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By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
For years, I’ve bragged about turning a social disability of talking too much into a lucrative career as a professional speaker. My loquaciousness (that’s “blabbing” for you non-talkers) works well for my job but can be a challenge for my wife who has spent the last thirty-one years becoming a professional listener. Thankfully, she rarely rolls her eyes. To this point, I’m reading a book called Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain. In the book, she describes how introverts function in a world that seems to put a greater value on being an extrovert. It’s a wonderful read and I related to it in some surprising ways. You see, most people would describe me as an extrovert since I’m very comfortable in front of a crowd—as suggested by my career. I also enter new situations relatively comfortably, I hold my own in most conversations, and I am quite charming to boot (Note: this is a personal opinion that may not be shared by others). But, here’s the interesting thing: I’m also an introvert. I value my quiet time. Reading is a fun activity for me. And working alone in the yard is like therapy. Plus I don’t mind being alone with my charming self to boot. So, I’m comfortable being with people and I’m comfortable being apart from them. The term for this is ambivert. While it sounds like a flexible vegetable, it perfectly describes my conflicted personalty. Here’s how it works: I’m energized when I’m around people and as a result, I tend to go into performance mode. I talk, I tell stories, I share jokes, and I connect with others. But I get a bit overwhelmed if I’m around people for too long or when I have to mingle with new acquaintances for an extended period of time. Ironically, that’s what I do for my job—I travel all over the country speaking at events and interacting with people I don’t know. Go figure. But here’s how the ambivert plays out. When I’m onstage, I’m talking in front of people and that fires up the extrovert/performer in me. However, it eventually drains me, and I don’t have much extrovert left to interact during the meals, the receptions, and the book signings. My challenge is managing my ambivert-ed-ness by balancing the need for human connection with a counter need for being alone. If I get drained, I have a tough time functioning. However, if I find ways to recharge, I handle both situations much better. In the book Quiet, Cain shares a number of different research studies that suggest most work environments don’t understand that people may need time alone to be their most productive. There are meetings, brainstorming sessions, and open work spaces which all work against an introvert’s desire for a quiet place to be creative. And ironically, the extroverts don’t function much better either because they spend their time talking and interacting without getting enough done. The organizations that recognize the need for quiet space and interactive space can change the work environment so that they are both introvert- and extrovert-friendly. Because, everyone doesn’t work or function the same way. For instance, a friend of mine, who is an introvert, can withstand a group situation for a few hours and then he completely shuts down. Once we were having dinner with a dozen other people and towards the end of the meal, he simply stood up and said, “I’m done. Goodnight.” We all laughed because we understood his introverted-ness had had enough. He needs quiet time during his day to balance the people time. Similarly, another friend is not comfortable being alone. She needs to be with other people or she gets a bit stir crazy. So, she’s always planning the next event where she’ll be able to hang out with friends or family. She loves an environment where there are work groups and brainstorming sessions. The key to managing the introvert and/or the extrovert in us is to recognize which way we lean and to make sure we recharge the right part of us. Here are some tips:
Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to make your healthcare event a success!
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By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
I made an interesting discovery the other day. It turns out that I have a fairly noticeable birthmark on the back of my head, and I only just discovered it…at 57 years of age. Geez. Last week, I was trimming the ever-decreasing band of hair around my head. Oh, and yes, I do my own hair maintenance—partly because there’s not that much to deal with and partly because I would have to pay the same price as full-head-o-hair people if I went to a barber. Seems like the cost would be prorated based on the percentage of scalp that’s showing. But alas, the system is fairer for the favorably follicle’d folks. Since I do cut my own hair, I invested in a set of clippers a few years ago. However, these clippers had worn out so I bought a new set with a full array of blade guards. They work beautifully—that is, if you pick the right blade guard. The first time I used the clippers, I chose the 3 mm blade guard because I thought that’s what I had used with my previous set. Unfortunately, I made a math error. I had transposed the numbers. With my old clippers, I had used the #3 blade guard but the length was actually 6 mm, not 3 mm. You might think I’m splitting hairs here but essentially, I cut my hair to half the length that I was accustomed to. As a result, my hair was really short. I mean, really short. It was so short, I could see my scalp through the tiny bristles of hair. And that’s when I discovered a red birthmark right there on the back of my head. At first, I thought it was a mirage caused by light reflecting off a few reddish-brown hairs. But my wife confirmed that it was actually a birthmark. Apparently, I’ve been walking around with this Gorbachev thing on my scalp for five decades and nobody bothered to point it out. I was disturbed mainly, or “manely” as it were, because my head was discolored and I didn’t realize it. To be honest, I don’t look at the back of my head that often. And, my eyesight is not as good as it used to be. Plus, the distance from my eyes to my head when using a mirror is greater than the actual distance due to some sort of convex reflection formula that involves fractions and variables. So, I just didn’t see what was there. It reminded me of an experience I had in high school when a girl who was several years younger than me said, “I’ve never seen anyone without a butt before.” Yep. She said that. To my face. I immediately ran into the boys locker room and looked at the back side of my, uh, back side. It appeared to be OK. Perhaps my derrière wasn’t as robust as that of a bodybuilder or a swimsuit model, but I clearly had one. Between that high school experience and the recent uncovering of my birthmark, I realized that I didn’t notice these things because I wasn’t looking in their particular direction. I mean, I’m usually focused on what’s in front of me rather than on what’s behind me. Aren’t we all? For instance, think about how much time we spend taking care of our fronts. We brush our teeth, attend to our blemishes, apply makeup, adjust the hairs that are out of place, and pluck the hairs that shouldn’t be there. Then, when it comes to our attire, we iron our blouses, we polish our shoes, we fuss over a spot on our slacks, and we continually adjust our ties. But how often are we doing the same things with our back sides? Heck, my pants are a wrinkled mess from sitting all day and I don’t even care. It all boils down to the influence of what we see. The things that usually make us anxious are the things we’re looking at. The more we look at them, the more anxious we get. And the things that are out of sight are often not even on our minds. Have you ever spilled something on a white shirt? The rest of the day, all you can see when you look in the mirror is that dang stain on your shirt. Yet, when you get a spot on the back of your pants, you often don’t think about it until you start to put them on again a couple of weeks later—because you were not looking at them. This is the power of the mind and how it creates our reality by what it “sees.” In Hamlet, William Shakespeare wrote, “..for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” The seeing leads to thinking which drives how we experience the world. Here’s another example: Let’s say you go to the doctor and she performs a test that might result in getting some bad news. From the time of the test until you get the results, you most likely will be anxious because you fear the worst case scenario. The reality is that you don’t know what the results will be. So, it doesn’t help to focus on the possibility of only the bad news. Similarly, if you go to the doctor because of a strange-looking mole on your back and the doctor tells you that it’s normal and there’s nothing to worry about, you probably don’t give it a second thought once you leave the doctor’s office. This is how our minds are hardwired. We lean toward the worst case scenario as a way to protect us from external threats. That worked really well when we were cavemen and cavewomen but not so well today. The external threats are not as frequent nor as dangerous. So what does this all mean? Well, Pope John XXIII put it this way, “See everything, overlook a great deal.” It means that if we can walk around all day oblivious to the gum on the back of our pants, perhaps we can purposely be more oblivious to other potentially stressful events in our lives. It’s about balance. We probably need to focus less on our fronts and maybe a little more on our backs. But either way, we don’t need to obsess about what we see because that only leads to too much thinking and more anxiety. So, basically, whether it’s the birthmark, the receding hairline, or the overabundance of scalp, I’ll never get a-head in this world if that’s all I see. Haha. Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to make your healthcare event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
My family went out to dinner one night and the service was really slow. After a long wait, our server brought the burgers and fries but did not bring any ketchup. When we asked for some ketchup, the server said she would bring it right out. Ten minutes later we still didn’t have any ketchup. I don’t know how long it takes you to eat but for me, ten minutes is about eight minutes longer than I need. I eat fast. Coincidentally, I also walk fast, talk fast, hurry fast…well…you get the picture. In addition to not getting any ketchup, the food was lukewarm. So the longer we waited, the less appetizing our already-cold-sans-ketchup meal became. When the server finally returned, my wife said, “Unfortunately, our food was not hot when it arrived. And we didn’t get the ketchup.” The server said, “Well, we’re doing the best we can. It’s very busy.” And then she walked away. Do you ever have those moments in life when you want to stand up and deliver a ten-minute soliloquy on good customer service? No? Well, maybe that’s just me and my professional speaker world. And for the record, I held my tongue and did not say, “Well, you’re way behind and you really need to ketch-up.” But here’s the thing. The main concern I had with our server’s behavior was not so much what she did but how she did it. Oh sure, we were frustrated by the slow service and the lack of ketchup but her response compounded the problem significantly. The better approach would have been to apologize, to offer to replace our cold food, and to take responsibility for not remembering the dang ketchup. But when the server discounted our problem and blamed it on being busy, the implication was that her busy-ness took precedent over our need for a quality dining experience. The how of what we do is not always obvious to us because we’re too busy doing the what. Our days are so cram packed, we typically just want to get stuff done rather than pay attention to how we’re getting stuff done. I suggest, though, that the how is just as important as the what, and when we consider both, we’re much more effective in everything we do. Let’s walk through a few ideas for how we can apply this concept... Take Responsibility. First and foremost, we must take responsibility for our role in any situation or relationship. When we blame other people or the system, we are not operating with integrity and we’ll be less successful in our endeavors. In our restaurant experience, the server blamed the situation for our lack of satisfaction. By saying that they were doing the best that they could, she made it sound as if they were unable to do any better. However, if she had owned the situation, we might have become her ally and tried to make things easier on her. And even if she couldn’t control the chaos of the evening, by simply acknowledging what she was doing to improve things for us, she would have added a bit of integrity to her efforts. Empathy. One of the best techniques for successfully maneuvering through this world is to show empathy for others. When we understand where others are coming from, we put ourselves in their shoes. And when we do that, we’re much more likely to approach them and the situation with more compassion. For instance, if our server had more empathy for us, she would have realized that we were not happy with the slow service or the fact that our food was cold. But instead of empathizing with us, she was more concerned with herself and responded in a self-protective manner by defending her own behavior. Word Choice. Lastly, once we take responsibility and have empathy for others, our choice of words has a big impact on how we interact with others. In my experience, I have seen a number of leaders undermine their good ideas because they didn’t use the right words to share those ideas. And when we use the wrong words, we can sometimes create more problems than we solve. Imagine how we would have felt if our server had said this: “I’m so sorry that your food is cold. I can understand your frustration. This is not the kind of experience we want our customers to have. I want to fix this for you so that you leave our restaurant happy and satisfied.” I think we would have reacted differently. But somewhere along the way, she was probably told that she should not admit that there is a problem or else people will demand a refund or make a complaint to the manager. Ironically when service personnel acknowledge the problem, most customers are more understanding. I truly do empathize with restaurant staff and anyone else who has to deal with the public. It’s a tough job and people are not always polite. However, if we just understand the value of taking responsibility for the situation, showing a little empathy, and then using the right words, we will be more successful in how we handle most challenges. So, the rule to remember is this: Pay as much attention to the how as you do to the what. Oh, and BYOK (Bring Your Own Ketchup). Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to make your healthcare event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
Do you like suspenseful novels or movies? How about mysteries or thrillers? I do. And what I like most about these kinds of books and movies is being surprised by a discovery at the end of the story. I still remember being stunned by the final scenes in The Sixth Sense and Primal Fear. In each, the conclusion unveiled a discovery that totally changed my understanding of the story up to that point. Recently, I heard a meditation instructor say we should approach people and situations as “mysteries to be discovered.” What an interesting concept. Can you imagine how different our lives would be if we went into every encounter expecting to be changed by the mystery we discover? I think it would lead us to being more open to every situation and would eliminate pre-determined opinions that typically prevent us from truly experiencing the reality in each moment. For instance, do you remember the first time you saw a natural wonder or an amazing tourist attraction? Whether you were looking at the Grand Canyon, Michelangelo’s statue of David, or The World’s Largest Ball of Twine, you probably just wanted to stand there and take it all in. We hardly have words to describe experiences like that. Well, except when we’re looking at the ball of twine. I’m pretty sure in that situation, most of us are saying, “Dang, that’s really big.” What is it about these encounters that affects us? Is it the magnitude of the Grand Canyon or the beauty of the statue of David? I think it might be the mystery we hope to discover. We want to know when the Modest Canyon became the Grand Canyon. We want to know when Michelangelo looked at the statue of David and decided it was complete. And when it comes to the Ball of Twine, we simply want to know why? We look, we ponder, and we ask questions to better understand the experience. Perhaps this is how we should travel through our lives—with the expectation that a wonderful discovery is waiting around every corner. But how do we do that? First, we must eliminate our pre-conceived ideas and open our minds to whatever the moment brings. I know this is easier said than done so here are a couple of examples to illustrate the concept. Discovering People A few weeks ago, I went to our local auto parts store to buy replacement blades for my windshield wipers. A young man was standing behind the counter and in front of the counter, there was an older man sitting on a stool. As I approached them both, the older man said, “Good morning. What do you have planned for the day?” “Well, I’m on my way to work,” I said. “I remember what that was like,” he said with a chuckle. As we talked, I found out that he had retired from his job as a maintenance supervisor in the transportation division at the University of Virginia. I told him that I attended UVA in the 1980s, and we compared notes about the way things used to be. He asked what I did for a living. I must admit that I always dread this question. I usually describe myself as a “motivational speaker” or an “author and humorist”—since most people understand those terms. But sometimes, it sounds like a pretend job and I feel a bit awkward when I say it out loud. Nonetheless, I told him that I was a motivational speaker. The young man behind the counter smiled and said, “Oh, I listen to motivational CD’s all the time. Our company brings in speakers like that for our regional meetings. I think their presentations are really helpful. Do you ever speak to companies like mine?” And there you go. I did not go into the auto parts store that morning expecting to find a business opportunity. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if I’d find the right windshield wiper blades. My mind was closed off to the possibilities. My assumptions were like blinders and I did not even consider that my rural neighbors would have an appreciation for my so-called job. It was a good lesson—to be more open minded. And for the record, I seem to have this kind of mind-opening education way more often than I should at 56 years of age. Just saying. Discovering Experiences When we moved to central Virginia a few years ago, my brother-in-law Bob recommended a hike that he thought we’d enjoy. We filed it away on our Someday-We’ll-Do-This List but never got around to it. A few weeks ago, however, our kids were in town so we decided to try the hike that Bob suggested. Our destination was Spy Rock, a large rock formation located just off the Appalachian Trail. After parking the car, we headed up a somewhat boring access road towards the trail. After walking along the trail for a while, we then had to scale the side of the rock to get on top. It wasn’t really that treacherous but it did require some concentration. Finally, we emerged from the climb and were greeted with a 360-degree perspective of the mountains and adjacent valley. It was one of the most extraordinary views I’ve ever seen. Again, I had not anticipated the possibilities of this experience. What started as a somewhat unexciting walk in the woods turned out to be a truly spiritual experience. And I suspect that even our time on the access road could have been better if my mind was set on a different expectation—one of discovery. So, how do we avoid the routine, self-fulfilling doldrums and replace them with the newly discovered mysteries that lurk all around us? I think the simplest way is to continually ask ourselves, “What am I missing?” When we understand that our brains will switch to autopilot if we let them, it’s helpful to remind ourselves to pay attention. In fact, this is where most humor is discovered—by paying attention. Once I saw a sign next to a bowl of oranges that said, “Gluten Free.” Luckily, because I was paying attention, I didn’t miss this ridiculously obvious information. If you like the surprise endings in mysteries and thrillers, perhaps you can write your own script by opening your mind to the possibility of discoveries. In other words, as you go through the day, ask yourself, “What am I missing?”, “Where’s the beef?” or “Who let the dogs out?” You’ll be amazed by what you discover. Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to make your healthcare event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
I travel quite a bit and I must admit that I’m a bit of a customer service snob. It’s not that I expect to be treated like royalty, you knave. It’s just that if I’m paying for a service, I feel I should be treated as if I matter. Recently, I was renting a car in Las Vegas. I won’t say the name of the company but it rhymes with “hurts.” I had not rented from them before so I wasn’t familiar with their particular routine at the airport. As I waited in line to check in, the agent, in a somewhat frustrated tone, instructed the people in front of me to move ahead to one of the check-in kiosks. So, not wanting to clog things up for the people behind me, I moved too. Apparently, though, it was not my turn. As I walked towards an open kiosk, the agent was clearly annoyed and yelled, “Sir, stop. Please listen. You can’t go there. You need to use the Number Six kiosk.” Before I go on, let me share a little bit about my physical response to this situation. First, there appears to be a bundle of nerves that runs up my spine and attaches to the hairs on the back of my neck. These nerves shot electrical impulses up my back, down my arms, and then told the neck hairs that it was time to wake the hell up. Second, I suspect there is this gland in my head that’s responsible for facial heat and coloration. It was also activated. My cheeks went royal flush, which was appropriate since we were in Las Vegas. I’m sure that all of these physical reactions have something to do with the flight or fight response that served our Ice Age ancestors quite well. But I wasn’t in danger of being gored by a unicorn so my physical reaction to the rental car agent was just a tad bit extreme (there were unicorns back in the Ice Age, right?). Anyway, back to my customer dis-service experience. My first inclination in response to the harsh agent was to tell her where she could put her Number Six kiosk. Luckily the part of my brain which prevents me from engaging in extreme verbal or physical behavior was fully intact so I didn’t do or say anything disrespectful. But even though I didn’t respond inappropriately, I did shut down emotionally. I retreated to a place where I used short verbal responses and made no eye contact. I felt as if a dark cloud had moved over my head and the feeling stayed with me the rest of the morning. This is an example of an ineffective zag. Had I zigged instead, I would have experienced a much better outcome. Let me explain. Two of the fundamental principles of humor are surprise and incongruence. The element of surprise catches us off guard and incongruence makes us look at things differently. Humor zigs rather than zags. For instance, this hot dog walks into a bar. The bartender says, “I’m sorry, we don’t serve food here.” I know, it’s a horribly stupid joke—but still funny. The unexpected punchline and the play on words create a surprise incongruence, or a zig when we expect a zag. It’s an alternative ending. I have found that just about every time I react to a tense situation with a zig instead of a zag, I succeed in changing the outcome. In other words, I also create an alternative ending. When the rental car agent was upset with me, I zagged with an expected reaction—I got upset. But I could have zigged with something like this, “I’m so grateful you saw me heading towards the Lamborghini kiosk and steered me back to the Hyundai kiosk. I’m much more of a Hyundai kinda guy.” Would she laugh? Maybe. Would it create an alternative ending? Definitely. Here’s another example: My son and I played golf while we were in Las Vegas. The starter at the golf club told us that he could send us onto the course earlier than our scheduled tee time but we would have to skip the practice range. We said that was OK. He then challenged us and asked if we were sure we wanted to skip the practice range. I said, “Absolutely…we’re not that good.” He started laughing and sent us on our way. Now, granted, this situation was not as tense as the one in the rental car facility but the principle still applied—it helped us to zig when he expected a zag. If you’d like to zig rather than zag, there are really only two rules to follow. First, don’t do what is expected. Second, take the high road. First, when you surprise someone with unexpected positive behavior, you give them a gift. You give them the gift of another perspective—and if what you say is funny, you give them the gift of laughter as well. Too often, we just do what everybody else does. We complain about the weather. We gripe about being inconvenienced. Or we whine about being mistreated. And yet, we could zig instead. Once, in high school, another kid tried to pick a fight with me. Instead of fighting, I complimented him on his shirt. He thanked me and walked away. It was a brilliant zig that made him forget why he wanted to fight me and saved me from getting a broken nose. Second, when it comes to taking the high road, we just need to do what’s honorable. Today, a lot of people are being what my mother called “ugly.” She wasn’t referring to their looks but their behavior. Ugly behavior is when someone uses a disrespectful approach to others. Taking the high road means maintaining dignity for ourselves and for others. We use courteous language and never go on the attack. It’s just the right way to act. It’s more humane. We all will encounter challenging situations from time to time. But if we respond with anger, frustration, or aggression, it will only lead to more anger, frustration, and aggression. If, on the other hand, we choose to zig rather than zag, we’re likely to find an alternative ending that not only makes our day better but puts a positive vibe into the world. Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to make your healthcare event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
(The following stories are true. The names have been omitted to protect the guilty. But you know who you are.) Recently, I was walking to my gate when I saw four airport employees pushing four empty wheelchairs. They were walking side-by-side while talking and laughing. It was an amusing sight. That is, until I realized they were taking up so much space on the concourse, there was only a small opening barely big enough for one person to pass. Hundreds of passengers were clustered towards that opening trying to get to their flights. Those employees, oblivious to the passengers, were showing symptoms of Center of the Universe Syndrome. And apparently, it’s a very common disorder. I was pulling into a hotel parking lot when a man who was texting on his phone walked directly in front of my car. Even worse, he stopped to finish his text and was standing about three feet in front of my bumper. He stood there for a few seconds and then suddenly realized he was not only in a roadway, but directly in the path of a car. While it occurred to me that if I had kept driving, I would have “thinned the herd,” of course I didn’t. Instead, I just sat there and experienced another person who was afflicted with Center of the Universe Syndrome. At our grocery store, a woman was studying the label on a can of crushed tomatoes. Her cart was positioned diagonally so that her body and the cart took up the entire aisle. She was totally engrossed in the label and several people on either side of her cart were waiting for her to finish. Out of curiosity, I picked up a can of of the same crushed tomatoes just to see what was so interesting. Nothing caught my attention. My fellow shopper, however, had caught Center of the Universe Syndrome. My wife and I use this phrase for people who are oblivious to the fact that other people also live, work, and function in their world. It’s an interesting behavioral phenomenon and on some level, we’re all guilty of it at one time or another. But the very nature of Center of the Universe Syndrome is that the offenders are totally unaware of their behavior. And for that reason alone, I think there is a relatively easy cure—we must operate with both self- and other-awareness. Now let me be clear about something before we go on. I was not necessarily vaccinated against this syndrome. I am definitely self-centered. In fact, I am the most important person in the world to me. I think about me all the time. I just want to do what I want to do and really don’t want to do what I don’t want to do. However, my simple self-centeredness becomes Center of the Universe Syndrome when my wants interfere with the wants and needs of others. Here’s an example. Sometimes when I travel, I have a tight connection time. If my initial flight is delayed, then I need to scurry to the next flight. And by “scurry”, I mean “run like hell.” As any traveler knows, when the plane gets to the gate and the seat belt light goes off, everyone jumps into the aisle to retrieve their overhead luggage so they can get off the plane as quickly as possible. If my plane has arrived a bit late, my need to get off the plane might very well outweigh the needs of those who don’t have a tight connection. But, guess what? Everyone feels that their needs are the most important ones at that particular time. If I jumped into the aisle and immediately started pushing my way to the front of the plane, I would be exhibiting Center of the Universe Syndrome. If, on the other hand, I consider that the other passengers on the flight may also need to get somewhere, I would simply wait my turn out of respect for them. It doesn’t mean that I let everyone on the entire plane leave before I do. It just means that I wait until it’s my turn. I think this is what being both self- and other-aware is all about. We’re aware of our own needs and trying to balance them with the needs of others. Philosopher Martin Buber described this approach as treating other people as people rather than as objects. It’s what he calls the I-Thou approach as opposed to the I-It approach. If we simply pay attention to our own behavior as well as to how our behavior affects those around us, we begin to consider people as human beings rather than objects used to meet our own needs. Zig Ziglar, one of the greatest motivational speakers of our time, said, “You can get everything you want in life if you just help enough other people get what they want.” I really like that idea. If we help others, we help ourselves. While we probably shouldn’t be motivated by the goal of only helping ourselves, the benefit is there nonetheless. In a world where we’re constantly told to “go after what you want,” “don’t let anyone stand in your way,” and “do what you need to get ahead,” this concept of considering others could be seen as a barrier to success. However, if we embrace the approaches of Buber and Ziglar, we might find success not in spite of others, but because of them. If you think you might at times be guilty of having Center of the Universe Syndrome, consider expanding your center so that you include other people in your universe. And the next time I see you on a plane, we might just get stuck in the aisle for a quite a while because we’ll both be saying, “No, please, you go first.” Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to make your healthcare event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun. The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
We had just finished a lovely Valentine’s Day meal, celebrating the day after Valentine’s Day since we can never get a table at a decent restaurant on Valentine’s Day, and our server brought the bill. I placed my credit card on top of the bill accompanied by a two-for-one coupon. The server said, “Hrrrumph, you have a coupon? Well, I’ll have to go back and redo the bill. Hrrrumph.” Before I go on, let me explain the background of the coupon in question. As a fundraiser, our local hospice sells booklets of coupons. The coupons are for restaurants in the area and are typically valid Sunday through Thursday when the restaurants are not as busy. Each coupon entitles you to one free entree when you purchase a second entree of equal (or more) value. Of course, if you buy a second entree of lesser value, then that’s the one you get for free. If there’s one thing these folks know, it’s algebraic coupon equations. Now just so you know, there is no requirement to inform the server that you plan to use a coupon. You simply give it to them when you pay for your meal. It’s not like they will give you worse service or smaller portions because you’re using a coupon. It would be quite a scandal if a restaurant owner said, “They’re using those stinking hospice coupons. Make sure you give them terrible service, less food, and then spit in their water.” I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen. But there is an interesting twist when it comes to tipping. Apparently, in previous years, customers were tipping the servers based on the discounted price of their bill rather than the original price. So the coupon company adjusted their tipping policy and now, the restaurants automatically add a 20% gratuity based on the pre-discounted price of each bill. That way, the servers don’t get slighted. And finally, just to be clear, the servers don’t have to do any additional work when someone uses a coupon. They hit a button on the cash register that says “hospice coupon” and it automatically deducts the discount, adds the 20% pre-discount gratuity, and calculates the final bill. So, I’m not exactly sure why our Day-After-Valentine’s-Day server was so annoyed at having to process the coupon since it really took no more effort than a regular bill. But clearly, her gruff response suggested that there was something problematic about it. As I considered my response to her hrrrumphing, I figured I had a couple of options. First, I could have “accidentally” knocked my water glass off the table. I decided that was not the best approach as it would have made me look like a toddler protesting his parents’ discipline. Second, I could have confronted the server when she got back and asked her why she had a burr under her saddle. Honestly though, I really didn’t want to get into an altercation on an otherwise wonderful Not-Exactly-Valentine’s-Day evening. Lastly, I could have said, “Thank you” as pleasantly as possible without showing any of the sarcasm that was already building up inside me. The waitress returned, in a much better mood, and appeared genuinely grateful when she said, “Thank you very much. Have a wonderful evening.” I took my hand off the water glass, thanked her kindly, and left without incident. But the interaction bugged me. There was no need for her coupon attitude and as I thought about it later, I realized that this may be the new norm. We live in a world bursting out of its seams with disrespect. Most people can’t resist flaunting their indignant attitudes on social media. The news services are always trying to expose somebody for something they did sometime to someone. Many politicians, corporate executives, entertainers, and athletes act as if they are above the rules of respect and courtesy. We seem to have forgotten what we learned in kindergarten about how to treat our neighbor. My friend and colleague Larry Winget once referred to all of the books, seminars, and classes on the topic of customer service and said, “How’s this for a novel approach to customer service—just be nice!” I love it. Just be nice. I was raised in the south. And one of the great benefits of growing up in a rural part of the country is that many people encouraged me to be nice. They called it maynnnuhs (or “manners” for those of you in the rest of the country). My parents, my teachers, my scout leaders, and others routinely reminded me about the importance of being nice to others. Here are a few things they emphasized: Say please. This simple word is often neglected, especially when we’re being served by someone else. You’ll hear, “I’ll have a glass of water”, “Could you hand me the salt?”, or “I’d like to check out of my hotel room early.” But you don’t always hear “please.” Just because someone is in a role where they are providing a service for us does not mean that we should treat them with less respect than anyone else. The word “please” suggests humility rather than a demanding arrogance. Plus, it’s just a nice thing to do. Say thank you. One of the new ways that service staff respond to “thank you” is to say, “of course.” I like that much better than “no problem” but it almost feels like they’re rejecting our “thank you.” However, I still believe those two words are a powerful sign of gratitude regardless of whether the thankee feels they need to be thanked. And sometimes, when you see the surprise in someone’s eyes because they didn’t expect it, it feels great. And again, it’s a nice thing to do. Open the door. Chivalry may be an outdated term but I don’t think chivalrous gestures should be. Chivalry refers to the behavior of medieval knights that included courtesy, generosity, and valor. My parents were not knights but they taught me to open the door whenever someone was walking into a building behind me—whether it’s a man, woman, or child. This principle even applies when letting someone in before you allows them to get in line ahead of you. Opening the door is chivalrous and a respectful thing to do. Oh, and it’s also nice. Show interest. In a world full of human beings, we must live, work, and interact with other people on a regular basis. And just as we appreciate it when someone shows interest in us, we should also show interest in others. Sincerely asking people how they are and inquiring about their life shows that we care. In a world full of negativity, care can be in short supply. And of course, it’s also nice. Whether you’re talking about customer service or a simple interaction with a server on Valentine’s Day (or the day after when you can actually get a table), being nice is a good policy. It’s a positive and effective way to connect with other humans. And don’t you think we could all use more of that? Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to make your healthcare event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
In my last post, I mentioned a phrase from my childhood about our being “worth our salt.” Here are some of the remaining principles which I embrace. Hopefully, by seeing them, you will think more purposefully about the principles you value... Fun A rabbi, a priest, and a nun walk into a bar. The bartender says, “What, is this a joke?” Since I did my graduate thesis on humor and my brand is “Do it Well, Make it Fun,” it makes sense that I believe in fun and humor. The research is clear—a spoonful of fun makes the stress go down (or something like that). You see, during our lifetime, we will encounter both joy and sorrow. To truly experience joy, we must understand the experience of sorrow—and vice versa. Yet, many of us tend to focus more on our challenges and as a result, we miss many of the simple pleasures in life. So, while we don’t need to be reminded of the adversities we experience, since we’re already good at focusing on that, we do need to be reminded to seek more fun and humor—to balance the adversity. So quit working so hard and get back to goofing off! Honesty Mark Twain once said, “If you tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything.” Honesty is the best path to take even when a “little white lie” appears to be the better course of action. For instance, has anyone ever said to you, “Now, this is just between you and me”? When that happens to me, I explain that my wife and I do not keep secrets from each other. Therefore, I willshare the information with her. I explain this so the other person can decide if they still want to share the information with me. I could just as easily say, “sure” and then tell my wife anyway. But that’s not honest. When we’re honest, even in those situations when we’re sharing difficult information or we have to admit a mistake, I believe the honesty shows integrity and that we can be trusted. Humility I am a speaker and author. That means if people like me and what I talk about, I tend to get hired more. This is risky proposition for someone who leans toward the narcissistic end of the self-centered spectrum. So, when someone says, “That was the best presentation I’ve ever seen,” I have to fight the urge to believe that I am a precious gift to the world at large. It turns out, humility is actually a better approach. And, it’s a very powerful principle even though it may not appear to be. When we show humility by admitting mistakes, sharing credit for our successes, and focusing on others, we actually make a greater impact than when we try to take all the credit for ourselves. A humble approach to most things endears us to others because it makes us less arrogant and more gracious. So, when we start to feel entitled and think that we deserve to be treated a certain way, we should remind ourselves that in most situations, we’re probably blessed to have what we have—rather than thinking we deserve more. And that can be a powerfully humbling realization. Professionalism Whenever I speak, I typically wear a suit. There are two reasons for my attire and both are related to professionalism. First, besides the fact that I look handsome and debonair, I found that I’m funnier when I dress up. If I look like a business speaker, my humor catches people off guard and I appear funnier. When I dress more casually, the audience expects me to be looser and funnier. And honestly, I don’t need that kind of pressure! So, I prefer to dress up and surprise them with the funny. The second reason I wear a suit is that I respect the role I’m in. I’m being paid to deliver a presentation and I want to show my client that I take that role seriously. Even when the conference coordinator tells me that the audience’s attire will be casual, I still wear a coat and tie (oh, and pants too). I think it shows respect for them and that I appreciate the importance of my job. Professionalism is really about taking your role seriously and respecting the integrity of the work. And it doesn’t matter what you do. I’ve seen garbage collectors take their roles more seriously than corporate managers. And when a cab driver goes out of his way to make my experience better, that’s professionalism. Someone once said, “Every job is dignified if done well.” Professionalism is, therefore, not just what we do but how we do it. Respect In the hospice where I worked, my colleagues and I felt very strongly about the role of respect, dignity, and self determination in the care of our patients. Many patients had come from an environment where they felt poked, prodded, and without a voice in the care they received. We tried to give them their dignity back by respecting their situation and their input. It seems that in the world today, respect has lost it’s dignity—especially when it comes to our differences. I believe that many challenges could be resolved if we would be willing to respect those who have a different perspective and to have a civil conversation about those differences. We’re all on this journey together and when we respect people as fellow human beings, we not only honor them, we often receive respect in return. Responsibility Responsibility means owning our situation, whether good or bad. I have found that this principle can be challenging because it’s tough to admit when we’ve made a mistake. As a hospice manager, I made a decision that turned out badly. At my next staff meeting, I explained my thinking, admitted my error, and described my plan to correct the situation. I believe it may have been one of the best decisions I ever made because it showed my staff that I was not only human and therefore could make mistakes, but I was willing to take responsibility for the problem. So, when we make an error, we should take responsibility. And when we do something good, we should take responsibility (with a bit of humility as noted above). Either way, we avoid blaming people or the system for our situation. Self Improvement Well, here again, this principle seems obvious. But I’m amazed by how many people I’ve heard say, “I don’t ever read” or “I’m not interested in learning about this” or “I’ll just get by.” In this life-long adventure we’re on, our goal is to end up better than we started. In other words, our goal is to always improve. If you’ve ever had a hobby, you know how good it feels when you improve. I played tennis in high school and when I learned a new way of hitting a ground stroke or got better at my serve, I enjoyed the game more. Life is richer when we’re better at it. Try to find a few things to improve and see if it isn’t true for you too. As I said in Part 1 of this series, the principles in our life are like salt: they season our lives. I hope you will take some time to figure out which principles are important to you. Then, as Stephen Covey suggested, write them down and put them where you’ll see them every day. If we’re all a bit more value-abled, we will season our own lives and make the world just a little bit tastier. Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us today to make your healthcare event a success!  By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
Several years ago in Golf Digest magazine, I read a story about a young golfer named Charlie Siem. He was playing in a tournament and after making the winning putt, he bent down to retrieve his ball from the cup. Immediately, he realized that the ball in the cup was not his. At some point along the course, he had played the wrong ball. Hitting the wrong ball in a golf tournament is grounds for disqualification. However, in Charlie’s case, no one else knew he had hit the wrong ball. Still, he presented the ball to the tournament officials and was promptly disqualified from a tournament he had just won. This was a case of a young man’s principles guiding his decision—even though it was not an easy decision to make. When I think of behavioral principles, I’m reminded of a phrase I heard as a child but had no idea what it meant. The phrase was, “He is worth his salt.” As someone who cooks quite a bit, I didn’t think being compared to a cheap commodity like salt seemed particularly complimentary, but the phrase supposedly has its origins in ancient Rome where soldiers were paid in salt. At the time, salt was quite valuable. And in the Christian Bible, there are numerous references to salt. Most use salt as a metaphor about enhancing our lives the same way salt enhances food. Christians are supposed to be the “salt of the earth”, or to bring value to the world. Perhaps salt, like principles, is more valuable than I realized. In The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey said, “Principles are guidelines for human conduct that are proven to have enduring, permanent value.” Principles are the way we carry ourselves through life and work, and essentially, they are our salt. Our principles are the seasoning that makes life better. So, I thought I would spend the next couple of articles focusing on the principles I have chosen to guide my life and work. Hopefully, by seeing them, you will think more purposefully about your own principles and how they season your life. Then, hopefully, we can all be worth our salt. Appreciation One morning, after getting dressed for a presentation, I got my second cup of coffee from the free hotel breakfast bar. As I sat the cup down on the desk in my hotel room, the lid slipped off of the cup. The cup bounced onto the desk back up in the air and then coffee spewed all over me and the floor. I did not have much of an “attitude of gratitude” at that particular moment. In fact, I recall a few “salty” words that were brewing in my head. And yet, after my initial irritation, I realized that there were many things for which I was grateful. On that particular morning, I was grateful to be working. I was grateful to be in a decent hotel with a free breakfast. I was grateful for my client and the audience who ultimately appreciated my presentation, despite their wondering why the sleeve of my shirt was brown. Here is the funny thing about appreciation. Sometimes it’s offered too routinely and we fail to recognize the sincerity. Just like the person who salts their food without tasting it, it’s automatic and not purposeful. True appreciation is sincere intentional gratitude for the good things in our lives and by reminding ourselves of this on a regular basis, life tastes a little better. Balance The simple truth is that when we have balance, we don’t fall down. And we need balance in most areas of our lives. We need balance between work and play. We need balance between people time and alone time. We need balance between our spiritual, emotional, and intellectual experiences. Otherwise, just as too much salt can mask the flavor of our food, we don’t get to experience the full variety of flavors in our lives. One year, I had taken on too many volunteer jobs in my Rotary club, my church, and my professional association. I was spending nearly 15-20 hours each week just keeping up with my duties. It was affecting my work, my family life, and my health. So, I had to cut back a bit and become more selective in the roles I took on. This balance helped me to do a better job in each area of my life. Compassion There is a common meditation practice called “Loving Kindness” which encourages us to both receive and give compassion. As someone who has a pretty active cynicism gland, this meditation is a wonderful reminder of the importance of compassion. In every situation, a compassionate attitude will give us more success and add substance to our relationships. Whether we’re opening a door for someone, saying “thank you” for a kind gesture, or just offering a smile to a stranger, kindness born out of compassion connects our hearts to others. Whenever I remind myself to consider what someone else might be experiencing, I always feel kinder towards them. A few days ago, I mentioned to a women tending a hotel buffet that the sausage gravy was really good. And as a southerner, I told her that I know my sausage gravy. Her face lit up as if I had given her a great gift. She worked hard on her buffet items and was grateful that someone noticed. We live in a world where negativity and aggression get the most attention. We can turn that around with a kind word and a generous spirit. Instead of “give me the salt,” perhaps we can say, “please pass the salt…and thank you.” Excellence As the author of Do it Well. Make it Fun., I chose excellence as the foundation of my book. If we seek excellence in everything we do, we create a platform of integrity on which to build our success. But we may not always know what we need to do to achieve excellence. When I took a motorcycle safety course in 2001, I assumed that I knew everything about riding a motorcycle because I had owned one in college. And since a motorcycle only has two wheels, I couldn’t imagine that there was that much to learn. Once I got into the class however, I discovered there were things I didn’t know I didn’t know. The class opened my eyes to my knowledge deficits. Unless someone gives us feedback or points out our mistakes, we will never discover where we need to improve on the road to excellence. When I worked as the Director of Quality Service at Hospice of Northern Virginia, we used a 360-degree performance evaluation process. In other words, for my yearly review, I was evaluated by my boss, my peers, and the people I supervised. It was certainly an unnerving process but it was one of the most helpful ways to find out my strengths and where I needed to improve. In all areas of our lives, if we strive to determine where we need to get better as employees, parents, partners, neighbors, etc., then we really can enhance the days of our lives…like salt through the hourglass (a few of you will know that obscure reference!) Fairness When I was offered my first management job, I realized that two of the people I would be supervising were my peers from a previous job. In order to manage the department effectively, I needed to make sure I treated them fairly and that the other employees felt they were also being treated fairly. So, we talked about it before I took the job and agreed we could make it work. However, if my other staff had felt that I favored my former colleagues, my ability to supervise would have been compromised. The concept of justice is based on fairness. None of us wants to be treated unfairly. We don’t want someone else to get a discount at the store when we’re not eligible. We want our children to get the same opportunities as other children. And we don’t like it when people who have more seem to get away with even more. Fairness is the basis for effective organizations and relationships. Every time we make a decision that affects other people, we might ask ourselves, “Is this fair to everyone involved?” It’s an ideal embraced by Rotary International and a good principle for the rest of us. When someone treats us fairly, we believe that they really are worth their salt. Hopefully, these principles will help you think about your own principles and how you can “walk the talk” in your own life. Please know that my own process of living my principles is a work in progress. But isn’t that what life is all about? We’re on the journey just trying to make the next day a little better…or saltier! To be continued...Read Part 2 here! Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us today to make your healthcare event a success! With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun. The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
Holiday gatherings are often full of stories. But sometimes, I wonder if the story we tell is the whole story? When I was in elementary school, my father would take me with him to get the family Christmas tree. I had no choice in the matter as I suspect it was his way to get me out of the house so I wouldn’t bug my mom. We’d get up early on a Saturday morning and pack our lunch with a sandwich, some chips, and a thermos of milk. Back then, the idea of bottled water was unheard of. You drank milk from a thermos and supposedly, it grew hair on your chest. I’m not sure how the girls felt about that, but it’s the message my dad gave me. (For what it’s worth, the same was true for broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and liver.) Anyway, my father and I would get in our very old, very used, Chevrolet station wagon and head for Whitetop Mountain, the second highest mountain in Virginia. We were in search of the perfect Christmas tree. The first half of the trip was spent on gently winding roads through the beautiful countryside near Meadowview and Damascus. Then, as we headed up the mountain, the road turned into what felt like a gnarly pile of spaghetti. We drove one way and then quickly angled back the other way. I was not a fan of those roads and, at that age, I was not fan of spaghetti either. Without fail, when we hit the halfway point, my partially digested breakfast decided it had had enough. It wanted out. I said to my dad, “Uh, I think I’m going to be sick.” Also without fail, my dad would say, “No you’re not.” We continued up “Spaghetti Turnpike.” A few minutes later, I would say, “I really think I’m going to get sick.” My dad would reply, “It’s all in your head. Look at the horizon.” The horizon? How can you see the horizon when you’re driving up a wooded mountain road? Finally, I realized that time was of the essence, so I said, “PULL OVER, PULL OVER, PULL OVER, I’M PUKING!” My dad swerved to the shoulder and I spilled out onto my knees just as my breakfast spilled out onto the grass. For the rest of the trip, my stomach felt like it had been to the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair. Ever since I was a child, whenever I thought about our trips to get a Christmas tree, I vividly remembered the upchucking part. In fact, I’m a little nauseous just describing it. I never could understand why my dad didn’t believe me when I said I was going to get sick. This always bothered me and became the focus of my story. But here’s the interesting thing—the stomach emptying was only part of the experience. As I sat down to write about this, a flood of memories came back and reminded me that while the car ride was not particularly enjoyable, it was not the bulk of the day. It was just the story I had told myself. Now, I realize, there was much more to it. Since we lived in the country, we didn’t buy our trees at K-Mart or even at the lot where the Boy Scouts sold them. We went old school. We took a John-Boy Walton approach and drove to the top of the mountain where we could cut down our own tree for just five dollars (nausea included). The guy who owned the tree farm lived in a small cabin that was so run down, you could almost see through the walls. He had a chest-length beard, was dressed in well-worn overalls, and did not appear to have even heard of a stock portfolio. Yet, he always greeted us with kindness and Christmas cheer. One year, my father, who I think felt sorry for him, offered him an extra couple of dollars because he let us use his saw. The man said, “I wouldn’t think of taking that money.” With saw in hand, we trudged through the mountain snow to find the perfect tree. It had to be six feet tall with evenly distributed limbs. No Charlie Brown tree for us. My dad was very particular and a little OCD. After we cut down the perfect tree, we paid our five dollars, tied the tree to the car, and then retraced our path down Spaghetti Turnpike making sure we didn’t lose the tree off the back of the car. I did, however, lose my lunch off the side of the road. But the tree was secure—mainly because my dad used his OCD skills and miles of twine to make sure it didn’t budge. In fact, it usually took us an hour just to get the dang thing untied once we got home. The tree was placed in a homemade stand (coffee can nailed to two boards) and we began the arduous process of centering the tree in both the stand and the room. Then it was time to trim it. Our tradition was to decorate the tree while listening to Mahalia Jackson and Nat King Cole albums or while watching the Andy Williams Christmas Special on television. Both of these experiences put us in the proper mood to decorate. We packed the tree with all of our old, often handmade, ornaments. And then the icing on the cake was putting the icicles on the tree. I probably don’t need to tell you that my father implored us to carefully drape the icicles on the limbs of the tree to make sure that they hung properly. No clumps, no overlapping, and definitely no throwing. When the process was complete, we all sat back and admired our work. At that point, my stomach was just about ready for some Christmas cookies. In hindsight, I realize that the story I had told myself about our search for the perfect tree had become more about getting sick and less about the whole experience. The real story was that we had spent quality time together on an all-day adventure that ended with creating a lot of Christmas spirit in the Culberson house. Sometimes, I think, we choose to tell ourselves the wrong story. That story might be that people don’t care about our needs. Or that we’re not good enough. Or that we might not be as successful as someone else. But if we really look closely, there may be another story. I hope that the stories you hear, tell, and create this holiday season are not only the right stories but are worth retelling for years to come. Looking for your next healthcare speaker? Get in touch with us today to make your healthcare event a success! |
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