What Kind of Worker Am I?

Don Miller is good at what he does. He writes. He gets his readers to think differently about things they think about all the time. In his latest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Miller pushes the reader to really think about what it means for a person to become the main character in his or her life story and what God's role is in that. That's about as vanilla and simple as i know how to put that. But it's my day off and I don't want to spend the entire day explaining a book. You need to read it anyway. It's an inspiring thing Miller does. To get the most out of life, you need to be proactive, no matter what you're after.
Between books and speaking engagements and whatever else he does, he runs a blog. It's called Don Miller Is.
The other day he ran a post called: Knowing Your Work Style Can Help You Avoid Burnout.

I don't think I'm a grinder or a finder. I have a little Keeper in me but I'm much more of the last two (finder and theorist).

If you were to ask me what kind of worker I am, I'd tell you I'm a hard worker. A loyal worker. Someone who can think outside the box to find quick, creative solutions.
But what does that really mean? I mean, and good worker is going to be a hard, loyal, one.
Truthfully, I'm going to be a good worker no matter where I work. Always have been a good worker, always will be.

But the bottom line is that if you aren't in a good working environment for the kind of worker you are, you're probably headed for burnoutvilleburg. And right now I feel like the mayor of said town. I think my term may be ending soon. Things are in the works. My character is working on a better story.

I have a problem with being too indecisive. If you ask me a yes or no question, 40 percent of the time I'm not going to give you a yes or no answer. Even still, the other 60 percent of the time when I actually do answer your yes or no question I'm going to stumble all around trying to find a way out of actually giving a decisive answer. My whole life I've been like this. It's because I desperately want your approval and I'm petrified of rejection.
But this drives people nuts. If you tell me you the last movie you saw and you loved it and then ask me if I liked it, I'm probably going try to find something I did like about it (even if I hated it) and say "it was alright."
This is a quality that gets on peoples nerves. At least when someone says they hated the movie you know how they felt.
Sometimes I get frustrated because members ALWAYS want the same thing. Day in. Day out. One man comes in every day at lunch and wants the exact same thing. A bowl of soup (doesn't matter what the soup is), three packs of saltines to go with that. Fish. A cup of fruit. And sweet tea with no ice. And when he runs out of tea he says, "can I get some more sweet tea, no ice?" He says that every single time like I've got the ice scoop in my hand ready to dump a whole load of it into his precious tea. Also, I don't care if we bring this guy Gorton's fish sticks or grilled Mahi with some amazing chutney. He doesn't care. He just wants fish. Yes it's repetitive. Yes, it gets really old. But this guy knows what he wants and to be honest, I think a small part of me may be jealous of that quality.
Just this morning I stopped at a Starbucks in Winston to grab a cup of coffee on my way back from Wilkesboro to Chapel Hill. I almost had to give up my place in line because I couldn't decide between the Bold and Pike's Place roast. It takes me several seconds to choose a bottle of water when I'm in line at Whole Foods. Both roasts at Starbucks are basically the same. Doesn't really matter what kind label the bottle has the water really tastes the same. I just worry too much about what people might think based on these little decisions. Anyway, this is a roundabout way of me saying, "I'm working on it."

On a completely different note. I'd like to endorse Randy Newman as a songwriter. He obviously doesn't need my recommendation but what I like about the guy, is that it doesn't really matter which song you listen to, I doubt the man has ever been asked "Can you tell me what this song is about?" They are straightforward. He is the quintessential "storytelling songwriter."
Today I had "Living Without You" I put on a mixed CD I burned. The first part of the opening verse is incredible.

The milk truck hauls the sun up/
the paper hits my door/
the subway shakes my floor/
and I think about you.

Unbelievable.

MerleFest

I'm at Merlefest this weekend, in Wilkesboro, my hometown. Elvis Costello & The Sugarcanes tonight. Also, Steve Martin is playing banjo with the Steep Canyon Rangers as his backing band. I haven't been this excited to come home in quite some time. Nothing old-persons-related to speak of. The Kentucky Derby is in jeopardy of being rained out apparently. If I were working today I'd be elbow deep making mint juleps and seeing what sort of crazy hats the members came in wearing. Not that 'm going to miss that at all, but it's just fun to see octogenarians getting tanked sometimes. So here's to Derby Day and Merlefest. I'm going to fend off the hippies.

Oops.

Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about this thing. I'm just really, really lazy. Writing, I've found, is just like going to the gym. You have to get into a routine, a set plan, in order to be able to see the benefits of the hard work. Yes, it sucks to wake up at seven in the morning when you don't have to be at work for another four hours. It has to be serious change. And once you get into the habit, not only does it become easier to get to the gym, the opposite is also true. It becomes harder to NOT go to the gym. That is, until, you get out of your routine and you skip a day. And then you skip another day. And another. Then you rationalize your not going to the gym by telling yourself that it's good to skip the gym for a week or two because your body was probably too comfortable with all that exercise and that skipping for a week will trick your body so that when you finally do go back your muscles will have no idea what's going on, turning your body into a fat incinerating furnace. Then, three weeks later you find yourself looking at yourself in the mirror trying to figure out who the fat loser is with the Cheetos crumbs all over his face, wondering, where did that person go who was actually starting to get into shape?
I'm not speaking from personal experience or anything. Hmmm.
Writing this blog has been the same. I went out of town three weeks ago and didn't have any internet connection where I was and so this little project of mine sort of went on the back burner for a few days. Then, when I got back to town I said to myself, "you've already missed a few days; another is no big deal."
That was three weeks ago.
And then something really strange happened. People started asking me why I hadn't written anything. It was like having a weight drop on your foot in the gym (side note: that happened to me one time. My toenail literally bled for three weeks).
So, I'm sorry and I'm flattered. I will try to be more disciplined.
Not really a whole lot going on at the Cedars these days, but for some reason the members have been very vocal about how much of a drag getting older is. I'm not sure if there's anything to that. Maybe they always have and I just haven't been paying attention but I don't think that's it.
At this point I'm going on four hours sleep and I'm reaching for something to write. Finito.

Another Successful "Happy Hour"

I don't know if I told you this; but it's illegal to have a happy hour in North Carolina. It's a violation of the law to lower the price of alcoholic beverages for less than 24 hours. So in stead, we call Fridays, Happy Day now. We still close the bar from 4-6:30 and close it off for strictly drinkin'. But tonight I explained to a few members that now, if they wanted to, they could order a drink at 7:00 am and to have with their mini muffins (that are scooped out with an ice cream scooper and then baked) and bagels and Activia yogurts. And I'll be honest, some of them are so "thrifty" I wouldn't be surprised to someone dressed in a track suit with the News & Observer in one hand, and a cabernet in the other at the continental breakfast. People do it in Europe every day.
This evening, we had "John Dalys" as the Happy Hour special. With the Masters and pollen and warm weather and all the blue skies it seemed like the perfect drink for this evening. We whipped up some orange simple syrup and mixed it with Firefly (that is, honest-to-goodness Sweet Tea flavored vodka) and topped it with lemon-lime soda. It's called a John Daly because it's an alcholic version of an Arnold Palmer. It's a cheap shot; but everybody gets the joke.
Now, one might think, no way would an 80+ year-old drink something as crazy as sweet-tea flavored vodka. And one would be wrong. Don't worry, most misconceptions about "old people" have been exposed at the Cedars. Friday nights prove that many of them are willing to try new things. We decided a long time ago to try to think up something many of them haven't ever had before. And a lot of them are very receptive to new things.
When we made something called Tar Heel Tea (a blue version of a Long Island Iced Tea) some members said "it looks like poison," but they tried it. Some of them even liked it.
When I had my last happy hour before I left for Colorado a server made Jello shots (yes, Jello shots). I was watching old people slam them down like it was finals week at Carolina.
Their sense of adventure is still strong.
And if you've never seen a 93 year take a Jello shot in the shape of a Tar Heel logo, you're life might not mean as much as you think.
That might be a little harsh. You're life probably means a lot despite having seen this; but seeing old people take Jello shots is incredible.

"He Was One Of The Hippies."

If there is one overwhelming positive to working in the bar as opposed to the other dining rooms at the Cedars, it's the casual feel of the room. It's dark room but it isn't dull. Warmth is what you feel (though members always complain it's cold). Rich wood lines the floor and ceiling; muted reds, greens, and gold make up the carpet. Black solid granite makes the bar. I think it's granite but I don't know for sure.
If you're looking for a laid back, casual, easy meal, then Bob's Speakeasy (the bar's God-given name) is the place for you. The pace for the staff working in the bar is anything but laid back, but still, the overall vibe of the room opens it up to warm conversation. I mean I've had some of the greatest conversations of my life in that room and I've heard (read: eavesdropped) some doozies between the members. Sometimes, the discussions can catch you off guard. Case in point:
Tonight I went to clear the dinner plates at Table 7. That's in the back left-hand corner of the bar (if you're standing behind the bar looking out at the tables) next to a window that looks out into the lobby and the grand piano.
I had noticed the couple there in deep conversation before I got there and when I was about to ask what they'd like to have dessert the lady turned to me and looked up.
"Kent, what do you think about legalizing medical marijuana in California?"
Now, this is one of those women you see and could bundle into the "cutest, sweetest little-old-lady-in-the-world" debate. I was in shock that she would ask this question, even more so that I was asked to chime in on the discussion. But I couldn't resist (note: I don't dare divulge my actual thoughts on the subject. This is for time's sake and also I just don't want to go there you, OK?). As I spoke they nodded and several times said, "I guess I never really considered that, or, "that's a good point."
After I was done with my schpiel (I don't know how to spell schpiel) they looked at me and they looked at each other and I looked at them and we all nodded. And then came the amazing part.
The gentleman at the table looked up at me and offered up this little tidbit.
"Well, as I was explaining to [the lady's first name] earlier, my son used to smoke marijuana when he was in college. He was one of the hippies. I used to smell it in his room when he would come home to visit. But once he got a job he never touched the stuff again."
The man was on the right subject but his offering wasn't totally relevant. But I loved it because it was honest and sincere. Also, because he used the phrase "he was one of the hippies" in a real-life conversation.
Confession time, I can't believe that I'm called upon as a source of information for these members as I often am. But I am. Since 2005 I have explained iPods, twitter, Wilkesboro's Moonshine supremacy, the appeal of NASCAR, etc, etc, this isn't even close to the tip of the iceberg in relation to the information I've given out. And secretly, I love it. And for as many times as I've doled "knowledge" out, I've been on the receiving end on some amazing info too.
After we talked about pot, I took the couple's dessert order. Decaf black for the lady, (she only indulges in sweets on Saturday) tiramisu cheesecake with a scoop of vanilla for the gentleman (he indulges in sweets every day of the week).

New Nike Commercial for Tiger

I just saw this new Nike commercial for Tiger Woods. It features the voice of his late father. Whoever came up with this is a genius.