It did not go well.

• I don’t do well with phone-mazes. This amounts to a game of pick the least irrelevant of all the following irrelevant options. For hub-cap polishing advice, press or say 1; For information about where you put your keys, press or say 2; If you own a pre-1940 automobile in any color other than black, please press or say 3; If you wish to add family members, please press or say 4. (Incidentally, I’m not sure I want AAA involved with any “begetting” that might happen–seems irrelevant unless you own a Nash).
• Wait times. It’s never a good sign when the phone-maze tells you: “We are experiencing higher-than-usual call volume. Your wait will be more than 10 minutes, and less than 12 years.”
• Hold-messages. “We’re more than just automobiles. We’re also cruise vacations, and overseas travel experts.” Yeah. If I had the money to go to any of those places, do you really think I’d be calling you from Minnesota during a snowstorm?

With all of that happening, you can usually add an obnoxious customer service person to that list. Not this time. Much to my surprise, she was quite helpful and courteous. As I hung up, I realized that I went in “loaded for bear,” but instead, I think I might have actually been polite.

How unusual.

Thanksgiving is considered the start of the holiday season by many. For us, it’s the start of the singing around the piano season. At Thanksgiving this year, my aunt (we call her Snooks), my niece, and my sister were in the dining room playing cards together. I went to look for a particular song that I wanted to sing. I finally found it, in an old hymnal originally designed for acapella shape-note/sacred harp singing. A few minutes later, my niece came into the room, evidently needing a break from the card game. I asked her to play the song for me.

She sat down at the piano, looked at the page, and then looked at me: “Four sharps? I can’s play four sharps.”

I encouraged her to try, but she was right. She couldn’t play four sharps (in all fairness, she couldn’t sight-read four sharps–with a little work she could: She’s a very capable pianist).

My niece left the room, and a few minutes later, her mom (my sister) came in: “I can play four sharps. Let’s see it.” She sat down at the piano, then looked at me: “Oh, yuk. I hate the shape of these notes. I can never play out of this book.”

She, too, was right.

At that point, my mom, who was sitting at the computer, chimed in: “Am I ever going to get to hear you sing that song?

“I hope so. There’s one piano player left, and the only excuse remaining is I can’t see well enough to read the notes.”

Seconds later, my aunt Snooks comes into the room, and announces: “I brought my glasses so I can see the page.”

With that, my mom and I burst out laughing: “You better be able to play it, because you just spent the only remaining excuse!”

She played (wow, four sharps!), and I sang (on key). A few minutes later, after a lot of laughing and general good fun, she went back to the dining room. The card game resumed, mom won her game of solitaire, and I went back to thumbing through the music books.

Together, we had made a memory.

1. I want one of those licenses that a lot of people seem to have. It allows them to run red lights (as long as no one is in the intersection), and to blow through stop signs.
2. This may be the same as item 1, but I list it separately because it might be a special certification. I want to be able to do the “no stop on right turn.” This seems to work for both lights and standing stop-signs.
3. Apparently, someone installed a Romulan Cloaking Device in my car. While I can see times where this might be handy, in my life I have no need of a stealthy getaway. Please remove it: I would prefer that other drivers could see me, and not pull out right in front of me.
4. I want the people who design drive up ATMs to realize that not everyone drives a monster truck, and therefore, not all ATMs need to be seven feet above the ground. I hate having to stand on top of my Honda Accord to see the screen.
5. I want a hovercraft. The only pain in my commute is the fact that I have to cross the river, and that means I have to sit in slow traffic, waiting to get across bridges. I either need a hovercraft, or someone needs to put up a few more bridges.

That’s it. I think my wishes are simple–at least as simple as world peace.

A year ago, in most of my classes, and in conversations with other leaders, I made the assertion that “Best Buy is in trouble–deep trouble–and they don’t even know it.” My rationale was simple. Last Christmas, they were competing on big-ticket items, mostly televisions and surround-sound entertainment systems. The problem with that strategy was that it alienated the very market share that built the company: People interested in small-ticket electronics and media. Rather than pointing out “We’re a great place to buy that small, $20 Christmas gift,” they unintentionally sent the message, “don’t come if you don’t have a load of money and a truck to haul away your purchases.”

The leaders at Best Buy started strangling their business more than a year ago, and 2007 November sales were around $228 million. This year, they were $52 million. They might never have made up the business that they lost, but their strategy alienated their fall-back markets.

Attention, Leaders. You need to learn to read your business and your markets. The fact that I could read Best Buy’s problems a year ago suggests that this kind of thing is knowable. And if it is knowable, the leaders are accountable for it.

Adult life has brought a number of surprising changes in perception. The first happened when I attended our daughter’s parent-teacher conference at her school when she was in second grade. I realized then that my role had changed forever–I was no longer the kid being evaluated, but the parent being involved in our child’s education. The next happened when I was dealing with employees–hiring, reviewing, and (in one case) terminating. It was then that I realized that the employment process was as challenging for the employer as for the employee..

Now, as a college instructor, I have discovered that the same thing is true, and this is what I shared with this student. Any final project, whether it is a paper, and exam, or a presentation, is just as stressful for the instructor as it is for the student. In a very real sense, it becomes a very personal evaluation of the teacher’s ability to express his or her ideas and communicate knowledge to the students. This is why it is disheartening to an instructor when a student earns a low grade. I encouraged our student to keep this in mind, and remember that every final exam is, ultimately, a conversation with the instructor. It involves managing knowledge, ideas, and information, and presenting them in a way that demonstrates mastery of the material and respect for the instructor. By the end of a course, most of us (instructors, that is) have developed relationships with our students and frankly, we care about them.

Exams and final projects do not exist in a vacuum, but are always positioned in the social, cultural, foundational, and philosophical context of the course.  Keep this perspective in mind throughout a course, and the grades seem to follow.

This same factor applies throughout life. Most of our significant relationships–whether in the workplace, at home, in the community, at church, or anywhere else–only thrive when they are conversations. The two-way-nature of human communication is essential in nearly every aspect of our lives.

I find it hard to believe that there is a good picture of me anywhere, but lo an behold, there was my smiling face, and three fourths of my shining head. What you can’t tell here is that the baldness goes all the way to the top, and I am, in fact, wearing the requisite “tweed jacket with leather elbow patches.” No coolness here–not so much as a molecule (I’m fine with that, by the way).

Here’s a link, so you can see it in its context. I teach Organizational Leadership in the Adult and Graduate programs at Bethel University. Apparently, they are trying to reduce enrollment!

So, of course, I had to send a copy to my wife (who described it as “Quite A Handsome Guy” –the poor, blind woman). I also sent five copies to my mother.

I worked these out during a weekend-long retreat I took during a particular career crisis in my life (the dissolution of the department of which I was a part). I used the book The Path by Laurie Beth Jones, along with a wonderful little book by Dale Dauten, The Max Strategy, to help me wrestle through some of these issues. Incidentally, when you look at the size to price ratio of these two books, you are likely to object–the price to quality ratio makes them a bargain even at full list price. I can’t say I agreed with everything in these books, but I will say that I found them very helpful–keep in mind that you should always read with a critical eye or two.

These words show up on my screen-saver, on this blog, on my Great Ridge Group business cards, and various other places in my life. They are a constant reminder that I must be about the work to which God has called me.

I decided against doing a series, highlighting each of these concepts. The whole thing bothered me from the beginning, and seems a bit self-serving. I’ll tell you what, I’ll try to live them out, and you hold me to them.

This should be a cause for concern. Target is a fine company, and aside from some philosophical issues, I have no complaints about them. Here’s the problem: The sphere of markets, selling, and finance have taken over significant parts of our lives. These “monunuments to our success” signal a change in values. The current Twins stadium is named for Hubert H. Humphrey, one of Minnesota’s favorite sons, and1968 presidential candidate.  This new one is Target Field, but maybe the Tom Burnett, Junior Ballpark would have been far more appropriate. Kids ought to know the answer to that question, too.

Culturally, we’ve given up the idea of commemorating our heroes. The not-so-subtle message is that our highest model to be emulated is not to be found in the great people who have influenced our state, but in the corporate economic giants.

For years, at Twins and Viking games, children have asked their parents “Who is Hubert H. Hump-hrey?” And parents (even Republican parents) knew the answer and told them.

In Indiana, their domed stadium was called the Hoosier Dome for many years, until RCA paid millions of dollars to rename it “The RCA Dome.” By the way the Hoosier/RCA Dome has been replaced by the Lucas Oil Stadium.

The point is that no kid is likely to ask “Who’s Target?” They know, at least they do now, and that’s what’s most important. Someday, kids might ask about Target, just as kids now have reason to ask “Who’s RCA.” Those questions ultimately become irrelevant. Those with the money create monuments to themselves, and when the money goes away, the next “economic-trollop” gets in line to play the game. Target has a 25 year naming rights arrangement for the new stadium in Minneapolis, but if tough times hit, they can always cut their losses and bow to the highest bidder.

Shame on us, when we celebrate companies, and cast off our true heroes. Empire is turning us into economic beings, to the exclusion of all else.  And they think they own us.

None of our major political parties has a monopoly on truth. In fact, it appears that truth and American politics have nothing whatsoever to do with one another. If you want to make sense of the politics of the next few months, you have to be smarter than a commentator.

Here’s my recommendation: Get David T. Koyzis’s book, Political Visions and Illusions. Dr. Koyzis is a friend, a long-distance colleague, and a fellow Bethel alum, and his book is a great help in making sense of our foolish committment to political illusion. See beyond the smoke and mirrors. Read this book. And read his blog.