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Baloney

January 27, 2015

When I was in high school and college I worked a different job each summer, usually looking for hard labor that would help prepare my body for the next football season, and each time confirming that it would not be my choice for lifetime employment. One summer I worked at a lumber yard and paper mill complex along the banks of the Wisconsin River.

Every day I ate lunch with the men who had made this their life’s work; and I grew in ways both positive and negative as I listened to their conversations and tales. We all brought our own lunch pails.

One day, one of the more veteran employees opened his lunchbox and flew into a rage. “I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed. “Baloney again! I hate baloney.”

Trying to calm him down, another worker said, “If you hate baloney so much, just ask your wife to make you something else.”

To which the complainer replied, “That won’t work. I make my own lunches,” which resulted in an uproar of laughter from the rest of us.

I thought of this incident recently as I was preparing to meet with constituents about the rules they most love to hate: policies relating to coach and player contact out of season. Those are our most criticized rules.

But it occurs to me, if we don’t like the sandwich we’re eating – out-of-season coaching rules – we should remember: we made them ourselves, and we can change them. In fact, no one is in a better position to do so than we are. And no one has a greater duty to do so than we have, if we really are in need of a new recipe.

Interruptions

November 23, 2011

I know many of us crave the opportunity to work without distractions and to focus on a problem or project without interruptions.  It’s why I seek a week alone at my cottage to read, write and rehearse.  It’s my “sabbatical.”

But having said that about the significant benefits of solitude, I nevertheless must state that the sixth and final lesson in this series of blogs is this:  The job is the interruptions.

I brought this lesson to the MHSAA from previous employment and it resonates truer today than ever.

The job is the call from the athletic director, coach or official who has a question.  The job is the call from the superintendent, principal or parent with a concern.

The job is the knock on the door from another staff member with a difficult question from a constituent, or even a personal issue that’s important to them.

It’s often been when I’ve treated the call or knock as nuisance, given it inadequate time or attention, that the little interruption grew into a bigger problem.

The job is the interruptions.  If there were none, we wouldn’t be needed.  There would be no job.