Alone, I sit in my home office. I should be working. I’m not. I’m distracted. In my windowless basement room, I swing the door shut and dim the lights. I know what I must do, but I don’t want to.
I’ve been writing and publishing for years, but I’ve never owned this reality. Now I must. It’s a seminal moment, of that I’m quite sure. If I don’t do it today, it might never happen. My gut rumbles. I inhale deeply and close my eyes as if eyelids will afford me protection from what I’m about to do.
Pulse racing, my lips move, but no sound comes out. On my third attempt, an audible rasp oozes forth, a murmur I can barely hear. Almost indiscernible, I think I just mumbled, “I am a writer.”
I try again. Eventually, my volume rises to a normal speaking level, but my words still lack confidence. A few months later I try this in front of another person. It emerges as a most pitiful attempt. It takes a couple of years before I can confidently tell someone that I am a writer.
That was years ago. Now saying “I am a writer” flows forth without effort and no self-doubt—because it’s true.
At writing conferences, I occasionally teach a workshop for newer writers. I often lead my class in saying this phrase out loud: “I am a writer.” Their first effort is cautious, timid. But by their third attempt, they grin with confidence. We need to first call ourselves writers if others are to believe it.
I am a writer and so are you. That’s why you’re reading this book.
Learn more about writing and publishing in Peter’s book: Successful Author FAQs: Discover the Art of Writing, the Business of Publishing, and the Joy of Wielding Words. Get your copy today.
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an author, blogger, and publisher with over 30 years of writing and publishing experience. Check out his book Successful Author FAQs for insider tips and insights.
My cousins taught me how to play chess when I was in third grade. My parents, doubting I could grasp the complexities of the game, urged caution and tried to lower my expectations. Yet I forged ahead.
My oldest cousin patiently taught me the names of the pieces and how they moved. He gently quizzed me to gauge my understanding. Soon we played a real game. Despite novice errors, it was great fun. We played until he grew weary. Then I begged his siblings for a few games. But they had less tolerance for my sloppy play; by midafternoon we moved on to other things.
The next morning I challenged my instructor to play again. Before the day was done, I won my first game. He rallied, winning the next two, but I sensed I was beginning to challenge him. Seeking to avoid another loss, he feigned boredom and retreated to a safer activity. I then asked his brother to play. Discerning I’d advanced enough for it to not be too demeaning, he condescended to pick up where his brother left off. By the time their visit was over, I was hooked.
Practice Makes Perfect
Although my desire to play chess was strong, opportunities were limited. I asked family members, but each had a reason not to learn the game. My neighbor wasn’t much help either, having only passing interest. So I played against myself. Sometimes I would play the white pieces (which moves first and takes the offensive); other times I would take the black side (which responds and defends). Sometimes, I’d switch sides midway through the game, giving up a superior position to assume a lesser one.
These exercises may not have been the best way to improve, but I did get better. When it came time for a real game, my practicing paid off.
Study
Although enjoyable, playing against myself became wearisome. So I turned to books. First, I learned some esoteric rules, like en passant, which is seldom used in a real game. Then I studied opening moves and their recommended defenses. I also learned techniques, like the pin, the knight fork (a personal favorite), discovered check (a great way to confound your opponent), and gambits, as well as endgame tactics.
Having consumed several books, I zeroed in on one titled, “How to Beat Bobby Fischer.” The premise was that it was statistically more probable to beat Fischer than to force a draw—of course, he was nine times more likely to win than lose. I actually read, studied, and reenacted many of the sixty-one games he lost in Grandmaster tournaments. I reasoned that to improve, I needed to study the master’s.
Don’t Give Up
The unspoken credo among my chess-playing buddies was that you never conceded. No matter how dire the situation, we would never quit, playing to the end. Resigning a chess game was for those of lesser character. This perspective taught me two things.
First, I learned how to be a good winner, to be gracious to the other player as a person, all the while dismantling his army and backing his king into the corner for an acrimonious checkmate. I wanted to win but desired to not belittle my opponent in the process—after all, I would want to play him again.
Playing to the end also taught me to remain dignified in defeat. That’s much harder—especially when the vanquishing conqueror is relishing his impending victory too much. Yet, these moments perfect character.
Play it Again
Losing is never fun, especially when you deem yourself the superior player, but it does happen. I learned to accept defeat as part of the game and to grow in the process. It’s true that you can learn more in defeat than in victory.
It’s also important to not wallow in self-pity when setbacks occur but to shake off the disappointment and forge into the future. Regardless of how close I came to winning or how big the loss, my first response was invariably, “Wanna play again?”
Change the Rules
I sometimes played during study hall, where I could count on a worthy opponent is present. Once we organized a chess competition, complete with round-robin play and capped off by a single-elimination tournament.
My track buddy, Spencer, was in study hall, too, but he didn’t play chess. Still, he was attracted to it like a magnet. The variations of pieces and moves intrigued him. I tried in vain to teach him, but his attention span was too short. Tired of watching, he one day blurted out, “Let’s play checkers—all-kings-jump-your-own-man.”
I’m not sure if he made this up or not, but I was willing to try. Lacking checkers, we used my chess set, arranging the chessmen like checkers. Since every piece was automatically a king, they could move forward and backward. Also, you could jump your own piece (though you left it on the board) to catapult yourself into enemy territory to capture your opponent’s pieces. It was a wild game and Spence played it with great abandon.
Playing all-kings-jump-your-own-man checkers with a chess set would elicit snide comments from casual observers, but we didn’t care. Spence changed the rules so he could participate and I was happy to oblige.
React Quickly
Aside from Spenser, the rest of us would sometimes play “rapid chess,” where you had to move within five seconds. With no timer, it was self-policing. It taught us to think astutely and react quickly. I had a knack for it, able to assess a situation and make a snap decision, sometimes on intuition or pure reaction. Games only lasted about five minutes and were so intense that it only took a couple to give me a headache.
I sometimes adopted a “rapid chess” strategy in a regular game. Although my hurried moves were not always ideal, their unending swiftness would unnerve my opponent, causing him to get flustered and make blunders.
From his perspective, it was always his turn and he was always intently concentrating. I, on the other hand, was relaxed and having fun. I learned it was often better to make a quick decision that was good than to take time to make an ideal move.
Application
To imply that life is like a game of chess is a shallow metaphor. However, just as a good game of chess requires a thoughtful approach and sound strategy, so does running a successful business or living a worthy life.
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an entrepreneur and businessman who has managed, owned, and started multiple businesses over his career. Common themes at every turn have included customer service, sales and marketing, and leadership and management.
He shares his lifetime of business experience and personal insights through his books to encourage, inspire, and occasionally entertain.
I remember years ago as I gazed about my office, I am amused at its absurdity. It contained an eclectic array of form and function. Although my computer technology was first-rate, the room’s remaining accouterments were a varied collection emanating from different decades, with the diverging appearance and disparate degrees of utility.
In short, nothing matches. Of the six filing cabinets, three were metal, and the rest, wood. With different finishes, colors, and styles, there were only two that match.
The four shelving units were likewise dissimilar: early American dark oak, maple-adorned particleboard, light oak veneer, and modular plastic. It was not much to look at, but it all worked—effectively and efficiently—to my complete satisfaction and utter joy.
My office, however, was not just about function, as it also contained a collection of sentimental artifacts: gifts from family and friends, trinkets from significant events, and a near gallery of wall hangings— the most elegant of which was a tastefully matted and smartly framed cover of my first issue of Connections Magazine.
Next to it was an evocative gift from my eleventh birthday, a reprint, bordered with a simple homemade frame. Then there was a framed 3-D art rendering—the kind that you need to go slightly crossed-eyed before the hidden image emerges. On the far wall was an avant-garde depiction of a Monopoly game in progress.
The remaining item was a black-and-white photo, housed in an inexpensive but seemingly ornate and likely antique frame. It was an aerial photo of my grandfather’s chicken farm, DeHaan Poultry, circa 1960.
The preceding description was written in 2007, but it remained fully accurate until a few months ago. For over a decade, my office configuration and contents had served me well. During that time, it had undergone a minimal change; even at the end, it lacked little in terms of functionality and efficiency, despite its visually diverse array of appurtenances.
So why did I want to ruin a good thing? Quite simply, I wanted to make things better.
When I had a colleague, it was impractical to have our respective offices on different floors, so I moved my office to be next to my wife’s.
Although the upheaval of my comfortable office was borderline traumatic, the ending result has been worth it. An efficiency expert would deem my new configuration to be even better, and a time-motion maven granted me high marks as well.
Moving also afforded the opportunity to simplify. Several things were discarded, while other items were elevated in status; files were scrutinized, the workflow was streamlined, and computer configurations were reworked. A new desk was acquired and a more practical printer connected.
Moving my office required an investment of time and money. It also took a while before I felt comfortable and effective in my new environment, but I’m better off having made the change. What I had before was good; what I have now is better.
What change have you been putting off in your office? Act now and enjoy the results.
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an entrepreneur and businessman who has managed, owned, and started multiple businesses over his career. Common themes at every turn have included customer service, sales and marketing, and leadership and management.
He shares his lifetime of business experience and personal insights through his books to encourage, inspire, and occasionally entertain.
Some managers say “yes,” whereas others respond with a resounding “no.” The informed answer is, “it all depends.” Here’s why:
Of that portion of the populace who are perfectionists, some are blindly or proudly so. Others are self-aware of possessing this characteristic and informed about it; I call them recovering perfectionists.
A self-aware perfectionist understands this condition, knowing how to tap into and celebrate the many strengths and benefits of pursuing excellence. At the same time, they know to guard against its limiting, self-defeating, and even paralyzing facets.
Doing research on perfectionism reveals a host of debilitating traits, starting with compulsiveness and going downhill from there. However, knowledgeable perfectionists can tap into the positive aspects of their natural tendencies when appropriate, that is, when it is to their advantage to do so.
At the same time, they can usually avoid being handicapped by perfectionism’s alluring snares.
For a perfectionist, there are many traits that provide great value in the workplace:
Produce quality work: Perfectionists tend to produce high-quality work. They take pleasure in excellence and find satisfaction in a job well done.
Exceed expectations: If the boss expects a short summary, the perfectionist will submit a report. If achieving a 99 percent rating is admirable, the purist will aim for 99.9—and then 100. Being above average is not good enough; being the best is a self-imposed requirement.
Go the extra mile: Perfectionists often give more than asked. If a report needs to be five pages long, they will turn in six. If a product needs to have three new features, they will add a fourth and maybe a fifth. If they set a record last month, they will strive to better it this month. In sports, this results in shooting free throws while the rest of the team showers or taking 30 minutes of extra batting practice—every day.
Set high standards: Another trait is that perfectionists set high standards, both for themselves and others. As long as the standards are reasonably attainable, it is acceptable, and even admirable for the perfectionist to set a bar high—for him or herself. (However, foisting faultlessness on the others does little more than establishing the groundwork for future frustration, disappointment, and conflict between the precision-minded and the rest of the world.)
Of course, there are counterparts to these traits. One is procrastination. It is said that the perfectionist subconsciously reasons that the results of their work will never be just right—no matter how much time is invested—so why start?
In fact, the project is often delayed until the last possible moment, so there is a plausible excuse as to why it’s not perfect: “I didn’t have much time to work on it!” Taking this to an extreme, some perfectionists miss deadlines and blow past due dates, often agonizing over some trivial or irrelevant detail.
Another side-effect associated with perfectionism is having problems in making quick decisions. Sometimes, they need to “sleep on it” to be assured of the correctness of their judgment. Other times decisions can be agonizingly difficult for them to reach.
They fear making the wrong conclusion, that is, a less than perfect one. They delay a decision while awaiting more information, so they can conduct an informed analysis. Unfortunately, this mental paralysis is seldom cured by amassing more data.
Over the years I have often interviewed perfectionists during job interviews. As it becomes apparent that I am talking to a perfectionist, I segue into a special interview segment, just for them. “So,” I inquire, “Do you consider yourself to be a perfectionist?”
Their responses fall into one of three categories. The first one is shock or denial. If a person who has just exhibited several perfectionist traits is taken aback at the thought of being called one or disavows any connection whatsoever, I judge them to either be disingenuous or lacking in self-awareness. Neither are characteristics that I seek in an employee.
The second type of response to my perfectionist query is unabashed pride and total satisfaction in possessing this quality. To make sure I am not rushing to a snap judgment, I give them one last chance for redemption.
“What,” I ask, “do you see as the weaknesses of being a perfectionist?” Occasionally, they will comprehend the importance of that question, using an astute answer to move them from this category over to category three.
Usually, however, they give me a blank stare, as if my inquiry was nonsensical, responding that there is no downside or that they don’t understand what I asked. In a similar fashion, I don’t want to work with a perfectionist that has failed to realize the turmoil and trouble they can produce by their proclivity for perfection.
The third type of perfectionist applicant smiles at this question and begins to share their self-awareness about the shortcomings of how their version of perfectionism is manifested.
They openly identify the less than admirable ways that it reveals itself in them and often proceed to communicate how they guard themselves and others against this tendency. This is the person I want on my team.
Yes, they may require a bit more management effort from time to time, but doing so is worth the extra energy as the results will be an employee who produces quality work, frequently exceeds expectations, goes the extra mile, and sets high standards for him or herself. Isn’t that who you want to work with within your organization, too?
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an entrepreneur and businessman who has managed, owned, and started multiple businesses over his career. Common themes at every turn have included customer service, sales and marketing, and leadership and management.
He shares his lifetime of business experience and personal insights through his books to encourage, inspire, and occasionally entertain.
Perhaps you’ve heard this story. Imagine you’re sitting in a college class. It’s one of those big classrooms, with tiered seating, able to accommodate hundreds of students. The class is assembled in expectation; what will the prof do today?
At exactly 8 o’clock, he strides in and without acknowledging the classes’ presence, reaches under the lectern and produces a gallon glass jar. He sits it on a nearby table. Then he pulls out a box of rocks and sets it next to the jar. Finally, he fixes his gaze on his students.
Garnering their attention, he clears his throat, gestures to the rocks, and asks, “Who would like to show us how much you can fit in?”
Unable to contain himself, an eager-to-impress freshman shoots up his hand. Desiring to make an impression, Mr. Eager-to-Impress carefully places rocks in the jar.
“Is the jar full?” The professor asks.
“Yes!” the students reply in unison.
“Can you fit any more in?”
“No!”
Then the instructor produces a bag of pebbles. The students gasp; a hush falls over the room. Mr. Eager-to-Impress is in a quandary. Should he cut his losses and keep quiet or attempt to salvage his bravado. Hesitantly he raises his hand and then comes forward.
With greater care, he places a handful of pebbles at the top and by tapping, shaking, and rotating the jar, they make their way to the gaps below. Satisfied with the results, he returns to his chair hoping for the best.
“Is the jar full, now?”
“Um, yes,” the students answer.
“Can you fit any more in?”
“No.” Their answer is guarded.
Next the instructor brings out a pail of sand. Many students smile. “How about now?” Eager-to-Impress is not so eager anymore, but feels his fate is already decided. Without being asked, he slinks back to the table and using the same technique, filters the sand through the courser maze of rocks and pebbles. Red-faced, he sits down, anxious for class to end.
The teacher gleefully asks, “Is the jar full now?”
No one ventures a response. Whatever they might say, they fear would be wrong; plus, no one wants to stand out like Eager-to-Impress.
The professor ignores their silence, “Can you fit any more in the jar?” More silence.
With practiced timing, the learners squirm in the hush of the moment. Without saying a word, the teacher reaches under the podium and brings forth a pitcher of water. Some students groan; others laugh. Unable to contain himself, the educator grins. “How about now?”
Slowly he pours the water into the jar, permeating every crevice. He fills it to the top and then overflows it. There’s no doubt whether or not the jar is full.
“What can we learn from this?”
Eager-to-Impress, wanting to salvage something from this debacle, summons his courage and hesitantly says, “It means that no matter how busy you are, you can always fit more in!”
“No,” the professor bellows, pounding his fist on the table. “It means that unless you do the big things first, they’ll never get done!”
I’ve heard several variations of this story. Since I don’t know who wrote it, I share my version with a nod to “Anonymous.”
I’m adept at handling the pebbles and sand in my life, topping it off with an abundant supply of water to make things seem full. However, I must be intentional to handle the rocks, those important tasks. Without deliberate action, I put off the big stuff until tomorrow, attending to life’s minutia, without tackling its priorities.
It’s an epidemic; everyone is busy. We’re busy at work and leave to be busy at home; we’re busy in recreation and busier still on vacation, needing to return to work to rest. Our busyness distracts us from what’s important, from what really matters, from those things that could truly make a difference.
I’ve pondered my own busyness and am working towards my cure:
1) Time Management: The thrust of time management is controlling how we spend our time to allow time to do more. This doesn’t bring relief, it just means we’re squeezing more into an already full day. Turn time management on its head, using it to control how we spend our time so that we do less.
2) Multitasking: When I multitask, I’m not really doing two things at once, but merely quickly switching back and forth. I fear my pursuit of multitasking has only served to make me ADD! Not only is multitasking counter-productive, but there’s also evidence it messes up our brain.
3) Keep a Time Log: I used to unintentionally irritate my managers by periodically asking them to keep a time log for a week; I’d do it too. They hated it and so did I, but the results were instructive.
Let’s look at some easy timewasters. How much TV do you watch a day? How much time do you spend online? This amounts to hours that could be put to a different use, attending to the big things, not squandered in passive activities of no real consequence. While we all need to relax, if we weren’t so perpetually busy, we wouldn’t need so much time to escape.
4) Just Say No: We tell our kids to say “no” to certain behaviors and would do well to heed our advice. Sometimes it’s wise to say “no” to good things in order to protect ourselves from over-committing and ending up too busy to do anything well.
5) Set Limits: My tolerance for work is about 50 to 55 hours a week. If things balloon beyond that, out of self-preservation I cut back until I again have a tolerable schedule. If I was self-policing to a 55-hour workweek, I theorized I could learn to limit myself to 45. It took some time, but I was able to do it. In looking at my output and quality during those 45-hour workweeks, I saw nothing that suffered. I was also more relaxed, less stressed, and had more free time.
6) Know Yourself: My tendency is to handle the pebbles and sand at the beginning of my day and attend to the rocks in the afternoon – if there’s time. This isn’t wise, as my time of greatest focus and peak energy is in the morning. Ironically, I was handling trivial stuff at my peak while reserving the important tasks for my low point. I’ve noted a similar cycle throughout the week and another that is seasonal. It takes concerted effort, but I strive to prioritize key tasks for peak times while delegating lesser activities to my lower energy moments.
7) Then Do the Big Things: Once we take steps to control life’s activities, we can attend to the big things. Without the pressures of trivial concerns, there’s the freedom to focus on the important, the life-altering, and the significant, removing us from the rut that all too easily goes from day to day, week to week, month to month, and year to year—all without noticeable advancement.
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an entrepreneur and businessman who has managed, owned, and started multiple businesses over his career. Common themes at every turn have included customer service, sales and marketing, and leadership and management.
He shares his lifetime of business experience and personal insights through his books to encourage, inspire, and occasionally entertain.
As a publisher of trade magazines, I travel to conventions and industry shows. Before that, as a consultant, I traveled to my clients’ offices. Therefore, it may surprise you that I don’t like to travel, especially to fly—unpredictable, impersonal, and a loss of control.
I am a homebody, perfectly content to stay within the comfort of my home—my castle—which is also my office. It’s not that I am people adverse because, with the telephone, email, and text, I am always available.
It’s simply that I enjoy being home and anything else, including travel, pales with the comfort of home sweet home.
Like any traveler, I have many stories.
A Private Flight
One time, awaiting a connecting flight in Detroit and anxious to return home, I sat at the sparsely occupied gate, immersed in my crossword puzzle. Suddenly, an announcement interrupted my focus, “Now boarding all rows, all passengers for flight 3512 for Kalamazoo; this is the final boarding.” Strange, I mused; I had apparently tuned out all the previous announcements.
Grateful that I heard this one, I walked alone to the gate and handed the agent my ticket. “We wondered if you were here,” she smiled. Perplexed at such a strange comment, I smiled back and inanely replied, “Yes, I am here,” and proceeded through the doorway. The door shut behind me.
Walking down the empty jetway, I stepped onto the plane; the flight attendant informed me that I was the only passenger. She asked if I would be needing beverage service. I thanked her and joked that she could take the night off.
Later, as I deplaned in Kalamazoo, I inquired if this thing happened very often. “Occasionally,” she replied. “Once the plane was empty. But we have to fly anyway because it needs to be in Kalamazoo for an early flight the next day.” So, for the price of a commercial ticket, I had a private flight with a personal flight attendant.
The Captain’s Final Flight
Another time, while anxiously waiting for my flight to Chicago—where I had a tight 40 minutes connection—there was an announcement of a delay: 30 minutes, then an hour, then more. Finally, two hours past the scheduled departure, we had boarded and were ready to taxi.
Then an unusual announcement has made. This was to be the captain’s final flight for the airline, as he was retiring after 22 years of service. To celebrate, several members of his family were on the plane with him. As was a tradition in these cases, we would taxi past two fire trucks, which would spray a canopy of water over and on the plane. As we proceeded, parallel to the terminal, I noticed the windows lined with airline personnel, waving their goodbyes. Soon, passengers irrepressibly began waving back.
Then came another surprise announcement, “Because this is the captain’s final flight, ground control has given us priority clearance for departure; we are next-in-line for take-off.” Never before had I witnessed such a speedy departure. The runway even pointed us towards Chicago.
In seemingly no time, there was another announcement, “We have enjoyed a strong tail wind and we are getting ready to land in Chicago. Because this is the captain’s final flight, air traffic control has given us priority clearance to land.” Again it was a straight shot to the runway and we quickly landed.
Then a third unexpected announcement was made. “Because this is our captain’s final flight, ground control has given us priority to taxi to our gate.” Could it be, I wondered as I glanced at my watch. My connecting flight left on time—and I was on it!
Taking a Taxi Instead
For my final story, I was traveling with two co-workers. We were headed home, again connecting in Chicago. It was winter and we landed only to learn that our flight home, the last one of the day, was canceled due to weather.
As the more savvy travelers snapped up all the rental cars, we sought other options; alas, the only one was to spend the night in Chicago and fly home the next day. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I anticipated sleeping in my own bed that night and anything else would be second-rate.
Plus one of my associates was ill and the other was beginning her vacation the next morning with an early fight out for a cruise. If we delayed until the next day, she would miss her departing flight and part of the cruise. There were no more flights, no buses, and no rental cars.
We were 150 miles from home. It was a desperate time. Outside, a city employee was orchestrating cab rides. “What would be the possibility of getting a cabbie to take us to Kalamazoo, Michigan?” I inquired. “We really need to get home tonight,” I desperately added.
Glancing at our discouraged and tired faces, she responded positively, “Let me find you a good ride.” After putting local fares in the next five cabs, a nice new cab, with a competent looking driver, pulled up. “This is your cab,” she smiled, with a grand wave towards our coach.
She had a preliminary discussion with the now bewildered cabbie. Once I assured him that I could provide directions, we were off. Four hours later he dropped us off at the Kalamazoo airport. I
paid the 380 dollars fare and we each headed home. Later the airline refunded our unused tickets, so the net cost of our 150-mile cab ride was only 30 dollars.
What I’ve Learned about Travel
Although there were other stories I could have shared—remember I don’t like to fly—I picked these for a reason. Each one is positive: a private flight, a priority trip, and an accommodating cabbie. These represent the perspective I attempt to adopt when I fly. I call it to travel mode. To successfully travel, I need to be in travel mode. There are three aspects to it:
Have a Plan
If you don’t have a plan to occupy the idle time when you fly, you will be bored and irritable. My plan starts with magazines to read. I don’t take ones I want to keep, as each one gets thrown away when it is finished, making my load a little lighter. Magazines are for sitting in gates, standing in line, and before take-off. Naturally, there are crossword puzzles in the in-flight magazines to occupy the actual flight. Movies, another favorite pastime, are a welcome offering on longer flights. Plus there is the added benefit of the more objectionable material being edited out of the film. Finally, there are the rewards I give myself at each hub airport: food; frozen yogurt, or popcorn are much anticipated treats. My plan beneficially fills my travel time.
Be Realistic
I used to have the expectation that an airline schedule was an accurate representation of what would happen. The fact that airlines begin padding their schedules to boast a higher on-time arrival, did little to erase my frequent disappointment. Then I realized that a more reasonable attitude was to assume the plane would be late and to rejoice with an on-time or early arrival.
Here’s why. Let’s say a trip has two flights there and two flights back. If one flight is late, do your remember the three that were on time? No, you dwell on the one that was late. Now look at it mathematically. Assume that each flight has an on-time arrival of 70 percent.
That means that for the two flights to get to your destination, you only have a 49 percent chance that both flights will be on time. To include your return flights, you only have a 24 percent chance of all four planes being on time. And if you have three flights (two hubs) in each direction, your odds of all six being on time drop to 11 percent.
With proper and realistic expectations, your chances of being disappointed are greatly reduced. This isn’t optimism versus pessimism; it’s realism.
Make the Most of It
Is business travel something to be endured or an experience to be relished? If your perspective is one of tolerance, then you will gravitate towards the negative. If your perspective is one of adventure (I’m not quite there yet), then you will remember the positive—as I have done with my three stories.
And there are many more. You meet people by chance whom you will never see again, yet a lasting impression is made. A simple kindness to another traveler uplifts one’s spirit. Even spending time to check out the airport architecture or infrastructure is not without its rewards.
I have just shared my prescription for travel, the perspective I need for a successful trip. However, this can be applied to any task or endeavor to realize a positive outcome: have a plan, be realistic, and make the most of it.
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an entrepreneur and businessman who has managed, owned, and started multiple businesses over his career. Common themes at every turn have included customer service, sales and marketing, and leadership and management.
He shares his lifetime of business experience and personal insights through his books to encourage, inspire, and occasionally entertain.
A simple word of encouragement can mean a lot to a writer
As a person who uses words to make a living, words have a great impact on me. The words of others have encouraged me—and discouraged me. Even the lack of words, the things left unsaid, can have a powerful effect—a negative effect.
The things others have told me about my writing have helped me move forward, as well as almost derailing me. But let’s talk about the positive. Some of those comments have stayed with me for years.
Once, when working on a joint proposal for myself and another consultant, he reviewed my work and gushed. “I thought I was a good wordsmith,” he said, “but you put me to shame.” His remark truly affirmed me.
Another time, someone who I respected was reading my work. After a few minutes, she paused and said, “Well, you certainly know how to write, so that’s not an issue.” That was all the impetus I needed to think I could begin to call myself a writer.
I have also had times when other writers have reminded me of encouraging things I’ve said to them. This, too, shows me the power of words. May I always use mine wisely.
Learn more about writing and publishing in Peter’s book: Successful Author FAQs: Discover the Art of Writing, the Business of Publishing, and the Joy of Wielding Words. Get your copy today.
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an author, blogger, and publisher with over 30 years of writing and publishing experience. Check out his book Successful Author FAQs for insider tips and insights.
I have been following the sport of hockey. Before that, a myriad of other athletic diversions captured my attention. As a youngster, I did what many of my peers did and played Little League baseball. Not that I was good at it or particularly enjoyed it.
In fact, after four years of mostly sitting on the bench or chasing an occasional stray ball in right field, I realized that I wasn’t having much fun.
I was merely playing the game because I assumed that was what a kid was supposed to do. My attempts to play baseball did, however, lead to watching the big leagues on TV.
In fifth grade, my teacher, a fanatic fan of the Detroit Tigers, planned our school day around the playoff schedule so that she—I mean “we”—could listen to the games during study time. The Tigers won the series and I was won over, becoming a devotee. I faithfully followed the Tigers until their next World Series in 1984.
Shortly thereafter, I moved to Wisconsin. It was hard to be a Tiger fan in Wisconsin; in fact, in was hard to be a baseball fan in the shadow of the state’s beloved Green Bay Packers.
In a place where being a “cheese head” is a compliment (note to the uninformed: “cheese head” is the proudly self-proclaimed moniker of the die-hard Packer fanatic) I soon adopted the Packers as “my” team. Although my tenure in the dairy state was short-lived, I continued to be a loyal Packer backer after returning to Michigan.
But it was hard for me to get back into baseball. The player strikes, lockouts, excessive hype, and salary escalations distanced me from the game and left me increasingly ambivalent. Disenfranchised with baseball, I segued to basketball.
Although I closely followed the college tournament during March Madness, it was not the defensive prowess of college hoops to which I was endeared, but the faster-paced, higher-scoring professional games. But then, as the showmanship became excessive, I began to seek alternatives.
Throughout these meanderings as an athletic couch potato, hockey was a sport that I viewed as anomalous. I treated it with disdain. It seemed to me that the only activity was skating back and forth, with few scoring opportunities and even fewer goals. I just didn’t get it.
When my son, Dan, began following hockey, I didn’t immediately share in his interest and enthusiasm. One day he asked me to watch the game with him. Inwardly I groaned, but outwardly I agreed, because that’s what parents do for their kids.
He made popcorn (okay, so maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all) and we plopped down in front of the tube. I watched the play move back and forth, right to left and then left to right. Soon the popcorn was gone, but the players kept up their dance with the puck. My eyes grew weary as one more journey up the ice began.
Suddenly, Dan became excited. He jumped to his feet and exclaimed, “Watch this!” as the puck was guided past the blue line. To me it looked like the same play I had already seen a hundred times during that game. “They’re going to score!” he predicted.
The announcers amplified the tone of their play-by-play as they sensed that something important was about to happen. Play proceeded across the red line, then a pass and a slap shot, followed by total bedlam and an energetic high-five from my son. On the second replay, I, too, saw the puck go in the net.
I stared at my son in disbelief. “How did you know?” I stammered in amazement.
“Come on, Dad, you could tell it was going to happen as soon as he got the puck,” Dan replied. Obviously, there was more to this game than I could see. I began asking questions and for the first time in our relationship, our roles reversed and my son became the teacher.
I was astonished with how much he knew and the subtleties he comprehended. Under his tutelage, my understanding of the sport grew and with it, my interest and appreciation followed. Over time, I learned about a one-timer, the five hole, power plays, a two-pad slide, and the poke check.
Soon, watching the Red Wings become one of our favorite father-son activities. During one game, we watched an uncharacteristically unproductive power play wind down. “Shoot the puck,” I implored the Detroit offense.
“They didn’t have any good scoring opportunities,” Dan responded.
“But they can’t score if they don’t shoot the puck,” I replied.
Dan paused and gave me a quick glance, followed by a brief look of comprehension before his attention was recaptured by the game. Perhaps I had blurted something profound. After all, it did make sense that if you don’t take a shot, you can’t score.
Regardless whether the sport is hockey, baseball, football, or basketball, playing it safe isn’t going to win too many games and is certainly not what championship teams are made of.
How many times have you watched a team build a commanding lead, only to lose the game as a result of becoming tentative and mechanical as they tried to protect their lead rather than build upon it?
This example extends to business. While extreme, make-or-break risk-taking is generally not advisable, tentatively protecting what you have built up will not position you to take advantage of new opportunities that present themselves.
You could even squander what you have. Yes, many of your shots may miss the mark, but some will be on target. And those that are will keep you moving forward and propel you to the next level.
The same is true in life. If you expect to coast through your time on this earth, hoping that everything will work out, you will end up sad and disappointed.
Intentional and deliberate action is what is needed to reach your potential and become the person you are capable of being. I once saw a poster of a large turtle. The caption read, “Behold the turtle; he only makes progress when he sticks out his neck.”
Whether it’s hockey, business, or life, you can’t score if you don’t shoot.
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an entrepreneur and businessman who has managed, owned, and started multiple businesses over his career. Common themes at every turn have included customer service, sales and marketing, and leadership and management.
He shares his lifetime of business experience and personal insights through his books to encourage, inspire, and occasionally entertain.
On a weekend trip my wife and I found ourselves at a fast-food restaurant for breakfast. “I’ll have a number 10,” I decisively told the perky teenage girl at the counter. She acknowledged my request and smiled pleasantly.
This encouraged me to make small talk while my wife contemplated her choices. Not fully awake I said something apparently mildly humorous, causing her to laugh and brighten her smile. “What a pleasant way to start my day,” I thought, glancing at her name tag; it said, “Amber.”
My wife conceded that what she wanted wasn’t part of a meal deal, nor were the items listed individually. Amber was helpful. “Tell me what you want and I will see what I can do.”
My wife listed three disparate items and Amber began pushing buttons on her cash register. After a series of thoughtful keystrokes, she announced she had accomplished my wife’s request. We paid for our meal and stepped aside to wait for it.
As the people behind us placed their order, Amber’s friendly demeanor continued to capture my attention. Suddenly she saw someone out of the corner of her eye.
Her smile widened as she looked up and her face beamed, “Good morning, Jimmy,” she excitedly called out. In the split second that it took for my glance to move from Amber to Jimmy, I anticipated whom I might see. Certainly, he would be her peer, perhaps a jock or maybe a prep, possibly even her boyfriend.
I was wrong. Jimmy was an older man with a weathered face, worn clothes, and a considerable limp.
He moved forward with deliberate effort, alternating between a herky-jerky lunge followed by a short shuffle. As he made his way across the room, he did not attempt to get in line but headed straight to an open space at the counter near Amber.
With considerable effort, he produced a handful of coins and cupped them in his twisted hand. He tipped his hand forward and with careful effort, gave it a little shake. Two coins spilled out onto the counter and then a third. As if not satisfied with his progress, he poked his gnarled index finger into his open hand and moved it around as though stirring a pot.
Then he flicked a fourth coin onto the counter, stirred some more, and released a fifth. With the last coin still rattling on the counter, Amber was there. She picked up the change, rang up an unspoken order, pulled a dime from the cash drawer, and carefully dropped it into Jimmy’s still cupped hand.
What happened next made me curious. Amber reached under the counter and pulled out a handful of supplies. Then she turned to the coffee pot behind her and laid the contents of her hand on the table – two containers of cream and several packs of sugar.
This seemed backwards and inefficient – pour the coffee first, then get the additives. Amber grabbed a coffee cup and filled it half full. Even more curious. Did Jimmy only want a half of a cup? She then picked up one of the creams, gave it a brisk shake, meticulously opened it, and carefully emptied its contents into the cup. Then she repeated the procedure with the second cream.
Amber glanced around the room to see if anyone else needed her assistance. Assured that she was not neglecting another customer’s need, she picked up a pack of sugar, shook its contents to the bottom and prudently tore off the top, so as to not waste any, pouring every granule into the coffee.
She repeated this a second time, but then another customer diverted her attention from Jimmy’s coffee. She returned to the partial cup and added two more sugars. But her task was still not complete. Amber grabbed a stir stick and thoroughly mixed the contents.
Upon being satisfied with the results, she topped off the amalgamation with more coffee, put on a lid, and presented it to a grateful Jimmy.
She didn’t do any of this begrudgingly or with indifference but with all the care and precision of someone making their own cup of coffee. She was there to serve Jimmy, and she did so happily and without hesitation.
Her kindness touched me. Such a gesture was surely not found in the restaurant’s efficiency manual, but it was the right thing to do. Amber’s attitude established the framework for the rest of my day. If her example affected me so much, I can only guess what it did for Jimmy.
I imagine that, when Jimmy woke up that morning, there was no question in his mind where he would go for coffee. I surmise that his morning trek to the restaurant was routine.
I suspect, however, that he wondered who would wait on him. He might have said to himself, “I hope Amber’s working today. She treats me like I’m special; my whole day goes better when she gets me my coffee.”
Likewise, I wonder what Amber thought before work that morning. Did she make an intentional decision to have a positive attitude, thereby producing a difference in the lives of those with whom she came into contact?
She may have, but I suspect it wasn’t necessary. I think her attitude of cheerfully going the extra mile was so much a part of her that it had become habit. While I was focused on my own needs, Amber’s attitude was to focus on those around her. And what a difference she made, not only for Jimmy and for me but for the other customers and her co-workers as well.
I was challenged by all this. My attitude as I start each day, no doubt, affects how my day goes and has a ripple effect on those around me. Though it’s unlikely I will ever match Amber’s personable, outgoing disposition, I can aspire to her positive, helpful, serving attitude.
Do you have someone like Amber working in your organization? What if all your staff was like Amber? Then customer satisfaction would be exceedingly high, complaints and service problems would be non-existent, and your company would be an even greater place to work.
Whether it’s pouring coffee or doing something else, we all can have employees like Amber – and it’s not hard. All it takes is an intentional effort to have a positive attitude. That positive attitude starts with you, and it can start today!
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an entrepreneur and businessman who has managed, owned, and started multiple businesses over his career. Common themes at every turn have included customer service, sales and marketing, and leadership and management.
He shares his lifetime of business experience and personal insights through his books to encourage, inspire, and occasionally entertain.
Recently I experienced poor customer service and great customer service. Both happened the same day; both came from the same organization.
By choice I bank locally. My bank has a main office and two branches. For twelve years, I’ve always used the same branch. When I make a deposit, I prefer the lobby.
This isn’t because I have an aversion to drive-through convenience, but because face-to-face is more personal. I want to know those who handle my money and, more importantly, I want them to know me.
When I needed to check on a transaction last week, I went online – or at least I attempted to. My login was denied. Next, I tried bank-by-phone. Invalid password. Then I called the main office, where they keep all the records.
Training Shortfall
Though the woman understood my request, she took a long time to find the information I needed. Lengthy hold times were part of the process.
Once accomplished, she was about to hang up when I stopped her. “I can’t log in to online banking or bank-by-phone.” I gave her the details. Once she realized I wished to resolve these issues, she put me on hold again.
It’s Your Fault
She returned, telling me what to do when I’ve forgotten my password. “I didn’t forget it,” I clarified; “it’s just not working.” She did some typing and conferred with her coworker, this time without putting me on hold.
She was confused. She instructed me to try again. When that didn’t work, she said the system locked me out because of too many failed login attempts. Gee, I was just doing whatyoutold me to do.
You Have To
There was more conferring with her coworker. Her next words jarred me. “To reset your password, you have to fax in written authorization.” She wouldn’t help me until I did.
“That is most disappointing,” I replied. We ended the call.
This was not my first customer service issue of the day, and I began griping to myself. I don’t have to do anything. It’ll be faster to cancel my accounts than to fax in my request. However, even though switching banks might have been emotionally satisfying, it was not practical.
Making It Right
I was still stewing when the phone rang. It was the manager at my local branch; we’re on a first-name basis. She apologized for her coworker’s miscommunication.
For security purposes, the bank recently required every customer to change their passwords; we would be locked out until we did. Apparently, they quickly hired the person I talked with to address the deluge of phone calls that resulted.
In the time it took to explain this, the manager had reset my password, and soon I could log in. We would deal with the paperwork later. The manager’s exemplary response overcame the disappointing shortcomings of her coworker. It was a stellar example of customer service recovery.
A timely placed phone call can make all the difference. Who do you need to contact? Reach out today.
Customer Service Success Tip: A timely placed phone call can make all the difference between losing and keeping a customer. Encourage your staff to pass on the names of customers who might need a follow-up call. Thank the employee for the information and don’t punish them. Then call that customer.
Peter Lyle DeHaan is an entrepreneur and businessman who has managed, owned, and started multiple businesses over his career. Common themes at every turn have included customer service, sales and marketing, and leadership and management.
He shares his lifetime of business experience and personal insights through his books to encourage, inspire, and occasionally entertain.
