Death of the Christmas Spirit?

I stumbled upon a facebook group about how Christmas this year didn't feel like Christmas. Curiosity got the better of me, so I checked it out (didn't join though). The messages posted on the group wall and the discussion board had a few variations (too much media coverage of trivial issues, got school grades back, got dumped by boyfriend/girlfriend, no Christmas tree, no snow), but by far, most of the reasons posted revolved around getting smaller/fewer presents.

In a group of 52,187 members, I found only one post that wasn't self-centered. One young woman (bless her heart) posted that it didn't feel like Christmas to her because her family was too busy to do "secret Santa" activities for other people. To the 52,186 other people in the group I say, "suck it up buttercup!" Get over yourselves! I've got news for you, your Christmas is always going to suck if you're worried about the size, shape, and quantity of the presents under the tree with your name on them.

So many people compare adult Christmas to childhood Christmas and come out depressed. I saw one comment from someone complaining about how easy it was to go to sleep on Christmas Eve. You poor thing, I guess we all have our burdens to bear. I'm sorry, but the anticipation isn't the magic of Christmas. It's the magic of presents. Happens at birthdays too, there isn't anything inherently special about it.

So, where is the magic then? It is carefully and masterfully hidden in our actions for others. Some of the most memorable Christmases for me are the ones where I really had to work to do something for someone else. Whether it was saving up my money as a kid to buy a plush seal “stuffy” for my sister, or spending hours trying to draw or make something special, I remember the giving far more than anything I received.

To put it another way, Christmas seems to be the only birthday celebration where all the guests expect to receive presents and give nothing to the one having the birthday. If you really want to experience the magic and spirit of Christmas, then find something to do for someone else. You will find that the effort invested on your part is proportional to the “magic” you feel in return.

In short, if you’re waiting for the Christmas magic to happen, then get used to disappointment. If it needs to snow before it feels like Christmas for you, then move north. When you get there and are freezing in a snow drift, you’ll realize there is no Christmas spirit in the snow. You’re the only one who can make you feel the Christmas spirit, so stop blaming it on everyone else. Chances are, you’re not looking in the right place anyway.

So next year, instead of creating a “Christmas 2010 didn’t feel like Christmas” group on facebook, maybe you could take the time to do something for someone around you. Otherwise, settle in for a long string of disappointing Christmases because your tree will never be perfect, you’ll never get the “right” (or enough) gifts, it won’t always snow, and the economy could always be worse.

Cool Christmas Story

I found this story while I was on my mission in Pittsburgh (more years ago that I care to admit):

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For years now whenever Christmas pageants are talked about in a certain little town in the Midwest, someone is sure to mention the name of Wallace Purling. Wally's performance in one annual production of the Nativity Play has slipped into the realm of legend. But the old timers who were in the audience that night never tire of recalling exactly what happened.

Wally was nine that year and in the second grade, though he should have been in the fourth. Most people in the town knew that he had difficulty in keeping up. He was big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind. Still, Wally was liked by the other children in his class, all of whom were smaller than he, though the boys had trouble hiding their irritation when Wally would ask to play ball with them or any game, for that matter, in which winning was important.

Most often they'd find a way to keep him out, but Wally would hang around anyway - not sulking, just hoping. He was always a helpful boy, a willing and smiling one, and the natural protector, paradoxically, of the underdog. Sometimes if the older boys chased the younger ones away, it would always be Wally who'd say, "Can't they stay? They're no bother."

Wally fancied the idea of being a shepherd with a flute in the Christmas pageant that year, but the play's director, Miss Lambard, assigned him to a more important role. After all, she reasoned, the Innkeeper did not have too many lines, and Wally's size would make his refusal of lodging to Joseph more forceful.

And so it happened that the usual large, partisan audience gathered for the town's yearly extravaganza of crooks and creches, of beards, crowns, halos and a whole stageful of squeaky voices. No one on stage or off was more caught up in the magic of the night than Wallace Purling. They said later that he stood in the wings and watched the performance with such fascination that from time to time Miss Lambard had to make sure he did not wander onstage before his cue.

Then came the time when Joseph appeared, slowly, tenderly guiding Mary to the door of the inn. Joseph knocked hard on the wooden door set into the painted backdrop. Wally the Innkeeper was there, waiting.

"What do you want?" Wally said, swinging the door open with a brusque gesture.

"We seek lodging."

"Seek it elsewhere." Wally looked straight ahead, but spoke vigorously. "The inn is filled."

"Sir we have asked everywhere in vain. We have traveled far and we are very weary."

"There is no room in this inn for you." Wally looked properly stern.

"Please good innkeeper, this is my wife Mary. She is heavy with child and needs a place to rest. Surely you must have some small corner for her. She is so tired."

Now for the first time, the Innkeeper relaxed his stiff stance and looked down at Mary. With that, there was a long pause, long enough to make the audience a bit tense with embarrassment.

"No! Be gone!" the prompter whispered from the wings.

"No!" Wally repeated automatically. "Be gone!"

Joseph sadly placed his arm around Mary, and Mary laid her head upon her husband's shoulder and the two of them started to move away. The Innkeeper did not return inside the inn, however. Wally stood there in the doorway watching the forlorn couple. His mouth was open, his brow creased with concern, and his eyes filling unmistakably with tears.

And suddenly this Christmas pageant became different from all others.

"Don't go Joseph," Wally called out. "Bring Mary back." And Wallace Purling's face grew into a bright smile. "You can have my room."

Some people in town thought that the pageant had been ruined. Yet there were other- many, many others- who considered it the most Christmas of all Christmas pageants that they had ever seen.

Resume Tips - Part II

I got another resume submission today, and I was somewhat surprised one single resume could point out so many items I missed in my first post. Seriously, it was almost like this guy had taken it upon himself to highlight exactly how many things I had overlooked. So I tip my hat to him for his efforts and will pass on these gems to you in the hopes you can avoid these mistakes as well...

7. Spell your name correctly. It's your name, for crying out loud. If there's anything you should be able to spell, it should be your name. My five-year-old can consistently spell her name correctly, so I don't think it's too much to ask someone applying for a job to be able to correctly spell theirs. No word of a lie. He introduced himself in the cover letter as 'wiaam'. It was only because his email address had 'william' in it that I was able to decipher his name.

8. After you figure out how to spell your name, put it somewhere on your resume! On a scale from one to drooling on your shoes or falling out of bed, how hard is it? I'm guessing he omitted his name so as not to draw attention to the fact that he couldn't spell it. All things considered, it was probably a good move. Misspell it once, and you could possibly call it a typo. But twice and people are reaching for your safety helmet and booking you on the "special" bus to school.

9. Find the frikin' Shift button on your keyboard. I don't care if English is not your first language, you can still figure out how to use capital letters when you write. I counted two capitals between four combined pages of cover letter and resume.

10. Do NOT use 'text-speak' anywhere your prospective employer could read it. When I read "thank u for your time", I have to wonder how flaming lazy you are that you couldn't type out those two extra letters. I'm sorry, but if Koko the gorilla can learn and use sign language I don't feel it's asking too much to expect you to type out the whole word.

11. Buy a dictionary, or see if they have a rent-to-own option. Go to Walmart and put one on lay-away. Find a spell-checker somewhere. Anything, I'm begging you. "Alot" is not a word. "Allot" is a word, and it means to portion out or divide. "A lot" is two words and the opposite of "a little". My applicant claimed to be fluent in "English and Arebic". I'm guessing he meant Arabic and not aerobic. Learn the difference between there, they're, and their. Once you've mastered those, move on to your vs. you're.

He indicated a desire to be 'sucessful', was responsible for 'biling' and bill payments, and also made the weekly 'squedules'.

I honestly can't think of a suitable line of work for this guy without somehow insulting those of that profession. Seriously, where do you stick a guy who can't spell his own name? Even if he has his name embroidered on his shirt pocket, he'd stand in front of the closet all day wondering which shirt was his...

Just Call Me Scrooge

I don't know if I've mentioned this lately, but I HATE what gets passed off as Christmas music. In my book, it ranks with the likes of country, rap, heavy metal, and cats in the blender. I would rather listen to the musical stylings of Laurence Welk covering top 40 pop hits or a chimpanzee orchestra than to the vast majority of the nauseating Christmas drivel.

Before everyone runs to grab their torch and pitch fork, let me explain myself. There are Christmas songs I could happily hear all year long, like "O Holy Night", "Angels We Have Heard on High", "Silent Night", Handel's Messiah... They carry a special feeling and power that is not easily matched.

Contrast those with the current 'favorites'. I cannot for love or money figure out what "Winter Wonderland" or "Jingle Bells" has to do with Christmas. I guess it is just assumed that winter and snow are synonymous with Christmas. Those living in Southern Alberta know that a white Christmas is an exception rather than a rule. "Frosty the Snowman" has as much to do with Christmas as Bill Gates does with the iPod.

By far, the vast majority of these Christmas carols really irritate me. Why? Because it really frosts my hide that so many songs which don't even pretend to mention anything about Christmas have become so closely tied to it. To me, it is symptomatic of how badly Christmas is being "diluted" so as not to make any religious references. Heaven forbid that a holiday with such blatant Christian roots and origins be made to seem religious. It's a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, but it seems we're not allowed to say that anymore.

Christmas used to be a time of "goodwill to men", not the commercial-crazed materialistic frenzy it is now. For example, the media was quick to point out that this year, unlike the previous years, no one was trampled to death during Black Friday sales. Really?! That's the new standard we're using?? Police were called in at around 2:30 AM to a Walmart in California (which was temporarily closed due to fighting between customers), a Toys R Us in Connecticut where customers tried to force their way in before the scheduled opening at midnight... but hey, no one was killed so we're still calling it a success.

Anyhow, back at the ranch... I know things aren't likely to improve any time soon. Society as a whole isn't likely going to refocus the "holiday season" on the birth in Bethlehem. All I can do is hold my own ground and hopefully help my children realize there is more to Christmas than reindeer, candy canes, and full-contact gift shopping.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11)

Once Every 15 Years...

...is apparently BAD when you're talking about visits to the dentist. I figured the whole "every six months" rule was just so the dentists could have more job security, but apparently there might be some wisdom behind it.

I was sure he'd either burst out into hysterical laughter or just come in with a pair of pliers and start pulling out my teeth after checking my x-rays. Fortunately, I dodged a bullet this time and only need 3 small-to-medium fillings. I want to take a moment to reassure my dentist friends (especially Chris) that I am a changed man. I already have a tentative appointment booked for May '10, I'm a new convert to the 6-month interval schedule. If for no other reason than to avoid the cleaning process.

I have a theory that the cleaning guy is ex-covert ops who specialized in interrogation and information extraction. I don't know why they even bother saying, "let me know if this hurts" because short of morse code and charades, I was trying to communicate that fact to him any way I could. I'm not a fan of that scraping sound to begin with, but I can still handle the routine cleaning. But I'm pretty sure when the little hook thingy gets snagged on a tooth, the answer is not to pull harder. I'm sure he was bracing his knee against the counter for extra leverage so he could get more force behind him. I just about handed him the arm rests from the padded chair (which is not designed for people taller than ewoks). It felt like he was trying to remove my tooth with his cleaning hook. I kept trying to tell him I didn't have any information worth killing me for, but it just came out as 'ahghhghghghhaaahhghgh'... I felt like Han Solo in Empire Strikes Back when the stormtroopers brought him back to his cell after torturing him. "He didn't even ask me any questions..."

Then, if the physical trauma wasn't enough, he went for the guilt and said it was a good thing his next appointment cancelled so he could get everything done in one sitting. I get it, come in more often, point taken.

Now a question for my friends in the dental profession (Chris, Raph, Paul, Jon... ). What is it about having your patient's mouth stuffed full of dental instruments and your fingers that makes you want to carry on a conversation? Seriously, I can see the standard yes/no questions which could be answered by a simple head nod or "blink once for yes, twice for no", but I really don't think I'm in a position to comment on current events or whatever story is on CNN at the time. Unless you give me a text-to-speech keyboard, I'm just not going to be able to keep up my half of the conversation.

And what's the point of putting a TV screen in the ceiling if your head is right there the whole time?

When it was done, he sent me up to the reception desk and they gave me a toothbrush and the bill. I wanted to ask how much it would be without the toothbrush...

Curbing the Addiction

As I drove up to Calgary this morning, I began to realize just how much time I've been wasting online with various facebook games. To be clear, I'm not talking about "there's 15 minutes of my life I'll never get back". No, it was more along the lines of creating Excel spreadsheets to calculate the return on investment for crops planted or upgrades purchased, etc. I even had a spreadsheet that could tell me if the progress meter showed 86% complete on a 6hr crop/ride/upgrade, that meant I have roughly 50 minutes before I have to come back and harvest/build/whatever for the next step. And there's always a next step. Or I could type in 67% on a 4hr project and it would tell me I have 1.32 hours remaining. You get the idea... There was also the time on the farm game where I found out how to overlap the fields and essentially triple the production output.

As I looked back, I saw some common elements between my "addiction-of-the-month" applications. First, they don't have any defined ends to the game. You continue to level up, seemingly without any upper limits. Second, you have to recruit a specific number of friends in order to unlock certain aspects of the game in increasing intervals. Third, when none of your friends want to sign up, you can always go into the discussion forums and post your link to the "Add Me" thread so complete strangers can add you as a facebook friend, allowing you to sign up under each other's group. Fourth, there are always incentives to come back to the game on a frequent and regular basis. I know people who set the alarm on their watch so they would know when to be back home in time to harvest their virtual crops on a farming game... While I never set alarms to remind me my game was ready, I did use Dawn's account to sign up under my character to help me advance in more than one game.

I freely admit my addiction, the most recent being Roller Coaster Kingdom, where you get to design your own amusement park. As you earn more experience points, you unlock new rides and attractions. You also book tours in advance, which bring more visitors to your park, which in turn earns more money and experience. I found myself staying at the computer in the evenings so I could book the tours with the 8hr lead time. That way, when I get up in the morning I'll have new visitors waiting to get into my park (if they wait too long in the parking lot without being admitted, they go away angry and you lose the money you paid to book them). I only had to befriend 18 total strangers in order to have enough neighbors to unlock park expansions and rides.

There was also a medieval adventure game where you complete quests, battle monsters and dragons, etc. When I deleted that one this morning, I had 53 members in my army. Not bad, but I only actually knew about 6 of them. My facebook games purge also resulted in removing about 60 "friends" I had either recruited or accepted from discussion forums. Before that was a futuristic pirate game, another medieval-themed game, a variation of the Sims, and the list goes on to embarrassing lengths.

Now that I've taken out all the games, I have to admit I'm going through application withdrawal. It was routine to log in and do my regular maintenance on the various games, and then check them again after 15 minutes... and again... and again...

I'm hoping to fill the void with actual productive activities. Books to read, personal development time, maybe even come out of the office periodically to see the rest of the house. Baby steps...

Stupid Time Change

I want to know what it is about children that keeps them from sleeping in when they have the opportunity. On school days, it takes the jaws of life and a defibrilator to get them out of bed and moving in the mornings. On weekends, they're up before 6:00 watching TV, which apparently they can't do quietly either.

"I don't want to watch that!"
"Sit down! I can't see the TV!"
"...you get the BEST OF BOTH WORLDS..."

It's not like the good old days when the best cartoons were on Saturday morning. No, they're getting up to watch reruns they've already seen repeatedly (it's a bad sign when I can tell an episode of Hannah Montana, Zoey 101, Zach & Cody, etc. is a rerun).

I don't think I've ever been able to cash in on this fabled "extra hour of sleep" people associate with the time change. I thought for sure after dragging their sorry hides trick-or-treating last night, having to carry two of them in from the van because they were so tired, then forcing them to stay awake while we do rushed showers, they would naturally want to get more sleep. Apparently, that's what I get for doing my own thinking. I heard them up and wandering around at 5:00, then at 5:30 I finally got up to threaten them with bodily harm and sale to wandering gypsies if they couldn't manage to be quiet. There's something about getting up to beat on the children that makes it difficult for me to go back to sleep...

Stupid Tech Support

On Sunday morning I found out I had a problem with my router, so I called the Telus tech support line. "Due to a higher than normal call volume, your wait time is expected to be... Thirty... Five... minutes" (if you are always on hold for at least 30 minutes, wouldn't that be a normal call volume?). I was about ready to strangle someone. Not because I was on hold for so long, but because of their stupid recurring message announcement. Every 3-4 minutes some lady's voice comes on to say I could avoid long hold times by checking out the tech support section on the Telus website. I really believe this is the sort of idiocy that pushes otherwise normal people into becoming serial killers. If I could connect to the internet to review the tech support materials you have so conveniently posted online, I wouldn't be calling!! Telus is the flaming service provider, people don't call the tech support line just to chat with the friendly customer service agent on the other end. We phone because we can't get onto the internet.

It didn't help my frustration level when Joe Helpful starts talking to me like I've never seen a computer before (I shouldn't complain too loudly, at least he spoke English). Let me tell you what I've done so far, Sparky. I used the command prompt in Windows to release and renew my IP address, didn't work. I unplugged the router and connected the computer straight to an old DSL modem and the internet works. Unfortunately I have three other computers in the house which need the internet as well.

Einstein has me turn off the router for about 30 seconds, then turn it back on to see if that works. Nope.

Then the genius tells me that it must be a problem with my computer. I remind him if that were the case, the other 3 computers connected to the router wouldn't be having the same problem.

I have to check the status board to see if there are any problems on this end. It should only take 15 minutes, and I'll phone you back.

Thirty minutes later...

Hmmm, we'll have to send you out a new modem.

I have an extra one right here, and I STILL get the same problem. So, either you sent me two defective modems (in retrospect, not that far out of the realm of possibility... this is Telus after all) or the problem might be on your end somewhere.

If the new one doesn't work, we'll have to send out a technician.

Oh good, it's not like I need the internet at all. I only live about 2.5 hours away from my office and need use the internet to connect to the shared office network, not to mention all the business email. You'll have to forgive me if I'm not overly thrilled about being down for "3-4 open business days".

And they wonder why I get cranky when Telus calls to see if I want to subscribe to digital TV. I have an idea, why don't you get your phone/internet departments working properly before you start branching out into other areas... just throwing it out there.

Resume Do's and Don'ts

Due to some very stressful circumstances at work, I am in the process of hiring another staff member. This has been a very interesting experience so far. This isn't the first time I've had to go through the selection process, but for some reason this time around seems to be more involved.

Anyhow, I thought I'd give some quick pointers to people out there who may be looking for a job. Think of this as an opportunity to learn from the stupidity of others. Remember, all these examples are from resume submissions I have received over the course of the last week and have not been embelished. I'll leave out the names to protect the clueless...

1. When you email your resume to your potential employer, don't broadcast it to five different employers at the same time. Ideally, the resume you prepare for a consulting job would be different than one intended for a hospital position, or one in city administration. If you're too lazy to send five individual emails, I'm too lazy to read your resume. Delete.

2. When you email your resume, try to use a common format, such as MS Word, .RTF, or even HTML. Pick something as close to universal as you can find. If your potential employer replies asking for a specific format, don't just resend the attachment in the original format. I can tell that it still won't open. I have to fire staff who can't follow directions, so I am not likely to hire someone who lacks that ability from the onset. Don't think of it as me hitting the delete button, think of it as being pre-emptively fired.

3. For the love of all things pure and holy, do not send your prospective employer one of those "pass-along" emails. You know the ones... you're the 40th person to receive the email, the email is 27 pages long because no one knows how to trim out all the accumulating headers and to just forward the actual content, everyone's email addresses are listed just waiting to be harvested for spam... I'm going to delete it and take my chances that my luck is going to go bad within the next 15 minutes. I'm just crazy that way. Your resume will "accidentally" get deleted with it. Not sure how that works, but it does.

4. Know the position for which you are applying. If you send me a cover letter stating you're perfectly suited for the medical receptionist position, I'm not going to take you seriously for the position of Business Consultant. I suppose I should thank you for saving me the time of actually reading your resume.... Delete.

5. Read the details of the job posting. When it says travel is required, don't ask me if it would be possible to stay in-town so you can watch your child(ren). When it says this is a full-time position, don't tell me you're only available in the evenings because you are in school full-time. Delete. Delete. Delete...

**Added Oct 7** 6. When the posting says travel is required, don't ask if that means during the winter as well. This is Alberta, Princess. Chances are quite high that you'll be driving in snow for most of the year, deal with it. Delete.

Anyhow, we'll see if the actual interview process fairs any better than the resume submissions. On the bright side, a trained chimpanzee would do a better job than the staff I've had to fire...

What's the Number for the Fashion Police??

One of my hobbies is taking photos of people. Stupid people mostly. Unfortunately, most of them are work-related, so I can't share them with the world in general (although they are usually fun at staff meetings). It's too bad, because there have been some real doosies...

I think one of the more serious plights in our society, which often goes overlooked, is the startling lack of full-length mirrors. People of all ages seem to suffer the same affliction. Without a full-length mirror, how are people supposed to know that they look like their wardrobe was arranged by a seeing eye dog? Sure, Lassie does a great job letting you know little Timmy is stuck in the well or that terrorists are conspiring to kidnap the boyscout troop, but I wouldn't let her pick out my clothes.

Anyhow, I took this photo while waiting in the security line at the airport on Friday morning. Try to imagine for a second the thought process that must have taken place... She pulls out two or three different outfits, spends five or ten minutes deliberating on which one she really wants to wear, and this is what she decided on...


REALLY?!? How bad were the ones she decided not to wear?? I've made no secret of the fact I'm not on any best-dressed lists anywhere, but I don't recall a time when any of these components were in style. She looks like Richard Simmons got in a fight with RuPaul. I should be careful because someone could read this and get offended because they have the same outfit in their closet too. If this is the case, I apologize. Just let me know where I can send you your full-length mirror...

Back off, Sparky!

As I was packing for my Edmonton trip this week, I noticed that my work pants had a small hole in the seat. I'm not sure how long it has been there, but apparently I spend a lot of time parked on my tushie because I lose more pants that way. I thought about reinforcing the butt of all my pants, but the stitching would probably look tacky...

Anyhow, back to the story. I had to buy another pair of pants when I got to Edmonton and stopped in at Moore's. Don't worry, I had another pair to wear during this transition phase. I walked in, avoided eye contact with all the salespeople, walked straight over to the pants wall, quickly scanned for the 36x36's, and had already a pair in my hands before Captain Commission came over.

"Need a hand with anything?"

"Nope, I've got it already." I showed him the pants I was holding, hoping he'd go away. No such luck.

"Need to try them on?"

I'm standing two feet away from the changing booths, I think I could find my way over in a pinch. "No, they're the same size as the ones I'm wearing now."

"Well, I guess you don't need me." chuckle, chuckle...

That was the general idea I've been trying to convey. Memo to me: 'work on being less subtle.' He started walking away, freedom at last! But he was just taking a breather for round 2.

"We have some fall jackets on sale."

Ummm, congratulations? I'm trying desperately to find the 'off' switch for my social filter, but to no avail. Fall jackets, seriously??

"The outer shell zips off and you can wear the inside as a sports jacket."

Oh good, because having the zippers on the sports jacket won't look tacky at all! And it's the itchy wool, my favorite! I know I'm not on the front line of fashion. I don't think I'm even in the fashion line, period. If it weren't for Dawn, I doubt I could make it out of the house with matching socks. Seriously, she's the one who opened up my world to wearing colored dress shirts, and I only bought the blue & light grey shirts because she assured me they'd match. Then she told me I couldn't wear a black shirt with black pants. That confused me... Anyhow, no one has ever come up to me and said, "You know, a sports jacket would really work with your shirt and tie look..." and I've had strangers come up and say some really weird things.

I politely told him I wasn't looking for jackets and walked towards the checkout. I made the mistake of slowing down momentarily in front of the tie display and he started to salivate again. I shook my head to say to him "don't even go there", when what I was really thinking was "I'm using my heat vision on you, why is your head not exploding?!?"

A Happy Ending, Eventually

I received a response to the email I sent to National Rentals customer service, and they told me I had to phone a toll-free number because my email didn’t have enough information. I had to drive up to Calgary this morning, so I figured I’d call them while I was on the road. The story had a happy ending, but it was quite a ride getting there…

I phoned the number they gave me, which ended up being the tech support line. The guy answered the line and asked for my employee ID number. I said it probably wouldn’t help him since I’m not employed by his company.

“How did you get this number?”

“Customer service said I need to call here about comments I had submitted a few days ago.”

“What is your reservation confirmation number?”

“I’m driving and I don’t have it with me.” You’d think I’d be able to pull a number like 189272589 from my memory, but apparently not.

“Do you have your driver’s license?”

“Yes, hold on a sec…” It’s always fun trying to dig a wallet out of your front pocket while driving.

“Please hold.”

Before I could draw breath, there was a click followed by what could easily be classified as the worst hold music on the planet. I envisioned everyone waiting in line at some music counter, and apparently after all the elevators and dentist offices were done getting what they wanted, this was all that was left. To really get the full effect, try to imagine gathering together about ten of the people who show up to American Idol auditions in the hopes of being on TV for a few minutes knowing full well they can't sing. Now, put them in a recording studio and have them do covers of popular songs. And instead of having guitars & digital keyboards, give them xylophones and 4th grade recorders as backup. Then the duet with the chimpanzee playing the bagpipes...

After about five minutes of wanting to drive into on-coming traffic rather than listen to the hold music, he finally came back on the line to tell me he had someone from the customer service department on the line to help me. When he was satisfied I was in good hands, he left the call. I’m not sure how the phones work over there, but apparently everything runs through his phone extension. When he hung up, I got a dial-tone on my end too. Less than helpful.

I had to call the tech support line again, explain why I was calling tech support instead of customer service, and this time asked for the number for customer service in case I was disconnected again. He managed to transfer me to the right department without hanging up on me.

Long story short(er), customer service was very helpful. They gave me a credit on the difference between the Silverado and the evil Ranger, as well as a credit for the fuel being less-than-full. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to have anything resolved. I guess previous experience with various customer service departments have left me bitter towards the whole process. And after all the hassle of being transferred to different departments and the fact that the customer service department didn’t even give me the right contact phone number, I thought for sure this train was going to derail. But hats off to (I wish I could remember his name), he resolved the issue promptly and was friendly about it.

National Car Rental

...or 'Gary learns to pre-book his car rentals for the long-weekend.'

Sometimes little details escape my notice and I have to learn lessons the hard way which would be otherwise obvious to the general public. The most recent lesson was "Plan ahead when booking a rental car so close to the August long weekend".

I had to be in Vancouver on July 31st for a staff meeting, so I went online on the Monday to book my flight and rental. Apparently, not enough time in advance. Budget Rental, my tried-and-true, had no cars available by this time (Doh!), so I went to National because they also have an outlet at the airport.

When I checked National's line-up, the "1/2 Ton Extended Cab - Chevrolet Silverado or Similar" was cheaper than any of the cars, so I booked that one. I'd rather drive a truck than a car anyway, so I need very little prompting in that department.


What I got was not quite as advertised. I got off the plane, made my way over to the rentals desk, and had to pry the booking agent away from some very important conversation with her co-worker. She wanted to get rid of me as quickly as possible, and I wanted to get to the office so I didn't feel I had the time to stop for chit-chat. She gave me the paperwork and handed me the keys to...


...a Ford Ranger, which in my estimation is nothing similar to a Silverado. There's no way you can tell me the Ranger is anywhere near equivalent to a 1/2 ton extended cab. The Ranger has more in common with an El Camino than it does with a Silverado.

And to add insult to injury, it didn't really bother them that the tank was about 1/8th below full. If I don't bring it back full, I have to pay as though the staff personally drilled for and refined the oil, and then carried it to the truck in approved containers while riding on the back of a camel. Not a bad money-making scheme if you can get it. Charge people pretty much double the pump price if they bring in the vehicle less than full, then send it back out again without actually filling it up again so you can either 1) get the new driver to fill it up, or 2) charge him through the nose for not bringing it back full.

The guy who checked over the truck when I brought it back cared even less than did the lady at the desk in the morning. We'll see what the corporate customer service department has to say about the email I sent them this morning...

I'm Not Completely Useless...

...with tools.

Thanks to the help of family and friends, we're finishing off the "new basement" (or 'the guest wing') this summer. When it grows up, it'll have two bedrooms for the girls, an office, and a play area.

These are our "Les Nessman" walls. Trying to visualize how everything will look when we get the real walls put up. At this point, the girls are already fighting over who gets which room.

Jesse is the brains behind this endeavor. In retrospect, we probably should've had the basement floor dug lower...

Jesse did all the framing. I have a strict policy not to interfere when the structural integrity of the house could potentially be comprimised... Just to be safe, we went on a three-day business trip to make sure I couldn't help with this part. When you mess up in shop class, you just drill a hole in the top and call it a candle holder. When you mess up on the framing, you have to explain to your daughters why they can't have doors on their rooms like other kids do.

A shot of the future office.

The mini-mud room. Just want a place where kids can hang up their coats and come in the basement without freezing everyone else in the basement.

Wiring has begun. This is where I came in. I ran the wires, then Jesse showed me how to wire in the outlets and the light fixtures while he continued working on the framing. There are four plugs in each of the girls' rooms, five outlets in the playroom, four double outlets in the office (I think we have four powerbars running in the office right now), three phone jacks, and I put in two network plugs so we don't have to run network cables around the room.

Gary learns a valuable lesson in wiring... Don't nick the wires or you have to replace them. Apparently, exposed wiring is a fire hazard. Fortunately, it was only about 8 feet of wire, and not the one running all the way back to the panel.

Wiring is done, now to insulate the office. This is more for sound-proofing than for environmental control.

The office from the inside. We're going to line the walls with tar paper before doing the drywall to help further dampen the noise which will be coming in.

I don't want to jinx anything, but I think I'm catching on to the whole electrical wiring thing. We'll see what happens when it comes time to wire in the bathroom fan downstairs...

Not a Good Sign...

On Friday evening, Dawn and I went out to a movie with Michael & Jenie, leaving 10 kids with 2 babysitters. The evening's stellar customer service moment came at the concession counter. I placed my order, the total came to $8.91, I handed the girl a $10 bill, then pulled a penny out of my wallet with the intention of making the transaction easier. Sadly, this was not the case. She had to void the transaction and ring it in again so she could punch in $8.91 from $10.01 instead of just $10.00. And it got better... She gave me $10.10 in change.

"I gave you $10.01, how am I getting $10.10 back?"

*confused look*

"I should get $1.10, not $10.10..."

*disgruntled look as she takes back the $10 and gives me a loonie*

"If it's a problem, I can take the $10..."

Is math not still part of the school curiculum? Students still need to have passed a math course before they can graduate, right? Am I being unreasonable in my expectation that someone should be able to deal with an extra penny without reacting like Rainman headed towards an airline other than Qantas?

I'm sorry, Precious, but get used to having your name on your shirt...

24-hr Walmart

In the past, I held the belief that a 24-hr Walmart would be a great idea. People don't stop needing things just because it's late at night, right? Well, Monday night cured me of that notion.

Let me set the stage... Monday was our staff meeting in Calgary, then Tuesday was the staff meeting in Vancouver, Wednesday was visits to Squamish and Whistler locations with field staff, then fly back on Thursday. Well, in my haste to get on the road Sunday evening, I neglected to pack my electric razor. I don't exactly get the 5:00 shadow by noon, but after a few days it's pretty obvious I haven't shaved yet.

After I get all the post-meeting paperwork completed at about 8:30, and a great dinner (thanks to B&K), it was about 10:40 by the time I got to the Walmart by the office. Electric razor and some socks, hardly an extensive shopping list, I should be in and out and in the hotel sleeping by 11:30 at the latest. My flight leaves at 7:00, so I need to be at the airport by 6:00, so the alarm is set for 5:30.

What I didn't know is that apparently electric razors are considered dangerous because they are locked in the glass display case. The regular blades are freely available, and they don't have to be plugged in first, so this confuses me somewhat. I have an aversion to regular blades as I'm convinced I will bleed to death from all the nicks and cuts. I can cut myself with an electric razor, so I don't feel it would be right to divert the blood bank away from people who really need it.

There are two blue-vested employees standing by the display case, so for a fleeting moment I feel that karma might be on my side this time. What I didn't notice is they were flirting with two customers at the time. Do not ever underestimate the teenaged girl's ability to completely block out all stimuli which could interfere with flirting. Fine, I'll go get socks first then come back. Hopefully by then the hormones will have dissipated.

This was a great idea because by the time I got back with my socks, there was no one to be found in the whole department. I look around and see a congregation of blue vests in the seasonal department. What luck, surely my odds of success must be increased due to the high concentration of staff in one area.

"We're having a meeting right now."

What?!? So sorry for having interrupted your meeting with my burdensome request. By all means, please continue. Here's an idea, if you don't want pesky customers interrupting your meeting, oh.. I don't know... hold it in the back room where customers can't come in!!

I wandered over to electronics because it was the first place I spotted staff.

"I don't work in that department."

Really?? Apparently no one else does either! Could you perhaps use that weird phone thingy and call someone? Seriously, this should not be difficult. Back to the Health & Beauty aisle...

A blue vest walked by and made the mistake of making eye contact and had to deal with me.

"I'll go find the manager with the keys."

Again, these strange phone gizmos might help in that search. Maybe the manager could come to you? Just throwing it out there... Maybe this staff wasn't cleared on using the phone. Her security clearance probably wasn't high enough. I never saw her again to have the chance to ask her the question.

Then the meeting in Seasonal got out and all kinds of blue vests came past. One of them also offered to find the manager. I could suggest a few topics for their next staff meeting. Having worked at Walmart several years ago, I'm sure I could remember how to use the intercomm system. Anyhow, the second staff to look for this elusive manager soon became MIA. I was afraid to ask anyone else in fear that eventually I'd run out of staff as they all seem to disappear.

The most help I got all evening was from one of the stocking crew who had been watching. She called over to another staff member from half-way across the store (bless her heart, I could tell she was one to get results) and flagged them down. While this guy turned out to be A manager, he wasn't THE manager with the key to this top-security display case. He went to go get the other manager and I wanted to warn him that no one apparently returns from that quest.

Long story short, no one in the entire building had a key to the cabinet. They checked the customer service department where the keys are kept. They checked with managers. They checked with the red vests (who apparently have a higher rank than the blue vests). American nuclear launch codes are more readily accessible than the keys to this cursed display cabinet. It's only about 11:50 by this time, no real rush...

Finally, this saint of a woman stocking shelves went to the back room, found an unopened case and opened it to get my razor. I thanked her profusely and headed to the checkout lines.

One of my favorite features of Walmart is the self-checkout system. It's so much easier to be able to scan in my own items. Did you know that they section off the self-checkout lanes at night? True story. Did you also know that at 11:55, they close ALL the lanes until 12:01 so they can close the day and open a new one?

The line keeps getting bigger as we wait for the TWO tellers to get the green light to open their lanes again. The line at this time is going up the aisle towards the electronics section, but they can only handle two checkout lanes. The guy in front of me apparently heard there is an upcoming shortage on milk so he filled his cart with 4L jugs. Good, that won't take any time to scan in. Just count the jugs, scan one in and Quantity Over-ride the rest. No. She has to scan them all individually.

I have seen glaciers move faster than the staff at the tills. It was 12:20 before I walked out to my car, having been thoroughly beaten and battered by karma's cruel sense of humor. Sleep is so over-rated...

New Toy

I've been thinking about picking up a netbook for a while now. With all the traveling I do, it would be a lot more convenient packing around a 2.5lb computer as opposed to a full-sized laptop. Well, we took the plunge yesterday and picked one up. I have to say, I'm very impressed with it.

The Acer Aspire One D150 (we got the black one). It has a 1.6ghz Intel Atom processor, 1GB RAM (which may not sound like much, but I haven't really seen any performance issues), 160GB hard drive (which is twice what my work laptop has), 3 USB ports, a 5-in-1 memory card reader, and a 10.2" screen. There is a built-in 10/100 network port as well as 802.11b/g wireless with a switch on the front to enable or disable. It also has a built-in webcam and microphone, which is very impressive. The kids & I set up a Skype video call from the computer room to the dining room. I'm sure Alexander Bell wasn't as impressed with his phone as the kids were that they could see me on the computer. Now we can try video calls when I'm traveling.

The keyboard is a bit smaller, as you'd expect on a netbook. I'm still getting used to the left shift key and the enter key... they have two "\" keys where my fingers naturally go for Shift and Enter. The sound is surprisingly good considering the little mini speakers. Getting around the lack of optical drive is workable. So far I just copy the install CD onto a flash drive or my portable hard drive, then plug it into the USB port.

Some of the reviews I've read have come down pretty hard on the poor touchpad. I think it's good. It blends right in with the rest of the keyboard frame and isn't so sensitive that the mouse jumps around the screen every time you accidentally brush it with your thumb.

I haven't tested out the battery yet, but it is supposed to last for about 3 hours, which should last for most of my flights. I'm going to Calgary on Wed/Thur and Vancouver on Friday, so I'll have a good chance to field test it. I'm most excited about taking it on the plane with me. I've had Franklin planners bigger than this...

Parent of the Year Award

While I was working today, I heard a news report on the radio that made me quite upset. Let me preface this by saying I am not a perfect parent by any means. My temper comes out too often and too quickly when I deal with my kids, something I should really work on.

On to the story... There is a search for a missing 13-yr-old girl in the area, which by itself is cause for concern. But wait, it gets worse. Her mother reported her missing yesterday when she didn't hear from her daughter over the weekend. She last saw her daughter on Saturday when she told her mom (brace yourself...) she was going to hitch-hike to a nearby town approx. 50KM away, only about a 25-30 minute drive down the TransCanada highway.

Forget for a moment that the temperatures over the weekend were around -15°C to -20°C (that's 5°F to -5°F for anyone not onboard with Celsius) before the windchill factor, meaning any exposed skin would freeze in about 10-20 minutes. As a parent, what in the freakin' flames of Hades goes through your brain as you let your 13-yr-old daughter hitchhike her way between towns?!? And what was she wearing? According to the police report, she is "believed to be wearing blue or red tights, a red hooded sweatshirt and running shoes." Very appropriate clothing considering the weather.

I look back at my childhood and try to imagine what would've happened if I had just told my parents I was going to hitchhike from Raymond to Magrath (10 min) or even Stirling (5 min), let alone a 30-min drive. I can guarantee that scene would not have ended with me leaving the house.

Well, police now suspect the girl may have run off to Vancouver or Medicine Hat with a teenaged boy. I sure hope her mom had an insanely good reason to let her daughter go out, thinking she was going to hitch hike. I'm also sure it came as a complete surprize to mommy dearest that her little girl is off with a boy. What possesses a parent to let their kids do something so blatantly and asininely stupid? I could be wrong, but I really don't feel there is an excuse under heaven that would justify letting your child out under those conditions.

Do I LOOK Like a Freakin' People Person?!?

What is it about close proximity that makes people feel compelled to start up inane conversations? It would be different if I had chosen to sit next to you on the plane, but when we don't really have a choice, what social protocol dictates that you ramble on about everything that comes to mind? I don't want to hear about your political views, how much money you lost in your investments, how you feel about the weather, or comments on how attractive the local women are (or aren't). When I have my iPod in hand with one earphone in place already and am just waiting for the flight attendant to either give the announcement it is now safe to use approved electronic devices or to look the other way before I put in the other earphone, this is NOT my invitation to you to engage in pointless conversation.

On the way back from San Diego, the guy next to me went on for five minutes about how it was okay for the flight attendants to make jokes during their announcements, but pilots shouldn't do it (this really upset him apparently). On and on about how pilots have more important things to do than to be thinking of their next joke. Get a grip buddy...

Yesterday on the way to Vancouver, I had my laptop bag with me. I got it at a Subway convention, so naturally it has the Subway logo on it. I expect a certain number of the obvious "do you work for Subway?" questions, even the occassional "do you know Jared?" but this time it was "is that Subway like the restaurants, or subway like the trains?" Seriously?!?

"It's subway the trains. I love trains. I took engineering in university, but dropped out after the first semester when I realized it had nothing to do with trains."

For the love of baby seals everywhere, just stop talking to me when I'm trying so hard to ignore you. To paraphrase Dilbert, "I'm not antisocial, I'm anti idiot..."

Dead Man Walking

...okay, not so much dead as really really tired. The only thing I despise more than trying to find a parking spot at the airport is trying to sleep the night before a morning flight. Not because of excitement or anticipation, but because for some reason my subconscious decides to jump into overdrive. Like last night...

I went to bed just after my 10PM phone call with Dawn, followed by channel surfing. I set the hotel alarm for 5:30 (have to be at the airport by 6:45), set the alarm on my Palm TX as a back-up (because nothing says good morning like Darth Vader's theme song), then tried to go to sleep. FYI, Mythbusters is not conducive to sleep. The good news is that I did fall asleep during whatever stupid movie I stumbled across. The bad news is that I woke up a few minutes later, thanks to the jet turbine engine cleaverly disguised as the room's heater. My brain decided that was a nap so it was sometime after 1AM before I really went to sleep again.

Some time during the 4.5 hours of sleep, I had a dream in which I reset my alarm to 5:45 AM, and it was uncharacteristically vivid too. It was also very disturbing, not just because I was actually dreaming of an extra 15 minutes of sleep, but because that would really throw off my schedule. Then the real alarm went off, and I stumbled around the room with all the grace of a cheesy sci-fi movie zombie (that's probably redundant, not like there are several classes of zombie movies).

That wonderful experience set the stage for my love affair with long lines and stupid people in said lines. Apparently, Thursday mornings are when everyone decides to fly to the US. The line for customs stretched back past the duty-free shop and almost out to the check-in terminals. I was in line for about 10 minutes when a lady and her three-year-old daughter (just guessing on the age) cut into the line ahead of me. Curse you, social filter!! Were it not for you I could've offered to show her where the line started, since she didn't have her dog or cane with her.

Another thing that really chaps my hide is a parent who has absolutely no grasp of basic behavioral psychology and who gets steamrolled by a three-year-old. Cut-in lady was apparently the author of the book "Stop, or I'll say 'Stop' Again!" Let me illustrate with an example...

After she let her husband and other daughter (probably 6) cut in with her (and why not really), 3yr dropped her candy on the floor. 6yr picked it up and gave it to her dad. 3yr proceeds to pitch a fit as though someone was trying to do dental work with pliers and a Dremel without the luxury of freezing. Mother of the year says, "Just give it to her, it can't be that dirty." And dad, who left his spine in his other purse, gives 3yr the candy. Not a clean one out of the bag he was holding, but the wet sticky one he quickly brushed off to make sure it didn't have a hairball or anything. ("Dallas, if you don't have less on, you have...?" -kudos to anyone who can name that movie reference)

And speaking of morons, here's a quick travel tip I got from impatient lady in front of me in the security line (not to be confused with line-cutting mother of the year). If you want things to move faster, simply mention to the security officers that your plane takes off in twenty minutes. That serves as a friendly reminder that you are important and, unlike everyone else in line, you have better places to be while at the same time letting them know it's really their fault you are going to miss your flight. Your security officers will doubtlessly appreciate these reminders, as they did this morning. It's at times like this when I really want to make sure they know I'm not with stupid. "I heard her bet a friend $20 you wouldn't find the little plastic bag she hid before she got in line, something about needing rubber gloves... I didn't quite catch it all, just thought you should know."

Yikes...

You know what isn't conducive to a fitness routine? Excessive business travel. Since Feb 1st, I have been in Calgary for almost 4 days, and Vancouver for 3 days, leaving me at home for 3 days. I started out so well too, my first week was going great then my fitness train derailed. I know I have to kick myself back on track, but I find myself wiped out by the time I get home.

Let me illustrate... yesterday my Lego order came in (the Republic Fighter Tank). I have been scouring the stores for it since before Christmas, it has been Out of Stock on the Lego website since probably the 2nd day it was listed, I found it on Bricklink and ordered it last week. Well, I was so tired I only got about 40% of it done before Dawn pointed out that falling asleep while building Lego may not be productive.

Most of the time, the hotels have a fitness room. The photo below is of the "exercise room" at the Best Western in Coquitlam, BC. Yah, two stairmasters and an exercise bike from the late-70s/mid-80s. The picture doesn't really do it justice... the stairs go down to the first level, and I'm standing at the doors to the 2nd level hallway. It's like the maintenance guy got them up to the landing and decided he didn't want to take them any further.

Adding to the ambiance is the mirrored wall just outside the photo on the right, and the mirrored ceiling. Nothing says motivation like seeing your reflection as you collapse on the stairmaster. All the while trying to ignore the guests as they try to ignore you on the way to their rooms (if you're on the 2nd floor, you don't have a choice but to walk past).

"Mommy, why is that man crying?"
"Shh, it's rude to point, Timmy."

I figured it would be best to spare everyone the awkward moment. Anyhow, I know I need to get back in gear and get going. It doesn't get easier the longer I wait. I just need to make sure my hotel in Edmonton next week (3 nights) has a real fitness room...

My progress so far...

After setting my goal to run the 10KM in June, we left town for two weeks which really does wonders for a fitness routine. Now that we're home again, I sat down and worked out a schedule that takes me up to June 27th (race day). I have it all on an Excel file (4 tabs, including cool little graphs to show my progress on my Saturday "weigh-ins", calculation cells to project my weekly targets...). This is one of the side-effects when a computer geek decides to get physically active. Some who read this will say I'm much more than a computer geek. There's Star Wars geek, Trek geek, Lego geek,...

For my aerobic training, I'm going to alternate running and walking days. I walked two miles tonight and tomorrow I'll see if I can still run a mile (that was back in July, so my expectations aren't really high right now).

For my strength training, I borrowed an idea from the Perfect Push-up workout where you do 3 or 4 sets with decreasing reps in a 2-minute period. For example, if your max reps at a specific weight was 10, you would do 8 reps, rest momentarily, then 6 reps, rest, 4 reps, rest, 2 reps. You end up doing 10 more reps than you normally would have done, which is really handy for things like push-ups (or leg presses on the Bowflex) when you can't easily add more weights or resistance. If your max is 20 reps, then you would do 14, 10, and 6 in two minutes. I'd like to say it has been more effective for me, but this is Day 2 and right now all I can say is "ouch". I've never been one to bulk up, it's just not in my genetic make-up. I wouldn't mind getting some tone back though.

One of my other efforts (not really a goal) is that I have been mostly carbonation-free for a month now. It probably shouldn't be so hard, but that could have sometihng to do with the fact my beverage of choice was Barq's Rootbeer (sweet, sweet nectar). So, to combat the withdrawal pains, I'm drinking more juice now. I know I should drink more water, but it gives me kidney pains (which I should probably have checked out someday). I'm trying to ease my way back on the water wagon, hoping it will hurt less. I choose to think of it as my body's way of saying I should drink something with actual flavor in it. The Slimfast & ice cream milkshakes help too, mostly because that's the only way I can swallow the horse pills someone is trying to pass off as multi-vitamins. I've seen my grandpa force-feed smaller pills to his dairy cows. Each morning I stare at the vitamin in my hand, wishing I had one of those long metal "thingies" they use to force the pill down the cow's throat.

One of my resolutions...

I'm still not exactly sure I'm doing this under my own influence, I'm more inclined to believe Jedi mind control.

This year, I will complete the Raymond 10KM Road Race. There... I said it. Now I'm accountable for it. Anyone who reads this can now poke and prod as to how I'm progressing in my training (which I'm sure will commence sometime in the near future).

Let's check to see if this is an effective goal...

1. Recorded. Yep. And if I do enough posts fast enough, I can bury this post before anyone can see it :)

2. Specific. As specific as I can get it right now. The race is usually around the July 1st celebrations. When I find the specific date, then I'll post it here.

3. Measurable. Yes. The results can be independently verified... I either cross the finish line or I don't.

4. Positive. Yes. I will finish.

5. Stretching. I should probably do a lot of stretching, don't want to pull anything. Seriously, running 6 miles will be the longest I've ever done before. I'm not starting off with a marathon or anything, so I think this is the right balance between stretching and attainable for me.

I'd love to hear from any of the runners out there who have tips on staying motivated. Sometimes I have a tendency not even to make it out of the starting gates before I reach for the remote and a comfy chair. I'll be following Becka's Blog fairly closely, so hopefully that'll keep me fairly on track. I keep saying that I want to choose to be healthy before I'm compelled to be healthy, but then I never really change anything. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need more ice cream...

New Year's Resolutions

If you're like most of the population, you looked at your resolutions from last year and probably set them again for this year's resolutions because you forgot about them. If you had them written down, you're already in the minority. I'm willing to bet that for about 95% of you, your resolutions aren't really goals but more of a wish list.

I don't mean to be a downer, but for your resolutions/goals to be effective, they need to pass a few criteria. Effective goals must be:

1. Recorded.
If you don't write them down, your goals are just wishes. Writing them down is part of the process which makes you feel accountable. After they're written down, make sure you post them in a conspicuous place so you'll be constantly reminded.

2. Specific
Fuzzy goals yield fuzzy results. Make your goal specific to you. You're only competing with yourself, not with anyone else. Make it clear what you want. Don't use words like "if" or "try", they are counter-productive. Don't use percent goals (eg. 'I will earn 10% more this year'). Figure it out and use a real number ('I will earn at least $50,000 this year').

3. Measurable
Your goal must be measurable by you and at least one other person. This means "I will be nicer to the kids" isn't a goal. What you feel may be nicer isn't necessarily measurable by others. Instead, you could say, "I will give each child __# of positive comments each day." Have a specific date by which you will accomplish your goal. An example of a measurable goal would be, "I will weigh 200lbs by 1 Mar 2009." When I step on the scales on Mar 1, it'll be very easy to determine whether or not I have reached my goal and it can be measured by anyone.

A quick note on sharing goals with others. If you are setting a "Give up" goal (eg. no more chocolate, Diet Coke, etc.), then share your goals with everyone. The more people who will stop and ask how you're doing, the better. If you are setting a "Go up" goal (eg. to be #1 in your department), share it only with those who can actually help you. If you walk around the office telling everyone you're going to be #1 by the end of the year, you might find an increasing amount of resistance.

4. Positive.
Your goals must be written in the positive. Your subconscious doesn't know how to deal with a negative. Let me demonstrate... For the next 60 seconds, do NOT think about blue bunnies. Keep track on a piece of paper. How many times did you think about blue bunnies before I told you not to? After? If your goal is to stop eating chocolate, your subconscious acts like airport security with a photo of the most-wanted terrorist. Everything that comes in gets evaluated against your image of chocolate. "That's not chocolate, that's not chocolate, that's not chocolate... hey, that picture of chocolate looks pretty good." And soon, all you can think of is chocolate. Rephrase your goal in a positive direction, like "I will eat ___ # servings of fruits & vegetables each day".

Setting positive goals also means they are in-line with your values. If you value honesty, then robbing a bank is not an effective goal for you.

5. Stretching
Your goals must cause you to stretch and grow to some degree. If it was easy, you'd already be doing it. The trick is to set your goals so they are challenging enough to be motivating, but not so hard as to be depressing.