Category: Parenthood
This is a true story. You may not believe it. I didn’t when I first heard it. Too absurd to be a true story, I thought. But sometimes the most absurd stories are the true ones.
Some details have been obfuscated for the privacy of those involved.
It starts with a mother and her young, developmentally-delayed grade-school son. The son is entirely enamored of all things mystical and medieval. Dungeons and dragons, wizards and warriors, swords and spells. He spends endless hours at his computer, conquering quests, earning treasures, and leveling up.
Every time he reaches some kind of monumental achievement, he enthusiastically shares the victory with his mother.
“Mom, mom, I just freed the city of Mithrendain!”
“Mom, mom, I just found the Dragonbone Staff!”
“Mom, mom, I just defeated Ser Cauthrien and his guards!”
To these exclamations, Mom always replies with a positive, “That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.”
“Mom, mom, I just reached level 43!”
“That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.”
Sometimes he’ll even call Mom during work, so strong is his excitement. She accepts them as any Mom would, with a calm cheer. It’s during one of these calls that our story begins.
“Mom, mom,” his little voice hollers. “I just captured a dwarf!”
Mom nods at the receiver. “That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.” Then she hangs up and continues her work. It is a busy day and she wants to get through her tasks quickly.
Thirty minutes pass. Another call. “Mom, mom, I just captured a dwarf!”
She mumbles her quick reply, “That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.” Then she hangs up, a little flustered at the break, but happy to be a constant part of her son’s life.
Thirty minutes pass. Another call. “Mom, mom, I just captured a dwarf!”
“That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.” When she hangs up, she shrugs at a coworker. “He must really be excited about his game. This is the third time he’s called me today.”
“Third time?” asks the coworker. “That’s an awful lot for him. Maybe you should go home and check on him, just in case.”
She ponders the suggestion. “I don’t know, I have so much work to do here…”
“I can cover for you here. Go on, get out of here. You’ll be back in no time.”
Mom smiles and gives the thoughtful coworker a hug. “Oh, thank you so much.” Then she scoots down the hallway and over to her car.
When she arrives home and opens the front door, her son greets her energetically. “Mom, mom, I captured a dwarf! I captured a dwarf!”
“Okay honey, I’m so proud of you,” she answers and pats his head.
“Do you want to see him?”
“Sure honey, show me the…” She looks up. Her jaw drops.
Various pieces of furniture are stacked against the door to the hallway closet. Tables, chairs, even some shoes. Some are wedged into place, others are piled on top of each other.
“Wha…?”
“Mom, mom, come take a look! I captured a dwarf!” He takes her hand and pulls her to the closet. There is a sound coming from the closet. Something scratching or banging or moving around.
Mom grabs the furniture and digs her way to the closet door. Tables, chairs, shoes are all tossed aside. Her son is standing besides her with a great big beaming smile. Proud.
All of the furniture is pushed aside. Mom swings open the door.
And out runs a very short man. A midget. He is dressed in a suit. He darts across the hallway, out the front door, and down the block with nary a word.
The son is jumping up and down, clapping his hands and shouting, “The dwarf! The dwarf!”
Mom stands there, motionless, speechless. Clueless. She isn’t sure if she should ask her son what happened, or tell him she’s so proud of him for capturing a… well, you know.
Do you know what kind of people can make great people managers? Parents. Having children teaches you a lot about managing people.
And I believe this rule works in reverse too. Good managers can be good parents. That idea motivated the approach I took when I was a people manager; I thought like a parent as I managed my team.
Hopefully, it has helped. Here’s why:
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Being a people manager means being able to juggle multiple tasks at the same time. Multi-tasking is a core part of the job, as is prioritization and scheduling. If your mind can’t juggle, then you’re going to drop lots of balls. Fortunately, you needn’t track all of projects in your head simultaneously; that’s why God created project management software.
Being a parent means being able to juggle multiple tasks too, but without the benefit of project management software. You’ve got to feed the baby, make breakfast for the toddlers, pack a lunch for the teens, do the laundry, wash the dog, clean the bathroom, do the dishes, mow the lawn, etc etc. If that ain’t multi-tasking, I don’t know what is.
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Being a people manager means being a skilled negotiator. You’ve got to negotiate with dozens individuals throughout the day to fulfill your objectives. This includes giving your team performance reviews (managing downwards), giving your boss status updates (managing upwards), and meeting with multi-disciplinary teams and departments (managing sideways).
Being a parent means being a skilled negotiator too. Except your individuals range in age, maturity, gender, and, well, mostly maturity. This includes telling your kids to do their homework (managing downwards), talking to your parents and parents-in-law (managing upwards perhaps), and talking to your spouse about mortgages and bills (managing sideways).
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Being a people manager means being an adept evaluator. Every day, you’re evaluating your team. You gather feedback, assess their strengths & weaknesses, and help them reach their potential. In doing so, you judge whether some are ready for greater responsibilities and whether others need extra assistance.
Being a parent means being an adept evaluator too. You watch your kids grow and do your best to steer them onto the right path. From parent-teacher conferences to helping with homework to at-home disciplinary action (spanking, time-outs, etc); all of these are part of your daily repertoire in helping your children blossom into (hopefully) well-adjusted & mature adults.
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Being a people manager means being able to compromise. You want one thing, your employee wants another thing, and your boss wants a third. It’s up to you to reach an effective solution for everyone—which usually means a compromise. A win-win-win, so to speak. If you can’t do this well, you’ll have a lose-lose-lose on your hands. And then you’ll lose lose lose your job.
Being a parent means being able to compromise too. Your spouse wants to raise your children one way, you want to raise them another way. Or your spouse wants to handle the finances one way, and you want to handle them another way. This means you both have to work together to reach an effective compromise, which should be satisfactory to both parties. If one person is happy and the other isn’t, then it wasn’t an effective compromise and someone’s going to be sleeping on the couch tonight.
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Being a people manager means being a good doer. If everyone sits around and talks about doing something, but never actually does it, then you should write a big fat WTF on your forehead. A good manager is action-oriented, meaning he/she will take action and perform all the hard work necessary to complete the task at hand.
Being a parent means being a good doer too. Your kids set fire to the living room rug again? Discipline them right there and then. Breakfast need to be made? Make it. Hedges need to be trimmed? Trim them. In other words, get off your lazy ass and just do it.
Whenever people read about the science of love, it usually leads to one of two conclusions:
- If love is just a series of chemicals, how can I control it? Is love out of my control?
- If love is just a series of chemicals, can injections change how I feel? Can I make someone fall in love with me?
Great questions. So what do the scientists, who’ve explained away love, think?
Is Love Out of My Control?
Fortunately, the answer is: No.
You have more control over your feelings than you think. In the book Social Intelligence by Daniel Goleman, Ph.D., he abstracts the brain’s interpretation of the senses into two routes, a “low road” and a “high road.”
The low road is lightning fast and operates beneath our awareness, such as instincts, gut feelings, and primal drives. The high road, in contrast, is slower and runs through neural systems that analyze, rationalize, and make meaning of the world around us. In reality, the brain is much more complex than this, but for our purposes, this abstraction will work.
The stew of chemicals, hormones, and neurotransmitters that twirl in the science of love operate on the low road. They drive your primal urges. Fortunately, we all have a conscience (well, most of us anyways) that can steer the stew if necessary. That’s where second-guessing comes is; every time you’ve changed your mind about a gut feeling, you’re experiencing the high road countering the low road.
But it’s still not possible to make yourself or someone else fall in love, right?
Well, yes and no. If the propensity is there, then it is possible to amplify the feelings. If there is a cavern of chemistry between you and the other person, then not even Cupid’s arrows can help you.
How can the feelings of love be amplified? By non-verbal physical communication, such as your smile, your eyes, and your overall body language.
Your Smile
Smile. Right now, while you’re sitting there, smile.
If I had a portable MRI strapped to your noggin, I would have seen your pleasure centers light up. The very act of smiling can actually make you happier.
If another person smiles at you, they can trigger the same chemical reactions. That’s why being around positive people can make you happier (and negative people can make you gloomier). Known as “emotional contagion,” emotions have been found to be contagious and can be transmitted like airborne diseases.
Your Eyes
Look into my eyes. Look deep, for they are windows to my soul.
New York psychologist and professor Arthur Arun, Ph.D. discovered that the simple act of staring into each other’s eyes can spark strong feelings of attraction. In an experiment, he asked two complete strangers to reveal intimate details about their lives for more than an hour. Then he asked them to stare into each other’s eyes silently for four whole minutes. Like a staring contest, sort of. Sounds awkward, huh?
After the experiment, many of the participants confessed to feelings of deep attraction to their partners. Two of his subjects even started to date and eventually got married!
Overall Body Language
How important is a first impression? Not to put any pressure on you, but it can make or break your ability to score a date.
The low road of your brain takes anywhere between ninety seconds to four minutes to decide if there is a chemical attraction. And the deciding factors are more than the strength of your pick-up lines too. The deciding factors are:
- 55% through body language
- 38% through the ton and speed of your voice
- 7% through what you say
This means the way you carry yourself, the way you sit, the way you walk, the way you slouch, the way you stand up straight… All of those things factor in to the initial spark of attraction. Of course, the high road can come in and override many of these factors later, but this is what makes “lust” at first sight.
Can I Make Someone Fall in Love with Me?
Fortunately, the answer is: No.
Within the body, love can be interpreted as a series of chemical reactions. But then again, so can walking, eating, laughing, and pooping.
Humor, for instance, can be explained by chemicals. Does that mean we can make a joke funnier with injections? Well, maybe with laughing gas, or alcohol, or itching powder… but otherwise, no.
Along the high road of the brain, many other factors also play a part in falling in love. Culture, society, beliefs, values, even past experiences play a part. Who we’ve dated in the past shapes who we’ll date in the future. Some people are also more apt to listen to the high road than the low road.
This doesn’t stop corporations from trying, however. The perfume industry has been trying for years to manufacture love in a bottle. They dissect and analyze pheromones with ferocity. If there’s a way to make someone fall in love with a scent, they’ll find it.
Some scientists have also been looking for love potions, not just to fall in love, but to fall out of love. Why?
In her research, anthropologist Dr. Helen Fisher found that the three stages of love (lust, attraction, and attachment) are not mutually-exclusive; they can all happen simultaneously. That means Jim the office perv could be lusting after your ass, be falling in love with that new girl in marketing, and be married with kids. Sadly, as Fisher says, “We were not built to be happy but to reproduce.”
So can chemicals “cure” this kind of behavior? The drop of serotonin levels during the attraction phase closely mirrors OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder), anxiety, and depression. Since serotonin-increasing drugs such as Prozac are used to deal with OCD, anxiety, and depression, it’s not a stretch to wonder if Prozac can be applied to kick someone out of the attraction phase too.
To that end, early tests have shown that yes, drugs like Prozac may numb romantic feelings in some people—if the feelings aren’t very strong yet. But once the feelings take root, they are very difficult to uproot. These findings are very inconclusive, scientists are quick to warn, and the brain is still full of mysteries.
Just like love is still a mystery.
Scientists have sought to explain it, to pick and probe at it, and to even recreate or destroy it. But so far, all they’ve gotten is a series of chemicals. What they’ve discovered is great information, but it shouldn’t be used as a guide for explaining your feelings.
While a geek like me is fascinated by these biological details, at the end of the day, I think it’s best to let poets and lyricists explain love.
I love your lips when they’re red with wine
And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the strands enmesh
Your kisses against my face.
Not for me the cold, calm kiss
Of a virgin’s bloodless love;
Not for me the saint’s white bliss,
Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
But give me the love that so freely gives
And laughs at the whole world’s blame,
With your body so young and warm in my arms,
It set my poor heart aflame.
So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
Still fragrant with ruby wine,
And say with a fervor born of the South
That your body and soul are mine.
Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
While the pale stars shine above,
And we’ll live our whole young lives away
In the joys of a living love.
- Ella Wheeler Wilcox
This is a two-part essay:
- The Science of Love: Chemicals and Romance
- The Science of Love: Controlling Love
Love is difficult to describe. Poets and lyricists have tried doing so for eons. And they’re still at it.
But how would a scientist describe love? It probably wouldn’t be as romantic as a poet’s or lyricist’s description. I fancy it would be something like this:
Love is a chemical attraction between two people, influenced by environmental and cultural factors, for the purposes of finding a suitable mate to further one’s family line.
Simple as that.
Helen Fisher, an anthropologist at Rutgers University and one of the most well-known researchers in the science of love, would go a bit further and define it in three sequential phases:
- Lust
- Attraction
- Attachment
At each stage, there are identifiable patterns within a person’s brain, hormonal balances, and neurotransmitters. Thus, love can be scientifically identified by examining the chemicals in your brain.
1. Lust
Chemically, the first reaction to another person is lust. This phase is driven by the sex hormones testosterone and estrogen, both of which occur in men & women and enhance a person’s libido & carnal yearnings. These lead to a heightened sense of basic sexual drivers such as appearance and pheromones.
Appearance
No one wants to admit they’re superficial, though we all care about our partner’s looks to a certain extent. Through extensive research, evolutionary psychologist Devendra Singh of the University of Texas discovered that, on average, men tend to prefer women with a waist-to-hip ratio of 0.7. This applies to any weight category, culture, or ethnicity.
Psychology professor Robert Kurzban of the University of Pennsylvania also added a person’s BMI (body mass index) and facial symmetry as factors in general attractiveness. Men typically look for BMI and facial features that hint at fertility, health, and youthfulness. Women typically look for BMI features that hint at virility, strength, health, and ability to provide (meaning social status indicators like salary and education).
Overall, men tend to favor visual stimulation while women tend to favor men with high social status. This helps to explain why the porn industry caters largely to men and why “gold diggers” are generally women.
All of this happens unconsciously, of course, within systems as primal as thirst and hunger. But you can see the evolutionary foundations for such factors. We’re seeking out a mate that is capable of producing healthy offspring. How romantic.
Also gives new meaning to “love at first sight,” huh?
Pheromones
Smell and pheromones have just as much of an impact too. Professor Claus Wedekind of the University of Bern in Switzerland found that women are consistently drawn to the smell of men whose immune systems are different from their own. The more different the immune system, the wider the range of immunities their offspring would have. This is known as disassortative sexual selection.
Then Dr. Martha McClintock of the University of Chicago made a related discovery. Her studies suggest that women are drawn to a man whose smell is most similar to her father. Electra complex, anyone?
These two smell preferences are not in conflict. A man with an immune system close to her father’s would indicate a proven immune system (after all, it worked for Dad) while being different enough to provide complementary immunities. Both work hand-in-hand. (Or rather, nose-to-nose?)
The perfume industry is keenly aware of this; they routinely use pheromones to perfect their aromatic concoctions. It’s like a match made in a perfume bottle.
Unfortunately, the phrase “love at first smell” isn’t as catchy, is it?
2. Attraction
When most people talk about love, they’re referring to this stage. This phase is driven by a suite of neurotransmitters called monoamines: norepinephrine, dopamine, and serotonin. They are responsible for those puppy-dog feelings. In fact, they’re like a drug cocktail of lovey dovey motions and emotions.
Norepinephrine
This chemical influences the attention and reaction centers of the brain. In drastic situations, like being in love, it works alongside ephinephrine (the scientific name for adrenaline) to trigger the fight-or-flight response. No, this doesn’t mean you’ll run from your date or throw a punch. It means you’ll feel an increased heart rate, blood flow, and energy levels. Also, your palms will get sweaty. Dawww.
Dopamine
This chemical triggers an intense rush of pleasure (aw yea), increased energy, focused attention, and decreased need for sleep or food. It also stimulates the reward center of the brain, reinforcing the need to continue seeing your love interest. Cocaine and nicotine trigger many of these feelings too, coincidentally, except it reinforces your need to continue using the drug—hence, addictions. Thus, if you were to look at the brain of a person in love, it would look just like an addict high on drugs. (I’m high on you, baby!)
Serotonin
This chemical inhibits aggression, appetite, sleep, mood, and most importantly for this situation, sexuality. So you’ll be glad to hear that serotonin levels are dropped during this phase. What you may not be glad to hear is that low levels of serotonin are most closely associated with OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder), though they can also indicate depression or anxiety. Serial killers also have low levels of serotonin (though being attracted to someone isn’t going to make you a serial killer, I’m pretty sure). This explains why we’re all a little nuts when we’re in love; we’re literally and chemically obsessing over our partner.
Physiology
Ph.D. student Andreas Bartels and his adviser Semir Zeki of the Imperial College of London used an fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) scanner to scan brains in love. They discovered that the portions of the brain related reward and pleasure activate while portions related to moral judgment deactivate. A drop in moral judgment? This is apparently why people say that “love is blind”. If you’re in love, it doesn’t matter what kind of scumbag your partner is; you’re in love, and that’s that.
3. Attachment
Long-term relationships and marriages wouldn’t work without this stage. This phase is driven by the important hormones oxytocin and vasopressin. Whether you like it or not, our bodies physically deemphasize lust and attraction sooner or later. That’s where these last two hormones come into play; they foster long-standing relationships and bonds that keep couples together as they have children and form families.
Oxytocin
This hormone is released during a wide range of relationship-building activities such as hugging, touching, orgasm, and child birth. Once released, the body experiences heightened sexual arousal, desire for bonding (which explains the cuddling after sex), maternal behavior, increased trust and reduced fear, and increased empathy & generosity.
One of the more famous studies of the effects of oxytocin is on prairie voles. Why prairie voles? Because only 3% of the mammals in this world form monogamous relationships, and prairie voles are one of them. Another would be humans, despite what you might see on Sex and The City.
Similar to humans, when prairie voles have sex, oxytocin and vasopressin is released. Scientists found that blocking these hormones would negate the voles’ monogamy. Conversely, injecting a vole with these hormones and preventing it from having sex (sorry vole) would result in monogamy.
Assistant professor of psychology Diane Witt from New York also discovered oxytocin aids in child rearing. When blocking the release of oxytocin in rats, she found that they rejected their offspring. Conversely, injecting a female rat with oxytocin makes it nurture another female’s young as if they were her own.
This doesn’t mean human love can be had with a simple injection; human love is much more complex than that. But this does demonstrate the powerful relationship-building effects of oxytocin. The evolutionary need for it is fairly clear too. Without it, couples are less likely to stay together and raise healthy offspring.
In fact, it is generally believed that the more sex a couple has, the more likely they are to stay together. Does that mean the next time you ask for a quickie, you can say, “But baby, I’m doing it for us, for the relationship?” Heh heh…
Vasopressin
This hormone is generally used to regulate the body’s retention of water, though it also has some neurological effects on the brain, all of which are not yet known. Like oxytocin, it is also released after orgasm. It also may aid in memory formation, tighten bonds between sexual partners, and in males, increase aggression against other males (perhaps against other suitors?).
Back to the prairie voles. When vasopressin was blocked in male prairie voles, they lost their devotion to their mates and did not protect them from new suitors. Research is still being done to discover the exact effects of vasopressin.
Chemical Romance, Chemical Love
So there you have it. Love broken down as a series of chemicals being released in three stages. Makes me wonder if this would make for a good Valentine’s Day card:
When I first saw and smelled you,
testosterone and estrogen were released into my brain.
Then came norepinephrine, serotonin,
and enough dopamine to feel like I was high on cocaine.
Now that we’re past those two stages,
it’s mostly oxytocin and vasopressin going in my mind.
So baby won’t you please,
oh won’t you please be my Chemical Valentine?
Hmm. Probably not. Scientists and Hallmark don’t mix.
This is a two-part essay:
- The Science of Love: Chemicals and Romance
- The Science of Love: Controlling Love
Categories:
Adulthood,
Childhood,
Conversations,
Getting Older,
High School,
In a Cafe,
Kids,
Life,
Parenthood,
Psychology,
Values“I intend to live forever. So far, so good.”
- Anonymous
“I look forward to growing old.”
“Are you insane?” Lisa gasped. She regarded me like a little puppy that just ate his own poop.
I shrugged. “Why, you don’t at all?”
“I repeat: Are you insane?” She waved her hand dismissively. “You know what? Don’t even answer that.”
“Insane in the membrane,” I said in a small voice. She ignored me.
“I would love to be a kid again. To have no responsibilities, no worries, no stress. To wake up and be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons.” She looked out the window and sighed. “Life was so much easier back then.”
I leaned back and took a sip of hot mocha. “Was it really? As a kid, weren’t you in a rush to grow up and be an adult, so you could drive and drink and do grown-up things?”
“Well, sure, every kid wants that. But they don’t know any better.”
“And as a teen, weren’t you always stressed out about something dumb? Like over who you liked or who to take to the prom or final exams?”
Lisa pushed her macchiato aside. “Childhood is an idyllic time. Who to take to the prom is such a smaller thing than say, a mortgage you can barely meet. Right? Even someone as insane as you can agree with that.”
“Sure, but not to the kid at that time. When you’re a kid, every little problem seems like the end of the world. And that’s a lot of stress.”
She deflated into her chair. One listless hand picked up her macchiato and swirled it. “Still, I can’t help but think back to being a kid and missing those days.”
I took another sip of hot mocha. It was cooling off now. “I know what you mean. Relative to adult problems, kid problems are much, much smaller.”
“So,” she put her macchiato down, “why do you look forward to growing old?”
“You’re going to think I’m even more insane than you already do.”
“Impossible. I already think you’re damn insane. But go on.”
“Okay.” I cleared my throat and sat up straight. “I look forward to the extra responsibilities. Like: immediate and extended family; house and mortgage; potential businesses and investments. I look forward to being able to do more things, to understanding more about life, and to being responsible for bigger issues.”
Lisa arched one eyebrow. I continued. “I have these big goals of changing the world, right? Changing the education system, starting socially-beneficial companies, etc, right?” She nodded. “Those are my stretch goals. My realistic goals are to have a good family, to be the kind of grandfather who tells his grandkids lots of stories, and to be a writer.”
Lisa scratched her head. A loose strand of hair dangled and she tied it back up. I continued. “Personally, I didn’t like a lot of my childhood. I spent most of my energy trying not to be made fun of by racists. But it’s taught me to be much stronger. And I’ve found that each successive year that I live has been better and brighter than the last.”
I leaned back and shuffled in my chair. “Whoa, I feel like I just took a major dump.” She swirled her macchiato, then took a sip. I could tell she was digesting. Outside, a group of kids wandered by, followed by a loner. He looked at me and scurried off.
“You’re certainly one goal-oriented guy,” she declared. “I guess can see why you look forward to growing old too. People who have rough childhoods, then go on to make something of their lives, tend to look to the future.”
“It’s not that I had a rough childhood though,” I added.
“Right, right, I know. I don’t mean you had a bad one. But you didn’t have an idyllic one, at least. And since you’re someone who actually sets goals and achieves them, each successive goal you reach must feel great.”
I blushed. “Well, I…”
“Plus, and most importantly,” she started. I waited on the perch of my seat as she leaned forward and looked me straight in the eye. “You’re insane.”
“In the membrane,” I whispered.
She groaned. “And plus, who the hell doesn’t look back fondly at childhood and playing with toys and watching cartoons and having no worries?”
“What? Didn’t you just say…”
“Don’t even answer that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Insane people never know when they’re insane. Tell that to your grandkids.”
I’m sitting in a Barnes & Noble right now. As usual. Next to me are a father and son, sitting at a table and reading quietly.
The boy looks young; maybe first or second grade? The father looks pretty young too; maybe only a few years older than me.
Then the thought struck me: I totally want to be a father who brings his kid to Barnes & Noble too.
I was a voracious reader when I was a kid. A total bookworm. I’d borrow the maximum number of books I could at each library visit, then read them all in a few days.
If books were beers, I would’ve been a raging alcoholic, vomiting and stumbling into walls everywhere, in a beer-stained wife-beater.
But as luck would have it, consuming books don’t make you drunk. (Except drunk with knowledge! Ha ha! If you’re a librarian, yes, you may use that line in your brochures.)
While in college, I stopped reading for pleasure. Instead, I read for my classes, which wasn’t nearly as fun. But you know how it is. In college, if you were reading, you were reading textbooks.
Unfortunately, I didn’t return to reading for pleasure after college. I jumped into the working world and began reading a different kind of textbook: technical books for web design and development.
It wasn’t until I started working abroad and having twelve-hour plane rides that I picked up reading for pleasure again. And what a pleasure it was!
Like an addict returning to his drug, I was hooked again. Hi, my name is Mike and I’m a bookaholic. (Ha! Another great line for librarians. You’re welcome.)
So it’s natural that I’d want to pass this addiction onto my kids. Get them infected like me. Turn them into bookkids. Open the world of possibilities and imagination through the prose of enrapturing stories.
(Hey librarians, if you want to hire me to write you some slogans, I’m available anytime. For a nominal fee, of course.)
Spending an afternoon in a bookstore with my kids sounds like a nice and wholesome activity too. It’s relatively cheap and feeds their brains with lots of yummy knowledge and creativity. Munch munch munch.
There are so many subjects for them to absorb too. Maybe they like mysteries. Or science-fiction. Or relationship dramas. There are worlds in here, just waiting to be explored.
Childhood is a time for exploration too, isn’t it? It’s a time when a child should be discovering the world and finding out what naturally appeals to him or her. While books aren’t the only way, they’re certainly a great one.
They’re also great for creativity. Getting absorbed into an enchanting story opens up a vast universe that exists only in the readers’ minds. The exercise of creating those universes inevitably strengthens one’s mental muscles.
Plus, spending time in a bookstore with your kids is a nice way to bond. It’s good old-fashioned quality time.
Which makes this a good pastime suggestion for parents, yea? Like I was telling the librarians, if you need any more tips, yup, I’m available for hire! Wink wink.
. . .
Do you like to read?
Performance appraisals are bullshit.
There, I’ve said it.
It’s not that they’re not useful. They are actually a great tool for managers. Employees get to receive regular feedback about their performance and managers get to periodically check in on their employees.
It’s the imposed regularity of it all that makes it bullshit.
A good manager, in my opinion, is like a good parent. Good parents don’t schedule a talk with their children every three-to-six months to find out how they’re doing. Good parents are constantly reviewing, correcting, suggesting, and encouraging their children.
Let’s take a purely hypothetical situation. If your son accidentally sets fire to some bushes, you’d probably punish him right there and then. You wouldn’t wait a few months to discuss the incident. Immediate feedback is how you’re able to steer your children from wrong and right.
Now let’s say your daughter gets an A+ on her exam. You’d probably reward her soon thereafter to let her know how proud you are. The immediacy of positive reinforcement is a powerful parental tool. If you wait three months to deliver the feedback, she may grow cynical or insecure of your reactions.
But being a manager isn’t the same as being a parent, you say?
Sure. There are important differences. You can’t “fire” one of your naughty kids, for instance. (Though you may wish you could.) But that doesn’t mean you can’t leverage your experience as a parent.
Being a manager means having a large load of diverse responsibilities, just like a parent. With twenty things to do and only time to do four, how can you justify prioritizing performance appraisals into your everyday work?
There’s a reason performance appraisals are delivered periodically (generally every three-to-six months). This framework ensures that busy managers get to spend time with their employees. By making it a job requirement, employees are guaranteed this feedback.
That, to me, is where it becomes bullshit. If a manager is doing a performance appraisal merely because he/she has to, then the quality of the feedback is highly suspect. As a child, would you want your parents to spent time with you because they have to, or because they want to?
This feedback doesn’t have to be a long and drawn-out meeting either. A five-minute chat is sometimes much more effective than an hour-long meeting. If you’re too busy to give your employees just five minutes a week, then you’re taking on too much work and need to talk to your supervising manager about decreasing your load. Maybe it means splitting it with another manager, or hiring a manager under you, or even hiring more employees. But cutting out a few minutes here and there with your direct employees is not the answer.
Some managers argue that their employees don’t want this kind of constant attention. That this would be a form of micromanaging. That their employees would rather be left alone to do their work.
That’s what employees say about managers who don’t make an effort to get to know them. Sure, everyone has their idiosyncrasies and preferences. Some people are very self-directed and don’t need a whole lot of guidance. Others may not want that kind of scrutiny; they’re afraid their career direction would effect their manager’s perception of them.
But I have yet to find a person who would refuse honest, immediate, and from-the-heart criticism from their managers. Honest and from-the-heart implies a manager who genuinely cares for his/her employees. Immediate implies a manager who doesn’t wait until the next performance appraisal round to give feedback.
So if you’re a manager, don’t give your employees bullshit. You don’t have to agree that good managing is like good parenting. But don’t wait for each performance appraisal cycle before giving your employees constructive criticism. And give them their appraisals because you care about them, because you want to, not because you have to.
Your employees will thank you. I guarantee it.
. . .
What did you think of your last performance appraisal?”
“What’s finito?”
“It means finished.”
“Well, I’m not finito yet,” declared the little girl. She climbed off chair and began to walk around the cafe.
“You don’t want to leave yet?” asked her mother.
“No…” She walked over to the counter and grabbed a straw. “Want a straw momma?”
“No thanks”
“But it makes you drink faster momma.”
“No thanks.”
“Don’t be afraid momma, you’ll like it!”
Her mother grinned. “No really, that’s okay.”
The little girl climbed back into her seat and picked up a water bottle. “Where does water come from? From rivers, right?”
“They come from natural springs.”
“Where are those?”
“Underground.”
“Water comes from in the ground? That’s fantastic momma!” She started to climb off her chair again.
“You ready to go now?” asked her mother.
“Yea.” The little girl jumped off the chair. “Wee!” As the mother gathered their things, the little girl pointed at the water bottle. “Did you put the top back on?”
Her mother smiled. “Yes, I did.”
“Good momma!” Then she grabbed her mother’s hand and together they walked out of the cafe.
The other patrons and I exchanged amused glances for a moment, then returned to our books and laptops.
. . .
What’s the last random conversation you’ve heard?
I want to be a grandfather who tells stories to his grandkids one day. Fantastic stories. Stories about how I fought off legions of rogue ninjas who swarmed the family mansion with just a rusty butter knife.
Or maybe something less violent. Like, hmm. Like how there was a roaring inferno in a school and I rushed in to save a group of trapped quadriplegic kindergarteners on the fifth floor.
Okay, I admit it: I have Hero syndrome. So maybe I should make the stories slightly more believable. Something my grandkids would believe I really did.
Then again, is fighting off killer ninjas and rescuing kindergarteners really that unbelievable?
Okay, dumb question.
The point is: I like weaving together and telling stories. Sometimes these stories are part fantasy and part reality. Taking a little creative license always helps to spice up a story. My life isn’t as exciting as a rock climber or international super agent, so I kind of have to.
They say that being able to look at an everyday situation and reframe it into a story is a bit of an art. It takes an observant eye and always-on memory.
For me, I have a fundamental belief that life is all a matter of perspective. We all look at life through different lenses. If your lens is blue, life for you is blue. If your lens is full of joy and energy, life for you is mostly full of joy and energy.
One of the lenses I often like to use is the Storyteller Lens. Every experience I go through has the ability to turn into a full-fledged story. Every experience, however, is not story-worthy. This lens allows me to discern which experiences will make a good story, and which won’t.
Or, at least, that’s what I hope it can do. My lens isn’t always accurate. And that’s what these Rambles are for. They’re storytelling practice. Within this large pile of coals, hopefully I’ll create a few gems that I’ll carry with me forever.
Which means that maybe I should write more stories about killer ninjas and raging infernos. Otherwise, all I’ll have for my grandkids are a bunch of stories about growing old and planning scavenger hunts.
. . .
What kind of grandparent do you want to be?
As his eyes rose to the sun-brazen sky, he thought to himself: “Yup, today is a good day to make amends.”
The old man staggered down the steps of his porch. Each worn board creaked out a different tale. He stomped onto the sand and puffed dirt into the sky. His cane pressed into the ground and left behind a solitary mark.
A wind began to gust. It howled around him as he wandered into the open wheat field behind his ranch. Both his bones and the wind sang to him, a raspy whistling tune.
He turned around and surveyed his home. The two-story house stood proud yet empty. There once was laughter all around. The old man blinked his wet eyes to try to see it again. “Ah, there it is.”
A little boy raced around the house, chased by an older boy and a younger girl. A woman stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee, smiling. The older boy caught the younger one and tackled him. The girl squealed and jumped up and down in delight. The boys tumbled into the grass and howled.
Then a puff of smoke appeared in the street. The children stopped playing and looked up. A truck rounded the bend and cruised towards the house. “Poppa!” cheered the children.
A man stepped out from the truck. The children ran up and encircled his legs. “Poppa!” they shouted.
He smiled and jumbled their hair. “How are my little munchkins?” he teased. The boys ran in circles around him as he picked up the little girl and gave her a kiss. “And how are you, my little princess?”
The little girl giggled. “We played hide-and-go-seek today!” she announced with glee. “And I hid in a bush behind the house and they couldn’t find me!”
“Is that so? Why, you’re a clever little princess!”
The woman walked over. “Hi honey!”
“Hi baby!” he greeted and hugged and kissed her too.
The vision began to blur. Blinking, the old man rubbed his eyes and tried to save the past. When he looked up again, it was gone.
He sighed and started towards the wheat field again. The wind rushed dirt and leaves around his thin legs. Covered only by tattered trousers and worn-out patches, his legs shivered. In the wind, a few lonely gray hairs fluttered, as if trying to leave his old body.
His joints cracked and the pain almost made him yelp. Breathing heavily, he steadied himself with his cane as he felt his heart pounding in his chest. Each beat was a thunderous roar. He winced and continued on.
As he brushed aside the wheat, the memories picked at his ears. He heard faint noises inside the house. Once again, a truck drove up to the house. But this time, no “Poppa!” cheers greeted the man in the truck.
The man entered the house. Footsteps approached him. “It’s so late, honey,” said the woman’s voice. A muffled agreement answered her. “The kids are upstairs already, asleep. We were waiting for you for dinner, but they finally got too tired and went to sleep.”
Another muffled answer came from the man and the footsteps shuffled apart.
The old man rubbed his ears. He wasn’t sure he wanted to keep listening, but he couldn’t stop it now. “Honey,” spoke the woman’s voice, “how much longer do you have to keep working so late?”
The tired man’s voice muttered, “I’m sorry baby. You know I have to keep doing this for the family. I have a lot of responsibilities.” Then he fell into the bed, exhausted.
This pain was worse than the pain in the old man’s joints. He grabbed his chest. Each breath was a labor of agony. The pounding of his old heart was getting louder.
His eyes were tearing again. He blinked but wasn’t able to clear them. In front of him was the woman, lying peacefully in an open casket. Her arms were to her sides and her eyes were closed.
The man cried as his children attended to the funeral. “Dad,” one of them said days later. “I think you ought to go live in a place where someone can take care of you.”
The man looked at his son, bewildered. “You mean leave this house? Live in a nursing home? Our family grew up here. I can’t leave here.”
The son shook his head. “Now that Mom’s gone, we can’t leave you alone.”
“Then stay,” said the man quietly, hopefully. “Stay with me. Just for a little while.”
“Dad, we have our own lives now. I’ve already taken off enough days for this funeral. I can’t take off any more time. I have responsibilities.”
The man bowed his head and nodded. He taught his children well. “I’m staying,” he declared. “I can take care of myself here.”
The son sighed. “Fine, Dad.” He stood up and took his coat. “We’ll visit you once in a while.”
The man smiled and nodded. The son turned and left.
Howling all around the old man, the wind began to pick up. Dirt swished and swirled. He covered his eyes and nose. Particles of sand bit his skin, attacking him from a thousand sides. He wobbled on his cane, trying desperately to hold himself up. Then, as suddenly as it rose, the wind died.
He coughed. It was a painful cough that radiated throughout his entire frail body. In reply, his heart sent shockwaves through his nerves. The combined assault blinded his senses momentarily.
The old man griped his cane tightly. Grabbed onto his chest again, he willed himself forward and took another step. Then he continued on.
A phone rang. He looked around him. Nothing but the wheat field and his house far in the distance could be seen. The phone rang again. Another memory drifted with the wind and into his ears.
“Hi Dad, I won’t be able to come over again this year,” spoke a voice on the other line.
“It’s okay. How are you doing?”
“Awful. Another collections agent came by the house today. I can’t pay these guys and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Why don’t you ask your brother or sister for help?”
“They’re not in much better shape than I am, Dad. She’s deeper in debt than she lets on and used to borrow from me all the time. Guess I can’t lend her any more money now.”
“She didn’t tell me that.”
“Yea. And he isn’t much better. His ex-wife ended up taking most of his assets. He’s back at the diner now.”
“The diner? But I thought he was…”
“Working as a clerk at that office downtown? He is. He’s got three jobs now. How else can he afford to support his kid?”
The man sighed. “How are your kids?”
“They’re okay I think. I just got them a video game console with my credit card, so that ought to keep them busy all day.”
“Is that really good for them?”
“Sure, why not? It keeps them busy so I can put in more overtime hours.”
“But is that really a good way for your kids to learn?”
“Dad, it’s not like I have a choice, you know. I can’t just go home and play with my kids. I have responsibilities. You know that.”
The man sighed again. “Yes, yes I do.”
“Oh, and before I forget: happy birthday Dad.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll try to see if I can make it next year, okay?”
“Okay.”
The old man rubbed his ears until they were red. Hot red tears stung his eyes. He dropped his cane and gasped. The pounding in his chest was deafening now. His legs wobbled as he tried to bend them down to reach his cane.
Something in his knee popped. He doubled over and fell. The dirt puffed up around him, covering him in a shroud of sand. He tried to move his left arm but couldn’t. It lay there, motionless, next to his shivering body. Right in front of him was his cane, a gift from his wife.
He thought he could hear a phone ring again. He doubted it was real, although today was his birthday and his son used to call him on his birthdays.
The pain seemed to wash away like a tide ebbing. It was enough to give him a moment of reprieve. Another memory, a recent memory, drifted into his mind.
When he left his house today, he made a birthday wish. He wished he could help his children somehow, to make amends in some way. But he didn’t know how. Until now.
Then the old man closed his eyes.
. . .
Several days later, county policemen found the body of an old man lying in a wheat field behind his house. The man was dead. The medical examiner determined the cause of death to be of natural causes, most probably a heart attack. No foul play was suspected.
The old man was survived by two sons and a daughter. Each was bequeathed a sizable inheritance, the combined sum of a life insurance payment and the remarkable property value of the land and the house. It was enough to relinquish the presumed financial difficulties of his children.
Strangely, the old man was found with a smile on his lips. In his right arm was a cane. Based on his appearance, it was believed that he died peacefully.
