(The Dog Star is a symbol of power, will, and steadfastness of purpose, and exemplifies the One who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness. – Astrological Definition)
The pool is open for the season! Koufax enjoys resting amidst the Hostas, while Buddy Beagle prefers a good Yucca.
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(The Dog Star is a symbol of power, will, and steadfastness of purpose, and exemplifies the One who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness. – Astrological Definition)
My friend, Guido Quelle, was here recently from Germany for my Shameless Promotion Workshop. He began speaking to my German Shepherd, Koufax, in German. Koufax, notoriously aloof and gnomic in his relationships, immediately warmed to Guido, and permitted extensive petting and scratching.
Now, I know that Koufax can’t understand German, and that there are not ethnic or racial origins involved here, right?
Right?
Perhaps it was just Guido’s way with dogs (he has two of his own), or his tone of voice, or perhaps is was Koufax’s discernment of a kindred past. But he certainly took to Guido exceptionally well.
Some prospects take to us exceptionally well, and some clearly do not. In many cases, it’s the prospect’s problem: preoccupied, overwhelmed, poor attention span, arrogant—whatever. But in some cases it’s our fault, therefore controllable and worth trying to avoid doing (and certainly prevent constantly repeating).
What are others’ first impressions of you? You probably don’t know what they are. Are you dressed professionally and stylishly, or are you rumpled and out of date? Do you smile or do you look nervous and grim? Do you have a firm handshake or a limp lump of pasta that falls short of al dente? Are you carrying a smart briefcase or are you a pack horse with computers and ragged baggage? Do you know where to sit after you’re asked and how to open a conversation, or are you bouncing around like a metal orb in a pinball machine?
You only get a one chance to create a first impression. Since most of us are engaged in such rituals frequently, wouldn’t it be a clever idea to get good at it? And that includes your email, blog entries, tweets, and other non-personal impressions. I’ve always thought that people with 17 initials after their names on their business cards, none of which I can figure out, are trying to overcompensate, and that those who ask you to send them a package and don’t have a physical address in their signature file, are just not trying.
In any case, a great first impression can overcome even the prospect’s bad habits, costs nothing, and is easy to replicate once learned and practiced. Koufax is back to his old self, but I found an empty bottle of Löwenbräu in the yard the other day, and I’m beginning to suspect something isn’t quite right….
© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.
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(The Dog Star is a symbol of power, will, and steadfastness of purpose, and exemplifies the One who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness. – Astrological Definition)
The dogs and I were completing our coffee run this morning, turning into the main gate. Koufax was riding shotgun, and Buddy was perched on the truck’s console. We cleared the gate and the three of us came face-to-face with three deer. The smallest was about the size of Koufax, though with slightly longer legs. The six of us just stared for about five seconds. Then the dogs went manic.
While I tried to control them and still watch the deer, which simply trotted around on the grass, I marveled at how many deer were living amongst us, just 60 seconds from Main Street, in wooded areas. The deer were curiously reluctant to leave, when I noticed that the dogs’ focus was not on them, but on two additional deer I hadn’t seen on the other side of the truck, near the bridge. The five joined, took another long look at the two apparently mad dogs, and wandered down by the creek.
I drove up to the house, and Koufax jumped out and headed for the door. Buddy Beagle made a frenzied charge, nose to the ground, trying to make up 200 yards on the deer. I caught Buddy before he caught them. Obviously.
There is a school bus I can see from my den window, through the rear yard’s trees, and a plane silently soaring away from the Providence Airport. And yet, not far away in the other direction, easily within site from other parts of the house, the deer are probably still grazing (or whatever deer do).
It’s refreshing on occasion to stop thinking about “challenging economic times” and just contemplate life. If the deer can survive and even thrive, so can we.
© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.
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(The Dog Star is a symbol of power, will, and steadfastness of purpose, and exemplifies the One who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness. – Astrological Definition)
In one of those bizarre coincidences, the alarm on the bridge leading over the waterfall to our house was deactivated by mistake, and concurrrently the house alarm stopped indicating which doors were being opened as entry points. Both were easily rectified, but they persisted for four days before we got around to correcting them.
During that time, the dogs stopped greeting us at whatever door we were using to return. Typically, they would be barking, howling, and leaping at one of the doors, but now we would enter and hear them distantly in the master bedroom upstairs, running down the hall to belatedly greet us. (They had been asleep in our bed, of course.)
Both Koufax and Buddy Beagle had readjusted their senses to listening for the bridge alarm to cue them to come downstairs, then listening to the house alarm to alert them which door to head for. (Sometimes they would watch from an upstairs window at the sound of the alarm, and just see where the car was headed, knowing which door we would have to use.) When I’m home, the bridge alarm will trigger Koufax to go to the hallway window to see who’s coming, and whether they are bark-worthy. (He loves to intimidate my bookkeeper, and assumes treats from the UPS guy.)
They are both capable of hearing, smelling, and seeing vehicles approach. But they’d become reliant on an intermediary system. I’m not sure that’s good, especially for a watch dog. Then again, we all tend to become reliant on intermediaries.
We don’t talk to management with our problems, we talk to call centers, often halfway around the planet. There are “executive staffs” which intercept and respond to letters from consumers to company brass. We receive automated phone reminders of doctors appointments and cable company visits. We use the web for airline reservations and restaurant recommendations.
The intermediary isn’t always human.
The problem with intermediaries is that they don’t necessarily reflect power or influence or even remediation. They are often buffers with their own agendas (if human) or with no vested interest (if not human). If your objective is to complain to an officer with power, but the intermediary’s is to prevent that very act, you can see the eternal struggle. They only “win” if you “lose.”
I refuse to deal with meeting planners, event planners, “agents,” or bureaus unless it is to speed the way to a real economic buyer. The intermediaries are too wound up in their own turf, their own ego, and their own idea of what should be happening, usually in complete and utter ignorance of strategy and corporate insight.
Similarly, I don’t deal with reservations clerks when I have a hotel problem. I call the manager of the hotel. (The odds are that you won’t be able to visit the office of the CEO of Delta Airlines, which is a despicable operation, but you will be able to visit the office of a hotel manager when you stay at that property, so there is a motivation to communicate with you before you camp out on the floor.)
I noticed with the bridge alarm off for the third day that Koufax was beginning to rouse himself using his own outstanding sensory apparatus. He realized his intermediary “trigger” was failing him. Too many of us don’t perceive that. We assign our fates to others—humans and non-humans—and assume we’ll be taken care of.
Don’t bet on it. You’re better served sniffing around on your own.
© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.
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(The Dog Star is a symbol of power, will, and steadfastness of purpose, and exemplifies the One who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness. – Astrological Definition)
On the mornings when we get into the truck to go for coffee, Koufax makes it a point to run down the slope to the pond and chase all the ducks which have gathered to be fed. He does this religiously.
Koufax has never, to my knowledge, caught a duck, nor does he seem to try. He simply lopes along the declivity, watching between 50 and 100 ducks take to the air in a blizzard of feathers.
The dog appears to be smiling.
He never tires of this nor, evidently, do the ducks, because they return as soon as Koufax is safely in the truck. Sometimes they land again before he’s even in the truck. And they do the same thing the following morning.
This is a comfortable ritual for all of us. I then feed the ducks and the dogs and I drive off. By the time we’re back, the ducks have finished breakfast. If they’re lounging on the grass, Koufax will again run down, tail and head up, far more interested in the relationship than in a repast.
We all need to create positive habits. The ducks know that they get a free meal, especially important in the winter, by putting up with the dog for a few minutes. (Buddy Beagle engenders no such fear or flight, but the ducks know he’s never around without the German Shepherd.) Koufax looks forward to making these creatures fly and creating a great racket and flurry of feathers.
And I look forward to my inclusion in the fun.
What are you doing to create constancy of enjoyment and a regimen of reward for yourself? I’ve found that dogs are quite good at it, and I’m getting better and better.
And I find that Koufax, Buddy, and I are all looking up at the sky at the same time.
© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.
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(The Dog Star is a symbol of power, will, and steadfastness of purpose, and exemplifies the One who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness. – Astrological Definition)
I walked over to a neighbor’s this morning to discuss some property issues, and decided to walk Koufax the quarter mile or so. We tricked Buddy Beagle (with whom walking is akin to jumping on a pogo stick while balancing stacks of dishes) into going into the back yard, and Koufax ran to the front door as soon as he saw his leash.
On the way home, back on our property, I removed his lead and he headed over the bridge at a gallop. The driveway takes what amounts to a 90-degree turn, with bushes and trees densely bordering it, so it’s easy to lose site of the Shepherd. But he does an interesting thing: He charges ahead, stops, looks to his left and right with head and ears raised, then turns back and watches to make sure I’m following. Once convinced, he races on again.
This is more than clever, this reaches astute. And it’s a lot more astute than many leaders I’ve seen.
I’ve worked with absolute visionaries who have ultimately been let go because their vision exceeded their pragmatism. That is, they never looked left or right to see what was on the periphery (better opportunities, looming threats, someone racing ahead), nor did they look back to see if the rest of the organization was able to keep up. They didn’t have the sense of a German Shepherd.
Innovation, alacrity, agility, resourcefulness—these are all admirable traits. But any trait taken to an excess in isolation of the environment can lead to disaster. If you’re going to lead, you’d better be sure it isn’t in a tunnel. If you’re going to gallop, it can’t be like a horse with blinders, artificially focused solely on what’s ahead. You had better be looking around with your head up in awareness.
And as an organizational leader or a consultant, pausing to look back and ensure that others are willing to follow, have followed, and are following the correct path isn’t dilatory, it’s merely prudent. You have to get there “firstest with the mostest,” to quote Nathan Beford Forrest, not “firstest and all alone.”
Admonish your clients to lead boldly but to be cognizant of the movement of others. Visionaries are fine, but dreamers aren’t. Koufax is smart enough to look around him. His speed is tempered by being in the moment.
And, therefore, I trust him enough to always let him off his leash.
© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.
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The Great Dog Trotsky lived with us for 14.5 years. He was half Siberian Husky and half German Shepherd, weighed a prodigious 100 pounds, and took no prisoners. He was a tough customer and, like a tyrannosaurus, he would just as soon scavenge than hunt.
We fed him twice a day. Once, when he was about six, my wife forgot to feed him in the evening. The next morning, at about ten minutes before he would usually be fed, he began to bark in my wife’s face. And he continued that habit, morning and night, for the rest of his life.
Apparently, his tolerance for missed meals was exactly one. When my wife was seated, Trotsky was eye level with her, and if you stood, he could stand on his hind legs, put his front paws on your shoulders, and stare you right in the eye.
I don’t know what internal clock, through solstices, equinox, and leap years, enabled him to determine when it was ten minutes prior to being fed, but he knew unfailingly. When he started to bark our terrier would simply head for the kitchen.
I believe that too many of us set too high a tolerance for failure to support us, to respond to us, to assist us. Bovine-like, we take our ticket and take our seat, hoping that the line will move rapidly for our driver’s license, social security card, or sliced Provolone. We continue to complain to authorities who are paid to absorb complaints as if they were sponges, wrung out at night by corporate management, and ready to absorb again tomorrow. Does it really help to complain to low level people in the cable company, or at the cell phone service, or at the time share?
I always admired Trotsky because, even though he lived in a fine place and was taken care of and protected, he never took it for granted and always looked out for himself. He carefully inspected my son’s and daughter’s friends, and made his own judgments, which were quite clear. (One of my son’s life-long friends recently got a dog and named him “Trotsky” in fond memory of finally being accepted by him long ago.) He almost killed a man once in our pool room whom he thought was overly aggressive with my wife (he was, because he was smitten, but that’s another column). I’m convinced Trotsky didn’t act that way out of fealty or obligation, but because he knew what was right and wrong in his world.
We all deserve to have healthy outrage. We should stop accepting those who don’t support us, whose products and services are beneath our standards, and who drain away our oxygen.
I miss Trotsky every day, despite the terrific dogs who now live with us. But I keep his memory fresh, trying to perpetuate his fine points.
I don’t, of course, bark at my wife ten minutes prior to dinner. But then again, we eat out every night.
© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.
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(The Dog Star is a symbol of power, will, and steadfastness of purpose, and exemplifies the One who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness. – Astrological Definition)
Arriving home this morning from my workout and coffee run, the dogs joined me as I headed for the shower so that they could mooch a treat from the “dog drawer” in the master bathroom. I tried to violate Koufax’s food hierarchy by pushing a sirloin tip at him, but he stubbornly held his mouth closed. (Try to force open that mouth and the immediate items you encounter are 1.5 inch fangs, bared, not a chore or view for the feint of heart.)
The Koufaxian hierarchy, from the top down, is: chicken jerky, puparoni, bacon slices, and sirloin tips. Since we’ve stopped stocking the jerky (despite their size and strength, Shepherds have remarkably sensitive digestion, whereas Buddy Beagle can eat anything and The Great Dog Trotsky simply worried about whether he could get his mouth around something, which he usually could), and we were out of puparoni. But the bacon was there, so the sirloin tip was not acceptable.
This is a progression that Koufax follows rigorously, even with his toys. He’d rather have something that squeaks or makes noise, and will always grab that before just a passive chew toy.
Seems to me that we could all use that kind of clarity. I’m tired of people saying, “Why did I settle,” or “They talked me out of that,” or “I need to be stronger.” Simply understand your hierarchy of needs (with apologies to Abraham Maslow) and stick with it. Take a look at what’s in the drawer before you just grab something, grateful merely to be there.
Of course, when people try to force something on you, it doesn’t hurt to bare your teeth.
© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.
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Buddy is all full of himself this morning since a Beagle won at Westminster last night for the first time in history. (Beagles are the only breed continually on the “10 most popular” list since its inception in the early 20th Century.)
I know why this dog won. Because he’s, well, a dog. He’s not poofed up like the aftermath of a blow dryer explosion, or fragile like a rail-thin Supermodel, or skittish as if walking on egg shells over ice.
I direct you to the video on this blog titled, “Beagle Lessons.”
Fortunately, Koufax isn’t upset since he considers beauty competitions beneath him, despite the claim that it’s all about the scholarships.
© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.
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(The Dog Star is a symbol of power, will, and steadfastness of purpose, and exemplifies the One who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness. – Astrological Definition)
Koufax is still sleeping on the couch in our bedroom this morning, because he saw me put on my workout clothes, meaning I’m not taking the truck and he can’t go with me for coffee and dog biscuits. If I had put on street clothes, he would have shepherded (literally) me out of my closet, to my den, wait for me to get my glasses, then to the kitchen door to go into the yard. He then would have watched and listened for the upper gate to the garage or the lower gate to the pool to join me at the exit we were to take to the truck after I had fed the ducks.
Buddy Beagle would have simply followed Koufax, trying to protect himself as the shepherd pummeled him every few yards, adrenaline racing.
If my wife or I touch a plastic garbage bag, Koufax immediately heads for the truck, because he knows the dogs are allowed to join us for the 200 yard trip down the drive and over the bridge to the front wall where the garbage will be deposited and collected. (We own a truck to haul out the garbage, take the dogs for rides, and plow through the couple of major storms that usually hit in the winter.) He is with us every step of the way, and can open the storm door by himself if he thinks we’re taking too long.
If an untrained German Shepherd can adopt habits and change behavior, which leads to his happiness and success, why can’t human beings?
Recently, a development director (fund raiser) at a major arts group engaged my wife and me in a conversation at an event for major contributors. He engaged us by talking about himself 99% of the time! When a woman walked over whom we knew, and who has millions to donate to arts groups, he stopped her conversation with us and did the same thing!
At a ball a couple of months ago, one of the chairs invited us to sit at her table, with a small group of people we had never met. One of the men told me that our hosts had mentioned us to him, so he Googled me, and told me he was quite impressed by my accomplishments. He was an entrepreneur and was very interested in hearing from my wife and me. His wife was—drum roll—the development director for the very group sponsoring the evening. She gave us a perfunctory “hello” and didn’t speak to us for the rest of the night. She never asked for my card or inquired as to our involvement with her organization (which was minimal). In fact, she barely spoke to anyone, and seemed bored by it all.
I love it when the development directors complain at board meetings that it’s so hard to raise funds in this economy, that government is cutting back, that corporate giving is down, that the board members have to make up the difference. It seems that when times are bad, it’s the fates, not them; when times are good, they are geniuses, it’s not the rising tide. Isn’t it marvelous when it’s never your fault, and always your credit?
If you’re charged with raising money and you’re too self-absorbed to bother to learn what passions and goals other people have, to engage them in your cause, to demonstrate how their self-interest is met by contributing, then you ought to be in another line of work, and stop taking up money and space at an organization which needs better social skills and business acumen.
Just don’t apply for a shepherd’s job. You don’t have the talent.
© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.
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