By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Apr 19, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Creatures of habit and dorsal fins
I remember in 3rd grade learning that some fish used to have a dorsal fin but no longer does because over the centuries there was no longer a need for it and it just sort of evaporated with time.
We humans are comfortable with what we know and have to be dragged kicking and screaming to try a new way of doing things (in the workplace and at home), even when it is obvious to everyone but us it is a far superior to our current approach
And then we try it.
And eventually get comfortable with it and even become an advocate for the “new way.”
Until there is a newer and obviously superior way to do things.
And we have to be dragged kicking and screaming to change from the old new way we are now comfortable with to the newer new way,
Maybe the solution is to give up our notion of ever being on auto pilot. Of ever getting too accustomed or comfortable with any process. Maybe the comfort of habit is like a human dorsal fin that has outlived its purpose
But that’s an awfully uncomfortable thought.
Maybe we can at least make a fashion statement with our dorsal fin of mindless habit. Pierce or tattoo it –or hang our new high tech gadgets (iPhone or Wifi tablets) on our hook of a needless fin.
But don’t get rid of it completely.
I may not need or use it but I don’t want to give it up.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Apr 18, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Gangsta fantasies and crotchety, judgmental old men (me) advising.
Seeing several privileged white kids at a private school in Louisville trying to look “gansta” made me remember this video.
This is as about as tough, fellas, as you coul…d ever hope to look. (Please watch the video.) And you will never look or be as “street” as Vanilla Ice. And that should deter you.
It just ain’t happening.
Comb you hair. Pull up your pants. Tuck in your shirt. Do your homework. Because not doing your homework is about as “bad” as you are ever going to be.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Apr 17, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
What would you think if you were at a dinner party and discovered you were seated next to this woman?
I would get very nervous and try furtively to move the name cards so I could sit next to someone who looked more like Richard Branson–who would allow me to enjoy whatever is being served for dinner and be able to digest it without sweating bullets about which fork I am using and trying to think of the name “Endive” to describe my salad.
Manners are very important. No doubt about it. It’s the oil that lets us navigate human relations smoothly.
But as I tried to explain to my daughter this past weekend in one of my non sequitur fatherly talk tangents, “If you have to chose which type of person to be—it’s more desirable to be a pleasant and approachable person at a party rather than be the person who merely knows how to send out the perfect party invitation.” Or something like that.
In other words, I wouldn’t mind reading Ms Manner’s book. But wouldn’t want to have to sit and discuss it with her. It just seems like she is always looking for a comma splice in ever conversation. And to point out that something from lunch is still on the corner of your mouth. I would probably tell her (politely) she had bad breath and “something on her nose” (even though she didn’t), just to help me level the playing field with her and relax enough to get through learning, again, which fork goes where. So I can, again, feel like a “manners failure” when I inevitably forget the rules again.
Whoever invented forks should have made a rule we only need one kind. A simple single all-purpose fork. That would have made eating a lot less stressful. And one less thing to feel ashamed about not ever being able to remember.
Manners violation confession. While out of town last week and eating at Asian restaurant, I picked up the dipping sauce for the steamed dumplings and drank the last few drops. I made sure no one was looking and took the chance.
It was worth the risk!! Even if I had a little on the corner of my mouth 30 minutes later.
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Apr 16, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Mr. Manners (My first advice column).
I think we need a Mr. Manners.
Miss Manners, in my opinion, talks too much and interrupts people in her mind before they can interject something. She doesn’t actually interrupt them, of course. But you can tell she wants to.
Which to me is disrespectful. Especially when you are already being lectured by someone about manners.
In fact, I think lecturing people about manners is rude. But that’s a different subject altogether.
Which leads to today’s question.
“Is it possible to be too polite sometimes?”
Yes! It is. A good example of this is Jimi Hendrix and the song “Purple Haze.” Jimi, of course, was a very well-behaved young man who liked to play the guitar and even wrote some songs. In one song, Purple Haze, he opts for the more informal “Excuse me, while I kiss the sky” over the more formal “Pardon me, while I kiss the sky.”
Had Jimi gone with the latter approach (which was preferred at the time in Great Britain), it would have been a musical disaster.
So never use more formal etiquette when it would cause a musical disaster.
Jimi Hendrix was respectful without seeming disingenuously polite –and was still musically appropriate.
I think that’s the key.
That’s the end of today’s Mr. Manner’s column. Which may not make much sense but compared to Miss Manners, rocks.
And “rocks” is preferable to the more for formal “is preferable.”
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Apr 15, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
This is the story of KFC. Or at least a chapter in that story. Not the first chapter. But possibly the most exciting. Certainly one of the most pivotal chapters.
Told first hand from a gentleman I’m proud to call my father. And who at age 79 still hasn’t lost his ability to hold a crowd’s attention. Most especially when he recounts the fascinating tale of when preparation, opportunity, luck and timing all seemed to converge, somewhat fatefully and always fretfully, on a restless young lawyer from KY as he met a gifted and persnickety restauranteur named Colonel Harlan Sanders who was supposed to be a new legal client but something bigger seemed to be at play. That moment that passes quickly if not acted upon. An opportunity at a leap of faith that promises only to be a life changing event, good or bad, but nothing more specific than that.
He took it and found himself at the helm of an historic moment in the fast food industry and not knowing what he
was really to do day to day–and hoping and working diligently and creatively as he improvised what he imagined needed to be done so that one day, when he stepped down and enough time had passed, people might look back and say “That guy seemed to have done a lot of things right at a critical time even though there wasn’t a playbook or owner’s manual around to guide anyone through this transformational moment in the food industry.”
The story is a triumph of courage over fear; creativity over predictability; and mostly instinct over expertise.
And the lessons one draws are mostly personal and range from from the “So that’s how it’s done! I could have never done that!” to “So, that’s how it’s done? My goodness, I can do it if that guy did!” Here’s to the latter response. Which was my father’s back in the early 1960s when his “moment’ presented itself and was wearing a goatee and a white suit and black string tie.
I know it’s true. I hope to one day be a better example of what the author prescribes…
I hope the same for all who can relate too well to the problem described.
As the ancient Greeks taught us any virtue taken to an extreme becomes a vice.
For those of us over-connected, what was supposed to be a tool to free us up has instead enslaved us to a degree we struggle to honestly admit –and we have been knowing accomplices.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Apr 12, 2013 at 9:15 AM ET
Will the real school bullies please stand up?
Of course not. All bullies, at bottom, are hurt cowards. But they do need to be called out and held accountable.
The actual bullies, of course, are the perpetrators. But they are typically very misguided and emotionally wounded pre-teens or teens. Not adults. But adults are involved and sometimes subtly (or not so subtlety) are complicit in school bullying incidents. They may want to “fit in” themselves with the “cool kids” or simply not “rock the boat.” And in doing so they may bend the rules or look the other way or even pressure innocent kids to lie or further bully these kids in other ways to avoid standing up to the real bullies and doing the right thing.
The courage to do the right thing begins with administrators who are capable of being honest with themselves about their motives. And then having the courage of their convictions be the kind of honorable role models these young people, deep down, really crave to see. And stare down bullies, rather than appeasing them in hopes they will harass them last.
Is that easy to do? No, it isn’t. In fact, it is difficult. But not as difficult as it is important for the grown ups involved to act like grown ups and stand up to the bullies. Otherwise, the “actual bullies” are being aided and abetted by the adult administrators, who then can, quite literally, become the “real bullies.”
And when that happens, the young and impressionable victims are “doubly bullied.” They are literally sucker punched by a classmate bully, and then figuratively sucker-punched by the school authority figures they have been taught to trust. And that is more than doubly unfortunate!
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Apr 11, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Middle age and smartphones
Today is the day that Blackberry launches the BB 10–its attempt to stay relevant–after the former market leader was vanquished by their hipper more nimble iPhone and Android competitors
I am pulling for the Blackberry 10 on principle alone. And the fact they feel like a soul-mate
Because after a certain age you realize that, with the right mindset, a victory tour can be just as impressive as a new album (or new CD, as they call it these days)
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Apr 9, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
You can call me Al. Or at least an Al lover. Al Jarreau, that is.
In high school I tried to get into the heavy metal music that was popular at the time. I tried and failed.
That more I caved to peer pressure and tried to pretend I liked the dense, loud, manic lyrics belted out by AC/DC and Black Sabbath, the more drawn I became to what, I suppose, could be called its opposite: the melodious and soulful harmonizings of a little known singer (at the time) named Al Jarreau.
I remember having more Al Jarreau cassettes in my car than any other musician in 1979. But I would never play them when a friend was in the car. But when I was alone, it was Al and me.
My first great love affair with music was with this man’s remarkable voice.
Until there is a newer and obviously superior way to do things.
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