#BaxtersBuzz
Don't Hate The Player - Had a very lively conversation with my boss. Our differences in opinion is similar to what most salespeople and their managers differ on. Over the past few weeks certain lessons have come into greater focus. Firstly, you don't get mad at a dog for barking. Certain management roles are there to simply pass down a message. The other manager can't directly "lead" such a large number of people, so they depend on their managers to "spread the gospel". It's up to each manager to determine if they'd like to advocate for their team and fight. We're all looking for someone to follow, but we're not interested in just following any ole person! Most managers will pass the message along, very similar to how they received it #Facts
There's absolutely NO REASON to curse out the mail person because they've delivered an eviction notice or any other bad news. It's simply not their fault. Throughout the years, I have also learned that the world relies on the majority of folks to not care enough to fight for things. We'll speak up occasionally, but we'll either run out of steam or get distracted by something else that we feel strongly about (for the moment). With a 24 hour news cycle, Twitter and Facebook, our attention spans are at their limit. We're like dogs chasing a car. The car turns the corner and we're on to the next one.
Fighting the Good Fight - I am trying to decide if I'm willing to step up to that plate at work, each day, and go to bat for myself and my team members in order to give leadership the perspective from our point of view. You know what, I've decided that isn't where I'd like to expend my energy. I have family, friends and other interests that'll benefit more from my efforts! The only way I'll truly be able to alleviate my frustrations with corporate politics and sales organizational problems, is to leave it behind. Until that day comes, I'll work to better contextualize my job, my goals for this job and the expectations my job has of me.
More Stuff That Matters - A great friend of mine lost his father last week. I pray for his strength because he's truly in charge of keeping much of his family together as they mourn and attempt to start the healing process. Death can put multiple strains on a family and every family handles them differently. As I try to be there for him in his time of need, I can't help but to think about what my dad's death did to our family. I have siblings that I've hardly talked to in 2 years (he died on March 8, 2014) and I'm not sure if I have much reason to. I pray that the fractures in my family heal and that my buddy doesn't have to endure as much family drama as my family has.
It's a Celebration - Each day should be a celebration, but February 29 is especially worthy of a celebration. And this February, a leap year, is the first leap year since my father's death. He was born on February 29, 1936. He would've been 80 years old.
I'm not saying that my father was especially unique since he was born on a leap year. I actually know a few people born on the same day who seem rather ordinary. I will say that my dad was extraordinary... to me, at least. He brought a calm with him that is rare. A laid back demeanor that would help put your mind at ease or drive you crazy because you felt he didn't respect the urgency of your situation.
Still Waters - At first glance, one would say it was because he didn't care about much. One could also argue that because he had seen and experienced so much, that many things seemed inconsequential to him. He understood that time moved on and what seemed insurmountable would soon pass. One could argue that he cared too much and his "perceived indifference" was a defense mechanism to help him deal with the things that he could not control. The last part of this puzzle is he was an addict. Addicted to drugs, the lifestyle, the hustle and taking care of people who needed him, with a strong emphasis on taking care of his children.
With some children needier than others, he tended to whoever's issues were on the front burner. It taught me self sufficiency at a young age and in some ways prevented us from being closer. I was busy taking care of my business and he was busy helping others take care of theirs. I miss him... a lot. More than I imagined I would. He was like the sun to many. Folks couldn't start their days without him. He was my oak tree. I didn't not see, nor need to see him every day. But I knew if I needed him, he'd be there. He was a night owl, who I could call while leaving the bar just to chat. I'd trade a song from the Isley Brothers for a 15 minute conversation with my old man. A 10am call could result in getting his voicemail, but a 10pm call would increase the odds of him answering by 65%. Calm. Wise. Very rarely judging, just offering a wisdom that was simply priceless. I wish we talked more. I wish we spent more time together. But I am truly grateful for the time we did spend and the lessons I learned from him. I am thankful that he was able to see my first child and spend some time with her. I get emotional thinking about the few things that perked him up while in his last days of life. I'd mentioned my Zara and he'd light up. He'd smile and say, "That's my girl," his weakened voice remaining at the same tone, but his smile telling the real story. My father loved children. I think they represented the innocence that he admired. So much promise without all of the insecurities, regrets and fears that handcuff most of us. Daddy, I promise to become more child-like and go after my dreams and leave the corporate politics to the politicians. There are plenty of folks who can play that game. I need to find a game that I want to play.
Read more. Write more. Love more. Pray more. Live more.
