I looked out my den window and found something looking back!

Our Christmas Tree, before and after.

Notice that I’m rubbing shoulders with Peter Drucker on the book shelf of the fire chief of the City of Los Angeles!!

Or, a “holiday tree” for those of you who prefer to be grinches.

Since my daughter, her husband, and our grandchildren moved up to Rhode Island from New York, the lovely Maria (TLM) told me we no longer had to buy a new home close to them. I had nine seconds of joy until she told me we’re refurbishing our house. Some of the changes while we were in italy:

The living room and dining room are about 85% complete. That's a temporary dog-proofing fence.

Leading up stairs. You can see Koufax's blanket on the couch below.

Two wine racks, one on each side of the breakfront. Bottom right are exquisite reds.

I was happy in Capri!

I’m on this board, as reported here, and this is the latest news of our environmental writing competition.

We were fortunate to spend a beautiful week in Nantucket tucked in just prior to the storm, and take one of the final ferries out. This was our 16th or 17th year in the same spot. As far as I’m concerned, it’s God’s country.

A virtually private beach, seldom more than a half-dozen people.

You'll note my trademark cocktail!

Another sunset at The Galley on the beach.

From the transitional card table to the custom installation, without the wallpaper or final touches. (The sailboat belongs over the polar bear!)

For the wine connoisseurs:

My den is being redone and people can’t believe I’m working off card tables!

Every year at this time the parents teach the young one to fly on our pond.

My first book was published in 1988 with co-author Mike Robert by HarperCollins, The Innovation Formula. It was quickly translated into German and Italian, became a text in The Wharton School, and is still available though never updated.

I receive copies of all foreign translations, but never actually look at them. My wife recently took the Italian copy to send to a friend, and said, “You’ll never guess who wrote your preface for the Italian book!”

You never know.

Apparently last fall’s attempt at stocking our pond has worked: Yesterday, alone, we had two different types of herons here all day, and the eagle swooshed down and caught a fish in his talons, did a victory lap, and flew home. We’re seeing very small fish, meaning they’re the children of the larger fish with which we re-populated the pond.

Meantime, a goose who apparently has lost its mate is wandering around by itself, looking for the other. It stops to eat under the backyard bird feeders, and Koufax and the goose regard each other from about eight feet on occasion. It’s worrying, since the goose requires several yards to gain air speed, and Koufax hits max in a few seconds. I’m hoping Koufax stays in a good mood.

I’m guessing this week the now-grown baby geese will get their flying lessons, the penultimate step to their departure. The grandchildren should be here to see that, which involves its share of crashes from about a foot over the pond.

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

My traditional lobster at The Mooring—7 pounds.

Is that a reptile in the bottom of our pool?

Nope, just a pool guy in scuba gear fixing the main drain.

The grounds of Magnolia Plantation where we stayed in Gainesville.

The traditional shot at the famous gator sculpture.

The Masters of Fine Arts in Theater, the terminal degree in the discipline.

And the Masters of the Universe.

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

I usually build armored vehicles, but I decided to build a jet, which I haven’t done in 20 years. Here’s an F84, along with a photo of the real thing.

From Mitchell Leather in Milwaukee (through an introduction by Alex Goldfayn), designed to hold my 17″ Mac laptop, iPad, iPhone, assorted files, even pen holders built to the circumference of my personal writing implements! Finally, no more compromises!

The largest moon in 20 years creeping up through the trees at Casa Weiss.

Some early photos from the superb photographer Ryan Trupp. You can see more on his blog (http://blog.ryantrupp-photography.com/2011/03/alans-65th-birthday/) and I’ll be posting still more in the weeks ahead.

The view from Rise at the Ritz-Carlton Battery Park

Libby Wagner, Phil Symchych and his wife Kerri

Kim Wilkerson, Chad Barr, Tom Schramski, LIbby Wagner

Stuart Cross and his wife Scythia, and Karen Wilson-Starks and her husband Greg Starks

Drew Yanno, Frank Oz (actor, director, and Muppet Puppeteer), and Mary Jane Sobel

The famous Chad Barr, strategy technology genius; moi; Bill Howe, the finest executive search person in the history of the world and my lunch pal for 30 years; and my co-author, globe trotting, bon vivant buddy Omar Khan (there's Amex Gold, Platinum, and Black Cards, and then Omar, don't leave home without him!)

Jason the actor and director, Maria the most expensive Mentor in the world (and the love of my life), lucky me, and Danielle, MTV executive producer

On our recent trip to New York we had wonderful meals (Il Tinello on 54^th), stayed at the Peninsula, saw The King’s Speech (superb), and spent time with the family and our super-bright, adorable grandchildren (a lot of me in them, easy to see). A typical long New York weekend.

We also stopped in at the Café Carlyle, where we’ve seen great talent, to catch the penultimate show by Paulo Szot, the wonderful singer who played the planter in the hugely successful revival of South Pacific. He won a Tony for the role.

We usually sit at the stage, a few feet from the performer, but Mr. Szot is a tall man with a big baritone, so we chose to sit in a corner banquet. (The maître d’ is always accommodating, and quite gracious in responding to good cheer.)

After dinner, at  show time, the lights dim and Mr. Szot enters from the rear of the cozy room (90 people virtually on top of each other, the waiters do a ballet to get food and drink to the tables) singing as he proceeds, “Some Enchanted Evening,” which mesmerized the place. He is a large, impressive presence, with a great voice and wondrous range.

Launching into his second selection, my wife leaned over and said, “I’m in love,” clearly not indicating I was involved. I leaned back and said, “I just discovered I’m gay.” (Please don’t write letters, try to lighten up.) We were both charmed.

As the show draws to a close he wisely saves “This Nearly Was Mine” for the last piece (before his single encore with “If Ever I Should Leave You). One of the most magnificent songs in the Great American Songbook (Rodgers and Hammerstein), it brought the musical to a lengthy standstill during an ovation with Mr. Szot alone on stage. He sang it equally magnificently in this small room, and it was one of the greatest live performances I’ve ever experienced in my life.

This is what New York is about. (People in Rhode Island say, “We’re going to the city, meaning Providence. I have to teach them that The City means New York.) The room was packed with sophisticated people and tough critics, and we were blown away by an awesome talent.

That’s not a bad way to spend four days, requiring only two, three-hour train trips. Batteries recharged. Who cares about snow! Life is grand!

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

• I had written about University of Florida students laughing inappropriately during Grapes of Wrath (they thought the grandmother’s death in the back of the truck especially hilarious) since they’ve never read or been taught Steinbeck, and are too lazy to ready a playbill. Last night at Ibsen’s A Doll’s House, set in 1959 for this production at the GAMM Theater here in Rhode Island, people giggled at lines such as, “Even for a wife, a husband would never sacrifice his dignity!” They apparently didn’t realize that women leaving their husbands in 1959 was rare, and in 1879 when Ibsen wrote it, unheard of. There is a stunning dearth of historical reference today, and an intellectual sloth that’s frightening.

• A Doll’s House was staged in Pawtucket by the estimable GAMM Theater which features artistic director Tony Estrella, simply one of the finest actors I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to over 200 Broadway performances, let alone regional theater. If you’re in the area, you need to see this.

• From a letter to the editor in today’s Wall Street Journal: “During my recovery (from a heart attack) my cardiologist interviewed me to discover any possible cause for the attack. When I related that I had stopped drinking but I smoke a cigar every day, he encouraged me to resume moderate drinking and continue with the cigar. I welcomed his suggestion but questioned the wisdom of such. He replied that the stress relief from these recommendations far outweighed the benefit of doing without them.” Here’s to martinis and Aruturo Fuentes.

• Both Alexander Graham Bell and Thomas Alva Edison lived in Canada before coming south to dabble in invention. The world might have been quite a different place if they had stayed put! (In the 1980s, when antitrust legislation broke up AT&T, it was the most valuable company on earth, worth more than the combined Coca Cola, IBM, Ford, and GM corporations, and employed over one million people.)

• I read a great book called Sea Dragons, by Richard Ellis, a scientist who specializes in prehistoric, marine reptiles. He provided superb glimpses into the ichthyosaurs, mosasaurs, and equivalent startling life of the day. I began wondering how long these air-breathing creatures could remain under water hunting for prey. So I wrote him a letter. A couple of weeks later, he kindly answered: “You know something, in all this time and study, I never thought to investigate that!”

• I have ducks eating under my backyard birdfeeders, sharing food with the squirrels and birds. None of them seems to mind. Although I feed the ducks on the pond side of the house, these guys come into the back to get extra food. I’m watching Darwinism at work: The most creative ducks will be better fed, live longer, and breed more, I’d guess. Some fly into the yard, but several walk across the pool area and through the fence. I try to give them some warning before Koufax goes out. So far as I know, his 18 kills don’t include a duck, and I’d like to keep it that way.

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

I’ve just hired people to clear the vast, flat roofs on our house. We’ve been plowed four times in the past week or so. This is more snow than I ever remember. Anyone want to remind me where the global warming folks went? I’m assuming south. Here are some shots around the property. The fourth photo is the balcony outside the master bedroom, almost to the top, and the final photo is straight out our main door. We use the side door to access the house.

Left to right, Guido Quelle, Fienja, me, Susanne Quelle,  and Emma on the grand staircase of the Ritz-Carlton, Berlin.

Travel is often burdensome these days, but the beauty of it can still shine through, especially when you’re fortunate enough to be able to indulge yourself.

Last night, Guido and Susanne Quelle and I had an unexpected farewell dinner when Guido found me after a massage and told me he had decided to stay another night. So we went to a small, exquisite restaurant in western Berlin, where I had reindeer and pig beautifully presented. It was a great treat with great people.

This morning I ambled out of my quarters, checked out in a minute, and found a very concerned concierge who ran up saying, “Dr. Weiss, it is only 8 and your car is not scheduled until 8:30!” I told him that was fineand went to read the morning paper by the fireplace. Of course, he nevertheless summoned my car and ten minutes later I was on my way.

My driver, Eric, is 25, born in St. Petersburg, and speaks Russian, German, English, and French. His family is Jewish and he’s studying Hebrew since that was prohibited in Russia. We talked about urban areas, governments, and politics.

I think the world of Lufthansa (I’m settled into their first class lounge at the moment in Munich, where after a meal I’m going to have a cigar in their cigar lounge, all courtesy of the airline). However, at Tegel Airport, where Eric deposited me in Berlin, I ran into their bureaucracy.

My flight was at 11:05 to munich. It was now 8:50. The ticket desk woman just shrugged without smiling. “You have a wait,” she said. She never offered an earlier flight, since that would have entailed work. When I asked where security was, she merely pointed. Why she is in a job dealing with the public, I do not know. But more was coming.

Transiting security, where I was yelled at for putting my liquids and coat in the same bin, I walked to a Munich flight leaving at 9:15. It was now 8:55. No one was around but the ticket agent, and I was to learn that the business class (there is no first domestically) was only a quarter occupied. The gate agent was an attractive blonde.

“Can I get on this earlier fight?” I asked.

“It is late for that,” she commanded.

I simply froze a smile, since I really wanted to strangle her, and said, “Yes, it is.” She wasn’t so attractive any more.

“I will have to call my supervisor!”

“Your supervisor?”

“Yes.” She then dialed with a peculiar arch to her hand, which I realized was necessitated by her very long nails, which would have otherwise punched three keys at once.

After some brief conversation on the phone, she frowned. I at first thought I had been denied, but quickly learned that she had.

She stuck out her hand. Realizing she probably didn’t want to hold hands with me, I handed her my boarding pass, being very careful not to go near her talons. She punched the computer keyboard as if furious with it, and stared at the monitor as if it had offended her.

Finally, she handed me my new boarding pass.

“Thank you,” I still smiled.

“You are welcome,” she seemed to threaten.

Once in Munich I stood in an insane 30-moinute immigration line only to find at the club that there is a separate (bored) immigration agent assigned here, and the Lufthansa man I talked to on arrival directed me to the long line even though he knew I was a first class passenger and could avoid it. He apparently felt no need to help in any proactive manner at all.

The club crew and all the cabin crews have been great, which leads me to believe they are hired by entirely different people.

It’s been a wonderful trip, I was overjoyed with both of the workshops I presented, and fortunately missed all that snow in the northeast. Looking forward to my trip home. But, first, my cigar.

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

Here is the Bentley Providence service manager, Ann, with ace mechanic Dave, and the new Super Sport. You can see my prior GTC Speed in the background with my plates still on it.

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My new car is off the ship, through customs, and at the dealer. It is 621 HP, 0-60 in 3.7 seconds. Here is Bentley’s writeup:

The Bentley Continental Supersports Convertible further strengthens Bentley’s supercar range, following the introduction of the Bentley Continental Supersports Coupé in 2009. The new Supersports Convertible, with the same 630PS (621bhp/463kW) twin-turbocharged W12 engine, is the fastest, most potent drop-top Bentley has ever built, offering the ultimate Bentley driving experience in the world’s most dramatic convertible.

The inspiration for the ‘Supersports’ name is the 1925 Bentley Supersports, a race-bred version of the iconic Bentley 3-litre, that delivered 85bhp when more ordinary cars were equipped with a modest 15bhp. It was also the first production car to reach 100mph – extreme performance in its day.

The new, muscular four-seat Bentley Continental Supersports Convertible is unmistakably Bentley in its design and craftsmanship but its interior signifies a dramatic re-interpretation of Bentley luxury. Satin-finished carbon fibre, Alcantara™ and ‘Soft Grip’ leather create a unique ambience with a distinctly sporting and contemporary style.

All models in the Continental model range, including the new Bentley Continental Supersports Convertible are now capable of running on both petrol (gasoline) and E85 bioethanol or any combination of the two, reaffirming Bentley’s ongoing commitment to make all its cars bio-fuel compatible by 2012. Pioneered by the Supersports Coupe, this FlexFuel technology offers a reduction of up to 70 per cent in CO2 emissions on a ‘well-to-wheel’ basis, a measure of a fuel’s net contribution to the atmosphere, not just tailpipe emissions.

We were supposed to have a lovely dinner in New York on Wednesday, prior to Thanksgiving with the family, and then catch the play “Freud.” Instead, I wound up at St. Luke’s Roosevelt Hospital.

We left The Palace Hotel by limo and arrived for pre-theater dinner at Marea, one of our favorites. I was happily engaged with my fusilli and octopus when I felt a flash of heat. I have been battling a cold, and have been through five time changes from Bora Bora and a 40 degree temperature decrease.

I told Maria I had better head for the rest room and she offered to walk with me. I told her I was okay, rose, walked two steps, and the next thing I knew two other dinner patrons were working over me, taking my pulse and asking if I knew where I was and when I was born.

The good thing about a great restaurant is that there will always be doctors at dinner, and Mike, the EMT, told me later, “Do you know that one guy was a cardio-thoracic surgeon? You couldn’t do much better than that if you had to pass out somewhere!” (Mike couldn’t figure out though, why the doctor was considering CPR when I was clearly breathing, and I didn’t like him telling me not to move because, “You may have broken your neck and if you get up you could be paralyzed.” He then began to ask the other doctor where he practiced and went to school. I was staring up at the fraternal conversation, wondering if this shouldn’t be more about me.)

Anyway, Mike arrived with a buddy, they checked vital signs and off we went. There was a lot of blood all over the floor, since I went down like a building being demolished. ONLY IN NEW YORK: As we get outside, Maria yells to our limo driver, “Follow that ambulance!” She came with me, lights flashing, limo pursuing.

Unlike any medical television show you care to name, Roosevelt’s ER was calm and completely in control. Dr. Kim took my case, Ellen was my nurse, and a great guy whose name I can’t recall was my “transporter,” taking me for my CAT scan and back. Approximately 85 people asked if I knew were I was and my date of birth, and apparently I aced the tests. The CAT scan was negative and the diagnosis was plummeting blood pressure (something like 77 over 47 whereas I’m always at 120 over 80) due to medicine and alcohol.

The Roosevelt ER is not only well run, it’s courteous, professional, and reassuring. It is typical New York: Asian, Hispanic, Black, White and combinations thereof in every position. And it’s a funny place.

Transporter: The CAT scan folks will get to you in just a few minutes.

ME: You tell that to everyone and it’s going to be a long wait.

Transporter: That’s true, but what I’m telling you is far more politically correct.

These were terrific professionals, with great attitudes. I don’t care what they’re paid, they’re not paid enough. And contrary to stereotypical stories, no one asked me about how I was going to pay or for my insurance until after I had been initially treated.

After three hours I was stitched up (three in my eyebrow, three in my lip, and super glue to close a gash on my nose), was told how l lucky I was, and was sent to discharge. A great guy there, with huge blonde dreadlocks, said, “Let’s get you out of here as quickly as possible,” and calculated swiftly, took my Blue Cross Coast-to-Coast coverage, and charged us a grand total of $100.

On our way out, we saw Mike with another patient coming in. “Hey, Mr. Weiss,” he yelled, “you look much better!”

“New York and March 3,” I said.

Now Mike was concerned. “No, I didn’t ask you where you are….”

“Kidding, Mike!”

“Oh, good one! Enjoy your holidays!”

And we stepped out into the night and our waiting limo.

(Postscript: The family had Thanksgiving dinner as arranged in the private dining room of Marea last night. I asked the manager to add the prior night’s meal to the bill, since we had sort of rushed out. “No,” he said, “it’s on us. You’ve paid enough!”)

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

May you and yours experience the warmth of family and friends and rejoice in health, peace, and prosperity. We wish you the very best.

I’ve always believed in “local vacations,” where we can turn a weekend (or whenever) into a singular experience.

Yesterday, we packed an overnight bag and headed for the Castle Hill Inn in Newport (where quite a few of you have joined me for the Million Dollar Consulting® College). Instead of staying in the Turret Suite, we took a beach cottage, about 25 yards from the surf.

We attended church in town at St. Mary’s, a gorgeous Gothic structure where John and Jackie Kennedy were married. Then we headed back to the inn for a Far Niente wine tasting over canapes and a four-course dinner. It was an intimate experience for seven couples, plus the wine company and inn people. The CEO of Far Niente talked about the winery between courses. (This was a good reason to stay over, we had a LOT of wine, but the car found its way down the hill by memory.)

This morning, I awoke at 6:30, grabbed a robe, and headed for the beach. The sand was insanely cold on bare feet. The surf was warmer. There were no lights on, the vaguest outline of the full moon, and gulls on their way to work.

All of this 25 minutes from our home. We’ll have breakfast on the porch watching the ocean, then back in time for football and the Times. I’ll have a huge amount of energy for Monday. Watch out.

We attend a church, St. Gregory the Great, about two miles away along a country lane. But there is a larger church, Our Lady of Mercy, with a school and a Monsignor, a half-mile away in town. We sometimes attend Mass there when the schedule is better amidst our travels.

However, we always attend when they bless the animals, which our own church doesn’t do. Once a year, in connection with St. Francis, the patron saint of animals, we gather on a Saturday morning in the school’s huge parking lot for a brief service with a priest, organ, and hymns, and about 50 animals.

This year there were about 40 dogs, of which Koufax was the outstanding looker, a white vision amongst the purebreds and hybrids. Even Buddy Beagle is resigned to second banana, since a white German Shepherd dog is both rare and quite large. (Buddy is more sociable however, and Koufax often tries to get a piece of another large dog, and it’s a good thing I work out.)

There were turtles, cats, hamsters, and then a horse trailer pulled up with a gargantuan, gorgeous black stallion. His owner slowly backed him out, everyone took photos, and then the service began, with the priest sprinkling holy water throughout the interspecies crowd. Once we concluded, coffee and donuts were served, and our guys nabbed a couple of munchkins, of course.

It was a wonderful way to begin a Saturday. The animals were blessed, and we all focused on how much we were blessed by their presence.

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

The title of this piece was the ironic “fight song” of my alma mater. Rutgers is the state university of New Jersey, fortunately a great school because it was one of the very few places I could afford to attend. Even with a scholarship, I had to take government loans to pay the $350 per semester tuition.

The Wall Street Journal ranked the 25 best schools in the country yesterday in terms of business finding top recruiting talent. Rutgers finished 21st (3rd in business) and was one of only 7 state schools in the listing, finishing ahead of Notre Dame, MIT, USC, et. al.

Tuition today is $12,000, still a bargain. I paid off my loans at about $60 a month for four years, as I recall, interest free.

And so far, this year, the football team is 2-0.

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

Our granddaughters had their second birthday party yesterday in a clever place with a huge water activity center, giant slide, and cave. It’s hard to believe that two years ago we were racing home from Capri to face grandchildren born three months prematurely. We are eternally thankful that we have been granted these miracles, who are healthy and ever-active.

Once we got the girls home, Maria and I took off for Saturday Vigil Mass, and I chose the Church of the Transfiguration in Chinatown, on Mott Street. It’s a gorgeous place, with a predominantly Chinese congregation and an Indian priest the evening we visited.

We hang out in Tribeca quite a bit when we visit the kids, and one of our favorite places is the corner suite in the Greenwich Hotel. The place is great—you can have breakfast in a courtyard—and the entire area is thick with trendy, busy restaurants of every persuasion.

I had told the concierge that I wanted to try something that was great even for this area, and we were sent to the Greenwich Grill, a few blocks away. We were greeted cordially, escorted to one of the prime, corner tables, and then the restaurant bought us cocktails because the hotel had sent us!

We opted for the 8-course Chef’s Seasonal Tasting Menu (I cheated, and also ordered some uni—the place has a sushi restaurant downstairs) and the entire meal was outrageously good. The fare is billed as “Italian/Asian fusion” and somehow it works wonderfully (more than half the packed house was Asian). On some nights they have both Japanese uni and California uni!

If you love high-end food and trendy places, don’t miss this excellent restaurant. The ambiance, service, and food are standouts, even in New York and even in Tribeca.

New York,  New York, it’s a wonderful town….

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

We came down to New York on the Acela yesterday, checked in at The Greenwich Hotel, and Maria went to see the grandchildren (we’re here for their second birthday party today) while I met long-time buddy Bill Howe for lunch at noon at the Four Seasons Restaurant.

We sat in the famous pool room—alone, for 45 minutes! When we finally left (after a wonderful Far Niente) at about 2:30, there were about 20 people dining. It was a Friday and a Jewish holiday, but nonetheless, things aren’t what they used to be!

I walked over to the Grand Havana room for a post-lunch Arturo Fuente and lychee martini, then met Maria at the Loews Regency’s Feinstein’s to see Michael Feinstein and Barbara Cook in one of the few intimate showrooms left.

And this was a glorious night. Ms. Cook, who is in her early eighties, is someone we were determined to see in person, as we have Elaine Stritch and the late Bobbie Short. She was in fine voice with immaculate phrasing. Mr. Feinstein ought to be given the keys to the Great American Songbook, since he chooses material with reverence and complete understanding of every nuance, never failing to acknowledge composer and lyricist. His ability to hold a note is mesmerizing, and we were sitting three feet away from the performers.

Inexplicably, at one point they chose to do a duet of “Shine On Harvest Moon” (which is from 1908) which I have never liked. They converted me in the first few bars and created an amazing rendition. Mr. Feinstein replaced the piano player (there is an excellent 5-man music backup) to sing “Without A Song,” reminding us that this iconic piece came from a play that closed within a few weeks.

You never know where you’re going to find excellence, but I can tell you you’ll find it for sure at Feinstein’s. If you get the chance, do not miss this glorious evening of music from two, true superstars.

(PS: Intimate clubs are always great. After the show, awaiting our bill, the guy behind us received a text and said excitedly to the woman with him, “It’s my agent! But which one!? New York or California?”)

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

Alaina decides to visit Gabrielle by executing the rare full gainer arabesque, free style. Unfortunately, she blew the dismount.

We took the Acela to New York yesterday (arrived early) then taxied over to The Pierre for our three-day stay.

I walked over to the John Barrett Salon on the top floor of Bergdorf’s for my monthly haircut, and as soon as the elevator doors opened, I saw chaos. They were filming a makeover of the Housewives of New Jersey and the Housewives on Atlanta. One of their security guys came over while I was waiting and asked my advice about his career. I gave him some, and he asked if he could reciprocate.

“Yes,” I assured him, “keep these women away from me!”

It is safe to assume they were not discussing Kant’s Categorical Imperative or the nature of quarks. “Does the makeover include a brain transplant?” I asked a stylist, but she pretended not to hear me.

Then last night Maria and I headed over to The Modern (the superb restaurant owned by the Museum of Modern Art) where Omar (my co-author of The Global Consultant) was hosting a small dinner for some members of his management team from Europe and the US, for whom I’m working on a project.

Traditional Omar: After my martini, champagne, 12 courses (with another couple gratis from management) and a paired wine with each course. Some of the wines were from before I was an independent consultant!

We emerged into a gorgeous New York night and walked back (which I rarely do).

Just another day….

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

The new library missing only a small table and throw rug and my next three books in order, jacket art already done.

We drove down to Westerly to the renovated Ocean House to have our anniversary dinner in Seasons Restaurant, overlooking the Atlantic. The Ocean House is spectacularly restored, and the restaurant food, service, and setting are superb. We realized too late that we should have arranged for a suite and spent the night. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, extreme southern Rhode Island, don’t miss the place. It’s a combination of southern plantation, New England mansion, and beach resort. And they have the rare, organic Rain Vodka at the bar, and a wonderful selection of Montrachet on the wine list. We had a Batard.

Footnote to history: Chevalier Montrachet, absolutely superb, was named after the son who became a knight. Batard was named after another son, not quite so legitimate, but it, too, is a great variety!

Awaiting the rest of the furniture. You see here “wall of fame,” model display cases, and about 80% of my books (the remainder are in my den).

Some of you have actually joined me at these establishments: Siena in East Greenwich, about a mile from my house, was voted Best Restaurant in Rhode Island in the Rhode Island Monthly annual poll. And La Masseria, about a half-mile from my house, was voted Best New Restaurant in Rhode Island, in that same poll. We dine in both places several times a month, and if you’re ever in the neighborhood, try them and mention my name.

http://www.sienari.com/

http://www.lamasserianyc.com/rhode-island/dinner.shtml

My old train room (and son’s former bedroom) is taking shape as my new library. It’s about 80% complete. Some of the old train scenery remains on the far wall. More furniture and books to come.

I live about 60 seconds by car from main street in our suburban town of 17,000, about 15 minutes from Providence and 30 minutes from Newport. We live on six acres which include a two-acre pond which is fed by a small river and exits over a waterfall to transit ponds and bays and eventually find the Atlantic, and which my wife absolutely forbids me to call a “lake.”

Two days ago, Buddy Beagle found a foot-long snake which apparently lives in the backyard just outside the kitchen door. Today, I came upon our neighbor who shares our common driveway gate, who found herself stymied because a large snapping turtle was parked in the middle of the access. Three of us maneuvered it out of the way by inverting a garbage can over it, while Koufax and Buddy (who had opened the truck window yet again) barked at it ferociously.

Once we negotiated that obstacle I was looking for the heron on the pond when the eagle flapped by twenty yards in front of the windshield. Wild Kingdom has nothing on us.

I live in delight and amazement at the varied animals that have “moved back in.” We have deer that come over the bridge and eat some of my wife’s plants, and wild turkeys that are very nonchalant since they are excellent flyers. Then there are the foxes, river otters, egrets, and so on.

I’m gladly making room for these animals because they enrich our lives. And they teach me how diverse organisms can adapt and thrive. They remind me that I should be doing the same—facing life with the intent of not merely surviving, but adjusting to the volatility and uncertainties of life by seeking to control my own fate.

It’s a good life when you can learn just from walking out your door. Of course, I’m increasingly careful about what I might step on.

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

It’s that time of year and one of our herons has appeared to take up station on a mud flat, awaiting the fish….

At one point after some minor surgery, I hadn’t eaten very much for two days, either on doctor’s orders or because I hadn’t felt much like it. To my pleasant surprise, I found that I had lost three pounds. I decided to leverage that, and watched my eating for the next few weeks, which led to another couple of pounds. After 90 days, I had lost 12 pounds and was at a level I like to maintain.

I had leveraged a pivotal moment.

Pivotal moments are those usually abrupt occasions which can be exploited for major advances and improvements. They occur with amazing frequency, but we’re often too preoccupied to notice and appreciate them, or too scared to spontaneously capitalize on them.

These aren’t “impulses” which can get you in trouble (as in impulsively buying that $85,000 car which is reduced to $70,000 because it’s almost a year old and the dealer tells you it will be gone by tomorrow. Not that that’s ever happened in my life, long ago). These are occasions which you can consider and ponder for a while, but they do have a short life-expectancy. My decision to further my weight loss needed to be made prior to my having a cheeseburger and fries that evening, for example.

A client may tell you that there’s an afternoon meeting with international people and you’re welcome to sit-in if you’re still around. You have the choice of rescheduling your departure to a later flight in order to meet and chat with potential new clients in the presence of your existing one. Or do you simply say to yourself, no, that’s not what I had planned?

You meet a piano teacher at a social event who tells you she’s having trouble staying in business because she has no idea how to market what she does. You realize that this may be your final chance to obtain piano lessons, on a bartered basis. Do you make the time to help her and help yourself? You find that, unknowingly, you’ve built up 75,000 points in a hotel program that you pay little attention to, but that you can transfer to an airline. If you also transfer your other programs’ points to that airline, you could take an unexpected vacation to Italy. Do you take advantage of that, or resort to the excuse that you’ve already planned two vacations?

Pivots are part of leverage systems. I think that pivotal moments exist when we realize that we can use the event or situation as a fulcrum to gain strength and speed. Archimedes said, “Give me a lever, and I can move the world.”

A successful article can lead to a column. A well-received column can lead to a book. A popular book can lead to speaking appearances. You get the idea. It’s not enough to correct weakness, you must build on success.

Where’s your lever? Watch for your next pivotal moment. You may already be well on your way to a key goal and you don’t even realize it.

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

Ronnie, who owns the high-end spa where I get “done” and The Lovely Maria works once a week, was in Paris on a clothes buying trip for her store. She is having breakfast at Angelique, a well-known, “in” cafe, enjoying her “dessert” of Mont Blanc. The woman next to her, well dressed and well spoken, comments on the place and the Mont Blanc. She is just returning from an assignment in Moscow.

“What do you do?” asks Ronnie.

“I’m a consultant and speaker,” she says.

“Do you know Alan Weiss?” asks Ronnie.

“YOU know Alan Weiss?!” she says, “Of course I do. Who doesn’t in this profession? How do YOU know him?”

“Every Thursday afternoon, manicure and pedicure with Dawn.”

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

Alan collapsing in hysteria after a testimonial gone over to the dark side.

I have three new books I’m writing; four new global initiatives; trips to New York, Florida, and Bora Bora to coordinate; and six new restaurants I want to try. However, I’m distracted by a nagging concern.

Is ice skating a sport?

Can there be any activity classified as a sport where men wear feathers and women wear, well, as little as possible? Pole dancing isn’t a sport, though the Times had an article this past Sunday that there’s a movement in that direction. I would assume that’s from yoga classes and not Bert’s Gentlemen’s Clubs, Inc.

I realize that there’s a great deal of athleticism in skating, what with spins and leaps, although most of it is invisible, except to hummingbirds. Is it really a sport if it takes slow-motion replay to appreciate it? (Was that a triple, quad, or dodecagon?) Then I realized that hockey is a sport, and if you’re seriously dealing with a beer during the game you can easily miss a goal, and it’s more than likely to be the only goal. Which probably explains the interest in curling, during which you could read War and Peace and never miss any action. But can an activity with brooms be a sport? Well, cricket players wear sweaters. But, I digress.

I’ve been on the board of a ballet, and watching the dancers I realize that they are far better conditioned than any athletes, and they also jump and leap. But no one considers dance a sport. We’re not about to see the Royal Ballet competing in London in 2012.

Hold on, there’s ice dancing. That’s a sport. But again, we’re talking costumes and music. And all that sultry stuff, with tangos, and embraces, and meaningful eye batting. We’re almost back to Bert’s clubs.

Yet you can’t ignore all those jumps and leaps. What compares to ice skating that is unarguably a sport? Gymnastics resembles it, and that’s clearly a sport. Yet you don’t see fancy outfits with fur and feathers on gymnasts, although gymnasts’ attire is very skimpy, but that’s okay because everyone is 12 years old, lying about being 14. Yet gymnasts don’t work in pairs and the teams are people on different apparatuses. Who does things as pairs in athletics, akin to ice skating pairs?

Synchronized swimming! There’s a sport that involves people acting in concert, doing the same thing concurrently. No, wait: That’s been disqualified as an Olympic sport. That won’t do.

I guess one could judge by the fitness of the participants. In that case, I’d be inclined to keep ice skating as a sport, except for all that crying, win or lose. Grown men weeping like babies. Coaches crying. What’s that all about? And the flowers tossed all over. Can you imagine throwing flowers to a wrestler or basketball player? You’d be the one crying.

And if we went by fitness, well, then clearly golf and bowling are not sports. Although bowlers at least drink beer like people watching hockey, which I know is a sport. Except when it’s a fight.

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

I was at the desk of The Stafford this morning checking out, when a man walked up next to me and told the desk clerk that he was departing and she could just leave the charges on his bill. She asked that he wait a minute to check his totals, while I was checking mine. I looked up to find Matt LeBlanc, of “Friends” and “Joey” fame, looking at me. We said hello, compared experiences on this being both of our first times in the hotel, and I offered to let him sign my bill as well. He declined (I’m sure he would have been in the penthouse if I weren’t), and we shook hands as I wished him safe travels.

At Heathrow, there was a very short first class line, but a Virgin Atlantic woman with a radio phone asked us to follow a man onto an elevator. I looked at my wife and wondered what kind of aura we had given off to get into trouble. But the man took us to a private check-in where we used to go before they suspended it due to security concerns, and we went through complete check-in and security in three minutes. Then, astoundingly, the VAT reimbursement took only five minutes with no line and a very nice agent, and two minutes after that we were ensconced in the club, from which I now record this.

I’ve completed Chapter 8 of Million Dollar Speakingafter a full English breakfast and a vodka and orange juice. Once I sign off here, I’m headed for some sushi. I’ve taken some videos with a new iPhone app, which I hope we can get up here in the next day. As I’ve written before, we leave the hotel early in order to spend more time at the Virgin Atlantic Air Club.

I love London, can’t wait to return. And last night I finally got to the Lanesborough garden cigar room!

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

Here’s Ashley Bickford, running for Miss USA (May 16) whom I’m helping with her presentation.

Garrison Keillor, Diane Von Furstenberg, Bobbi Brown, Suze Orman, Marianne Williamson, Erica Jong, Harold Kushner, and Alan Weiss.

We’re just some of the 50 authors allotted about six pages each in this clever book. It’s edited by Ronnie Sellers. Proceeds go to agencies whose mission is to prevent and cure cancer. The book is in soft cover but a hard cover version comes out later this year. None of us has any financial connection to the proceeds whatsoever.

Contact Robin Haywood, rhaywood@rsvp.com, and tell her I sent you. If you’re not already 50, I can guarantee your getting closer to it!

I’m running a Mentor Mastery session in London in February, and secured the presidential suite at The Stafford Hotel through American Express Black Card. All details were taken care of.

However, I thought it would be a good idea to talk to management personally, so I put in a call the other morning. A senior manager promptly called me back. I asked where the hotel was by landmarks, having been to London 20 times but never to this property.

“We’re about two blocks south of The Ritz,” he said, referring to one of the most famous, and most expensive, hotels in the world.

“Ah, I know where you are,” I said, “we usually stay at The Ritz.”

He responded immediately: “Well may I congratulate you for upgrading, sir.”

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

I’ve just completed the Mentor Summit and Mentor Hall of Fame Meeting in San Francisco, and a day’s presentation for Rob Nixon’s Coaching Club in Honolulu. And now we’re taking a week off on the beach.

We’re at the Sheraton Waikiki, where we stayed a couple of times over 30 years ago. Ordinarily we’d be elsewhere, but the function was held here and they’ve refurbished the suites. We have one balcony in the bedroom that shows the sunrise, and another in the living quarters that shows the sunset! Twenty-five stories below, we can watch giant, green sea turtles meander in the crystal clear water. If you’re lucky, they’ll swim up to you when you wade in.

Unlike so many popular tourist destinations, the food here is great (as it was in San Francisco, where we dined again at Gary Danko, for my money on of the dozen best restaurants in the US). So far, Roy’s has been our favorite here with some incredible fish, but we’re off to Alan Wong’s tomorrow which has a sterling reputation, so we’ll see.

Sitting in church before mass on Sunday here, I realized that my wallet was gone. It must have fallen out of my pocket in the cab. My wife asked if I wanted to leave, but I observed that church was probably where I belonged at the moment. Fortunately, I usually keep a hundred dollars of bills in a side pocket, and I had money for the collections and a cab home. I tried to enjoy the service and the sermon was quite well done.

I notified the cab company (“Sir, we have 500 cabs, but I’ll put out a text message for you”) which is actually called The Cab Company. I notified Cori, the guest services manager who had escorted us to our suite when we arrived, in case I needed to get some cash. Then I called the credit card companies, which took only 20 minutes for all of them. One woman asked, “Are you all right?” I was very impressed. Amex will have three different, new cards to me today, Tuesday, by Fedex, at no charge.

My wife remarked on how well I had handled things, and said that she hoped whoever found the wallet could really use the $800 inside of it.

We hit the beach.

At about 4 pm we returned, to a blinking message light. It was Cori. “I have your wallet,” she practically screamed, “the cab driver dropped it off and I have his number for you.” I quickly called to ask him to return for a reward. He hasn’t done so yet.

The worst thing about losing my wallet would be a few photos from 30 years ago that can’t be replaced. My car dealer would replace the registration, and AAA would replace my license. Various club memberships would easily be restored. The money can always be replaced. We have to keep things in perspective.

And the greatest perspective is that most other people are like you, not damaged somehow, and willing to do the right thing. I realized that I had returned money, airline tickets, and all sorts of things I’ve found. Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t the cab driver?

We’re off to the beach again, to the turtles, to the Pacific.

© Alan Weiss 2010. All rights reserved.

We processed here (independent of Amazon.com) several thousand orders for my new book, Thrive! Some nice people did the fulfillment and processing. Of those orders, only 12 credit cards were declined, and 11 of those people got back to us promptly with the correct cards. Only one person, in Lithuania, turned out to have a bad card, phony phone, and phony email. I’m sure he’s proud to have stolen a $25 book. I don’t see how this book can help someone like him, but who knows?

So many people are cynical about dealing with the public. But if you don’t assume your customer is damaged, and you provide reasonable trust, you wind up dealing with people with the same values that you have most of the time. I’ve never understood people in the retail business who clearly don’t like dealing with customers, don’t trust them, and are rude.

I still remember the people who wouldn’t let me write with an expensive pen I was considering, wouldn’t let me even sit in a rare, exotic sports car, lest I scratch the leather, and wanted deposits before they would order inexpensive books. I remember them because I never returned, and they were such exceptions.

Many of you apparently don’t believe I have a sister, Lori. I do. You see her pictured here at Christmas. (She is on the right.) On the left is my son’s dog, Humphrey Bogart.

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

May health, peace, promise, and prosperity accrue to you and yours.

ALAN’S TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS FOR CONSULTANTS
By Alan Weiss
(with apologies to everyone from the 16th Century and prior)

On the first day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
A large dose of self-esteem.

On the second day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the third day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the fourth day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Four great referrals,
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the fifth day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Five inspirations,
Four great referrals,
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the sixth day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Six clients buying,
Five inspirations,
Four great referrals,
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the seventh day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Seven leads a-calling,
Six clients buying,
Five inspirations,
Four great referrals,
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the eighth day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Eight speaking requests,
Seven leads a-calling,
Six clients buying,
Five inspirations,
Four great referrals,
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the ninth day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Nine columns printing,
Eight speaking requests,
Seven leads a-calling,
Six clients buying
Five inspirations,
Four great referrals,
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the tenth day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Ten agents calling,
Nine columns printing
Eight speaking requests
Seven leads a-calling,
Six clients buying,
Five inspirations,
Four great referrals
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the eleventh day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Eleven innovations,
Ten agents calling,
Nine columns printing,
Eight speaking requests,
Seven leads a-calling,
Six clients buying
Five inspirations,
Four great referrals
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

On the twelfth day of Christmas
My efforts brought to me,
Twelve vacation days,
Eleven innovations,
Ten agents calling,
Nine columns printing,
Eight speaking requests,
Seven leads a-calling,
Six clients buying,
Five inspirations,
Four great referrals,
Three great colleagues,
Two new ideas,
And a large dose of self-esteem.

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

We went to church on Thanksgiving morning in the beautiful, large chapel in St. Vincent’s hospital, where the twins were born and taken care of so wonderfully and miraculously.

There were just a few of us there, including medical people in scrubs, but then we found at mass Dr. Mary Marron-Corwin, who was instrumental in the twins’ success over the rocky road from their premature birth. She was surprised to see us there, and held Alaina during the services. She was genuinely thrilled to see them again.

The priest celebrating mass was the same one who baptized Gabrielle very early as a precaution.

It was an extraordinarily appropriate and wonderful way to begin Thanksgiving. There are doctors and nurses, and there are special doctors and nurses, and then there are extraordinary doctors and nurses. At St. Vincent’s and Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center there are extraordinary medical people taking care of these tiny infants.

We are grateful to them all. It was appropriate to meet Dr. Marron-Corwin again in the striking chapel, around which St. Vincent’s is built. Miracles happen there.

The car picked us up at 8:30 am yesterday and we breezed into New York on the Acela smack on time, where another car took us to the W Union Square, a few blocks from my daughter’s apartment. The driver then took us back uptown for some heavy duty shopping in Bergdorf’s and Tourneau.We rendezvoused with my daughter and son-in-law for pre-theater dinner at 5 Napkin Burger (don’t laugh, it’s in Zagat’s, requires reservations, and dinner for four was $200!). The burgers were as advertised, as were deep fried pickles and sauerkraut. Then off to Billy Elliot, which was terrific, about 95% of the London performance we caught a couple of years ago.Observation: Restaurant packed, theater filled, high-end stores mostly empty. Today it’s a haircut at the Barrett Salon back in Bergdorf’s, lunch with Omar (co-author of The Global Consultant) at Petrossian, then a business meeting at the Grand Havana Room and a cigar from my humidor there (with the best lichee martinis in town).Maria is helping Danielle cook all day, sounds like a fair division of labor!Maria and I send our best to everyone for a happy and joyous Thanksgiving with loved ones, friends, and family. Life is short. Take some time to appreciate its blessings.(Bergdorf’s Goodman Holiday Windows)(Deserted Grand Havana Room)© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

Some casual and work scenes (hard to tell apart) with the members and partners of the Million Dollar Club (MDC) in St. Lucia in early November. I’m forming a second club, please contact me for details. Watch the three videos below:

Listen to what participants had to say about this amazing experience:

Our MDC friend, Michael Sheargold, discusses letting go at the peak of the Piton Mountain in St. Lucia and at the peak of Alan Weiss’s Million Dollar Club. Prior to playing the video and by looking at the picture below, can you tell who is the member of the million dollar club and who does not care if he is?

A year after we raced home from Capri, our twin granddaughters celebrated their first birthday on the roof garden of their home in Chelsea. About 40 adults and children attended, including all the “cousins.” When Chad gets the chance, you’ll see a photo here of Cousin Jimmy’s (immortalized in one of my stories) daughters with me: Lisa and Andrea Gallo, along with birthday girl Gabrielle. The rain held off and we had a great event looking over the rooftops.

(Lisa on the left, Andrea on the right.)

(Alan, son Jason, and the Empire State Building)

We were close enough for Hugh Jackman to perspire on my wife, which pretty much made her night. The house was packed, though the play doesn’t officially open until Tuesday.

Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman in A Steady Rain are alone together on stage all night, and they are formidable actors. Aside from some very minor mood music and an occasional lighting change against the backdrop, they use only two chairs to tell the story of two cops headed in two directions. While it is 90 minutes of an acting class, it’s not 90 minutes of riveting theater. The plot is obvious, the events expected (though some of the audience gasped at a line you could see approaching you from a mile away), and the ending utterly predictable. It was instructional to see these two guys in a tour de force for over an hour, sustaining energy and pathos, but by the end the energy is exhausting and the pathos becomes bathos. I don’t attend the theater for instruction, but for emotional involvement, suspense, and excitement.

It’s worth seeing Jackman and Craig, but after this and Carnage of the Gods I’m wondering if there’s anybody left who can write compelling drama for the stage, or if we’re just putting actors from other media up there to draw in the crowds. Where’s Arthur Miller when you need him?

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

The names of everyone and everything except my wife and me are changed for obvious reasons!

As we’re driving out of the house to dine last evening, we realize that we have no dinner reservation in New York for the next night (tonight). We stop on the bridge, I use my Iphone to call via the car’s Bluetooth, and this drama ensues between us and over the speaker:

ME: Where should we go?
The Lovely Maria (TLM): What about that new restaurant owned by Tom Jones, whose kids went to school with ours? I think it’s on about 48th street. Remember, your driver told you to be sure to try it, since he also drives him down there all the time.
ME: Let’s see what Google says. (I plug in a misspelled name, Google says, “Is this what you really want, fool?” and I hit the phone number which accompanies some rave reviews.)
Restaurant Manager (RM): (Very haughty.) Yes?
ME: We’d like a reservation for tomorrow night, please, two people at six.
RM: Impossible.
ME: Well, what can you do?
RM: Perhaps I can fit you in at 5:30.
ME: (I confer with TLM.) Well, okay.
RM: Very well, your name? (I tell him.) Your phone number? (I give him my cell number.)
RM: (Now a tad more friendly.) Is that a Rhode Island number?
ME: Yes.
RM: (Now friendly and cautious.) May I ask how it is you’ve heard of us?
ME: Sure. One of your owners is Tom Jones, and his kids went to school with our kids, and we have the same limo driver. He’s also opening, as you probably know, another restaurant up here.
RM: (Now bowing and gracious.) Why didn’t you say so to begin with? We are happy to have the two of you at six tomorrow!
ME: I think that was 5:30, right?
RM: NO, no, you wished for 6 and that is fine. We will see you tomorrow. My name is Alfonso if you need anything further!
ME: Thank you, ah, Alfonso.
TLM: (Rolls eyes.)
ME: (Put car in gear and head to dinner and martini, laughing loudly.)

We all need to turn cold calls into warmer encounters.

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

Some things percolating early today:

• Twitter folks are frequently “retweeting” my stuff, calling me “one of the top business experts in the country.” That can’t hurt, and it’s fun trying to condense some wisdom into about 80 characters twice a day or more. Those who get all bent out of shape because I don’t follow anyone are also usually nasty (I’ve thrown a couple off this blog) which is what happens when people become obsessed that only they know the rules. Lighten up.

• I sent out over 10,000 Monday Morning Memos and received 37 unsubscribes, far better than expected!

• I’m watching President Obama, whom I respect, and realize that over-communicating is as bad as under-communicating.

• You can get into serious discussions on Facebook, but there are a lot of people who tell you they can read your mind, or tea leaves, or intuit the sky, or believe the government is trying to erase our minds with flu vaccinations. It’s the kind of party where, no matter how many free drinks are served, you begin to wonder who left the door open.

• The 45-minute Process Visual segment at the recent Million Dollar Consulting® College was so powerful that I’m going to run a full-day workshop on the subject early next year.

• Miami lost to the Colts last night because the Miami coach was afraid, having his team run instead of pass with three minutes left in Colts’ territory, missing an opportunity to try for a touchdown, and settling for a field goal and a 3-point lead. Peyton Manning took the field and drove the Colts the length of it in the last minute to score a touchdown and win. Everyone in the stadium knows he does that regularly, and did it to Miami earlier in the evening. It’s a GAME. If you’re afraid to try to win, to go for the big score, you cheat your players, your fans, and yourself. It wasn’t the talent that lost, it was the management. Sound familiar?

• Have you been following my postings here, “Don’t Look Now,” about the recession ending? Well, guess what?

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

Received a call from a Captain Mike Sherlock today, who is deputy director of the strategic research department at the Naval War College in Newport. He said he had been sent my blog entry (“Sir, No Sir!”) and wanted to apologize for the behavior of the colonel. He said that this was an aberration, and not how the vast majority of the attendees acted.

I agreed, and told him that of 1,000 people present, there were likely to be a couple of behavioral problems, and I had had the misfortune of meeting one. And, as I had written, I respect anyone who puts on a uniform for his or her country and moves into harm’s way to protect us.

Captain Sherlock offered a tour of the Naval War College for me to get a better impression of what they do and who they are and, when I mentioned that I was an informal student of Naval history, said he’d arrange some terrific experiences.

I want to keep the playing field even: That was one hell of a speedy and effective response from the Navy, and the colonel might just have done us all a great favor.

And isn’t it interesting who reads blogs? It pays to be the King of Social Media….

With the Great Grandparents

We’re spending the weekend in my daughter’s condo watching the granddaughters and cat while she and her husband are in Florida at a wedding.

It’s been glorious thus far, temperature in the 70s. I was able to get my hair cut by Toshi at the John Barrett Salon in Bergdorf Goodman, where I’ve gone for over a decade. Toshi has one of the finest views of Central Park around. I arrived early, so I hung out at the park for a while, watching the runners, the horses, and the dogs.

Later, we all (sans cat) visited the omnipresent street fair that shuts down Sixth Avenue for a half-mile at a time. They sell everything, from crepes to pickles, and clothing to cosmetics. They were selling scuba lessons and “Kiehl’s for Dogs” (I kid you not). My favorite baby tee-shirt: “Don’t pacify me, I want food.” Favorite adult tee-shirt: “I can only please one person per day. This isn’t your day. Tomorrow doesn’t look so good, either.”

Pictures of the kids to come, they were covered up like rare plants in a stroller that should require a license to operate.

Outside of Central Park

Inside of Central Park

Street Musicians Awaited

The View from Toshi’s Station

Scenes from the street fair I

Scenes from the street fair II

The Pickle Man

Architecture on the lower West Side

The Empire State Building looms overhead

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

A very nice guy by the name of Steve Whiteside bid and won a day of my time for a charity event, and flew down from Vancouver. He scored some special season tickets from a friend, and we went to the Red Sox game last night.

I was a Dodger fan (my shepherd is named Koufax, and his American Kennel Club registry is officially “Sanford van Koufax of Ebbets,” I kid you not). I’ve followed the Patriots and the Celtics (from the old glory days to the new), but I’ve never liked the Red Sox.

It took 2.5 hours to get from East Greenwich, RI to the seats in Fenway Park. I expected rush hour traffic, but not the insane small streets required to reach Fenway, which is in the middle of commercial and residential areas. Parking offers started a mile away, and it occurred to me I wasn’t going to get valet parking. As we moved closer, a gas station had jammed about 100 cars in, at $60 each, with the guys keeping the keys and moving everything around frantically.

So that was out.

As we got very close, Steve noticed a pharmacy parking lot, taken over by an entrepreneur, who was charging $35. I pulled in, and he quickly put a “sorry, filled” sign behind me.

“Can I lock this somewhere safe?” I asked.

“Follow me,” he said, and took us to a giant handicapped space that would have accommodated a Greyhound bus. It made sense, since being a Dodger fan at Fenway, you might say I was handicapped.

“How do we get to Gate D?” we asked. He told us to take an alley, go down some steps, and it was only 100 feet away. And it was!

We climbed four levels to a special seating area, through a restaurant, and took in the rest of the first inning, already in progress. The stadium is beautiful. It was packed (what recession?), and by the third inning, all the other late arrivals had filled every seat. Five veterans sitting next to us told us that a server would be along if we wanted to order some food, and helpfully gave us some menus stashed in the cup holders. This is not your father’s ball park—you can order salad and diet stuff.

“What are you going to have?” asked Steve.

“I’m looking for the sushi and finger sandwiches.”

The server finally arrived, a long-time, aged veteran of the section, whom the guys warned us would be unpleasant. She refused to come to our seats, so we had to shout our orders (for burgers and fries, I opted not to have the crepes at a ball game). I also asked for a beer, and she made funny hand gestures. I thought she was referring to size. I yelled “large.” She kept holding up her fingers.

“She carding you,” said the guys. “She needs ID.”

We will now all take a few moments to think about that request.

The guys said, “It’s a law. Everyone ordering alcohol must be carded.”

So I took out my license (I have not been carded in about 45 years) and held it up next to my head from 30 feet away. She chewed her gum and made a face. I had to go over to her, as the five guys stood up to let me pass. They were hysterical.

“Welcome to Massachusetts,” said one, “you’re not from around here!”

“I’m from a far and distant universe,” I mentioned.

The game was poorly played, but I’m reading a book about umpires so I watched their actions based on what I had learned. There are statistics on every imaginable surface of the ballpark, and a kibillion televisions replay everything notable near all the seats.

We left in the seventh inning with the Sox down 6-2 in a game they would go on to lose 9-2. I expected a zooming hour’s ride home, only to encounter the Massachusetts highway department taking I93 from four lanes to two for its entire length to fix about 20 yards of pavement.

The bad news: Heavy traffic, bureaucratic rules, home team lost.
The good news: Everyone but the server was polite and helpful (a guy at the gate actually wished us “good night” when we left), the stadium is beautiful and historic, I landed a great parking space, and the food was really pretty good.

And I got carded.

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

Visit Emily Levine on TED and enjoy some outstanding insights. Click here to view.

Take a look at this:

Alan’s Motivational Achievement Wall Poster

Adversity
When it occurs, it temporarily justifies all the whining you’ve been doing all along.

Boldness
What you observe in others until they fail, whereupon you say, “I told you so.”

Career
Usually ignored by people, who keep allowing their jobs to get in the way.

Daring
See “boldness.”

Excellence
A beautifully nebulous term which implies vast improvement without demanding a metric, standard, or completion. See also “great,” as in “Good to….”

Flexibility
That trait utilized by people who want to justify turning left while signaling right.

Great
A vague sense of high performance somewhat akin to “happy” in it’s clarity, except happiness is more measurable and tangible.

Honesty
When used in it’s adverbial form to begin a sentence, a sure sign that what follows is persiflage, lies, and bunkum, as in, “Honestly, I think your ideas are wonderful….”

Innovation
That quality, above all others, most publicly proclaimed as needed by major organizations, and most brutally beaten down, punished, and eradicated.

Job
A relatively unimportant and temporary condition usually associated with task instead of result, which gets in the way of a career. See “career.”

Keynote
A speech given with the intent of conveying a theme and attitude which will not only be abandoned quickly after the conference, but may not even last until the coffee break.

Leadership
An endangered species on the verge of extinction, and already totally absent from the airline, newspaper, auto, and financial services industries. Oxymoron example: The leadership requires a bailout.

Money
Generally confused with wealth, which is the amount of discretionary time one has, and for which money is merely fuel. (The mindless pursuit of money can actually erode wealth. You can always make another dollar, but you can’t make another minute.)

New
See “originality.”

Originality
See “innovation.”

Pride
That which organizations call on for and bestow upon employees in lieu of raises, better benefits, and job security.

Quality
That anal-retentive search for perfection as characterized by bizarre references to martial arts or obscure Asian phrases, which supercedes actual performance in real time. (My personal favorite: A division president with his top staff on a parade through the plant, examining endless charts and graphs at every work station, while a machine leaked oil, untended, onto the floor right behind them, with no one noticing. I wanted to point it out but lacked my Kaizoo secret decoder ring, and could not communicate.)

Resilience
The capacity to absorb negative feedback like a deep sea sponge and/or hit your head against a stone wall repeatedly, like a demented ram. Example: “He must have great resilience to have weathered all those failures and catastrophes.”

Security
That which accrues to those who keep the lowest profile and do not engage in innovation. See “innovation.”

Time
A priority, not a resource, as in, “Honestly, I wish I had the time to see my kid’s soccer game but I don’t.” Of course you have the time, but you’ve assigned it to a higher priority in your universe.

Uplifting
A phrase often applied to a vacuous and insipid motivational speech which usually involves patriotic music, videos of outstanding athletes, and stories of unimaginable adversity undergone by a speaker who cries exactly 27 minutes into the talk, and whose Mercedes is parked down the block.

Victory
A temporary improvement in condition, never final and seldom fatal, and relatively as long lived as the roller coaster’s pause at the top of the first hill.

Wealth
Discretionary time. The wealthiest people are those able to use their time in whatever ways they choose. See “time” and “money.”

Xerox
A former brand name now used as a generic for the equipment which provides for the mass distribution of résumés, pornographic stories, and photocopies of various human body parts.

Yes Person
The politically correct term for someone with “resilience.” See “resilience.”

Zest
The spice of life, available only to those who work for themselves.

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

“To act without knowing why; to do things as they have always been done, without asking why; to engage in an activity all one’s life without really understanding what it is about and how it relates to other things–this is to be one of the crowd.”  — Meng Tzu (Mencius) 379-289 BC

In the year ahead, step out of the crowd and carve your own future.

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

Since it’s my blog, you’ll have to look at my slides!

Bottom Row: My mother, Roseanna; daughter Danielle; grandaughter Gabrielle; son-in-law Jan; father, Jack.
Top Row: My son, Jason; uncle Irwin; wife Maria; Moi; niece Chelsea; sister Lori; brother-in-law Henny.

Tex and Gabby

Jason, Danielle, and Gabby

There is some deep, inexorable, terrestrial alarm that awakens things around here at this time in April. The Latin “aperire” means “to open,” and that’s what’s occurring throughout my realm. (April was once the second month in the Roman calendar, but then King Pompilius added January and February and April, well, was bumped.)

Eliot called April “the cruelest month” (The Wasteland), but he was a tad of a cynic to begin with when he wasn’t dealing with cats.

As if an alarm clock sounded at a pitch only animals and plants could hear, in 24 hours this place has blossomed, bloomed, and beguiled. Thirteen goslings hatched at once, a record ten to one pair of parents (pictured here). We’ve had from one to ten baby geese at times, which is a factor of how well the parents shielded the nest and fought off raccoons, foxes, and snakes. We suspect the ten came from a strategically sound nest on an island in our pond (Maria forbids me to call it a “lake”).

Ducklings will follow. The birds are all over the feeders, and goldfinches, cardinals, and blue jays create a rainbow in the yard while avoiding the occasional hawk, who’s more intent on the squirrels. Scores of turtles have dug out of winter quarters, and they climb atop the logs and rocks in the lake, er, pond, sometimes forming crazy house-of-cards pyramids. When they are startled, the piles of turtles seem to explode into reptilian chaos. The large snapper lurks in the mud, rarely exposing himself. You can see him here, also, on one of his rare expeditions out of the water. Soon, we’ll hear the basso profundo of the frogs at night.

The evergreens have been joined by their deciduous brethren, which are filling in all the gaps and isolating our property in magnificent privacy. The tulip trees must be 60 feet tall, and I’m reminded of C. Northcote Parkinson’s observation that trees seldom die from decay or sickness or, one presumes, from sin. They die when they reach the size, weight, and duration usual for that type of tree. (The same is true of institutions and organizations.)

My gardens are planted (I’m trying watermelon this year and beets again, among peppers and carrots and radishes), the pool will open in three weeks, the lawn guys are back, and the detritus of winter has been removed.

Meanwhile, we have new generations born and being raised in the water, on land, and in the air. I didn’t hear the alarm they all did, but I’m up and ready for a new day.

© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.

Nobody Asked Me, But (with all due attribution and apologies to legendary sportswriter Jimmy Cannon, who originated this)….

• People just look goofy when they walk around with a blinking blue light in their ear. If they’re dressed well, they look even goofier. I told a lawyer in Atlanta that I wasn’t going to talk to him until he took it out of his ear. (Was he going to take a call during our meeting?)
• The customer or the client is not always right. In fact, if the client were usually right about the issues you’re discussing, you wouldn’t be discussing them.
• If you read a book on management and do not mark a single passage to be copied and considered or used at a later date, then I wouldn’t exactly rush out to buy works from that author again.
• I watched people enter a conference room where a participant, with permission, had a dog in a cage. The dog was a puppy, extremely well behaved, and just happy to be there. There were, sure enough, two kinds of people: those who said, “What a cute puppy!” and went over to make its acquaintance, and those who frowned and steered a wide course around the area. Barring those with dog hair allergies, guess with whom I want to spend my time?
• I watched a sizeable blackbird at the pool in Naples unsuccessfully attack a stale piece of food found under a table. After a minute, the bird picked up the morsel, hopped to the side of the pool, and dunked the food until it became soft to enough to break apart. Three minutes later he was done and departed. If a black bird can do that, why can’t you make your client interactions more malleable?
• When the buyer says, “I have no time,” or “We don’t have budget,” you have made some minor errors but your position is recoverable. If the buyer says, “I don’t see the value,” you’re probably cooked.
• When a female airport security officer has carefully applied eye makeup and lipstick, and has her hair well coiffed, yet acts like a Gestapo interrogation officer, I don’t think she’s understood what “putting on the right face” really means. (She works at the Naples Airport, look out.)
• If you’re telling me that you’re “technologically illiterate” and don’t have an email address or use a computer for speed in gathering information or ordering merchandise at times, you might as well tell me that you can’t read or are afraid to use the telephone. That excuse was cute 15 years ago but it’s downright dumb today.
• I’ve just facilitated a real-time consulting practicum, in which two teams worked on issues at a major U.S. organization and developed recommendations within two hours that were presented in 30 minutes, which the buyer thought were “awesome.” And, what, you still want to bill by the hour?
• There are two equally ridiculous extremes: Refusing to look at business email on the weekend, and refusing to go to the beach during the week. You don’t have a business life and a personal life. You have a life. You might as well maximize its potential.

© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.

Yesterday we were driving along a tree-enshrouded lane we often use to avoid the larger roads. Suddenly, out of the canopy of branches, a huge bird dropped down and flew at eye-level in front of us.

I was doing 30 MPH and was not catching up. I realized at last that it was a huge hawk, and the hawk was steadily descending. Finally, about 50 yards away, it reached down for a squirrel which had just run onto the road from a lawn. The rodent took a sharp right, ran up a stone wall and, with the hawk having lost a few seconds making a tight turn and now inches away, jumped into a thick tangle of trees and bushes.

The hawk pulled up, unable to fly with a four-foot wingspan into two feet of clearing, and returned to its air patrol. This clever squirrel, I would guess, is going to convey the genes of escape down to generations of smart creatures. When you’re successfully dodging dogs, raccoons, foxes, and hawks, you’re making the most of what you’ve got. My wife was overjoyed with the outcome.

On the way to workout this morning, my wife yelled for me to stop halfway around the driveway curve where we encountered four deer about ten yards away in the woods. They stopped to stare back, despite our presence and a very loud engine. They knew that they could escape in an instant, and they soon went back to nibbling on everything in site. They were still there as we moved on.

Animals are instinctual and cognizant of their surroundings. That hawk knew that it could fly down the street but couldn’t make it through the trees at high speed. The squirrel knew that it had to get into cover and that a hard right turn would gain it a second of life-giving grace. The deer knew they were in no danger. (The “advance of civilization” which everyone has bemoaned in terms of removing native areas has actually pushed animals into a closer proximity where they can be successful and enjoyed in the wild. No one, for example, can hunt anywhere around here, and the wetlands running all over the place has put a stop to further development. I had to pause a few days ago to allow 19 wild turkeys to cross the road in a stubborn single file, unconcerned about the six cars keeping watch.)

You can’t “reason” through a pursuit or escape, and you can’t “reason” through a sales call or presentation. You have to trust your talent, your instincts, and your natural behaviors. The squirrels, the hawks, the wild turkeys and the deer have been around a long time, and they’ve adjusted well to circumstances. And don’t even get me started on sea gulls.

A couple of years ago a guy in a car ahead of me did an abysmally stupid thing and I immediately swerved and put my car up on the center median, on the grass. No one was hurt, and there was no damage, but there was absolutely no other place I could have gone without being in a major accident. I trusted my instincts. If I had reasoned for even a second, I may not have been able to write about it later.

Sometimes you just have to trust yourself. Ironically, too many people would rather trust others.

© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.

A request was made to have Alan’s Escaping Misery Podcast available as a transcript. Thank You Bob Poole for volunteering to transcribe and make this available to the community and Thank you Alan. Enjoy, Chad.

Click here to download. (pdf 141kb)

My son, Jason, is a sometimes-employed actor and a frequently-employed bartender in New York City. He recently landed the prestigious role of Iago in a play to be produced in Virginia in a couple of months. Dutifully, he headed off to Barnes & Noble to purchase Othello and begin learning his lines. Rather than return home, he decided to begin studying at the store.

The only remaining seat was at a table occupied by a woman. Jason asked permission to share it. She told him to go right ahead.

In a few minutes, she asked if he would watch her possessions while she went to the rest room. He told her to go right ahead.

When she returned she asked why he was highlighting so many passages in the book. He explained he was an actor.

Her: “As an actor, do you learn about stage work, lighting, carpentry, and so on?”
Him: “Sure. It was was a requirement in school and critical in off-Broadway productions.”
Her: “Could you do that in someone’s house?”
Him: “Yes, I’m my sister’s handyman, for her condo, as a matter of fact.”
Her: “Would you mind looking at some work I’d like done and giving me an estimate?”

As Jason agrees and searches for his card, he asks what her profession is.

Her: “Oh, I’m a consultant.”
Him: “What kind of consultant?”
Her: “Management consultant.”
Him: “Have you ever heard of Alan Weiss?”
Her: “Alan Weiss?! Of course. He’s BIG, VERY BIG. I was able to hear him speak once in New York.”
Him: “You know you can buy some of his books downstairs here.”
Her: “I have a lot of them already.”
Him: “He’s my father.”
Her: “You’re KIDDING!”

Jason finds his card at last and hands it over as proof.

Her: “How soon can you come over?”

© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.

This is called “An Interview With God.” It is not for everyone. I found the messages to be quite valuable to apply to ourselves. You may find it superficial and judgmental, I don’t know. It’s here if you’re curious and can use five minutes of striking photos and life balance suggestions:

Click Here to View

Some of you may recall my telling a story about a woman I met in a class, Nancy Gucwa. She said her life was too uninteresting for public speaking. I proceeded to find out that she was in the first class of women accepted to West Point in 1976, became a cadet leader, and went on into the army as an officer–in the 82nd Airborne! She retires from the reserves after 20 years of service and over 30 jumps this year.

She has written me to inform me that she is now a novice at a Monastery in Missouri, becoming a Benedictine Sister. I’m hoping that some day we can find something interesting about her life to use in a speech!

May the New Year:

• Bring you the confidence to know when you’re right and to admit when you’re wrong.
• Present more discretionary time than ever before.
• Provide insights that enable you to live a more productive life.
• Heal old wounds.
• Create a brand new, impassioned hobby.
• Take you to places you’ve never seen before.
• Return you to some of your favorite places.
• Sharpen your senses so that you have fewer unpleasant surprises.
• Allow deep passions to be justified and fulfilled.
• Play the songs that take you back to the happiest times of your life.
• Make you laugh out loud, no matter who is nearby.
• Deepen your friendships.
• Foster understanding and alleviate guilt.
• Deliver three fine options for every decision.
• Allow you to taste as much wine as you dare.
• Paint an occasional sunrise and sunset that you will never forget.
• Treat you to an accolade or award from those you respect the most.
• Challenge you, so that you thrive while succeeding and learn while failing.
• Tease you with hint of even better things to come next year.
• Enable you to love without limit or restraint.

Happy New Year, to this community of enlightenment.

== Alan

© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.

The predicted storm hit, leaving seven inches on the balcony, which is my official measuring site. We have a white blanket over the property and the pond, encouraging a couple of hundred ducks and geese to drop by for a handout. Unlike the metropolitan areas, the snow remains white here until it melts.

Everything seems so silent after a snowfall, as if the noises in our lives are subterranean and therefore muted by the thick ground cover. The squirrels—and even Buddy Beagle—have to add an extra bounce to clear the new topography, though Koufax doesn’t mind at all. But he is terribly difficult to see in the snow and he only turns up easily behind the evergreens.

I had planned to do a lot today, figuring I’d be a willing captive of the storm, but it’s simply too peaceful and tranquil to disturb the climatic zeitgeist. The dogs have taken up residence under my desk and I’m just daydreaming. (Comedian Steven Wright has pointed out that he would love to daydream, but he keeps getting distracted.)

Tonight we attend the annual Nutcracker, performed by the ballet on whose board both Maria and I serve. The streets and highways are fine, though I hear that we should expect a much more vigorous storm tomorrow night, to continue through Sunday, with 65 mile-per-hour winds. I’m wondering, of all things, how the Patriots can play the Jets on Sunday in an outdoor stadium up here if those conditions transpire.

I guess I have too much time on my hands if that’s my big concern. But why not? I doubt you can take serenity to an excess. I’ll look into it, and let you know.

© Alan Weiss 2007. All rights reserved.

Happy Holidays from the Weiss Family

Maria, Koufax, Buddy, and I wish you the best of the holidays!

Click Here

Olivia Fox Cabane, a mentor member who calls me “the great god of consulting” and consequently receives priority treatment, asked me for a list of my favorite all-time fiction for her to work on. Off the top-of-my-head, here’s what I provided:

The Grapes of Wrath
QB VII
The Great Gatsby
The Last Tycoon
Stranger in A Strange Land
A Prayer for Owen Meany
Rabbit Run
The Prince of Tides
Main Street
Madame Bovary
An American Tragedy
Jude the Obscure
A Tale of Two Cities
Atlas Shrugged
The Godfather
The entire Patrick O’Brian naval series