WE ARE THE BLUES WE WRITE

“Take out a piece of paper, girls and boys. Today I want you to write a paragraph about what you would love to do with your life. What is your dream?” said Mrs. C to her fourth grade students.

Browse any book or movie rental store and you’ll undoubtedly see various titles such as, Find your Dream, and Follow your Dream, Unleash your Dream, and Stay True to your Dream. Shelves are overfilled with inspirational books and movies about Gathering Resources for your Dream.

So what ever happened to our fourth grade paragraphs we wrote to Mrs. C?  Did any of those girls and boys fulfill their dreams?

We graduated high school and started college. But what happens if we realized after a couple of years that college wasn’t for us? If we realized we wanted to pursue our dream from fourth grade.

Do we quit college? Do we quit our current job? Most people don’t. It is socially unacceptable to do either. But I knew a brave twenty-four year old young man who didn’t listen to society.  He was courageous and decided to change his lifestyle to live his dream.

Quitting college was easy for Bob because he always hated school. Working as a server at a casual fine dining restaurant for five years, he made 70K a year. The money was good, but not the job. He wanted so badly to quit and pursue his dream. He tried to do both, but found it impossible. Never enough time to  devote to his music, he devised a plan to work until he saved enough money to be unemployed for a year or so to pursue being a songwriter, play guitar, and perform in different cities.

Bob owned a townhome which provided a monthly income. He had already saved money to buy a self-contained van to live in while he traveled. He and his friends drove to San Diego from Las Vegas to check out a van advertised on Craig’s List. A little too eager, with a lesson learned later, he bought the van and drove it home. He lived in it for six months, parked it at different venues around the city and at friends’ homes. Obviously he didn’t hook up water during this time, so he showered at friends, his mothers, and the local Athletic Club.

Being thrilled with the van at first, Bob later realized it was too expensive to maintain. He put money into it and lost money when it sold. A hard lesson learned, but through life experience vs. a textbook.

Feeling prepared on the day he quit his job, Bob felt anxious, but very, very excited. Coincidently, shortly after he quit his job, his tenant asked if he would mind if he got a roommate. Bob figured it made perfect sense if he moved in. He saved money from renting a studio room where he practiced and kept his instruments.

From day one, Bob worked on fulfilling his dream. He played guitar and wrote songs to sing. He had friends in the music business that helped him record and create artwork for his album and merchandise. He titled his album, “We Are the Blues We Write,” apropos describing Bob’s new lifestyle.

None of this was easy, but Bob had the time of his life. He loved the music world. Recording his album was a learning experience that took him months to perfect.  Failing numerous times before he succeeded, he remixed and remastered, until he completed the album goal before his first Living Room Show.

Spending countless hours until he learned how to create a website to promote him and his show was well rewarded. The site was well done and The Living Room Show was a huge success. He and three other musicians played for a local crowd of fifty. He sold some merchandise and was thrilled. Selling items on the road for an income in unfamiliar venues will be the challenge.

Bob networked and followed musicians who traveled and performed on the road.  He learned a great deal from them. Many musicians couch surfed to save money.  He worked on a list of people and cities and mapped out a route to have a plan. He already participated by having musicians couch surf at his home.

With upfront expenses for the album, maintaining a car and townhome, and life’s necessities, he is close to flat broke. He thought his savings would last a bit longer. He admitted to being scared.

Did he give up? No. He wanted to follow his dream regardless of how poor he’ll be, how hard it is, or how many times he’ll fail.

He’ll be ready to travel the country when he sets up his venues. My son fulfilled his dream he wrote about in Mrs. C’s fourth grade class.

COPYRIGHT MARY CROCCO 2013

The Art of Interpretation

I couldn’t explain what caught my eye in that painting.

Hanging out with a group of women, dressing up, and making a fuss over flowers, are all my least favorite things to do. So what was it that made me sit down on the observer’s bench in front of that painting and gaze at it for so long? What was it that drew me back to the Phoenix Art Museum several times to view it for hours on end?

On my first visit to the museum, I felt drawn toward the painting, Spring Flowers, by Julius Stewart. It was enormous taking up a large area of the wall.  The painting was magnificent, an oil on canvas painted in 1890. The painting’s size was enough to mesmerize any art lover touring the museum. It’s not a painting you can easily dismiss. Located on the second floor, I had to walk past it in order to view other artists’ work being displayed.

Strategically placed was a bench right in front of the painting. This was ideal. It’s pretty annoying when you find art work you admire and have to move along for others to view. The bench was perfect - I took full advantage.

I grew up with three brothers, and later on had three sons. I never got used to being with a group of women. I preferred the company of men, and had a couple of girlfriends which described my comfort zone.

Growing up in a male dominated life, I never dressed up. I wouldn’t say I was a tom boy, but hats, heels, and dresses seemed unnecessary.

Flowers were a whole different story. Memories of arguments between my parents, slight as they may have been, always ended with a bouquet of flowers being laid on the counter for my mother. This apparently symbolized an apology. What I learned as I grew up was it also meant the argument was over and would be forgotten. Even as a kid, I didn’t buy it.

Both husbands that came and went knew better not to present me with a bouquet of flowers if we had an argument.

So what made me fall in love with a painting of four women hanging out together, in their Sunday best, fussing over flowers?

I sat and stared at Spring Flowers for hours. Trying hard to solve the puzzle, I politely asked the museum docent for her thoughts. She explained art interpretation. How we internalize art differently is extremely personal. She continued telling me how researchers in the field of neuroesthetics actually study people’s brains to unlock this mystery.  She suggested books to study the subject further.

A group of women hanging out all dressed up, with fancy hairdos, fashionable hats for the era, fussing with flowers in a garden were all my least favorite things, always have been and I would guess, always will be.  A mystery indeed.

The minutes ticked by until they turned into hours and I knew I had to go home. The real world awaited me. It was time to cook dinner; check my kid’s homework, do laundry, etc.

While completing my motherly duties the beautiful painting was ingrained in my mind. I was perplexed, no doubt about it. When I told my family about the museum and the painting, they all laughed thinking it was a joke. They knew all the things I didn’t like - so why would mom like a painting like this? I had to agree, but it was what happened, and I felt what I felt, whether or not there was an explanation.

Needless to say I didn’t sleep well. The next day I anxiously returned to the museum and meticulously gazed at Spring Flowers for hours. Even though I was still confused why I enjoyed this painting so much, I felt peaceful and carefree. I couldn’t explain these feelings.

The following week I returned to once again sit on the bench and gaze at Spring Flowers. As I turned the corner and took my first step up the staircase I was shocked, like being sucker punched.

The museum moved Spring Flowers to the top of the staircase! It looked absolutely beautiful there as it most likely would anywhere. But I could no longer sit down on the observer’s bench to enjoy it. A feeling of sadness washed over me.

Wondering why, I inquired at the front desk. I was told the Chief Curator periodically moved artwork - no particular reason.

The empathetic receptionist acknowledged my disappointment and handed me a poster size replica of the painting. Expressing my pleasure, I left and had it framed immediately.

I’ve moved several times since, but Spring Flowers is always displayed on my living room wall. Every time I admire it all I can do is shake my head.

COPYRIGHT MARY CROCCO 2013

LESSON LEARNED

On such a beautiful day I thought I would take a simple walk in the park. Anticipating clearing my mind I briskly laced up my sneakers.

Coming up to the children’s swings after having walked halfway around, there was a pretty young woman pushing her baby on a swing. My first thought was, what is wrong with this picture? My kids are grown and I have a grandson I would love to be pushing in that swing. What is wrong with that woman?

Continuing my walk I suddenly stopped. Feeling disgusted for judging this woman I turned around and looked at her again.

On second thought, maybe she isn’t even the baby’s mother. If she is, maybe this is the only place she gets any free time. Maybe she’s trying to study to get a better job for her and her baby. Maybe she’s a single mom. There were lots of maybes, lots of possibilities.

Learning my lesson not to judge people was being put to the test today. Immediately failing but ultimately passing.

Being at the park, pushing her baby in a swing, while reading her Kindle, was not for me to judge.

A simple walk in the park.

COPYRIGHT MARY CROCCO 2013

I got beat up at the park.

April 5, 2012

I’ve been feeling really bad lately since my mom is feeling so bad. I talk to her daily, but there is no conversation anymore. We used to talk about the books we were reading, TV shows we were watching, foods we were preparing, current events, and more. But she just makes it to the computer for about two minutes and we talk about nothing. She doesn’t call me even though I suggest it may be less painful. I can’t force her to call instead of using Instant Message. I just hope she does it because she likes it better, not because I hate the phone. I do call her when I just need to hear her voice, but it’s never a good conversation and she makes it short. Sigh.

She has lost interest in everything. She doesn’t read, watch TV, cook, or keep up with the news. She has pain in her hips and knees. She doesn’t sleep well. This comes from a person who slept for 8 – 10 hours nightly forever. There is no joy in her life whatsoever.

She has a nurse’s aide daily, she has Meals on Wheels, and now she has a new doctor who comes to her. The only time she went out was to go to the doctors, now the doctor comes to her. Her aide comes back after her regular daytime hours to help her with dinner and going to bed. This is what did it for me. I pretty much lost it when she told me this.

My mother is a strong woman. She doesn’t tell me things that she knows will make me worry any more than I already do. But I think she is telling me more things a little at a time because I’m going to be there on April 24th for a week. She won’t be able to hide much then. She does this out of love; because she knows what my daily life is like. I visited her 6 months ago and I can’t believe how fast she is going downhill. My brothers live close to her and see her often. I don’t get any calls from them about my mom. I have to figure out for myself how she really is doing.

It wasn’t too long ago that I set my mom up with everything to make her life easier. I went to the Medical Supply store and got all there was for comfort and necessity. I even got her new hearing aids. She was doing fine. Then she made a bad decision to go to rehab to get strength in her thighs to have surgeries. It was a bad idea and I told her so. I knew the outcome would be exactly what happened. But she didn’t listen to me. She has said she wished she listened. But it’s history now.

So, today is Thursday. I’ve been pretty sad since the weekend after hearing about the aide coming back at night. I have so many feelings swimming around in my head. I feel sad, I feel guilty, and I feel helpless. I haven’t been to the pool to exercise this week. My ear doesn’t feel right and I figure I better not risk getting water in it. But today I just had to do something because I was left feeling really bad about myself last night.

So I went to the library to look for pictures to use in my book for my grandson. I spent way too long looking and started feeling pain, but I wanted to walk in the park and get some sun, so I took the books I collected and left. I went to the park and I got beat up!

I couldn’t believe the parallel between beating me up mentally and being beat up while walking in the park. The day was windy, but beautiful. I was thinking about my mother and how I should be there every day to take care of her and all of a sudden my face was whipped with what felt like shards of glass. At first it took me for a loop and I couldn’t figure out how leaves could hurt so much.

I kept walking and before long I saw acorns on the path. I picked up a couple and that’s when I realized it was acorns that beat me up. It was like a good slap in the face, but it only lasted a minute. I went right back to feeling like crap.

So, as I’m walking my hips are killing me and I’m wondering if I can even make it once around the path. I start thinking about when I used to come to this park before I got sick and how many times I walked this path. I’d never counted but I certainly walked more than once and for hours. I had put two of my attackers in my pocket earlier, and took them out now and rolled them around in my hand for a minute. I thought it might get me to change my negative thoughts.

I now turn the bend in the walking path and see the swings where I used to swing with a boyfriend 11 years earlier. I wanted to swing again so I go off the beaten path (pun intended) and my eyes fixated on a swing. There was a young teenager on the far swing and three empty swings. I didn’t for one minute think I couldn’t swing. I don’t know why, but it never crossed my mind. Well, add to my getting beat up by acorns to experiencing one of the most humiliating moments in my life.

I get to the swing and turn my back to it to get on and I can’t pull myself up onto the swing. I have no strength in my arms and hands to lift myself up. Oh my gawd. I think, no way. I exercise 2 hours every other day, I can do this. I try again, this time pushing the swing under my butt thinking it will give me an edge. It does not. Now there are two younger girls running to the swings next to me and a father holding onto the swing poles staring at me. I try again and I can’t get on the swing. I look at the dad and I am so humiliated I can’t believe it. So I leave and continue walking.

Oh I forgot to mention another reason I’m feeling so sad. My 24 year old son, Bob, is currently in Lake Havasu City with friends. I lived there for a couple of years when my sons, Jim and Rich were about 3 and 6 years old until they were about 6 and 9. My sons know I absolutely love LHC. They have wanted to take me there many, many times, but I haven’t made it yet. I always say someday. Bob has been sending me pictures of the lake and asking me to set a date to go. Rich said we should all go in the summer, him and his new family, Bob, and me. Again, I said maybe.

It’s a double edged sword for me. Memories of my kids are precious. I love thinking of the happy times. But I was divorced in LHC after almost 10 years of marriage and their father never saw Jim and Rich again, (except for when they came to court with me for child support). It was in LHC where I met Bob’s father and was with him in Phoenix for 17 years before we divorced after again almost 10 years of marriage. He didn’t see Bob again either (except for when he popped back into our lives when Bob was 13 years old for about 6 months.) How sad is this paragraph?

I just had another revelation. I’m thinking maybe another reason I’m feeling so sad this week is because Bob isn’t here. He pops in whenever, so I’m always thinking I can’t be sad or be crying. Now that he’s not around, even for a few days, my guard may be let down. Not sure, but it just has me thinking this may be.

OK, I digressed; let me return to the park. I have to scroll up to see where I left off. I can’t believe all I’m writing. My hands are just typing away and I have no cramps, which is very odd. OK, so I’m walking the path again, after my humiliation. My hips are burning and I look at my watch and I haven’t even walked for 15 minutes yet! I feel stinging on my hand, so I look down and my pinky finger is bleeding. I guess I cut it on the chain trying to get on the swing. I’m still getting beat up! Oh my gawd.

As I reach where I began my walk I say to myself, walk it again. I know I can do this. So I kept walking. My hips didn’t hurt as much the second time around. I walked the path again and when I end up where I started, I know I can’t do it again. But I don’t want to go home yet. It’s so beautiful out and I know if I go home I’ll just feel sad. So I sit at a picnic table thinking all is good.

I start crying and I think, so much for my theory. Oh my gawd. Memories flood back to when I walked here with yet a different boyfriend 13 years ago, and then another potential boyfriend at a later time years ago. I start thinking about how I will never have another man in my life. The tears are really flowing now. My face starts stinging and I think it must be cut from the acorns. Then I feel the heat, I got sunburned! Oh my gawd, I’m still getting beat up.

I decide to just sit there and cry. What the hell. I’ll get it all out. I mean the acorns beat me up; the swing chain cut my finger, I was humiliated, my hips are hurting, my face is burning, I have guilt about my mother, I’m sad over memories of LHC and the loss of my son, I realize I’m going solo the rest of my life, what else could go wrong at the park?

So I sit, I think, I cry. I keep changing positions so I don’t turn into a lobster. I’m sitting facing the parking lot because the sun is setting and my legs were turning red facing west. I’m just sitting, thinking, and blubbering when a dog comes up to my left leg. Oh my gawd. I thought, you’ve got to be kidding. I’m going to get bit by a damn dog now? Holy shit on rye. The dog licks my leg and the owner calls her dog and he obeys right away and walks away. Wow. I couldn’t believe I did not get bitten by this dog.

As I sit there, for some reason the Beatles song, Yesterday, is singing in my head. It’s not a favorite of mine, but there it is singing in my head. Go figure. More tears.

 I decide it’s time to go home. I walk to my truck and begin my drive home. I kid you not, this is the song that played on the way home, Mama Said There’d Be Days Like This.

COPYRIGHT MARY CROCCO 2013

Blacklisted

The position of his ears tells it all: pricked forward, he is signaling alertness, curiosity, or interest. Slightly flopped to the sides, he is relaxed, sleepy, or bored. If rotated backward, he is listening to something behind him. However, if they are rotated backward and flattened down against his neck, he is signaling fear or anger.

Remember, when you are working with him, he should always have at least one ear cocked in your direction, listening for your next cue.

This is how my first horseback riding lesson began. My mother had given me a choice, girl scouts or horseback riding lessons. I was ten years old. It was the best summer of my young life.

Ten years flew by during which I traded horseback riding skills for parenting skills. My children were now the ones listening for my next cue.

I was 20 years old when my girlfriend asked me to go riding with her at a local Long Island stable. So on a brisk fall morning, I left the pile of beautifully colored leaves for my husband to rake, and I set out on a long overdue day of horseback riding.

I did expect to be given less rein to ride, but I did not expect to be given no rein at all. A trail leader leads the horses as they walk mindlessly behind the horse in front of them. This was a big disappointment and I concluded that riding a trail horse was not riding at all and I decided I would never ride a trail horse again. I realized that short of becoming best friends with someone who owned a ranch, this meant I may never ride any horse ever again. Or so I thought until six years later -- but with dire consequences.

My family and I were now living in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. I was 23 years old and being teased with the rich smell of horses, manure, and stables in every breeze. For three years I struggled with my earlier decision never to ride again, but living in the beautiful Arizona desert, with its indigenous mountain trails, I could not resist the temptation. So on a cool winter morning with a forecast calling for daytime temperatures in the low 70’s, I decided to get back in the saddle.

I arrived at the local stable hours before my reservation and asked a stableman if it was okay to walk around. I wanted to see if the horses were alert, interested, or just sulking in the backs of their stalls. Were they relaxed, or did they act jumpy. My prior knowledge came flooding back like it was yesterday. My heart was racing in anticipation of mounting one of these beautiful creatures.

Later on in the afternoon, I walked over to the trail horses where a group of people were waiting for our trail leader. I surveyed the group. The first couple was in their twenties, the woman was dressed for anything but horseback riding, and the guy looked like he was nursing a hangover. The second couple was maybe in their 50’s. The wife looked stiff and nervous watching her husband pet the horses. Goofing around, punching one another playfully, were four rambunctious teenage boys, one of whom yelled to his Uncle Russell, “When do we leave?”

I had my eye on a beautiful stallion and was talking to him when a loud voice announced, “Howdy, y’all, my name is Russell, and y’all are gonna be followin’ me and Banter here for the next hour.” As I continued to stroke the stallion’s chestnut colored mane Russell moseyed on over to me and said, “Can you ride Big Red young lady?” I nodded and proceeded to mount the stallion, sinking comfortably into the saddle and sliding my boots into the stirrups securing a perfect fit. I asked Big Red to stand still for a minute while I adjusted my reins. Then I stroked his neck and praised him before cueing him to walk forward.

“Well hell, I got me one rider I don’t have to worry about, now don’t I miss?” Russell snorted. Big Red’s ears pricked forward as I balanced my weight in his saddle for a comfortable fit.

It was well into the afternoon when the ride began. Russell rattled off a few of his own rules as our horses obediently followed him. I decided to bring up the rear so Big Red could trot up to the group. It was my lame attempt at pretending to ride. What I had not realized at the time was that my pretending was about to turn very real.

We were on the trail for about 20 minutes when our horses abruptly stopped. Russell guided our group towards the fork on the left, pointing out how the right fork led to a steep path down the mountains to the river. My heart skipped a beat as my mind raced with deviant thoughts. I sat there for a minute contemplating this amazing opportunity. I whispered into Big Red’s left ear. Then I gently nudged him toward the right fork, knowing all too well he was programmed to go left. But he pricked his ears forward then cocked his left ear towards me and there was no turning back!
Big Red knew he was venturing on new territory as his steps were cautious, slow, and sure. It took about ten minutes before we reached the bottom of the mountain. I dismounted Big Red and let the cool, slow moving river quench his deep thirst. I paid close attention as his ears slightly flopped to the sides. He was enjoying this reprieve as much as I was, maybe more. I wanted to capture this moment and freeze it for all eternity, but I knew a posse was waiting.

I gazed along the river and to the right I could see a picturesque field the size of two football fields. I asked Big Red if he was up for it. I stroked his mane and once again he pricked his ears forward. I mounted him and we walked towards the field. I held the reins tightly as he cocked his left ear towards me and waited for my cue. I kicked signaling a full gallop. Big Red pushed so hard off the ground when he galloped that we covered the field in breakneck speed. I yelled at the top of my lungs, enjoying selfish gratification, disregarding any later consequences.

We returned back to the stables in a cool - down walk. We were met with the expected posse, an indignant group of three men. I was escorted into the office and Big Red was led to the stables. I was scolded and told I put myself and Big Red in danger. One of the men asked me if I even considered for a moment the fact that trail horses were only meant for walking. I was informed that charges may be filed, and I could be arrested. I was told to sit down and wait while the stallion was being examined by the stable’s vet.

While we waited, I had to speak up; I told the men I would not have considered taking such a ride if I thought Big Red was incapable. I told them I was trained to observe signs of stress. I firmly believed Big Red was in no danger. I remarked how we rested and how much Big Red enjoyed the river and the gallop. My convictions fell on deaf ears, so I paced the room hoping to wear down the anxiety that plagued me.
The office door opened too fast and slammed against the wall. I was startled and dropped my riding gloves on the sawdust floor. I reached down to pick them up and prepared myself for the verdict. The vet glanced my way, and then asked to speak to the men alone. They all retreated to the back room.

Ten minutes had passed when the door finally opened. All three men took a confrontational stance as one of them took control of the situation. He advised me that due to the astonishing fact that Big Red was not harmed I would not face criminal charges. However, he continued, there would be dire consequences for my actions. I was banned from all operating stables in Lake Havasu City. I was blacklisted.

Years later, when I was 44 years old, my son Bobby and I moved to Las Vegas. I took Bobby horseback riding at a local stable. As my horse was mindlessly following Bobby’s horse, I started daydreaming about my memorable ride in Lake Havasu City. I was reminiscing that captured moment I had kept frozen in my mind; Big Red drinking from the cool river at the bottom of the mountain, then galloping through the field in breakneck speed. I started thinking of the horse I was riding now as it dragged behind Bobby’s horse, and I wondered if he would listen for my cues like Big Red had done years ago.

With a sudden jolt I was brought back to reality with Bobby turned around on his horse yelling, “Ma, the guy said there’s a fork in the trail. My horse won’t move! What does it mean when his left ear is bent and he keeps looking at me? What’s he waiting for? What should I do?”

Do I dare?

COPYRIGHT MARY CROCCO 2013

An Opportunity to Prove Yourself...

An opportunity to prove yourself, it is what we all strive for in life.

Reading that statement is one thing, but hearing it from the person who signs your paycheck is another. Ms. Palmer related this very statement to Kathy and Wyn, after a meeting with the CEO of Boyle Technology.

Ms. Palmer was being held accountable for Kathy and Wyn’s intense technology training of Boyle Tech’s new products. The CEO requested a presentation to showcase these products utilizing their technology equipment. This was perfect timing for Kathy and Wyn, as they were experiencing student burnout.

After a year and a half of sitting through painstaking technology courses, Kathy and Wyn were finally given the opportunity to showcase their new skills in what they both deemed a proper setting. During the past year and a half at Boyle Technology, they were asked to present the occasional workshop using PowerPoint and cartoon graphics, which always produced the usual chuckles, but now they were more than willing and eager to prove themselves worthy of a full blown technology presentation. The only guidelines given by the CEO were for Kathy and Wyn to have mastered the knowledge and application of Boyle Tech’s new products before introducing them to 200 prospective buyers. Ms. Palmer reminded Kathy and Wyn of her previous statement regarding their opportunity to prove themselves as her job was also on the line.

The presentation was scheduled on a Saturday morning. Kathy and Wyn had two weeks to prepare. The venue was an unfamiliar room inside a local hotel casino. Ms. Palmer gave Kathy and Wyn contact information for Robert, the meeting room coordinator for the hotel casino, and Wyn set up a meeting for early Monday morning. Upon arrival, the first thing the ladies did was to scope out the size of the room. It was a 300 person capacity room. This was going to be a challenge as presentations they had previously given were in a 75 person capacity room. When Robert arrived, they went over the specifics for their presentation. The accommodations were confirmed; the number of tables and chairs, appropriate lighting, the oversized projector screen, and complimentary beverages. Robert would even have signs posted with arrows leading the way to the room one hour prior to the presentation. With just a rehearsal date and time to schedule, they were done for the day. Robert checked his calendar and all three agreed on the Thursday before the presentation as acceptable.

Kathy and Wyn could now devote their time to mastering the CEO’s new products and applying their knowledge and skills. More than just keeping their jobs; they wanted to be appreciated for their expertise. Ms. Palmer often reminded both ladies of her own career expectations resulting from a successful presentation. Kathy and Wyn were not overly concerned because; after all, they have been working for Ms. Palmer and Boyle Tech for six years and were very well trained, feeling confident they could do a great job.
They were, however, feeling anxious. They wanted to be offered a better position at Boyle Tech after this presentation. This had been their strategy behind the decision to accept Ms. Palmer’s offer to pay them to attend all the extra technology training courses. They loved working with technology and considered being privy to new products a privilege. Kathy and Wyn had assumed they would be asked to be accountable for the money invested in them by Boyle Tech., and anticipated being asked to do some kind of a presentation. If successful, the result would be money in the bank and a name plaque on their door, as they secretly chatted about over many lunches. So this was the opportunity that would indeed prove themselves to both Ms. Palmer and Boyle Technology. It was what they both were striving for in life!

So, for two weeks, Kathy and Wyn tested the products and created their presentation. They were very impressed with the new products and were excited to present them to prospective buyers. They practiced daily after work until the rehearsal date on the Thursday preceding the presentation.

The rehearsal went well; Kathy and Wyn were 100% prepared, feeling almost cocky. Kathy made sure they had backup paper copies of the presentation, just in case an unexpected technology problem occurred. They checked and re-checked the products and equipment, leaving no room for error. They packed up and left, thanking Robert for his efforts and agreeing on a 7:30 arrival time on Saturday morning.

Kathy and Wyn were at the meeting room early on Saturday and were setting up as Robert checked in for any last minute concerns. This was much appreciated and at the moment nothing more was needed of Robert. Buyers started entering the meeting room between 8:30 a.m. – 9:00 a.m., by way of Robert’s much appreciated arrows. At exactly 9:10 a.m. Wyn went to the podium to introduce herself and to announce the standard housekeeping rules required at all meetings. She then gave the podium over to Kathy who introduced herself. After taking much anticipated questions from their audience, Kathy walked over to the equipment table and stood composed waiting for Wyn’s signal to begin. Wyn began the oral part of the presentation and then signaled to Kathy to start the visuals. When Kathy flipped the switch, nothing happened.


Epilogue

The oversized projector screen had been blank of any and all text and graphics that Kathy and Wyn had prepared. They had silently chuckled, exchanging looks which they both immediately understood, and proceeded with the presentation. With so much on the line, Kathy and Wyn had brought their own backup equipment, which was concealed under the table, and Kathy just reached for them nonchalantly as previously rehearsed.

The CEO of Boyle Technology had an unexpected emergency and never made it to the presentation. However, he did send his assistant, Rich, who was more than willing to report the outcome of the presentation back to the CEO.

Rich’s table had been close enough to Kathy’s whereby he was instantly made alarmingly aware that a product of Boyle Technology had just failed. He was in awe of the backup plan Kathy and Wyn had ready to handle this potential disaster. They had masked the failure of the equipment and completed the presentation without the buyers being aware of any technological problems. These employees were exemplary, is how Rich relayed his thoughts to the CEO. He added that not only did the presentation continue smoothly, but the evaluations proved the presentation to be more of a success than anticipated.

Rich showed the CEO the evaluations from the buyers that were handed in immediately following the presentation. Every single one praised Kathy and Wyn on all levels. All but 22 left their names and contact information to set up a future meeting to purchase one or more of the products. There were many that requested Kathy and Wyn to be present at these meetings; there was even one asking for Kathy and Wyn’s personal cell phone number!

Ms. Palmer was given a bonus for the presentation’s successful outcome. Kathy and Wyn were both promoted, which came with a raise and a name plaque on their door. The first assignment given to both star employees was to determine the reason for the product’s failure at the presentation.

No buyers were being scheduled for meetings to purchase any new products until they were able to complete this task, and with this Kathy and Wyn were immediately earning their ‘money in the bank’! Repeated once again, they heard………..
An opportunity to prove yourself, it is what we all strive for in life.

COPYRIGHT MARY CROCCO 2013

The Classified

The Ad read: Help Wanted. Individual needed to deliver telegrams. Must have own vehicle and insurance, must know Las Vegas area. Call 555-1212 for interview. Equal Opportunity Employer.

Matt carefully read the ad and called to schedule an appointment for an interview. He was instructed to come in next Monday at 10 a.m. Jobs were scarce, so he knew he had to make a good impression. This interview was different from all the previous ones because it involved his vehicle, so he immediately set out to clean his van inside and out. He knew the city like the back of his hand, so that part of the interview would be a piece of cake.

Monday finally arrived and Matt drove to the address given to him on the phone. It was packed with people like him, full of hope for employment. The receptionist told Matt to sign in and wait for his name to be called. He spotted a space near the corner of the room and made his way over and waited with everyone else.

It was a small building and inside the room was only one door with a name plaque that read, Ms. Reynolds, Assistant Manager. After a short time, the door opened abruptly and a tall, thin, red headed woman dressed in a tight navy blue skirt and matching sweater, was thanking an older gentleman dressed in shorts for coming in. Then she called Matt’s name and he made his way through the crowd into her office.

Matt answered the standard interview questions, he knew them by heart. He verified his license and proof of insurance and answered all of Ms. Reynolds questions regarding his knowledge of the Las Vegas area. She asked Matt if he would consider taking part in mock telegram deliveries on Thursday. She said it was the best way to screen applicants after the paperwork and interviews were completed. Matt said he would gladly participate. He was instructed to arrive at 10 a.m.

On Thursday morning, Matt was joined by four other hopeful applicants who made the cut. There were three men and one woman, all were older than Matt. As he sat comfortably waiting, the others nervously paced back and forth. Killing time, they all engaged in polite small talk.

Promptly at 10:00, Ms. Reynolds opened her office door and welcomed the group of five asking if anyone wanted coffee. She explained she would be hiring only two from the final five applicants after today’s mock deliveries. She advised the group what the necessary criteria would be to secure a position with her company; a timely arrival at five different destinations and the professional manner and presentation of the telegrams. She handed them all a piece of paper with a specific greeting on it. She said it recognized the company and must be read when the recipient accepts their telegram.

Matt glanced at the paper and was surprised when it stated nothing more than what he would have said on his own; a simple greeting of the day, mentioning his name while handing the person the telegram, and ending with a polite farewell. By specific greeting, Ms. Reynolds only wanted to add the company’s name, Foyle’s Telegram Service. She sent them on their way with a last minute reminder that there would be a representative waiting at each destination and would report back to her with their comments and recommendations.

Ms. Reynolds answered questions while handing each of them a mock telegram to deliver. Matt read the address and felt confident he could arrive at the first destination without any problems. Ms. Reynolds wished them all good luck as they departed for the first destination.

Matt arrived at the first address only 23 minutes later. He knocked at the door and was greeted by a gentleman who immediately started writing in his clipboard. Matt introduced himself and delivered the specific greeting respectfully while handing the man the mock telegram. In turn, he was handed a second mock telegram to be delivered.

This simple task was repeated four more times in spread out destinations across the Las Vegas area. Matt encountered no problems during all five deliveries, even the traffic cooperated. Matt’s deliveries took exactly two hours and twenty - five minutes.

All five of the hopeful applicants arrived back at the office at about the same time. The receptionist clocked them to assure an accurate time. Matt wondered whether any of the others secretly timed themselves as he did. Since they did all arrive back at about the same time, this could be the deciding factor in the hiring decision. The receptionist advised them all that Ms. Reynolds would call each of them on Wednesday to inform them of their status.

Matt received an early call from Ms. Reynolds on Wednesday morning. She said she wanted to read to Matt the consensus of what each representative had written in their notes, she read; the young man delivered the telegram as a competent, courteous, individual. She stated that they all believed Matt would be an asset to Foyle’s Telegram Service.

Matt was hesitant to speak before hearing that he was actually offered the job. Ms. Reynolds, feeling the awkward pause, continued the conversation by saying the job was Matt’s if he wanted it. Matt accepted her offer and he thanked her for reading the comments to him.

Finally an ad that was true to its words: Equal Opportunity Employer. Matt spun around in his wheel chair confident he got the job on his own merit.

COPYRIGHT MARY CROCCO 2013