No need for them anymore because we've attained the pinnacle of fitness. I know because I received a promotion today for portable chopsticks.
Portable? "Gee, honey, I was going to bring along my chopsticks but they were just too bulky and heavy."
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Close the gyms
No need for them anymore because we've attained the pinnacle of fitness. I know because I received a promotion today for portable chopsticks.
Portable? "Gee, honey, I was going to bring along my chopsticks but they were just too bulky and heavy."
Experiences
Yes, I’m off on a blog blather. Faithful readers know that signals that a trip is impending.
Tomorrow I depart for Georgia. When people ask about it and hear the details, most arch their eyebrows.
The genesis was a trip I did to Florida on a lark a few months ago. I went down to kayak for a long weekend with a paddling club. Even most of them didn’t fully understand why I would do that, even given that the schedule of events was interesting. One who did get it suggested another adventure that might appeal to me.
He told me that a club in Georgia had an annual event on Groundhog Day. They paddled a river and diverted to a former mine tunnel that contained whitewater. Emerging from the other end, they deemed themselves human groundhogs. He thought that was just funky enough to resonate with me. He was right.
I posted it on our paddling group’s web site and soon had a band of merry pranksters to accompany me. They share the same zeal for experiences.
And, that’s really what it’s all about.
Lost in the shuffle
The local web blogs have been abuzz about Doc Thompson. He was brought in to Cincinnati from Virginia to be a talk show host on the lead radio station, bought a house, got married (his fiancé had relocated with him) and was fired while on his honeymoon. “Wow! How would it feel to be him?”
Can’t be good. But, he’s been in radio for a while and understands the ratings game. He still has a job with the company, broadcasting in a smaller market where he does pretty well. In the hardball world of media, this is not that bad.
While many are bemoaning his fate, someone else is lost in the shuffle. One thing that precipitated the relocation/hiring of Thompson was the firing of Eddie Fingers by a corporate executive. This was not a ratings thing as he was doing okay. It was somewhat personal.
I have found that to be more the rule than the exception in business. More people are fired or driven off over personality conflicts than for performance. By the same token, underproducers are retained because they’re team players, well-liked, etc.
With the termination of Thompson, Fingers was brought back. This was made possible by the apparent firing of the guy who had let him go. That’s the guy I wonder about.
It’s one thing to lose your job over ratings, an objective measurement. I’m sure that isn’t easy, especially with the new house and wife, but at least Thompson still has his other gig. The other case is more interesting. You terminate an employee in a situation where acrimony plays a role, according to Fingers. Down the road a little bit, you’re out and the guy you axed comes gaily marching down Main Street and back into his position. Now, you’re out and he’s in.
I don’t know who’s “right” or “wrong” in that situation, but it’s gotta smart.
Can’t be good. But, he’s been in radio for a while and understands the ratings game. He still has a job with the company, broadcasting in a smaller market where he does pretty well. In the hardball world of media, this is not that bad.
While many are bemoaning his fate, someone else is lost in the shuffle. One thing that precipitated the relocation/hiring of Thompson was the firing of Eddie Fingers by a corporate executive. This was not a ratings thing as he was doing okay. It was somewhat personal.
I have found that to be more the rule than the exception in business. More people are fired or driven off over personality conflicts than for performance. By the same token, underproducers are retained because they’re team players, well-liked, etc.
With the termination of Thompson, Fingers was brought back. This was made possible by the apparent firing of the guy who had let him go. That’s the guy I wonder about.
It’s one thing to lose your job over ratings, an objective measurement. I’m sure that isn’t easy, especially with the new house and wife, but at least Thompson still has his other gig. The other case is more interesting. You terminate an employee in a situation where acrimony plays a role, according to Fingers. Down the road a little bit, you’re out and the guy you axed comes gaily marching down Main Street and back into his position. Now, you’re out and he’s in.
I don’t know who’s “right” or “wrong” in that situation, but it’s gotta smart.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Go figure
The first whitewater kayak I bought was discounted in a clearance sale. The discount was significant and the literature made it sound like the perfect boat. It was a dog.
Not just any dog. Years later, I would come across a list of the ten worst whitewater kayaks ever produced and it was on it. I should’ve looked around the river and taken a cue that no one else was paddling one, or even that brand. It was a bear to sell. Lesson learned.
That isn’t to say I’ve never bought an oddball boat since. In fact, I have an affinity for them. But, I made sure I paid next to nothing.
Going into this year, I resolved to boil down the fleet. I made a list of the cuts and five out of the six were the orphans. Good luck on that.
So, here I sit today and the popular boat is the only one I have left. Go figure.
The first boat to go was an absolute wreck I bought with the intention of restoring it. The brand was somewhat popular when I bought one way back when, but has fallen out of favor. I picked it up on a nostalgia fling, put some hours into it and the cost:benefit ratio began to loom before my eyes. Fortunately, I found someone handy who enjoys projects. Chalk that one up.
While I’m on the subject of nostalgic error, I went to look at a canoe some months ago. I quickly saw that it was not what I wanted. But, it was a canoe I had owned almost 30 years before. Not, like that canoe. That was the canoe. Caught up on the crest of a wave of emotion, I made an offer, albeit a low one. The guy was glad to get rid of it.
The rapture of the reunion lasted a few days. Now what? I’m not going to paddle it. Designs have evolved a lot so who’s going to want a canoe that old? Lady Luck smiled upon me and I found a “they-don’t-make-them-like-they-used-to” paddler.
Then, there was the “Batboat.” The design was so radical, it immediately called batman to mind. I first came across it about five years ago. The owner wanted around $500. That’s a lot more than I’m going to be able to get out of an oddball, so I didn’t even nibble.
Gradually, he began to come down in his ads. I was going to be passing through his city on vacation and offered him $300 if he met me where I was staying when I was there. He essentially told me to insert it into a body cavity.
Over the next year, the price continued to drop. It got down to $275, but wasn’t worth the trip just for that. Then, it disappeared.
About six months later, it resurfaced in another town in the same state. I assumed it was the new owner. The asking price was $175. I could think of other things down there I could do. I went down, looked at it and offered $125 as a start of a negotiation. He took it.
I had a pretty good idea why he couldn’t wait to dump it. Unless you’re a competitive paddler, it would punish you on the river. I was just messing with it at the pool for practice and honing skills.
However, the design was so extreme that what I did to throw that boat around in the pool did not transfer well to my other boats or the river. I decided to sell it. I put $350 out as a feeler, since it might be worth that to a hardcore playboater. I could always put it on the block again for a hundred or more less.
I had all kind of interest from people who were enamored with the looks. But, none of them had the skills. So, I either scared them off or outright declined their offers.
Even though it was a very specialized boat, I took a flyer and put it on a generic classifieds site. It got a hit. He showed up and regaled me with his tales of paddling heroics. I had my doubts. So, I discouraged him with an account of its difficult traits. He brushed them aside stating that, if I could paddle it, he certainly could. All righty then.
While I had at least 20 years on him, that was quite an assumption. And, he endeared himself further by tipping his hand. This was more about winning the joust than acquiring the boat. I allowed him to beat me for $300. In other words, the price of being a schmuck is about $100.
The next boat was a very specialized design, intended for running a race on the Green River. It was a creeker (intended for fast steep whitewater), but sacrificed the stability that genre usually possesses in favor of speed. I enjoyed playing with it but the novelty wore off. As luck would have it. Someone who races the Green River found me.
The final oddball was made in Germany. The Teutonic like to blow mold their kayaks resulting in a strong and rigid hull. This also produces a halo effect. That is, people can become enamored at that significant aspect and overlook the flaws. I succumbed to that myself. Their designs are archaic and the outfitting seems to reflect that punishment is a badge of honor. You don’t see a whole lot of them on the water. Take a hint.
The design of this one attracted me. It was very fast and had hard edges for quick carving. Those traits could also rise up and bite you. I fended off a lot of suitors for it, knowing that they’d be in over their heads.
One would not be deterred. He assured me he understood the parameters and kept at me. Sold.
That leaves the one boat I thought would be the first to sell. Go figure.
Not just any dog. Years later, I would come across a list of the ten worst whitewater kayaks ever produced and it was on it. I should’ve looked around the river and taken a cue that no one else was paddling one, or even that brand. It was a bear to sell. Lesson learned.
That isn’t to say I’ve never bought an oddball boat since. In fact, I have an affinity for them. But, I made sure I paid next to nothing.
Going into this year, I resolved to boil down the fleet. I made a list of the cuts and five out of the six were the orphans. Good luck on that.
So, here I sit today and the popular boat is the only one I have left. Go figure.
The first boat to go was an absolute wreck I bought with the intention of restoring it. The brand was somewhat popular when I bought one way back when, but has fallen out of favor. I picked it up on a nostalgia fling, put some hours into it and the cost:benefit ratio began to loom before my eyes. Fortunately, I found someone handy who enjoys projects. Chalk that one up.
While I’m on the subject of nostalgic error, I went to look at a canoe some months ago. I quickly saw that it was not what I wanted. But, it was a canoe I had owned almost 30 years before. Not, like that canoe. That was the canoe. Caught up on the crest of a wave of emotion, I made an offer, albeit a low one. The guy was glad to get rid of it.
The rapture of the reunion lasted a few days. Now what? I’m not going to paddle it. Designs have evolved a lot so who’s going to want a canoe that old? Lady Luck smiled upon me and I found a “they-don’t-make-them-like-they-used-to” paddler.
Then, there was the “Batboat.” The design was so radical, it immediately called batman to mind. I first came across it about five years ago. The owner wanted around $500. That’s a lot more than I’m going to be able to get out of an oddball, so I didn’t even nibble.
Gradually, he began to come down in his ads. I was going to be passing through his city on vacation and offered him $300 if he met me where I was staying when I was there. He essentially told me to insert it into a body cavity.
Over the next year, the price continued to drop. It got down to $275, but wasn’t worth the trip just for that. Then, it disappeared.
About six months later, it resurfaced in another town in the same state. I assumed it was the new owner. The asking price was $175. I could think of other things down there I could do. I went down, looked at it and offered $125 as a start of a negotiation. He took it.
I had a pretty good idea why he couldn’t wait to dump it. Unless you’re a competitive paddler, it would punish you on the river. I was just messing with it at the pool for practice and honing skills.
However, the design was so extreme that what I did to throw that boat around in the pool did not transfer well to my other boats or the river. I decided to sell it. I put $350 out as a feeler, since it might be worth that to a hardcore playboater. I could always put it on the block again for a hundred or more less.
I had all kind of interest from people who were enamored with the looks. But, none of them had the skills. So, I either scared them off or outright declined their offers.
Even though it was a very specialized boat, I took a flyer and put it on a generic classifieds site. It got a hit. He showed up and regaled me with his tales of paddling heroics. I had my doubts. So, I discouraged him with an account of its difficult traits. He brushed them aside stating that, if I could paddle it, he certainly could. All righty then.
While I had at least 20 years on him, that was quite an assumption. And, he endeared himself further by tipping his hand. This was more about winning the joust than acquiring the boat. I allowed him to beat me for $300. In other words, the price of being a schmuck is about $100.
The next boat was a very specialized design, intended for running a race on the Green River. It was a creeker (intended for fast steep whitewater), but sacrificed the stability that genre usually possesses in favor of speed. I enjoyed playing with it but the novelty wore off. As luck would have it. Someone who races the Green River found me.
The final oddball was made in Germany. The Teutonic like to blow mold their kayaks resulting in a strong and rigid hull. This also produces a halo effect. That is, people can become enamored at that significant aspect and overlook the flaws. I succumbed to that myself. Their designs are archaic and the outfitting seems to reflect that punishment is a badge of honor. You don’t see a whole lot of them on the water. Take a hint.
The design of this one attracted me. It was very fast and had hard edges for quick carving. Those traits could also rise up and bite you. I fended off a lot of suitors for it, knowing that they’d be in over their heads.
One would not be deterred. He assured me he understood the parameters and kept at me. Sold.
That leaves the one boat I thought would be the first to sell. Go figure.
Expectations
It’s funny the things that stick in your mind. Years back, I heard Martin Mull (the comedian) talk about his birthday ritual. An avid Cleveland Browns fan, every year he would go down to the stadium and kick a field goal the length (in yards) of his birthday. I think he made it to 44.
I started doing something like that, although not kicking a football. It seemed like a good way to set the tone nd expectations upward for the coming year as opposed to accepting decline. I started with pushups but shoulder injuries curtailed that. The challenge became picking something I would have to stretch for but was still reasonable.
I was giving that some thought yesterday, which was not a good time for it. In addition to the usual assortment of physical issues that affect an active person of my years, I was enduring the aftereffects of celebrating the previous evening.
An opportunity presented itself as I had kayak pool practice that evening. I could roll 63 times. Not enough of a challenge, even with a hangover and balky joints. So, I set the bar higher by requiring they be hand or rodeo rolls.
That proved to be a sufficient test. I was rewarded with a sense of accomplishment. And, back spasms. Fortunately, my paddling friends surprised me afterwards with a celebration of my birthday that included chocolate. Chocolate cures everything.
I got home and found an email from a friend who had given me a gift certificate, inquiring if I had any idea what I was going to do with it. Not going to, I replied. Already did. I order a body board that I intend to use for surfing waves at a whitewater park and take with me on southern journeys to beaches.
“Have you done that before?” she responded. I said I had not. “I expect you’ll be getting good use from health insurance, getting up close and personal with the rocks.” I expect to have a blast.
This summer, I’m meeting a bunch of my high school friends at a South Carolina beach town. They said that they’re bringing golf clubs and fishing rods, in case they feel up to it. I’m bringing my body board and kayak because I do feel up to it. It’s mostly in your expectations.
I work at and expect to be in better shape every year. It works a lot better than thinking the other direction.
I started doing something like that, although not kicking a football. It seemed like a good way to set the tone nd expectations upward for the coming year as opposed to accepting decline. I started with pushups but shoulder injuries curtailed that. The challenge became picking something I would have to stretch for but was still reasonable.
I was giving that some thought yesterday, which was not a good time for it. In addition to the usual assortment of physical issues that affect an active person of my years, I was enduring the aftereffects of celebrating the previous evening.
An opportunity presented itself as I had kayak pool practice that evening. I could roll 63 times. Not enough of a challenge, even with a hangover and balky joints. So, I set the bar higher by requiring they be hand or rodeo rolls.
That proved to be a sufficient test. I was rewarded with a sense of accomplishment. And, back spasms. Fortunately, my paddling friends surprised me afterwards with a celebration of my birthday that included chocolate. Chocolate cures everything.
I got home and found an email from a friend who had given me a gift certificate, inquiring if I had any idea what I was going to do with it. Not going to, I replied. Already did. I order a body board that I intend to use for surfing waves at a whitewater park and take with me on southern journeys to beaches.
“Have you done that before?” she responded. I said I had not. “I expect you’ll be getting good use from health insurance, getting up close and personal with the rocks.” I expect to have a blast.
This summer, I’m meeting a bunch of my high school friends at a South Carolina beach town. They said that they’re bringing golf clubs and fishing rods, in case they feel up to it. I’m bringing my body board and kayak because I do feel up to it. It’s mostly in your expectations.
I work at and expect to be in better shape every year. It works a lot better than thinking the other direction.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Still kicking
It’s already started, although my birthday is a few days off. There are events planned that extend into the second week of February. This has taken on the proportion of some kind of tribal ritual.
Part of it is the multiple factions I’ve accumulated over the years. They each want to or feel like they should do something.
Another aspect is that this seems to intensify with advancing age. It’s like they feel like they want to do this and enjoy me while I’d still around. Before it’s too late.
Me, too. Any more, it isn’t like I’m celebrating that I was born. I’m just happy to still be around.
Part of it is the multiple factions I’ve accumulated over the years. They each want to or feel like they should do something.
Another aspect is that this seems to intensify with advancing age. It’s like they feel like they want to do this and enjoy me while I’d still around. Before it’s too late.
Me, too. Any more, it isn’t like I’m celebrating that I was born. I’m just happy to still be around.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Slymiles
I previously wrote about my frustrations in trying the cash in Skymiles. My theory is that 100,000 of them really equates to a little less than a yard, so I can almost never benefit.
I’m planning a trip to Alaska this summer and steeled myself to go through the futile but necessary exercise again. Sure enough, transaction denied! Could I hear them snickering through the computer screen?
A thought occurred. Did I have enough for one way? And, if so, would the cost of a one-way ticket combined with the cash charge associated with the Skymiles ticket be less than purchasing a round trip? One would assume so, but I am dealing with the airlines here.
I set up a grid to see which leg would cost the least in an outright purchase and with what city of origin. Cincinnati has earned a reputation for gouging.
The first thing that becomes apparent is that there are no good times when Alaska is in the equation. Departures and/or arrivals are at ungodly hours. However, using Expedia, I arrived at one I could live with and it showed availability.
Before committing to that, I had to make sure that the Skymiles would pan out on the other leg by working through that process. Miracle of miracles, it granted the ticket. Now all I had to do was purchase the other leg through Expedia and that should be a walk in the park.
Should be. I clicked my choice and immediately got the new price message. WTF? If you know the price changed, why isn’t it showing? The new price was double the original and could screw up my calculations.
Nothing I could do about that so I moved to choice number two. It was the same price but the timing wasn’t as good. Or, was less bad, more appropriately. I could live with it.
Expedia couldn’t. I clicked on that and got the price change message, again doubling. I am starting to get a bit peeved.
I go down the list of options until I hit one that retains its published cost. True, it departs in the wee hours (at least there will be daylight up there) and arrives shortly after the grandchildren go on Social Security, but at least it’s cheap.
You can never beat the airlines.
I’m planning a trip to Alaska this summer and steeled myself to go through the futile but necessary exercise again. Sure enough, transaction denied! Could I hear them snickering through the computer screen?
A thought occurred. Did I have enough for one way? And, if so, would the cost of a one-way ticket combined with the cash charge associated with the Skymiles ticket be less than purchasing a round trip? One would assume so, but I am dealing with the airlines here.
I set up a grid to see which leg would cost the least in an outright purchase and with what city of origin. Cincinnati has earned a reputation for gouging.
The first thing that becomes apparent is that there are no good times when Alaska is in the equation. Departures and/or arrivals are at ungodly hours. However, using Expedia, I arrived at one I could live with and it showed availability.
Before committing to that, I had to make sure that the Skymiles would pan out on the other leg by working through that process. Miracle of miracles, it granted the ticket. Now all I had to do was purchase the other leg through Expedia and that should be a walk in the park.
Should be. I clicked my choice and immediately got the new price message. WTF? If you know the price changed, why isn’t it showing? The new price was double the original and could screw up my calculations.
Nothing I could do about that so I moved to choice number two. It was the same price but the timing wasn’t as good. Or, was less bad, more appropriately. I could live with it.
Expedia couldn’t. I clicked on that and got the price change message, again doubling. I am starting to get a bit peeved.
I go down the list of options until I hit one that retains its published cost. True, it departs in the wee hours (at least there will be daylight up there) and arrives shortly after the grandchildren go on Social Security, but at least it’s cheap.
You can never beat the airlines.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Very taxing
This time of year, a letter from the infernal revenue people didn’t shake me up, especially since the envelope was thick. Probably forms.
I casually opened it and the initial sentence referred to my 2010 return, stating that certain items were unreported, per information they had received from other sources. Gulp. Now that will make your s### run weak.
There were six pages, listing the names and code numbers of mutual funds, each followed by a quantity of some kind. Dollars? Shares? Income? Capital gain? There was no clue. The column header just said that it was what the bank reported. There was a second column for what I had reported on my filing. That consisted of all zeros. I had visions of rooming with Bernie Madoff.
The choice was to sign the form, saying I agreed, or supply an explanation of why I disagreed. Agreed or disagreed with what? There was no indication of what these numbers were or where they should’ve appeared on the tax form.
I called the supplied phone number, went through several menus and then a recording told me that all agents were busy and I’d have to wait. They weren’t kidding.
When a human finally came on the line, I asked what the figures were. He said he thought they were income I had received from the bank. I didn’t recall receiving a check from the bank for $254,209 and he asked if I was sure. Yeah, I think I would’ve remembered getting a check for a quarter million from those thieves. And, even if I didn’t, I’d know something because my yard would be four deep in kayaks (minus those I allowed select friends to graze).
He replied that maybe they were capital gains, then. Maybe? You’re stepping on my onions for a maybe?
I thanked him for his time and said I’d get back to him. This was getting nowhere. I had to know what the bank was reporting to them and why they didn’t let me in on it. I was passed through four people just to find the one who could tell me they didn’t really know or have all the information. Then who would? I was referred to my financial planner.
She was able to sort it out, which is why I employ her. I wrote my letter of explanation/disagreement to the agent, which should take care of it. In theory, anyway.
I casually opened it and the initial sentence referred to my 2010 return, stating that certain items were unreported, per information they had received from other sources. Gulp. Now that will make your s### run weak.
There were six pages, listing the names and code numbers of mutual funds, each followed by a quantity of some kind. Dollars? Shares? Income? Capital gain? There was no clue. The column header just said that it was what the bank reported. There was a second column for what I had reported on my filing. That consisted of all zeros. I had visions of rooming with Bernie Madoff.
The choice was to sign the form, saying I agreed, or supply an explanation of why I disagreed. Agreed or disagreed with what? There was no indication of what these numbers were or where they should’ve appeared on the tax form.
I called the supplied phone number, went through several menus and then a recording told me that all agents were busy and I’d have to wait. They weren’t kidding.
When a human finally came on the line, I asked what the figures were. He said he thought they were income I had received from the bank. I didn’t recall receiving a check from the bank for $254,209 and he asked if I was sure. Yeah, I think I would’ve remembered getting a check for a quarter million from those thieves. And, even if I didn’t, I’d know something because my yard would be four deep in kayaks (minus those I allowed select friends to graze).
He replied that maybe they were capital gains, then. Maybe? You’re stepping on my onions for a maybe?
I thanked him for his time and said I’d get back to him. This was getting nowhere. I had to know what the bank was reporting to them and why they didn’t let me in on it. I was passed through four people just to find the one who could tell me they didn’t really know or have all the information. Then who would? I was referred to my financial planner.
She was able to sort it out, which is why I employ her. I wrote my letter of explanation/disagreement to the agent, which should take care of it. In theory, anyway.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
One smart cookie
I decided to kayak in Alaska this summer. I threw it out on our club’s web site, in case others were interested. I always do that with “exotic” trips, but response is typically low. Not so in this case. Alaska must hold some magic for the group.
In fact, I found that I’d have to boil the responders down to a manageable number, so I asked for those who were very serious about this so we could have a meeting and make key decisions about the trip. That whittled the number down to 17 and I’d guess that will barely be in double digits by the time we shove off. In preparation for the meeting, I gave them the web site of the outfitter we would be using.
I anticipated a number of questions that would come up at the meeting, including the first one. How did I pick that outfitter?
It is a bit of a challenge and something I blogged about previously. One thing you have to keep in mind is that most of them are outdoors people, more so than businesspeople, communicators, etc.
I selected this one mainly because he appears to be smart. How do I know? I told the group that many of the outfitters offered quantity discounts, based upon how many people you had in the group. This one added a qualifier.
To earn the discount, you not only had to have at least X number of participants in your group, but one of you has to function as the group leader. The leader would collect all the money, ensure that everyone understood (or even read) instructions, made the right travel and lodging arrangements, etc. The outfitter would simply deal with the leader. In short, if he was going to give up some revenue, he was going to unload the crap work and get his money’s worth.
Not a stupid guy.
In fact, I found that I’d have to boil the responders down to a manageable number, so I asked for those who were very serious about this so we could have a meeting and make key decisions about the trip. That whittled the number down to 17 and I’d guess that will barely be in double digits by the time we shove off. In preparation for the meeting, I gave them the web site of the outfitter we would be using.
I anticipated a number of questions that would come up at the meeting, including the first one. How did I pick that outfitter?
It is a bit of a challenge and something I blogged about previously. One thing you have to keep in mind is that most of them are outdoors people, more so than businesspeople, communicators, etc.
I selected this one mainly because he appears to be smart. How do I know? I told the group that many of the outfitters offered quantity discounts, based upon how many people you had in the group. This one added a qualifier.
To earn the discount, you not only had to have at least X number of participants in your group, but one of you has to function as the group leader. The leader would collect all the money, ensure that everyone understood (or even read) instructions, made the right travel and lodging arrangements, etc. The outfitter would simply deal with the leader. In short, if he was going to give up some revenue, he was going to unload the crap work and get his money’s worth.
Not a stupid guy.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Forgive and forget
At the aforementioned swap meet, a tall figure loomed above the crowd. It immediately registered that he was out of place. I saw him scanning the room and knew what he was looking for. Me.
I believe I blogged about Ellis before. We partnered on a deal and it did not go well. He had a small company that was faltering and I had some product ideas that were right for the moment and would fit into his model. I knew his reputation but the concepts were so hot, I couldn’t resist.
All the red flags were there. Ellis had a bad word to say about everyone and they were seldom true. He’d been thrown out of his country club and CEO roundtable, and was a pariah in his industry. But, I believed that the prospect of making millions with normal behavior would straighten him out. That is, I made the mistake of believing what I wanted to believe.
At first, he played his role well. He said and did what he was supposed to as I created strategic alliances that were required to bring this off. But, he couldn’t help himself after a while. As we approached the verge of launching, he reverted to form. It wasn’t enough to pocket an eight-figure windfall I brought him. He had to cheat all his partners out of part of their share. And, his malicious side drove him to use this as a club to avenge himself on all in the industry that he perceived had conspired against him. He created his own issues but reality had no seat in his world.
While people of his ilk think they’re covering their tracks by cloaking their malice, they’re looking at the world through a warped prism. To everyone else, they’re transparent. I saw what he was doing and knew that it wouldn’t be long before the others in our alliance did. I gave him an ultimatum. Either he bought me out or I bought him out.
As I expected, he would see this as an opportunity to create a win-lose situation and jumped on it. I allowed him to think he was shafting me in acquiring my share and would reap all the tremendous profits that I had poised us for. I knew there would be none to be had because he would find a way to screw it up as he did with about everything else. And, he did. I was happy to take the buyout, knowing that I wasn’t missing anything.
Not only did the product line get derailed by those he attacked or attempted to cheat, but he wound up in a multimillion dollar lawsuit with some global players. He lost. Being a loser, he had no other way to come out.
So what was he doing at the swap meet? He had heard I was organizing it and had wanted to reconnect. People like that always want to go where they’re not wanted. He told me that after the lawsuit, he got involved in another big deal which blew up in his face and he had learned his lesson and mended his ways. He thought that maybe would could get together and go sailing or something. Yeah, that’ll happen.
I bear him no ill will because he really can’t help himself. Ellis just isn’t wired right. I’m willing to forgive. But, I don’t forget. He’s not the only one who learned a lesson.
I believe I blogged about Ellis before. We partnered on a deal and it did not go well. He had a small company that was faltering and I had some product ideas that were right for the moment and would fit into his model. I knew his reputation but the concepts were so hot, I couldn’t resist.
All the red flags were there. Ellis had a bad word to say about everyone and they were seldom true. He’d been thrown out of his country club and CEO roundtable, and was a pariah in his industry. But, I believed that the prospect of making millions with normal behavior would straighten him out. That is, I made the mistake of believing what I wanted to believe.
At first, he played his role well. He said and did what he was supposed to as I created strategic alliances that were required to bring this off. But, he couldn’t help himself after a while. As we approached the verge of launching, he reverted to form. It wasn’t enough to pocket an eight-figure windfall I brought him. He had to cheat all his partners out of part of their share. And, his malicious side drove him to use this as a club to avenge himself on all in the industry that he perceived had conspired against him. He created his own issues but reality had no seat in his world.
While people of his ilk think they’re covering their tracks by cloaking their malice, they’re looking at the world through a warped prism. To everyone else, they’re transparent. I saw what he was doing and knew that it wouldn’t be long before the others in our alliance did. I gave him an ultimatum. Either he bought me out or I bought him out.
As I expected, he would see this as an opportunity to create a win-lose situation and jumped on it. I allowed him to think he was shafting me in acquiring my share and would reap all the tremendous profits that I had poised us for. I knew there would be none to be had because he would find a way to screw it up as he did with about everything else. And, he did. I was happy to take the buyout, knowing that I wasn’t missing anything.
Not only did the product line get derailed by those he attacked or attempted to cheat, but he wound up in a multimillion dollar lawsuit with some global players. He lost. Being a loser, he had no other way to come out.
So what was he doing at the swap meet? He had heard I was organizing it and had wanted to reconnect. People like that always want to go where they’re not wanted. He told me that after the lawsuit, he got involved in another big deal which blew up in his face and he had learned his lesson and mended his ways. He thought that maybe would could get together and go sailing or something. Yeah, that’ll happen.
I bear him no ill will because he really can’t help himself. Ellis just isn’t wired right. I’m willing to forgive. But, I don’t forget. He’s not the only one who learned a lesson.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
I am not the hound
That is, I’m not the only hound. Just part of the pack. A pack of gear hounds.
Someone from Georgia was checking out an album on my photo site to scout a location for paddling. He wandered off track into photos from travels elsewhere and asked how many hits I usually get on my site. I told him and asked why he was asking.
“I was just guessing you got a lot. You do some pretty interesting stuff.”
Maybe, but that’s not the star attraction. Last month, I posted a link to an album of my kayaks as a means to promote what I’d be bringing for sale at an upcoming swap meet. It drew almost 500 views per photo, or about 25% over what I see for some of my most exotic trips. Last night I posted an album of photos taken at the swap and the hits are already in excess of 350.
The swap was like a feeding frenzy of almost 300 hungry sharks with the blood in the water. I was going outside to get something from my truck when a man was entering with a boat on his shoulder. He asked where I wanted him to put it. I suggested a place, making a mental note of it because it was a nice specimen and I wanted to look it over when I got back inside. Never had the chance.
He took about five more steps and someone stopped him to ask what he wanted for it. Deal done. The juicy morsel was swallowed up before it even touched the floor. I never even had a shot at it.
I have no complaints about that because I was the beneficiary of boat fever. Three of my boats sold just by posting the album link before the swap meet. Never even made it to the event. If you had a popular river running whitewater boat or a kayak in the 14-16’ midrange, you had gold. Everyone was shoving hundred dollar bills in your face.
Yes, photos of sunsets over oceans and underwater video of manatees and dolphins draw a following. But, if you really want to light up paddlers, dangle some boats for sale in front of them.
Monday, January 09, 2012
Getting dunked by the doughnut
This morning at the gym, Clem was taking some civic pride because a national figure gave an interview on a local radio station. “You know we matter when that guy gets up early in the morning to talk on one of our stations.”
You might want to hold off before you go bursting your buttons. What you’re listening to is a doughnut, which is intended to curry favor with you.
The way it works is that the marketing or public relations people craft an interview with the public figure, book author or whoever wants to impress upon the public that their community is important to him or her. They ask the questions and record the carefully worded responses.
The responses are forwarded to the media, with gaps where the questions were. The script of the questions is provided so the radio personality can ask them in the gaps and you think you’re hearing a local interview.
Why do the stations go along with the ruse? It’s free programming and adds to their prestige. And, by playing ball, they have a better shot at getting any paid advertising from the producers of the interviews.
You might want to hold off before you go bursting your buttons. What you’re listening to is a doughnut, which is intended to curry favor with you.
The way it works is that the marketing or public relations people craft an interview with the public figure, book author or whoever wants to impress upon the public that their community is important to him or her. They ask the questions and record the carefully worded responses.
The responses are forwarded to the media, with gaps where the questions were. The script of the questions is provided so the radio personality can ask them in the gaps and you think you’re hearing a local interview.
Why do the stations go along with the ruse? It’s free programming and adds to their prestige. And, by playing ball, they have a better shot at getting any paid advertising from the producers of the interviews.
Thursday, January 05, 2012
Soured on advertising
One of the saddest commentaries on the decline of traditional media is their lowering of the bar on advertising they will accept. Grasping at straws, they now take on any huckster of miracle cures, get-rich-quick schemes and any other predator who can make good on an advertising invoice.
You’re not even safe with the house organ of an association that purports to look out for your best interests. For example, my latest edition of the AAA rag carries a full page ad for a book that reveals the medicinal secrets of vinegar and suggests it make be better than prescription drugs for everything from arthritis to bladder infections. That doesn’t even begin to cover it because they boast it as providing 1,000 remedies.
Sensing you may harbor doubts about that, they show an excerpt that includes treating burns, weight loss and the treatment of blemishes and age spots. What catches my eye are items #10 and #19.
The former is “Boost memory” and the latter “Improve memory.” Just nine items down the list and the author already forgot he included that.
Better drink some vinegar.
You’re not even safe with the house organ of an association that purports to look out for your best interests. For example, my latest edition of the AAA rag carries a full page ad for a book that reveals the medicinal secrets of vinegar and suggests it make be better than prescription drugs for everything from arthritis to bladder infections. That doesn’t even begin to cover it because they boast it as providing 1,000 remedies.
Sensing you may harbor doubts about that, they show an excerpt that includes treating burns, weight loss and the treatment of blemishes and age spots. What catches my eye are items #10 and #19.
The former is “Boost memory” and the latter “Improve memory.” Just nine items down the list and the author already forgot he included that.
Better drink some vinegar.
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