ones who understand that a heart can be broken and rebuilt many times and that there is more magic in the night sky than that exposed by small slivers of moonlight.

Some dare to walk upon the long and winding road because they know they are the kind of person who takes the long way home.

Those who dare to be more, to have more and to do more have to accept the burden of walking through the fallow fields as well as the green. The only way to get to the other side is to go through.

And once you accept that you survived the moments that you thought would stop you in your tracks and understand how to read the map upon the scars, well then you are on your way, aren’t you.

If Your Son Wasn’t A Jerk

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Highland Bull and Calf
I may be an animal but at least I am kind.

Perhaps the worst part of parenting is watching your children learn that some people are not nice, kind, compassionate or worth giving a damn about.

But the problem is that your nice, kind and compassionate child may not have the thick skin they need to deal with the rude awakening that someone they thought could be a friend is a Certified Professional Schmuck who is working on obtaining an advanced degree in becoming an asshole.

Sometimes I think about confronting these children and telling them in no uncertain terms who they are, where they are going and how poorly they are going to do in life but that presents numerous problems.

It doesn’t help my children learn how to deal with the fools, jerks and schmucks of the world and it is a good way to get yourself in trouble. Though I have always been an expert at dealing with the chaos and confusion that life sometimes presents I see no upside in tackling this particular challenge.

Which is my way of saying that the middle school monstrosity that is created by hormones, confusion and kids who fit the C.P.S. bill hasn’t gone away yet. Can’t say for certain if it is teasing or bullying but the lines are blurry enough to cause some concern.

It presents a different sort of guilt than mentioned here.

If Your Son Wasn’t A Jerk

Sometimes I picture talking to parents and explaining why their son got their ass kicked and their ego savaged because when you mess with my kid that is where my head goes.

I am a Taurus and though there is much Ferdinand in me there is a lot of nasty too. I ignore a lot but I haven’t always been like this. I got messed with too except in those days they expected you to fight or take it.

I didn’t take it…for very long.

When Steiner the minor talks about these things I listen carefully and try to figure out what is real and what is taken too seriously. I am not the father that believes my kid is perfect but then again I am someone who believes perfection is found in imperfection.

It is possible that some of what is going on has to do with his own growing pains. Sometimes he tells me he doesn’t have any good skills and I just want to scream because he can’t see yet how many he has nor does he recognize that some of the ones he thinks are key are going to be useless.

Chances are the great athletes in school won’t be able to use those skills for much and the cool kids won’t always be the ones that people flock to nor will many care.

But the difference between what we have experienced in our lives is vast, it is a chasm that can’t be crossed just by desire.

I wonder about how much to tell him about my own experiences as a kid and as an adult because trying to identify what will really help and what won’t is hard.

There is no real purpose in telling him about punching Tommy in the mouth or wrestling with Jimmy because I was done listening. It is not how he handles things and these days they frown upon that.

So I do my best to walk a line where I share nuggets that I think will help. I do my best to give honest feedback that will help prepare and not crush him.

This Is Harder Than When He Was Little

I don’t want to sound like one of the know-it-alls who used to tell me to enjoy parenting an infant because they said it was so much easier to be sleep deprived than to deal with teens, but it is true.

Bigger kids come with bigger problems.

We are starting to hear/see about the kids who are sniffing, smoking and drinking stuff they shouldn’t be into. Starting to hear about the kids who have figured out that touching each other can be lots of fun and dealing with all that comes with it.

These moments are harder.

I remember telling my little guy not to stick a button in his mouth or to drink from a bottle because I knew there was something wrong with it. Now I am fighting against other children who say other things and insist that adults don’t know as much as they claim. Some of that is true, but not about this stuff.

For the moment sex, drugs and alcohol seem to be less of a problem because he swears he is not interested in girls and he yells at me if he sees me drink more than one beer.

But that is not going to last. He may stay away from the drugs (I sure hope he does) but sooner or later he’ll find girls far more interesting than he does now and who knows what kind of chaos that will lead to.

For now I’ll focus on trying to help him deal with the other crud that has come to visit but between you and me I confess that I still want to go yell at these other kids.

I won’t do it, but I want to.

Sometimes Guilt Comes

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Lonely man
Sometimes you stand on the far side of the bridge staring at the other side not realizing you can’t see what you haven’t lived.

Sometimes you stand on the far side of the bridge staring at the other side not realizing you can’t see what you haven’t lived.

I wrote it twice because I am struggling now, fighting my way through a couple of hard moments, frustrated because what pains me is something I prepared for and it hurts in spite of the prep work.

That is to be expected, the frustration that comes when you feel you have done your best and it wasn’t enough. You look in the mirror of your mind’s eye and ask the hard questions because accountability demands you look at yourself first.

The older I get the more intolerant I become of doing things that don’t make my heart and soul sing. I listen more closely to the song I am singing and I ask myself why I would be fool enough not to try to follow it because every time I don’t I am diminished.

I wouldn’t be surprised if those words sound like new age nonsense to you, especially because a few years ago I would have interpreted them that way too.

Except it is not a few years ago any more and I know more about life and coincidences or should I say there are no coincidences than I once did.

“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a tellar but for want of an understanding ear.”― Stephen King, Different Seasons

Sometimes it is hard not to feel guilty for not being more excited about the gifts and blessings in front of me.

I tend to notice them most clearly when I am running with the moon. The contradiction in that last statement throws me because those are the moments when I am most conscious of having deviated from the course, of not being on the path where my heart and soul are singing our song.

It is when the ache comes and I feel most naked, most vulnerable and aware of the choices I have made and need to make. It is when I look out at the bridge and try to confirm that what I believe will happen is going to.

Yet you cannot see what lies on the far side without crossing over. You can’t know for certain without living and experiencing which means trying to control the situation is doomed. It is a recipe for failure.

You can be brave and move across the bridge and take what comes or you can let inertia and fear prevent you from moving towards what it is you need to go to.

The Benefits Of Blogging

I blame blogging for helping me to recognize and understand this.

It hasn’t always been about writing words down on a page and or coming up with crazy stories. Nor has it been about chronicling the lives of my family and the stories of my children.

This is where I found what I had lost and recognized there was a gaping hole. It is where I accepted changes needed to be made and understood it wasn’t going to be easy but it would be harder not to.

Inertia is a frenemy.

There have been moments where it was of great aid and assistance but it has also provided false comfort. It wasn’t meant to serve as long term shelter, just a place to dry off and catch my breath.

I won’t stay under its umbrella much longer, already stayed too long, guilt or no guilt there comes a time when you wander into the storm and dance in the rain or you choose to choke the song that sings inside of you.

Long ago I pledged to do whatever I could not to choke, to breathe my air and live fully as best I could. To do less would be the biggest lie of all.

The Senseless & The Silly

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untitled
Can you see me sailing my ghost ship across the bay…

Sometimes I imagine I am fighting pirates, it is me against a dozen of them and I never know if I am one too. I just know I am the good guy and that I win because I fight harder than they do.

It helps that I am stronger and that I know how to cut down chandeliers that fall on them or can use a rope to swing across the ship and knock some of them down.

Probably helps more that it is my dream so I am in control of what goes on inside it.

I spend more than just a few moments living inside the world inside my head. I imagine it comes with being a writer but I really don’t know because I have only been inside my own.

Sometimes I tell the Shmata Queen I have been inside her head and suggest she organize things a little bit. That doesn’t always go over well nor does it always go over poorly.

The Senseless & The Silly

My daughter tells me she knows about true love. She says she knows it is when you never fight and you never grow tired of looking at whomever you are in love with.

I smile and ask her if she has ever seen her grandparents argue and she tells me she has seen them do it more than once. I tell her that both sets are on the verge of celebrating fifty years and she admits that her definition might not be perfect yet but insists it is close.

She makes me smile and I have to laugh because she is adept at trying to adjust her arguments to the conditions she finds herself in. It reminds me of what I do and since I consider it an endearing trait she can have it too. Hopefully others will agree, but it doesn’t matter if they don’t because we’ll just find people will better taste and sense. 🙂

Three large cups of coffee into the day and I am finally awake, don’t know why but Saturday morning soccer games seem to wear me out. Something about waking up at 6 and getting to the field at 7:30 on a weekend just sucks it out of me, don’t know why but it does.

We are talking about her game and how she played and she asks me why my smile is so big. I can’t explain to her what a pleasure it is to watch her and her brother play in a way that she’ll understand.

And I really can’t tell her I find it funny to compare how she and him tell their stories. She won’t understand I am not comparing them in a bad way nor will she appreciate that I see it as representative of gender differences.

She’ll give me so many little details about things that happened, especially about what the girls on her team and the other said or did and he won’t.

There is nothing wrong with that but it reminds me of some of the stories she tells me about what is going on at school. I don’t always follow everything that happens. Her mother gets it in ways I just don’t.

When my son Steiner the minor tells a tale I follow because it is the male version and it just makes sense to me. I understand the connections but sometimes the comments about looks and how girls interpret them just throws me.

Last week I asked her if the dirty look she got from someone else was caused because the other girl had gas and I got a full eye roll and a the female look of death. I wasn’t trying to be difficult, I was just being honest.

I’ll Make His Teeth Rattle

My girl looks at me and asks me what I would do in her position. It is in reference to some of her teammates actions. I tell her I would ignore them and play harder.

She asks me if that works for me and I say most of the time it has. I tell her that if you play hard your teammates will notice and respond. I don’t tell her it hasn’t always worked because that opens another can of worms.

But I mention sometimes life is unfair and you just deal with whatever comes your way.

True love comes back up and she asks me if I have ever really, really, really, really loved someone. I tell her she has forgotten five ‘reallys’ and that she should  two ‘verys’ and go silent.

She asks why I am quiet and I tell her I wasn’t sure if she was done. She says no, she tells me she wants to know if I loved someone so much it hurt and I ask her what prompted the question.

A couple of giggles come from her and she tells me she is going to have a boyfriend and true love. I smile and tell her he is going to learn that sometimes love hurts and she asks how.

I tell her I am going to shake him so hard his teeth rattle.

She laughs and tells me I am not allowed to hurt her boyfriends. I tell her that she is too young to worry about boyfriends now and that this is a time for having fun.

She laughs again, “Daddy, you are ridiculous. I don’t want a boyfriend now, I am only ten. But sometimes girls like to think about these things.”

When I ask her what other stuff girls like to think about she tells me that if I don’t understand women now I never will. Somewhere in the back of my head I start thinking about strangling a Disney executive or whomever on television filled her head with this idea.

Her iPod goes off and I watch as she starts to Facetime with her best friend. Seconds ago I was important, now I am forgotten.

Time Moves Too Quickly

I watch her walk towards her room and picture a slightly taller and older version of herself. The gestures will be the same and in many ways so will the conversation.

I am not ready for that day and don’t feel like dealing with the household chores yet so I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

Two pirates are about to discover this is not going to their day…