Don't panic, don't panic... Why aren't you panicking?!

Everybody panics.

Well, there's a deep nugget of insight, right? Huge revelation for your Thursday morning. That's right up there with "Everybody poops" and "everybody hurts". Everybody panics? Yuck.

It's true through. Everyone has their own way of not taking things in stride in some way. And when it happens, it's rarely handled well. Any kind of activity, any kind of population, any kind of stakes, you find people panicking in some form. I mean, just look at Reservoir Dogs. For those of you unfamiliar, Reservoir dogs is a movie about a jewelry heist that goes horribly, terribly wrong, from things like the cops showing up to men getting shot to not being sure who has the stolen jewels to undercover cops. The plot itself isn't really all that spectacular, but the dialogue of the movie drives everything else. Anyway, one of the characters, called Mr. Pink (his only name in the movie) has a little soliloquy about panicking when discussing things that are not going right:

"I mean, everybody panics. I don't care what your name is, it's human nature, you f***ing panic. But you panic on the inside, you take a breath, get control of the situation, and deal with it. What you don't do is start shooting of the place and f***ing killing people."

Obviously, only part of that has anything to do with what I'm actually talking about, and I pretty much already made that point, but who doesn't love talking about Reservoir Dogs, right?

Panic has a lot to do with uncertainty, I've found. I mean, people rarely panic when they are familiar with a situation, no matter how absurd the situation is. Being familiar with a situation means you know what to expect, which tends to put us at ease or at least allow us to remain calm. You can know what's coming and still be upset or excited or angry or something else about it. You can even explain to others what's going down, and what's at stake, and how to get your head around it. And as a result, whatever you're dealing with becomes the new normal, and we don't panic about normal.

Ooh, you know who had a good quote about panicking? Heath Ledger did:

"You know what I noticed? Nobody panics when things go according to plan, even if the plan is horrifying. If tomorrow, I tell the press that a gangbanger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics. Because it's all part of the plan. But if I say that one little ole mayor will die, well, then everyone loses their minds!"

Did I say Heath Ledger? I meant Heath Ledger as the Joker, but same thing. Plus, who doesn't love talking about the Dark Knight, right?

So yeah, things stay on plan, everything's fine. Things don't stay on plan, and things might not be fine, because new territory is usually unexpected and misunderstood. And I know that many people actually deal with panic attacks, or anxiety attacks, or a few different forms of something similar. And it can be difficult to grasp at the time. I've had a few times that I felt a large pang of anxiety hit me in the last few years, just thinking about everything I have going on in my daily life and everything that I want to get done in the near future, and it all felt overwhelming when I looked at it all at once and wondered how the hell it would all get done. You could make the case that I felt this way because of the lack of an overall plan for every part of the things I still want to get done. Or you could just say that I let my mind wander and take on too much all at once instead of looking at each individual task, one by one.

Now, I have a few different things that could bring me back down from letting my stress and anxiety pile up like that. I can just take a few deep breaths and let myself resettle. My fiancé, Tara, has always been very helpful when I need to re-center myself and deal with something. I can go work out, shooting hoops or running or lifting or something of that sort. I can play music here in my apartment, or just listen to music really loud and dance around to it like an idiot. I can read a book, cook something, go for a walk, I can call up a friend or a family member, hell, I can sit here and write about it. I always feel better about whatever I'm doing after I write it out on paper. It's almost a way of getting the thought out of my head so I don't have to carry it around as much.

Not to mention, I mean, so many things that we deal with in our daily lives are really not so bad if we can just finish them and get to relax that they are finished and are smaller situations by themselves. Work, chores, bills, school, traffic, groceries, sleep, sports, errands. It's all manageable, even though it might not see it as a single pile. Over time, the stress from little things will invariably have a larger collective effect on your daily life and health than single traumatic events, unless you're one of the few people out there that terrible shit just constantly happens to, in which case all the traumatic stuff will actually seem like regular, mundane stress. But for the rest of us, daily life will be the thing that wears us down and stresses us out, over and over and over again. Finding a way to process and move past that daily stress makes everything that much more easy to deal with.

On the other hand, there are some situations that you don't just write about and stop thinking about. Like, there are moments that you don't just release and forget about, but instead just kind of stick with you, and you actually have to keep thinking about them even though the moments have passed. There are some things that you have happen, and then you literally do everything you can to forget about them for a while, until some time has passed and you can fully process exactly what the hell happened.

And you're probably thinking at this point, "Okay, here's where Victor is going to tell another embarrassing story about himself." Because so far, this blog has featured a lot of my egg-on-face moments. And I really should try to move on to other people's embarrassments at the very least, right?

Well, maybe another time.

One time, I almost choked to death on my friend's blonde hair.

Okay, now that you've got some terrible mental image, I'll tell you what happened. I was at track practice in Texas a while back and it was windy. Most of you that have never lived in Texas might not understand what I mean by 'windy'. I don't mean there was a breeze and the flags were flying in a certain direction. By windy, I mean we were looking up in the sky, making sure Dorothy and her house weren't gonna be moving through the area. Wind is not playing around in Texas and at certain times, it seems to keep changing direction over and over again.

So, like I said, track practice. I'm warming up by jogging and stretching and doing my high-knee circuit, and a friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a year or two showed up. Let's call her Pam. I'm not sure why, but she's Pam in this story. Pam was a little bit younger than me, and she had been working out with the same coach as the one I was currently training with, but she had been gone for a while and it was the first time she was coming back in a while. So I was excited to see her and she was excited to see everyone at practice, me included. Before you ask, no, we were not actually interested in eachother (to my knowledge) but we were very good friends.

Pam was a little bit shorter than me, and she had long flowing blonde hair that she usually tied up to work out. But since she was not actually training that day, her hair was just blowing all over the place. But when she saw me, she ran up to me and gave me this enormous hug that caught me a bit off guard just because I didn't see that it was her until a moment or two before the hug was initiated. And then all at once, I was caught off guard for a completely different reason.

Somehow, a large portion of her long blonde hair blew directly into my mouth. My mouth was open in surprise and it turned to greater surprise when I realized that I was tasting hair all at once. And then it turned to greater surprise/horror when it became clear that some of the hair had actually moved all the way to the back of my throat and was kind of stuck there. In my mind, it became clear all at once that I was actually kind of choking. This provoked a bit of panic in my head. Oh shit, I don't know how I'm going to stop choking, I thought to myself. There's no way for me to reach the hair with my hand, and there's way too much hair. The hair is everywhere. What am I going to do? Am I going to choke to death at track practice? Who dies at track practice?!

So I took about 10 seconds to recollect myself and then decided to try to get out of this without drawing more attention. Which, by then, was going to be difficult. The hug had been going on for about 10 seconds, and it was a bit awkward, but I couldn't do anything else. I mean, I didn't know how to sit there and deal with someone pulling their own hair out of my mouth, and as far as I could tell, Pam had so much hair that she didn't immediately know what was going on behind her back. So I doubled down on the hug. Just when it felt like we were both letting go and were going to start catching up, I went in for a larger and somewhat more aggressive hug. In fact, for part of it, I picked her up with the hug and started spinning around. I actually started pulling my head back to the side in a certain direction so that the hair started to slide out of my windpipe very slowly, all while trying to keep the focus on the friendly affection that was going in an interesting direction. And I could hear her laughing nervously while this was going on, but I couldn't be sure if she actually knew what was going on, because Pam actually had a nervous laugh on a normal basis. Looking back, she probably didn't know what had gone down right away, but knew it was weird.

So this hair extraction that was masking as a long-lost hug, it lasted a good 30-45 seconds. During which time I wasn't really saying anything, because what can you say while choking in such a ridiculous manner? You can probably guess that I did in fact get the hair out of my throat, since I lived to tell about it. Pam had this uncomfortable smile stuck to her face as she laughed when I finally released her, and I'm pretty sure I had a look of confused terror on mine. When we did start talking, we completely ignored what had just happened and she started asking about practice or school, or whatever the hell else. I don't think we ever fully acknowledged to one another that she almost killed me with her hair.

So yeah, I'm not a fan of choking, especially on a human body part, or out in public, or at track practice. But I must say, if it happened a few more times, I might actually be able to get through it without panicking. And then, I'd be worried for a different reason. Namely, why is something this ridiculous become a norm in my life? What decisions that I make are contributing to this situation occurring over and over again? Every once in a while, I think you have to look at the problems that you're dealing with and ask yourself, is this something that other people have problems with? If not, what are others doing differently to prevent this, and should I be doing them too? Is there a risk that I have just gotten used to taking? Should I be more fearful and respectful of what wind is capable of?

Just saying, don't worry so much if you panic in a new and stressful situation. But maybe review things a bit if these situations are only happening to you.

Bye now.

Write Something, Already...

Taking advice from other people is an acquired skill.

It's not something that comes naturally. Otherwise, pretty much everyone would be doing it at the same level, without any real qualms. So it's obviously a learned trait of most, or maybe just some, of the people in the world. I am fully convinced of that thought, and I use people from all walks of life as evidence. When we're younger, we not only have to learn to listen and communicate with others, but we also have to learn the simple lesson that listening to others is even useful. I want you to think of any toddler, baby, or probably even adolescent you know. How many of them can you recall several times that they heard something that you said, something that you told them to do or something you strongly advised them against, and they did exactly what you warned them against?

Pretty much everyone one of them, right? Every young person has to learn the concept that other's opinions and ideas and thoughts actually matter. It isn't some supernatural occurrence that we all think we know more than we do at some point, and have to be educated to the contrary by our elders, our peers, or just whoever is nearby and is willing to lend their two cents in. And that's fine, that young people think they don't need other people's input into their lives, because they grow up and learn many important lessons throughout their lives. Sadly, not all of them actually do that, which is why there end up being more than a few adults that have never fully evolved out of the mental state of "I must be right and you must be wrong because I'm just smarter than you. No one else could possibly know the things that I think I know right now in my life." There shouldn't be as many people running around out there that are incapable of taking someone else's perspective, and yet many of us deal with them daily. They have small roles in our lives, like when they work near us at the office or they write us tickets and don't care that it sucks. Some of them have bigger roles. We may be electing one of these people president this year.

I'm not going into a serious political rant here, because I kind of did that last entry and would really like to avoid making a habit of that. The point I want to make here is that there is so much that we can learn from other people, just random little tidbits of information that can make a profound impact on us. We likely will even take it for granted when it happens right then and there, but down the road, there are so many little moments that play through us, over and over again. And this can be people's wisdom, their actions, their ideas, he'll even their mistakes. Try to learn from all of it. Eleanor Roosevelt said it best:

Learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t live long enough to make them all yourself.

But I was talking more about advice...

The best advice I ever got came from a good friend of mine, who we'll call Charlie for this post, and it was a very simple conversation, but it stuck with me from that moment on, and I think about it over and over. And it's a perfect metaphor for the friendship that he and I have had, because he's always been wiser than I am and he's always been able to pinpoint the right thought, the right needle to pick out of a stack of needles that makes sense and is concise and profoundly deep at the same time. This is how the conversation went:

Me: You know what? I think I want to be a writer.
Charlie: Yeah?
Me: Yeah, I think so.
Charlie: So write something, already.
Me: Huh?
Charlie: Yeah, get going. Go write something.
Me: Uh, ok. What should I write about?
Charlie: What the hell are you asking me for? You're the writer.

To be fair, I think he actually wanted me to leave him alone so he could finish studying, but the fact remains, it was pretty direct advice. Or him being an asshole, but again, I'm choosing to take it as advice. And it always stuck with me. I still picture that exact moment, which seemed to barely even register in his mind, as one of the little moments that make me how I am today.

You want to get started doing something? Get moving, get up and start right now. Go read a book about that thing. Go YouTube other people doing that thing that you want to do. Go buy the stuff you need to do it, or try to make your own thing. Go meet other people that do that thing and see how they do it, and learn from them, or join them as their doing that thing. The operate word here is 'go'. I mean, what are you waiting for? Are you waiting for something, like having enough time or money, or waiting until your skill in that thing is good enough that you won't feel embarrassed? Who gives a shit, go do the thing anyway, whatever it is. I mean, anyone can do something that they're already great at. How about you go and start doing something that you are willing to suck at, at least until you really figure out what the hell you're doing?

You want to be a basketball player? Then you should join a league and learn the game, and watch some other games from people who play at a high level. But you know what else? Go out and play games with some guys that will absolutely destroy you, and learn from it. Get faster, stronger, tougher, get a better jump shot, learn the game. Get going. Start playing and start developing yourself as this thing that you want to be.

You want to be a computer programmer? Take some classes and all, but also get the software you need and start making programs. Do it right now. I know they're going to suck at first. They're going to suck for a while. But you'll keep learning from classes and apps on your iPad and from other programmers making fun of your shitty apps when you try to show them off, and all of that will push you to building something better and better.

You want to be a surgeon? Study and get into med school and all that jazz, but also get out there and start performing surgery in your spare time. Get out there and cut some people open. A lot of people need surgery and can't afford it, why do you go out and do some pro bono work like law students do? And sure, the first few people may die horrible deaths by your hands and ignorance, but you gotta learn the human body somehow and this is the most direct way to get acquainted with the type of work you'll be doing.

...I'm not as sure about that last one.

Knowing Better vs. Doing Better

I spoke a while ago about weird things becoming a norm in our lives. I mentioned subtle things like traffic, weird sounds that you hear in your house, or how often your boss talks to you at work. I had absolutely no intention of this taking a darker meaning in my own mind (or anyone else's) and yet here I am, admitting that there is yet another type of regular occurrence that is awful and yet seems to be customary to our daily lives now.

Horrific acts of violence are something that we live with and deal with in our society. I write this now, in the wake of the shootings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, which both included black men being gunned down by white police officers under circumstances that could arguably have been de-escalated. This preceded a mass shooting at a nightclub in Orlando, Florida perpetrated by an individual who had ties to Islamic terrorism. Before that, though, an incidence of violence still never seemed to have been too far from the present. Other names like Freddie Gray, Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, and Walter Scott all come to mind, all of whom had different circumstances with their deaths but all of which sparked moderate to heavy protests. Dylan Roof, a white young adult, shot several church goers in South Carolina (in an event that could also be considered terrorism, but that's not really my point here). The city of Chicago has adopted the nickname 'Chiraq' because it's level of violence has been said to compare to that of an actual war zone, which is a stretch compared to which war zone you want to bring up.

For example, a flurry of violent attacks have occurred this week at the end of the holy month of Ramadan, in Istanbul (Turkey), Baghdad (Iraq), Medina (Saudi Arabia), and Dhaka (Bangladesh). Hundreds of people died at Baghdad alone. Or another example could be the ongoing drug wars that have taken place in Mexico. Or the several wars that are going on in Africa constantly. I'll just name a few: The civil war in Somalia, The Boko Haram insurgency that affects 4 different countries (Niger, Nigeria, Cameroon, and Chad), the Libyan civil war and the civil war in the Sudan and South Sudan. And I consider these events, going on outside of our country, and one theme seemed to remain constant: These events have been largely ignored here in the U.S.

Is it that we don't care? Is it that it doesn't matter to us? Do we really find it that easy to shrug off death and violence in other countries? Maybe it was that several of these conflicts have been ongoing for several years, and they aren't considered newsworthy to our culture. I don't know, I'm throwing out ideas. Or maybe it was that these conflicts get overshadowed by conflicts going on in our own country. Maybe there is so much violence going on in the world as a whole, that caring about all of it is too exhausting and everyone has to ration their empathy for those who live close to them and are most similar to them. Again, I'm not posing an answer here. But it makes sense to me that a lot of it boils down to one particular point: we tend to pay attention the most when the victims remind us of us or the people we love.

So then last night, in Dallas, a city that had nothing to do with the recent situations, another shooting took place, this time at a protest for the two killings by cops, and this time targeting cops as the shooting victims. The protest itself was peaceful, and was apparently ending when the gunfire began. At last count, 5 officers were killed and several more were struck and are now recovering. I watched footage of this event spiral into chaos the morning after, and for the third day in a row, I hardly knew which emotion within me was the strongest. It was like the feelings all overlapped and jumped back and forth over one another. As soon as I started to let myself feel one way towards what has been going on, another side was right there to argue right back against it.

I felt significant anger watching the footage of Alton Sterling getting shot. I mean, it's surreal enough just to say that I watched this in the first place. Do you ever catch yourself feeling how awful it is, that we now can log on to Facebook or twitter or whatever else, and watch human beings die there? That footage was readily available. I was more than just angry at the two officers involved in the video. I was furious, and dismayed, and hurt that they felt they could make the decision to devalue the life of another man on the spot, and try to justify it later. But it felt like it was more than just those two that led to it, the more I tried to shake off that feeling. And then the second shooting happened and again, the same impulse came into my head, that I should not just be mad at the individuals, but the others that are similar to them in the decisions they make and justify, and then their entire profession, the entire system that lets events like this happen without enough consequence, the culture that feeds into that system and doesn't... see, there it goes again, I can feel myself getting worked up about it, no matter how many times it happens.

And then the police officers get shot last night, and obviously that's a terrible tragedy too. And I'm mad for the police and I'm upset at the shooters, and anyone who thinks that killing cops can be justified, and anyone who thinks that responding to violence with more violence is the way to handle a situation like this, in our country that is supposed to be better, is supposed to be stronger.

Look, I KNOW that there are millions of cops that go out there every day and do the right thing. I have friends who are cops, or have cops in their family, or have cops as their close friends. I won't for a moment badmouth what police do for our society. I have encountered many police officers in my life, in several different scenarios, and I can say with confidence that I have never had a negative experience from how I was treated by law enforcement of any kind. I'm not saying I never have received a ticket, because I have. But my treatment, my interactions, my memories of dealing with cops have been overwhelmingly positive. I have been let off with warnings more than once that I could have been given citations, which I would not have been happy about but that I could have been given and it would be justifiable. I know that this is not everyone else's experience with police, but that is my personal set of experiences, so that's what I have to draw from.

But my regard for the majority of police does not erase the fact that there are individuals out there that still betray my trust and expectations that so many others have set. Cops that I have met and that I know and my family knows, these cops do it the right way. And they've set the bar high for cops everywhere, some of whom may not be up to that level. And I have to weigh that balance, that they are not all great people that want to protect everyone and do their jobs right, but that they are also not all monsters that want to shed professionalism and shoot first rather than use proper training and procedure.

That's where I stand here. Right in the middle of all of this, not trying to oppose all police but angry at the individual policemen involved in the shootings. Not trying to call out all protesters, but furious with those that would shoot police in retaliation. And it shouldn't be a hard stance to clarify, to not want anyone to be killed anywhere. And not want people killed out of fear, out of confusion, out of justifying killings elsewhere. That shouldn't be a unique stance to have to take. I wish it didn't have to be "Black Lives Matter" vs "Blue Lives Matter" in times like this, but I have already seen the two hashtags pop up. Honestly, I wish that 'All Lives Matter" was an actual movement, that was actually going out and doing shit rather than just serving as a rebuttal to shout down other movements. But we don't seem to be able to handle that right now as a society.

Come on, America. We're better than all of this. We know better than to keep dividing ourselves and letting others push buttons so that we can be so easily divided. The protests are not just black people, but people of all races that care about fighting injustice against everyone. The police that protect us, the people in the armed forces, the emergency services that fight to save lives EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. These are not people of one race or another. We're all working towards the same thing, right? Or we should be, right? We know that we can do better. How many cycles of violence and retaliation do we have to go through before we can do better?

The shitty thing here is that I don't have a solution that I can offer here. I don't know what steps have to take to de-escalate the current situation or to try to prevent the next one. I don't know if this has always been a problem of this level and we're just now paying more attention to it, I don't know if I should be individually worried the next time I have an encounter with someone in law enforcement. I didn't write all of this to try to solve our country's problem. I just needed to breathe all of this out, any way that I can. And hopefully, I'm not alone. Hopefully I'm not the only one that hates what they see going on, but appreciates that this is not a one-sided problem or that a heavy-handed response isn't necessarily the best cause of action.

I could go on, but I'll stop here. We know better. Let's do better.

Gimme Three Steps

I wish I knew how to fight. I mean actually knew.

Not, I wish I had taken a few weeks of Tae Kwon Do as a kid, which I did. Not, I wish I had watched most of the fighting movies made in recent memory, which I have. Not, I wish I knew the first thing about MMA or boxing or any of the combat they show now on TV for sport, which I kind of do... no, see, even then, I'm kind of at a loss. I don't volunteer that I really have no basis of knowledge for this crap, but I don't. I've seen maybe 4 complete boxing matches my entire life. It hasn't stopped me from having conversations about boxing, but it still remains that I, like most people, don't know shit about boxing. If you don't believe me, ask this guy, if you can understand anything that he says:

Most people don't know s*** about boxing

I don't exactly know about fighting in general. I've never been in a real, actual, all out fight. I've been pretty good at actually avoiding it. The reason? Fighting is not what I do, and therefore not where I want any situations to devolve to. I have yet to be in a situation where it was actually worth it. And I'm not trying to say that there are not times that you may actually have to fight in, because there are things in this world worth fighting for. And then there are things that people fight over that are...well, that are pretty goddamn stupid things to fight over.

I once watched a friend of mine and a stranger get into a fist fight over who was first in line to get onto a rooftop bar. As in, we were already in the bar, we had drinks in our hands, and we were waiting to get up to a different part of the bar, and this friend and the dude behind him had to go outside to settle their differences because of who was supposed to be allowed to go upstairs first. I'm serious, they had to finish their drinks in order to fight about who would get to do more drinking first. So they go over to this empty parking lot, and I go with them mostly because I had already drank enough and was broke anyways at the time. And they hit eachother a bunch of times, and then my friend gets the guy pinned and starts pummeling him upside the head, so I stop the fight like an MMA ref, meaning I basically tackle my friend to stop him from giving the other guy brain damage. And then we all walked back across the street and all drank together. It was the dumbest use of 10 minutes I've ever seen outside of a bar. Especially since we had to wait in the same damn line for another 15 minutes anyway. What was the point of all of that?

I should pause to acknowledge something took: most of the fighting I am talking about just happens to involve alcohol. Being drunk just seems to exacerbate what are already bad decisions. I'll bet there are fights that happen that are between two sober individuals, but for our purpose here, I'm going to largely ignore those basically because of how convenient it is for me here.

But yeah, there are things in the world worth fighting for. And there are many other things that do not require it. And unfortunately, many things that do not require being fought over are fought over just the same. People fight about money, about race and religion, people fight over politics. And I don't mean they argue or debate, I mean they break out into fisticuffs over this shit. People move furniture and get shirtless and hurt one another over the weirdest shit, or shit that they can't control, or shit that is personal preference and that a fight would never change for either person.

Or how about reputation? People will fight other people over reputation to this day. I feel like that made sense in the 70's, when you had people hanging out at burger shacks with popped collars and greasy hair and without Instagram. Or maybe it didn't make sense then either, but I'm guessing there was less to do and people were pissed off enough about it to go fight somebody. But I can't imagine fighting anyone today for the purpose of my own rep. It's some cliche, that there's a bar fight over a drink that gets spilled on someone, and words get exchanged and a fight breaks out. I have had drink spilt on me at a bar. Do you know what happened? The bartender saw me spill it on myself and wouldn't give me a free one.

People fight over love too. That's another thing that would probably not make as much sense in the real world as it does in Hollywood. Two women fighting over a man, two men over a women, two men over a man, ect. Does it make sense, the idea that the winner of the fight is the best person for the relationship? Is that really sound logic? My fiancé, Tara, has never once required that I fight someone for her love, and I appreciate that. I am glad that she's not the type that wants me to go out and knock someone in the face just to show that I can. And part of it is that it's not who I am but part of it is also that it's not who she is. So I'm okay with both parts of that. Again, if I had to mix it up with some shady character, I would give it my best shot. But I am more than willing to admit that I would be out of my element.

Some years ago, I was in Alabama. Don't worry about why so much, I was in Alabama though. I know it's not the sunshine state, but that's what we kept calling it during this visit, because we thought it was funny. Anyway, we go out to a wonderful establishment called the Skybar. And most of the night was a great time. They had a front area that was your typical relaxed, open bar area, and then in the back was an enormous dance floor, with three other bar sections, very opened up atmosphere. And the group I was with, we got there early, and had free reign of the dance portion for most of the night, which I believe was a Wednesday. And slowly but surely, more and more people come in, and we get drinks and keep dancing, and more and more people come in, and we get super lit during this time. And one thing about me, I dance more when I get drunk. I have a good time and get even more goofy than I already am naturally. I also get ideas, usually that are not particularly good, and pursue those ideas.

On this particular night, I started dancing with this cute brunette with this blue dress. That's not the bad idea, mind you. She was a nice enough girl, she seemed to not mind how drunk and sweaty I had to have been by this time of the night. We were enjoying ourselves, nothing shady or anything to worry about. And then, for no reason at all, some random dude in a sweatshirt stumbles through the crowd, grabs ahold of the girl I'm dancing with, and falls down. She falls with him, right over top of him, and some others on the other side also go tumbling. It was really weird and embarrassing, but it's also possible I missed something else that was going on. Whatever.

I help my dance partner to her feet, whose name I feel like was something rather generic, like Kelly. Let's call her Kelly. Kelly is very upset about this, but she does her best not to show it as we walk over to the side where some small table is, and she tries to straighten up her dress and her hair, and just shaking her head, fuming. So of course, I ask if she's okay, and she's trying to keep from going on some rant about this guy that just caused a dance floor disturbance. So I make a suggestion. Here is the plan that I laid out:

Kelly and I will dance over towards where this same sweatshirt guy is standing, with his two friends. We will wait until he is not looking our direction, and she will give him a really good punch to the armpit, and then we will just keep dancing like nothing happened. My thinking was that this guy was so absolutely smashed, it wouldn't make sense to him, and we'd have a big laugh about it. Easy plan. Foolproof. Right?

Well, Kelly and I dance over, aloof. And the dude looks away, and she gives him a really good shot to the side of the arm instead of the armpit. Which I get, because the armpit was not going to be easy to go for. But she punches his arm, and he doesn't even seem to notice. So what does she do? Kelly punches him again. Like three times in a row. Well, it got his attention. Somehow, he managed to still not turn around while she was in the process of punching, he just missed it, but made the announcement that someone was hitting him and what the hell was that about and some other stuff, not particularly clear. And of course, he zeroes in on me.

So I tell him the truth: I didn't hit him, I don't know why he would think that I would have a reason to hit him. And then I lie right after that and say it must have been some waiter that had just walked past. And I point to a couple of girls in overalls nearby, and he looks for some reason. And the moment that he looks, Kelly hits him AGAIN. Now he turns his head back and his mood is instantly very different. He locks eyes with me and says, suddenly very coherent, "Alright, now I know that was you." I got a slight chill down my spine, but I think I actually kept a straight enough face. "Wasn't me that time either." And I'm somewhat shielding Kelly while we're having this interaction. So for whatever reason, he gets pulled to one side by his friends, and Kelly tugs me back the other way, and I'm still staring whatever-his-name down, trying to stay bold. But then I quickly turn to her and say, as smoothly as I can, "You're gonna get me killed in here!"

So she tried to keep it calm and light, and we laugh about it, but I'm actually a bit concerned because of how soon the guy flipped to a new demeanor. I didn't like that part of it at all. I was way more comfortable with him being a drunken buffoon. Kelly and I talked more as I glanced over, and realized that sweatshirt guy and his two friends were posted up at another table, sitting very still, and all are watching me. Like, watching me very carefully. Now I really don't like this. So Kelly says she has to go for a cigarette, and I say cool, I'm going to grab a drink. And as I leave the dance floor, I happen to notice out the side of my eye, that the three at the other table are also getting up and walking over to the bar, at a parallel position to me.

While I'm considering my options, I'm also looking around for the rest of the group that I came in with. And I don't see any of them anywhere, which is of further concern. I am alone, I am intoxicated (not severely but enough that it's a factor that I am aware of), I am in unfamiliar territory, my phone is about to die, and I might be about to die. Or at least get my ass beaten. I mean, I hate to genralize, but it is the south. I know that rednecks are basically everywhere if you look hard enough, but there are definitely rednecks in the south too. Now I could try to reason with the guy, but the explanation further implicates that it was my plan to hit him and then treat him like a moron. I could try to buy them drinks if I had money. And then as I look over once more, starting to really understand how much trouble I might be in, the song comes on...

I was cuttin a rug down at a place called the jug
With a girl named Linda Lou
When in walked a man, with a gun in his hand
And he was looking for a-you know who

Classic song, Gimme Three Steps by Lynyrd Skynyrd comes on. A song about a guy that has to leave a bar abruptly after having screwed up for not understanding the situation he has walked into. And I kind of look up, noticing the song, and then I look over at sweatshirt dude, and I kind of point up, to where the song is coming from more or less, trying to say, "You want to give me a head start at least?" And I assume he understood what I meant, because he gave me a very slight but distinct nod. Still locking eyes with me. Still with his two henchmen looking dudes.

So yeah, I walked calmly to the entrance of the bar portion, and then did my best to slink through that section to the front door of the place, and I ran back to the hotel, a few blocks away. I did not fight, I did not try to reason, I didn't even clarify that I understood all that had occurred. Don't care, really. I could be considered a complete coward by whoever reads this. I'll take my chances leaving a dumb situation when I see it unfolding. I have no idea what happened to Kelly or the sweaty guy. Maybe they knew eachother. Maybe it was some set up, and they were going to rob me later together, I don't know how these things go down. My point is, even if I knew how to fight, what would I even have been fighting over? Getting into it with these guys, even if I had backup, would have accomplished literally nothing. And if I did win the fight, was Kelly even worth fighting someone for? She was cute, but she wasn't 'get punched in the face' cute. She wasn't 'get duct taped and abducted and have Deliverance-level shit happen to me' attractive. And I will assume the worst is going to happen if I've gotten that drunk. Don't make me out to be some warrior. I ran track and field, I'm fine with fleeing the scene on foot. Don't give me the beatings. Just give me, sorry, I'll say it right.

Oh won't you gimme three steps
Gimme three steps, mister
Gimme three steps towards the door
Gimme three steps
Gimme three steps, mister
And you'll never see-a me no more

For sure.

Smooth Move

Be yourself. If you're a painter, then be a painter. If you're a fire fighter, be a fighter of fire. Even if you're an actor, be yourself while you're pretending to be other people, I guess. Hopefully you're not a drug dealer, though. Or a murderer. Do you best not to be a murderer, if that's what's actually going on in your head.

But for most people, be yourself.

As in be true to yourself. Be comfortable in your own skin. It's probably the only skin you're going to feel comfortable in. I mean, there's a whole host of things going on if you feel more comfortable in any other pair of skin than your own. But skin aside, being comfortable with what you are doing and not doing is a good lesson to learn. I feel like I've touched on this concept before, of doing you, not trying to do something just because somebody else is doing it.

Because that's the part that has occurred to me more lately. Not trying to emulate something just because others have it going. Staying within what you got at the moment, which by the way is very different than just accepting being a loser. At no point am I saying that you shouldn't work hard for what you want and aspire and dream. But dreaming does not mean hallucinating. Understand the hand you've been dealt before you try to play the hand. How you project yourself and act in general, be it long term or short term, should not seem forced. It should always feel natural, like you're not trying too hard. And I know that I have had many a time that I've tried too hard. In fact, there are times that I know I should not have tried, and did.

In college once, I borrowed my roommate's car to go to the store. Should have been straight forward, get some groceries, come back. Nice and easy. Nothing embarrassing gonna happen today.

And the world said under its breath: We'll see.

I looked forward to joyriding in his car in those days. It was sophomore year, which had been kind of rough for me up to this point. I had to work while going to school and running track, and was taking a larger class load than before, and was discovering how much it costs to take on all of my expenses at once, and was just stressed the hell out all of the time. One of the few reprieves I had was any time that the house was empty or I had a moment of silence somewhere that I could think out loud. Usually, this occurred while singing along to something at the top of my lungs.

I discovered the summer before my sophomore year that I really liked rock music. So every chance that I got, I would download some new rock music recommended by classmates and learn the song to where I could yell the lyrics and not be judged. Which wasn't even a big deal to get caught doing it, but I still preferred to be alone if I was going to blast my jams. So that's what I was doing in the car as I pulled out of the parking lot behind our house. Things are good.

I won't sit here and say that I remember everything about the drive, but I do remember that it was sometime with snow on the ground. I know it was noticeably cold and that I had trouble seeing early on. I stopped at a stoplight and had to wipe the windows of the car, because I had apparently forgotten how defrost worked. Things are less good.

I notice the car next to me has one of the windows cracked with smoke coming out. The guy in the driver seat has the gangsta lean going on, with a joint in his mouth. No bullshit, he is just smoking weed, driving down the street with the window down. It must have been just that cold, that if cops saw him, that who even cares? He looks over at me and gives me the nod, and then takes his joint of of his mouth, as his spits onto the ground just before pulling off. Things are different.

After a few minutes more of driving, I park, hop out of the car and go inside the grocery store. I have just gotten paid and can afford to get a large amount of food. Food that both tastes good and holds any kind of nutritional value. And when you're broke but get to fill up the gas tank or the shopping cart or  your stomach or something that was empty, it's a good feeling. I feel like I was dancing in the aisles as I picked the groceries that were coming home with me. Beans and Franks, spaghetti, chicken strips, chips and dip, you know, stuff that athletes should be eating. But I was so stoked to get to fill up my part of the pantry. Things are good again.

I pile all of my food into the car and take off, feeling awesome about getting to ride back and jam some more. I couldn't use the trunk because it was full of something that I couldn't move, so my groceries are in the back seat and one bag is next to me, on the passenger seat. I decide to take a different way back, onto one of the main streets in campus, which will take a little longer but will still get me back before too long. Things are going great.

I pull up to a stoplight on Regent street, near Park street, which is down the street from our house and is very busy at the time. There is a lot of people on the street and a car with three very attractive girls that pull up next to the car I'm in, with a few blocks back to the house. And I just so happened to have to spit, but I was also smiling at the girl in the passenger seat, and trying to be smooth, for whatever reason, I try to imitate the dude smoking the blunt earlier. Not even that I wanted to be some dude with the balls to smoke weed on the street in front of people. The nod and then the spitting thing, for whatever reason, made some sort of impact. So I go for it. Things are going smooth.

I give her the same smooth guy nod, and then I let my spit fly. I did not roll the window down very far, because of how cold it was, and I just wanted to get it back up as soon as possible. Sadly, the window did not go down far enough for my spit wad to leave the car safely. Half of my spit catches the side of the window and hangs onto the outside of the window and the inside at the same time. The girl I was smiling back at, rightfully so, starts laughing and pointing. Things are going un-smooth.

In my panic, I reach for napkins or something that can help clean this off of the window as quick as possible. Nothing seems to be a good choice, or really even a viable choice. I hear honks behind me and realize that the light is now green and I need to drive again. I start moving cautiously down the street while still fumbling for some kind of paper that can help remove the saliva on the window beside my face. I very much could have just stopped the car and parked before dealing with this. I did not. The only thing I find that I think could help the situation is the receipt from my groceries, which I find in the bag that's in the front seat. While glancing to the street ahead, I wipe the receipt onto the outside of the cars windshield as quickly as possible but without looking, it feels rough, and I quickly realize that the saliva has already frozen on the outside of the car window. Things are even less smooth than before.

Looking away from the road, briefly, I now also realize that the receipt is partially stuck to the window. I now struggle to remove the receipt instead of worrying about the spit, only to remember that I was driving and that I should check and make sure that I don't have to stop again. Which I did. I avoided crashing into the car in front of me. Of course, I accomplished this by skidding to a helpless stop and drifting part of the way into the next lane, which had the same car full of attractive girls. I am essentially blocking their path and the crosswalk at the same time, and look like a complete jackass that almost rammed into oncoming traffic. Things have never been this far from smooth. Things are jagged. Yes, I said jagged.

As I sat there, at another red light, diagnolly pointing into their lane, I could see that their entire car was now laughing and, I thought at the time, videotaping me on their camera phones, which was not as big a thing at this time as now. I also realized at this time that the bag of groceries in the front seat was completely spilled across the floor, mostly eggs and bananas and bread. I shrug, wave to the girls, and pull off as best I can when the green light comes. Ignoring the receipt, I just roll the window up and resolve to get home before doing anything else. Things are... Well, things are pretty normal for me.

I pull into the lot behind our house. I bring everything in from the back seat and go back to figure out the stuff that spilled. It turns out I only lost a few eggs, as the bananas and bread are fine. I pick up the eggs, and use a rag from the kitchen to wipe up the spilled yolk, which really wasn't even spilled that much into the car itself. Then I come back and use an ice scraper to remove the spit and attached receipt from the driver side window. I go inside and make a sandwich and get a mound of potato salad to go with it. And things are good again.

Now, big deal in general, right? I took a pseudo joy ride and almost wrecked my roommates car while looking like I had maybe never driven a car before, but it all worked out, right? Well, yeah. But I'm just saying, this could have been just about me enjoying singing in the car, and that would have been something goofy that everyone could relate to. And I'd have been fine with that. Instead, we took it to trying to be smooth for basically no reason and having it definitely not work. If I learned anything that night, it was a reaffirmation that I am not smooth. Or at least not that kind of smooth. You can be cool in different ways at a lot of different times. Riding in the snow, not my moment.

So yeah, stay you, stay cool in your own way, and stay alert when it's snowing. Buckle up out there. And in case you had not been told, receipts are not good napkins.

Not sure why I needed to reiterate that. Bye now.

The Cost of Paying Attention

I won’t lie, I can be absent-minded at times. Actually, I can be that way quite often. It’s not so much that I don’t know how to focus, but rather that I focus on certain things while I lose focus on other things. And sometimes those other things are things that should have been focused on. And sometimes there are consequences for not focusing on those things that should have been focused on.

Before you, ask, no, I have never gotten anyone killed or severely hurt. To my knowledge… shit, I don’t know, I don’t think I have, but I guess I might not have paid attention to it if I had.

I’m talking about issues that led to my own detriment, usually by embarrassment. Here’s what I mean, I’ll start by asking you, the reader, something. Have you ever gone to the bathroom in the wrong bathroom by accident? You wandered into the male bathroom as a female or the female bathroom as a male? Have you done it at least once in your life, just by sheer bad luck of not paying attention or by rushing by the sign and thinking it was the right one for you and not caring because of how bad you had to go? No judgement here. Those of you that have, just picture that time for a moment.

Now imagine that it occurred at a sporting event. And I don’t mean an event that you’re going to watch. I mean one that you’re going to compete at. You’ve done that, right?

...yeah. I’ll explain.

It was middle school, and I was playing football. I had never played organized football before and discovered that I wasn’t very good at football, but I had made the B team and was still having fun. This particular event in time took place at the football game against Grapevine Middle School. To be more precise, it took place at halftime. I had been holding ‘it’ for most of the first half of the game, and when the buzzer for the end of the half came, I rushed off as quickly as I could to the restroom. Now, this was an away game, so I was not exactly keen to the location for where stuff was at this school. I only knew where one particular bathroom was, because it was connected to the concession stand. So I rush around the back of the building, slink into the door that I know is a restroom for whatever reason, jump into a stall, and get to ‘going’, as I needed to get it out ASAP.

After the initial relief of commencing my bowel decompression, I take a second to recall my last few moments and try to think of how much time I’ll have left before the game starts back up, and it occurs to me that I don’t quite remember the bathroom the way that I had before. I start to think, wasn’t the bathroom on the other side of the building last time I was over at this field? And when I rushed into this stall that I’m crapping in, did I see any stand-up urinals? Isn’t that a bit weird, they almost always have those in this type of bathroom, don’t they? And as I’m going through this mental replay of the last few minutes, I hear the door open at the other side of the bathroom, and the following conversation begins:

“Oh my God, did you see what Jodee was wearing? She’s gained so much weight,” said one high pitched and flippant voice. My eyes grow wide.

“I know, I’m so glad. I always hated that bitch!” chimed in another. Everything clicks in my mind. I begin to panic.

They started to recall all of the shitty things they had to say about Jodee as I weigh my options. I could just walk out casually, give them the head nod. Or I could just bolt, and pray that they don’t have time to notice until I’m halfway out of the door. Or I could just lay low, and wait for them to leave, and pray that no one else comes in before I have time to leave through the same door I came in. I decide that this plan will be the best plan I have to work with, and then I hear one of the voices say, “Oh shit, Megan, look!” And then Megan says, “What?” And the first one whispers, “I think there’s some guy in that stall!” I look down, at the football cleats that I’m still wearing, which must be clearly visible to the other people in the room. And I make a quick judgement that if I try to wait them out, one of these two will likely try to get others to come and watch the stall until I come out. And that could include people that want to laugh me or that want to whoop my ass for being a pervert guy in a girls bathroom.

So I say screw it, and I very quickly wipe clean and bolt for the door. I don’t even look over at the two, who immediately let out cackling laughter and something to tell me what I already know, that I’m in the wrong place. No time to acknowledge it, I get to the door and shove it forward and feel a loud thud. As the door opens, I catch a glimpse of some old lady that was in the way of the door as it was opening up onto her backside. In my defense, I didn’t actually see her fall on her ass. It was implied, based on the amount laughter I heard as I turned the corner of the building and ran around the back side. I re-joined my team and didn’t take my helmet off the rest of the game, hoping to conceal my identity. It didn’t occur to me until later that I was one of two black kids on the team and that anyone on our team who heard this story would be able to figure this out pretty quickly. But whatever.

So look, I’m just trying to illustrate what I’m sure you already knew: you really should pay attention. It can be a hassle to, to keep all of your thoughts organized in a way that you keep the priorities straight. Sometimes you’re just too tired of thinking, and something slips your mind, I totally get it. But it’s still hard to argue that in retrospect in many situations. It’s hard to make someone understand why you forgot you left the coffee on top of the car before you drove off. People are rarely sympathetic that you came to work wearing two different socks inside two different shoes. You’re probably going to get teased by your friends if you show up wearing a Hawaiian shirt to a wedding reception in Detroit. When you drop the ball on remembering what you were doing or picking up on a crucial cue, it always comes back to the same concept: how did you not notice this? What was on your mind just now?

Which is a fair question for many of us. Many of us have so much going through our head that we let some details fly under the radar. Not even because we were doing something else, like texting something or going through some list we wrote out. Sometimes, you are so deep in thought or in a memory and you focus on it, you keep it in tunnel vision while still unconsciously moving through another part of your day. I find it’s rather easy to get wrapped up in your own head, trying to do too much at once or feeling like you don’t have enough time to get through everything that you want to.

So what am I trying to say here? That you should stop and think about the things things to avoid making mistakes? That’s a stupid thing for me to tell anyone. I’ve had some great adventures occur because I was distracted or mistaken or surprised by something. I’ve had wrong turns that became epic journeys. I’ve had projects that became colossal failures, and then amazing clarity that came from those failures. In fact, one of the things that has made me who I am today is the sheer fact that I am okay with making mistakes here and there, just to spice things up. It is a risky way to live full time, but the occasional gamble with ‘seeing how this goes’? Is it so bad to let life throw some lemons at you?

So of course, you should pay attention. But there is an inherent cost, and actual price for paying attention. And that price may vary, depending on what you are or are not paying attention to. If you’re driving, and not paying attention to the road, you might just be risking taking a wrong turn. That could mean that you’re late to something, but also that you find a new route to where you were going and you discover a bar or a new restaurant that you get to introduce your friends and family to, and it’s awesome that it happened. Not paying attention when driving could also mean that you get sideswiped by an 18 wheeler and careen into oncoming traffic, and you crash and wind up as a quadriplegic, and it’s less awesome than the restaurant would have been. Like I said, the price varies. Sometimes you really should focus.

But other times, it's really not so bad.

I was in Florida for my last semester of college. I ran track and field for my school, and we took a trip to Gainesville, where the University of Florida is located. Seeing as I had never been to the campus before, I decided to go exploring on my own for a bit. So I take a leisurely walk down one of their main streets on campus, that had all these interesting stores and restaurants. I was just trying to get a feel for the place as a whole, while checking my phone for fun stuff to do in the area, and I pass by what looks like a random book store. I can see book shelves, and there’s a display with some music and a bunch of randomness. There doesn’t seem to be anyone in the store, and I decide I’ll just stop in and see what this place has.

Upon walking in, something immediately feels off about this place. For one, there is a dog just kind of wandering around the store. It’s a German Shepherd, and a pretty big one. It doesn’t bark at me or anything, but it walks right up to me and jumps up on me for a moment, which i don’t mind so much, because I love dogs, but it seemed like something you might not want in a place of business. And while the dog is jumping up on me, I glance over at the clerk behind the counter, and he’s this overweight dude in plain clothes who is sitting at the front desk, trying really hard to ignore me and what the dog is doing. So that seemed a bit weird too, but again, I’m taking in things as they come, I can get past it.

So I start looking at some of the music, and I don’t recognize a single group. It looked like I had started looking at the punk rock portion of music, because some of the band names were stuff referencing attacks, and rebellion, and darkness, and all of this rough sounding reference to the names. And I start to look at some of the track names, and it’s pretty offensive sounding song titles too. And I still can’t find any groups I know. And that’s a bit weird, because I had been into rock music for several years now, and while I didn’t know all the groups that I should, I knew a lot of them by this point. But even then, nothing seems to actually be cause for concern, and I move on to some of the books.

And this is where it got more direct. The books were all of a certain attitude as well. Most of them referred to violence and secession and rebellion and Jews and illegal immigration and anti-government and… wait, did that one talk about Jews? Upon review, I realize there are several books that, in the title, refer to the Jewish faith in a pretty offensive way. And then there’s one about immigration that actually has the racial slur, ‘spic’ right there on the cover.

So that’s not okay, I say to myself.

I look back over to the clerk, who is still focused down at his laptop in front of him, but I see him look up barely to check on me, then look back down. And I take another look around, and I realize that I may have wandered into an ‘alternative’ bookstore. And that’s about when two dudes walk in, with shaved heads, cut off t shirts, frayed jeans, nose rings, and one of them had a sizable confederate flag tattooed on his shoulder. Which, even that isn’t so surprising in the deep south. But it furthered the inference that maybe this wasn’t the best place for me to be wandering around alone without any witnesses.

So the two guys see me, and their eyes get wide, you know, like they’re shocked to see me where we are. And they look to the clerk, who meets their gaze, and gives them a shrug, as if to say, “I don’t know what he’s doing here.” And they all look back at me, and I give them the tight lipped nod, to say, “Yes, I did make a mistake. I realize it now. I should probably go.” And I start to walk for the door, unsure if I will be allowed to leave now. And one of the two dudes that came in, he doesn’t immediately move out of the way, because he seems to want to reinforce the look of, “We would actually prefer if you didn’t come back here,” and I give him the look like, “Dude, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here, I stumbled in here trying to be spontaneous and obviously didn’t notice the signs right away.” “So then he moves over, and makes this gesture with his arms like, “Well, there’s the door, you fucking idiot.” And I make a similar gesture with one arm, “I know I’m a fucking idiot, I’m really just glad to leave here without being stabbed by Jasper and Jebediah here.” We had a whole mini-conversation with gestures and sounds, without saying a thing to one another, but the important parts still got through, I think.

Anyway, with that said, I basically ran out the door and a block down the street. I don’t know if they were going to change their mind and follow me or what, and I didn’t want to chance it. So I hopped into a random restaurant, hoping it wasn’t a racist restaurant because wouldn’t that be my luck at this point, but it wasn’t, it was a Mexican restaurant that served alligator tacos. Yeah, totally a thing. So I tried them. And I’ll admit, kind of an overrated experience, it tasted like any fish tacos I’ve ever had, but I like fish tacos and so it worked out. And I relaxed and had a much better experience with the second random place that I stopped by in Gainesville.

It would turn out later that the store had a few signs outside detailing this guy’s constitutional rights to own the kind of store he wants to and can sell what he wants. And it wasn’t a huge sign or anything, but it was there in the front window. So it was definitely my bad. And it could have ended worse, obviously. Then again, having someone murdered or kidnapped from an alternative bookstore is probably bad press, and it would have probably led to bigger problems for them if I disappeared, so I might not have been in any actual danger all along.

Now, this entire little situation could have been prevented by paying a little more attention. I risked a severe ass beating, or worse. But then I wouldn’t have this story to tell, I wouldn’t have ran into the restaurant and subsequently ordered alligator tacos (it’s very possible that they weren’t actually made with alligator), and I’m sure the book store owner wouldn’t have his own account of my visit on his personal xenophobic blog. It might have worked out best for everyone. And I learned firsthand that places like this do still exist, and that these kind of ideals are much more bold in other parts of the country than they are where I live. I experienced something that I probably never would have agreed to beforehand, but that undoubtedly changed my perspective forever. That’s the price of Paying Attention. You never know what stories you don’t get to tell now.

The Offensive Linemen In Your Office

The customer is not always right. In fact, in my experience, customers are wrong until proven right.

Most of the time, the customer is the one asking questions. And they are usually right to ask questions because they don't KNOW very much about what they ask about. Of course, I'm generalizing, but stay with me here. I've worked in several different types of customer service jobs, and they all taught me the immutable truth: People that want things suck. As in they drain. They drain time, energy, resources, souls, ect. And plenty of times, it’s not their fault, not always. They don't have to be dumb people, they don't have to be organized or in large groups, they don't really even have to ask for the thing they want. But people in need of something tend to drain one thing or another from those trying to help. I'm positive I am the same every time I show up somewhere as a consumer. And it’s not going to change anytime soon.

Customer service is the art of a few different crucial skills. The art of compartmentalizing your own needs to put someone else before you. The art of listening and responding appropriately. It is the art of knowing your business well enough to be able to help and serve. But see, there's more to it than that. In many instances, customer service is the art of getting yelled at, either subtly or overtly, and standing together. Customer service is the art of knowing what to expect, because of assholes that want to ambush you to make themselves feel better. It's having the knowledge of every possible thing that can go wrong, every conceivable way that the product or service that you offer can fail because, frankly, you've dealt with them all. It’s the art of knowing what people want to hear, what they need to hear, and what they’re supposed to hear.

Based on my experience, customer service is like the offensive line of  the business world. I mean, you never hear about customer service for good reasons. No one comments on customer service like, "Oh that company was great! I called them and they sent me the exact part I wanted and I was so impressed." Or, "Oh my goodness, they sent me the wrong part. But then they made up for it and I was so happy with them, they really stepped up to the plate!" Bullshit. You comment on customer service if it sucks, and if it doesn't, you barely notice. You barely remember it even took place. It’s expected. I learned a while ago that bad news travels 4 times as fast as good news. All the time you hear about people that were screwed over that want their revenge. They want retribution, and they’ll preach on the pulpit how craptastic your thing is. Far fewer people want to preach about a good experience that they wish to share.

Thus is the similarity between the offensive line and customer service. For you football fans, I want you to think of 5 prolific quarterbacks without having to look them up anywhere. Just think of their names, real quick. Got it? Okay, now list 5 great running backs. Done. Good, now list 5 of the best left tackles you know.

Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

Having trouble? That’s okay, list me 5 linebackers. Now list 5 pass rushers on the defensive line, any position. Now 5 all-pro offensive linemen, any position. Still tough, isn’t it? See what I mean? You don’t remember these guys despite the fact that they’re the ones in the trenches. They are the ones who get beat up on every single play. You can have an amazing offensive line and an average running back, and you will have much more success than an amazing running back with an average line to protect him. Same thing with business. If your business has an average to shitty product, but you have people there to support it and apologize for you, you will stick around a lot longer than if you have a great product but no one to support it when there are problems or questions.

If your business has enough money to have customer service, they basically have the ability to set up a human buffer zone for themselves. A human spit guard. When you have this department, what you're basically able to do is wait for someone to come and have a problem, and you call over to this guy, you say, "Hey Larry, come here for a moment. Just stand right here, right here between me and our customer here. He's gonna yell for a while and I want you to tell me what he says, but you do it because I already have his money and I don't actually give a shit. So it's your job to give a shit. So just stand here."

So Larry gets yelled at and comes back and is like, "Yeah, the customer wants a better product for less money, he wants it today or tomorrow, he wants you to deliver it on a silver platter and he would love to punch you in your face after he gets exactly what he wants." 

And then you say, "Ok, so this is what I want you to communicate to him. I already have his money, I make the product I want to make and he is welcome to purchase or not purchase that product. I make it at the pace I choose, I deliver it in the way that's best to me, and I would snap his neck if he wanted to throw down. Go ahead and tell him that, see what he says." 

Larry says all that, and the customer yells some more, and says, "The customer says screw you and he wants a refund and he's going to tell everyone not to buy your product and that you have a microscopic penis."

So you say to Larry, "Okay, Larry, are you writing all this down, tell him this. Tell him that I’m laughing at him from my office, and that I wiped my ass with the money that he gave us for our product just to do it. And that he's a slimy, inbred, worthless shit bucket who was too dumb to live without us and our product. You can paraphrase all that if you need to." 

Poor Larry would probably come back like, "I need to put in my two weeks notice. I just don't think that I can keep doing this."

And then you, being the boss, you come back at him like, "Ok, Larry, what you're going to need to do is go into the bathroom, and look yourself in the mirror, and you're going to tell yourself that you are a degenerate and you have no life and that without this job you would be on the street. And that you can't quit and you'll be here for-fuckin- ever and your life is basically ruined. And do it quickly because when you come back, I'm gonna have you say some more shit to this customer."

I work in a customer service job right now, and it’s mostly over the phone. And honestly, in spite of my complaints, I know that my job could be a lot worse than it is. I know that I'm getting by just fine for now and that I have a lot to be thankful for. The main reason I am reminded of this is because of my memories from previous jobs.

Like my former job, working at a rental car location. It doesn’t matter which one, because I’m guessing working at another rental company would be pretty similar. Understand, this newer job I currently have, it’s all on the phone. It’s a call center, with people calling from all across the country and Canada. It can be very interesting, never knowing where someone was going to call or email from. But I can always put them on hold, I can leave the desk where the phone is if I need to. On the side of renting cars, people were calling from local areas, and then coming to see me in person. This was not optimal for me. At all.

I have learned from the days I worked there, that customer service roles done in person are not for the scatterbrained, the flippant, the panickers, the eccentric, the uninformed, the nonchalant, the independent thinking, or the hungover. I wasn't all of those at any one point (to my knowledge) but I'm sure I was each of those at one point or another when I was renting and servicing cars. The office that I ran was located right down the street from my apartment at the time, near downtown Madison, WI. So it was convenient to get there and to get home afterwards. And at the same time, it was always close, it was always there as a reminder of all the shit there always seemed to be left to get done.

I took over the location as the sole agent there, but I had an experienced guy with me for the first week or two, to get the hang of what was going to occur. And for the most part, it was a smooth couple of weeks, and I was comfortable and felt confident for when it was just me, flying solo. So obviously, my first day alone at the job consisted of several events that had not occurred to us during my training, including this dude that paid by check, having to turn away customers due to credit checks, running out of cars, having to leave to gas up cars with people there waiting, stuff like that. And then there was one particular customer, whose name I have adjusted for this story: Taylor Redd.

Taylor had rented a car two days prior. She had returned the car while my training supervisor and I were working there. Basically, she or someone in her family smoked in the car. A lot. To where it smelled a lot like any other car that's been smoked in. We also found a lot of ash underneath the seat. Both I and my supervisor saw it, we both asked Taylor if anyone had been smoking in the car, and she denied it both times. Now me, I wanted to bring her out to the car and ask her, and show her what we were looking at. My supervisor just said, 'Okay, go ahead and leave.' And that was that, at least as far as what he had to do. I took pictures, we wrote up the report, and arranged to charge her the additional fees, roughly about $250. Sucks, but that's what you get, right? Case closed, yeah?

Nah.

One of the first calls I got from my first morning alone just happened to be from Capital One, and it was in regards to a customer who had been overcharged for a car rental and had her credit pushed over the limit as a result. The name rang familiar the second it was said over the phone. I tried to explain to the Capital One woman what was going on and why it was occurring and that there was nothing I could do to change the charges. She calmly responded that Ms. Redd would be in later to discuss the charges with me in person. Wonderful, I remember thinking to myself.

So that day, amid all the other shit going on, I took my lunch break at the restaurant next door and tried to uncoil. It had been a stressful enough morning, and I actually had forgotten that I should be expecting Taylor’'s arrival. But as I walked back to the office after lunch, an interesting thing happened. I passed by some of the cars parked in front of the office, and someone stepped out from between two cars and behind me for a few seconds before darting back between two other cars. He was a younger looking black dude, had a pick stuck in his hair, had baggy shorts and a blue t-shirt, and was walking really goofy and gangly. That's seriously the best way to describe his walk. It was creepy and strange, and yet the guy looked so goofy that I remember laughing about it in my head at the time.

So I open the office back up, and in comes Taylor and 3 relatives, and they line up at my front desk, in what can only be described as an assault formation. As a formality, basically pretending I didn't remember what was going on, I turned to one of Taylor's relatives and asked, politely and as aloof as possible, "What can I do for you all?"

Taylor Redd's exact response: "You can give me back the money that you mother fuckers stole off my credit card."

I mean, she laid into me in a way that I had not previously known. She went all in, then went back-to-back. It was ugly. And while Taylor was going, the lady next to her was trying as hard as possible to keep it reasonable, trying to provide actual arguments and logic for why the money should be returned. Next to her was the same goofy kid that had followed me in the parking lot, who was laughing at all of this and really must have just tagged along because he wanted to see what was going to happen. I wasn't so much worried about any of them. I was more concerned about the 4th member of the group, who was standing off behind Taylor, with a deranged look on his face, not saying anything but just standing perfectly still, arms folded, with his bulging upper body barely covered by his wife beater shirt. That was the guy I was really worried about, because I've never seen anyone who was later convicted of premeditated murder, but I saw this guy’s face. He looked like he was meditating about murder.

Anyway, my boss ended up coming by and basically giving them whatever they wanted, which meant that we had wasted everyone’s time by trying to enforce the rule that was very clearly broken. Awesome. I take the brunt of this for hours on end and it basically was all for nothing. And this is what I’m talking about. The idea of blocking shit from someone just so that when they finally get past me, the person behind me just gives up the ball, so to speak. I would have liked to think that if I held out that long repeating the policy that was dictated to me, that the person above me would at least pretend that it was for an actual cause. I posted up and blocked for as long as I did and basically the quarterback that I blocked for just panicked and threw across his body into the zone of … you know what, it’s not even like that. The QB I blocked for ran into another lineman’s ass and fumbled the ball. Or handing it to a linebacker rather than get tackled, something like that. And that customer, and all the other customers that got to witness all of that, will more than likely remember nothing more than that our location had poor blocking.

When blocking is good, you remember the running back or the receiver or the quarterback. When the blocking is bad, you remember the blocking.