From Runner to Cyclist: A Tale of Coaching and Growth

 

I used to think I knew how to run. After all, I'd been doing it since I was a kid. But a careless misstep led to a painful injury, and I found myself in a physical therapist's office. It was there, under their expert guidance, that I learned the true mechanics of running: the proper foot strike, the ideal cadence, the importance of core strength. With their coaching, I not only recovered from my injury but became a stronger, more efficient runner.

Years later, I turned my attention to cycling. I quickly found success, winning local races and feeling invincible. But when I faced true competition, I hit a wall. I couldn't understand why I couldn't keep up. That's when I sought the advice of a cycling coach.

Through careful analysis of my form and technique, they identified critical issues: my saddle was not at the proper height, and my handlebars were not at the correct angle and too far away. With these adjustments, I experienced a dramatic improvement in my performance. It was a humble experience, but it taught me the value of expert guidance.

The Business Parallel

Just as an athlete can benefit from coaching, so too can a business. In 2025, as businesses face increasing competition and economic uncertainty, the role of coaching will become even more critical.

Many entrepreneurs believe they know all the answers. They've built their businesses from the ground up, and they're confident in their abilities. However, as their businesses grow, they may encounter challenges they haven't faced before.

A business coach can provide the objective perspective and strategic guidance needed to overcome these obstacles. They can help identify blind spots, refine business strategies, and improve leadership skills.

Setting Goals and Finding a Coach

To maximize the benefits of coaching, it's essential to set clear, achievable goals. These goals should be specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and time-bound (SMART).

Once you've defined your goals, the next step is to find a coach who can help you achieve them. Look for a coach with experience in your industry and a proven track record of success.

Key Benefits of Business Coaching in 2025:

• Enhanced decision-making: A coach can help you analyze complex situations and make informed decisions.
• Improved problem-solving skills: By learning new problem-solving techniques, you can overcome challenges more effectively.
• Increased productivity and efficiency: A coach can help you streamline your operations and maximize your time.
• Boosted morale and motivation: A coach can provide encouragement and support, helping you stay focused and motivated.
• Accelerated growth: With the right guidance, you can achieve your business goals faster.

Just as my physical therapist and cycling coach helped me reach new heights, a business coach can help you take your business to the next level. By investing in coaching, you're investing in your future success.

 

Thanksgiving 1964

 

Take a moment and think back to your childhood, for some of you, it may take several moments, I’ll wait.

 Can you remember the anticipation of a childhood event? Do you recall your thoughts about the event and the anxious anticipation of what the future would bring? One thought comes to mind, many of you may remember the comment; “wait till your father gets home”.  What did that feel like? The anxious anticipation of what would befall you and the nervous anxiety of waiting and when the moment arrived, your imagination of what would, happen was far worse than what actually happened. Think about the excitement you felt when something you had waited your entire life for, was about to happen. What did that feel like? How large of an imagination did you have? Many of us thought about the event and never thought about the journey between the announcement and the actual event.

November 25^th, 1964, just after noon, I found myself sitting on a large wooden chair in the principal’s office, my hands gripping the edge of the seat and kicking my legs back and forth to the annoyance of the school secretary. She stared at me over her pink horn-rimmed glasses as she typed on the manual Royal typewriter. Two girls from my class, wearing black and white Oxford shoes with white anklet socks, and gray and green plaid skirts with white blouses, stopped at the door, whispered something between themselves, and walked down the hallway giggling. As I sat there waiting, watching the second hand on the clock slowly tick off the seconds and hearing each second pass, suddenly my mother walked into the office and the secretary smiled at my mother, happily anticipating the exit of the hyper child who had annoyed her for the last ten minutes. I wasn’t in any trouble, my mother was there to lead me out to the family car for our journey to the mountains of South Eastern Kentucky and my grandparents’ home for Thanksgiving dinner.

As we stepped out the doors of the school, it was a typical November day in Northern Indiana, gray skies with a light mist in the air, the smell of fall, a chill breeze, naked trees, and the sound of our shoe leather soles clicking on the surface of the red brick sidewalk. As I climbed into the backseat with my sisters, I asked my father if he had packed it and he acknowledged he had as my mother sat in the front seat with a snarled look on her face. With some coaxing from my grandfather and father, my mother agreed for me to go hunting in the mountains with my grandfather’s hounds. She had brought up a strong argument on why I shouldn’t go by myself and she was very concerned for my wellbeing but I had to remind her; that I was a half-grown man and I knew the mountains and it was time for her to cut the apron strings. My father smiled at me and placed his hand on my mother’s leg as she turned her face to the side window and stared at nothing.

As my father pulled away from the front of the school, the clatter of the tires rolling over the brick streets became a subtle roar that almost drowned out the sound of the AM radio station. It would be a twelve-hour, five-hundred-mile drive to get to my grandparent’s home. President Eisenhower had signed the Interstate Highway bill eight years earlier but there was nothing but two-lane roads through the countryside to get to our destination. The brick streets switched to the pavement and the Indiana countryside was busy with the fall harvest in full swing with the fallow-colored harvested corn stalks littering the fields. Passing patches of woods and cattle grazing in sparsely green and brown pastures, our car headed south through many small towns with storefronts decorated with fall and Thanksgiving decorations. Passing piles of colorful leaves along the streets, many blowing into swirls as our car passed, and the smell of stale burning leaves and a smoky haze settling along the ground. The smoke seemed to follow the car and slowly drifted upward into ghostly shapes as we passed by. Driving through the towns, I would look down the alleys and see the rows of privies all aligned with the backs of the homes with dogs following children on bicycles, on their way to their next adventure. Night would settle in and sleep would cause a time warp effect, stopping and paying a toll to cross a bridge over the Ohio River, waking up long enough to walk into a “Whites Only” bathroom in Frankfort, Kentucky. The curving roads of the mountains, the smell of methane gas leaching from the hillside, and my little sister getting motion sickness and puking into the coffee can brought along for such circumstances. Sleep would again come and the next awaking would be pulling through the creeks of my grandparent’s home site. A warm greeting from my aunt and uncle, who had arrived earlier, welcomed us as the night damp chill of the hollow enfolded us as we gathered our suitcases and my shotgun. As we entered my grandparent’s home, my boy cousins were nestled on a pallet of blankets and quilts alongside the potbelly stove. I would soon take my place among them and fall fast asleep once again. I was awakened by my grandfather stoking the fire of the potbelly stove as he gave me a warm smile and asked me if I was ready to take the dogs into the mountains. He reminded me he would wait to feed them on our return from the hunt and light was coming and I needed to get ready. I jumped up from the pallet into the chill of the room and dressed quickly, putting on my green hunting boots and denim jacket. Grabbing my hunting vest and shotgun, stepping onto the front porch and watched the coal and wood smoke roll along the lower hollow. I gathered the excited dogs and headed into the mountains along the edge of the creek as dawn made its presence. I had gone no more than a hundred yards when a grouse rustled from beneath a clump of grass and I wasn’t fast enough to pull the hammer back and get a shot off and my excitement increased. I was now imagining myself walking back to the house with several rabbits or squirrels and the thought of grouse would be a bonus. As I went deeper into the woods, the hounds jumped a rabbit, and it ran directly in front of me, again, I wasn’t able to pull the hammer back, quick enough to get a shot off. Following the livestock path deeper into the hills, along the side of the creek, the hounds once again bay after jumping a creature. I knew I must get to higher ground to intercept what the hounds were chasing in my direction. I quickly moved up the hillside to gain a position on a ledge, as the hounds bay became a constant scream as they quickly approached my position. My heart was beating wildly as my breath trying to keep pace as I struggled to gain my position on the ledge. I could hear the creature coming now and it sounded like something larger than I expected to be hunting for. I reached the ledge, gathered my position, and readied myself, looking down at the hammer of my shotgun as I shook with excitement, looking up just as a black bear was running at me in a full run with the hounds just a few yards behind. Fearing a collision, I stepped backward into nothing, falling backward, sliding and rolling across the slimy clay and moss-covered hillside and the flat sandstone rocks, landing bottom side in the cold water of the creek with my shotgun held tightly to my chest. The bear and dogs passed quickly as they headed downhill to a large tree, far below my position. As I stood up, the cold water ran down the back of my legs and added additional water to my water-logged boots. I collected myself and located a position where I could remove my boots and dump the water as I now shivered from the cold, it was going to be a long walk to my grandparent’s home. Opening the gate to the yard and walking alongside the house, I was met by my grandmother’s soft smile and a warm biscuit.

Our expectations of an event are often greater than the actual event itself. We see ourselves in the final grandeur but all too often, it’s not the event we remember, it’s the journey.  Taking a comment from a famous newsman from that era; Walter Cronkite, “And that’s the way it is, Thursday, November 26^th, Thanksgiving, 1964.

The Intruder

 

It started out as a typical fall morning, sitting in traffic in route to a jobsite to check on the crew, doing building repairs, in a condo association our company managed.  My cell phone rang with a familiar number and as I answered; “good morning Christie”, the sound of a hysterical girl sobbing, gasping for breath and the inaudible sound of an explanation of why she called. 

Christie’s parents had purchased a condo in the association I which I was headed. They had hired me to do the remodel for their daughter’s condo while she attended the University. The remodel finished early and came in on budget and I could not imagine what had happened that would cause this young girl to be hysterical. 

I was only a couple miles away but the traffic couldn’t move fast enough, so I cut off 2 cars to make a fast right turn and then had to creep through a school zone as I listened to the sobs of Christie.  Clearing the school zone and speeding down the street to get to the emergency, I quickly was breaking for a car that was waiting for traffic to clear to make a left turn.  As I steered to the shoulder to pass on the right side of the car, the swampy shoulder tried to pull me deeper to the right, I hit the accelerator, causing the backend to swing hard to the right.  I let up steered back to the street and as the rear tire caught the pavement, slinging mud everywhere, I was now, just a mile away.

As I entered the complex, I was lucky as there wasn’t anyone walking along the street or vehicles to contend with.  I hit two speed bumps hard enough to rattle the fillings out of my teeth, passing my crew in a blur, I made a hard left turn to head straight to Christie’s condo.  There she stood, wearing a bathrobe, wet hair and tears streaming down her face.  The only thing she could do was point to the front door.  As I ran to the door, I had no idea of what I was about to be facing, I opened the door and saw nothing.  “In there”, as she pointed to the bathroom door, I opened the door and come face to face with her intruder.  He wasn’t that big and I could sense his fear as his black skin glistened.  As I stepped forward to grab him, he slid to my left to get away and I grabbed him and now he did the only thing he could do, he bit me just above my left elbow.  Just as this was happening, one of my carpenters pulled up to see what I was in such a hurry.  He stepped into the door just as the struggle started, which was also the same time Christie let out a scream and, leaping backwards, almost knocking the six foot two, two-hundred fifty pound carpenter off his feet. As he regained his balance, Christie ran behind him vibrating up and down and crying uncontrollably. As I stepped towards the door, with a firm grip on the intruder and his firm grip on me, the carpenter wasn’t in a real big hurry to assist me with my situation.  I quickly grasped the Intruder behind his head and he released his grasp but now wrapped its body around my arm, you see the intruder was a bull, black racer snake.  The carpenter, gave me plenty of room as I headed through the garden foyer, turning right to the side of the building to release the snake into the brush line.  The snake had a ridged grip on my arm and I must have been squeezing him just as hard it appeared to be grasping for breath with a wide open mouth.  He reduced his grip and allowed me to pull him away from my arm and I tossed him towards the bushes.  The problem was, the snake decided the battle wasn’t over and came racing back towards me, coiled up and struck at me several times.  I kick blocked both strikes and he turned and slithered into the bushes.  I returned to the condo as the carpenter was attempting to comfort Christie and now between the sniffles and tears, Christie explained what happened.

She had just finished her shower, wrapped her hair and was preparing to put her makeup on when the snake crawled out of the toilet.  She told me she didn’t want to stay in the condo anymore and started crying again.  I immediately called her mother to advise her what had happened, (which became another horrible mistake), her mother broke out in tears and sounded a lot like Christie.  How could this have happened, she asked?  I wasn’t sure if my explanation was going to give any comfort to either of them, but with all the crazy things I’ve experienced in my building/remodeling career, I did the best I could.  The snake had climbed bushes or trees to get to the warmth of the building roof, as well as look for food.  Because frogs are part of the snake’s diet, it had probably learned frogs like to live in the plumbing vent stacks.  The problem is; frogs can stick to the sides of the plumbing stack and the snake can’t and as the snake went for the frog, it fell to the bottom of the drain.  It had followed the flow of water and sound, went through the P-trap in the toilet, saw the light and made its exit.  I advised both women that I could fix the problem so it wouldn’t happen again but I could tell, Christie wasn’t thrilled about staying in her condo.  Before the semester was over, Christie’s parents contracted with us to list their condo for sale.  

What happened to Christie is not an everyday occurrence but it does happen more often than you know.  There are a couple different solutions to remedy the problem so it may not happen again.  Keep the bushes around your home away from the sides and eaves and if you have wood siding on your home, make sure that the bottom of the siding does not have exposed gaps for varmints to crawl inside the wall.  Make sure branches and limbs are several feet from your roof.  To keep varmints out of your plumbing stack, install critter guards over the exposed pipe.  Critter guards are also helpful in the south east where the gray squirrel likes to chew away the lead plumbing boots. 

Yep, just another day in the real estate business, association management, sales and construction in North Central Florida, but this could happen anywhere there are tree frogs and black snakes… 

Covid, Accident or Experiment

 

While Covid cases are declining in the US and after enduring social distancing, face masks and shutdowns, the question comes to mind; was Covid an accident or an experiment? I do not believe the pandemic was caused by bats or the many excuses the World Health Organization and our national virologist has spread across the media. In my opinion, it was either an accidental leak or it was a calculated experiment.

I find it hard to believe an accidental exposer was the root cause of the pandemic. There are scientific and research protocols which leads me to believe the Chinese are not that sloppy with their research, which leads me to the idea that Covid was a calculated experiment, and the following would lead to the reconnaissance results of an intentional exposure using a low-level biological agent. What the research would identify is the infection rate within a common area and then the spread of the infection across the world and how to deliberately spread the virus. Knowing who would be most vulnerable and the amount of care needed to care for those who were infected is a battlefield plan; it takes more people to care for the injured/infected than it does to care for the dead. Targeting the elderly, the obese, the poor, those with heart disease and diabetes, in the eyes of he enemy, would be nothing more than a flushing of society.

The weak link in our supply chain for protective equipment, ventilators, and hospital first responders as the infection rate increased and how quickly a vaccine could be produced can all be used in the calculations for the next exposure. The reluctance of people receiving the vaccine and the future vulnerability of the populous gives them additional data on which virus to release and target areas to achieve the greatest impact.

The financial burden on our government to battle the pandemic has yet to be calculated and with our national debt of thirty trillion dollars is going to increase without a plan to pay the debt down, the next pandemic will lead to a financial meltdown of our fiat economy.

Was it an accident or a calculated plan? If it was a calculated plan, when will the next pandemic occur, who will be the target and how will our nation survive physically and financially.

PTSD and the Dark Hallway

 

He stared into darkness of his morning coffee cup as she hurriedly prepared herself for work in silence. He stared up to take a quick glance at her face, as she passed by him without saying a word, the silence was deafening. Grabbing her purse from the shelf and the rattle of the keys in her hand, she walked out of their home turning, and locking the door to his self-imposed prison. For a moment, he sat in the dull light of the table lamp and decided to load his coffee cup once again. Walking into the kitchen, opening the cabinet door, and removing his favorite pain reliever. Pouring the contents into his coffee, he found the bottom of the brown plastic bottle and tossed it into the trash on top of the other three bottles of the week. Turning the cup up and savoring the flavor of the coffee and cheap whiskey. He wandered through his house, staring out the window into nothing and remembering the battles long past. Walking down the hallway where his military past hung in glory, certificates, pictures, medals, and plaques of service to his unit and our country. Taking another swallow of his wicked brew, the dullness inside his body increased, as the pain began to fade. He continued into the cluttered bedroom and opened his closet door and looked at the strips on the sleeve of his uniform. Reaching in, grabbing the hanger and holding it up to stare at his former glory. Carrying it over to the bed, laying it over the wrinkled covers as he stared down upon the uniform that had long ago, shrank inside the closet. Taking another swallow, he found the bottom of his coffee cup, and now it was time to take his journey. He reached down and opened the drawer to the nightstand where his transportation to Valhalla awaited him. Its polished body sparkled, it was the chariot that would carry him on a final journey he had long anticipated and never spoken a word of to anyone.  He walked back into the bathroom and stared into the mirror at eyes of his captor, closed his eyes and started down the long dark hallway, raising his chariot to his head, and with the crack of a whip, he opened the door to Valhalla.

Everyday, an average of 22 veterans walk down a darkened hallway and open a door to Valhalla. Their loved ones and family will have no idea of their planned journey. The signs are often there, alienation, reserved and self-medication. If you are a veteran or the family of a veteran, please call 800-273-8255 and press 1 when answered. A trained responder will answer your call. Valhalla waits for all our warriors, help us help them put off the journey.

Walking Away from the Darkness

Veteran suicides rates are higher than non-veteran in the United States and the highest percentage of suicides per age group is the 18-34-year old’s, according to the 2019 VA suicide report. But the highest number of suicides among veterans is the 55- 74. It may be hard to believe for some of you, I was close to becoming a statistic. What I did to change directions and what steps I took to walk away from the darkness. Here is my story…

Walking towards the darkness didn’t seem such a bad idea in the fall of 2016. The Great Recession had drained our savings and retirement nine years earlier, and it was a struggle keeping our heads above water for several years. As business slowly turned, paying off debt was a number one priority. No longer did we have the luxuries of the condo at the beach, exotic cars, boats and cruise vacations, it was a weekly struggle just to stay afloat. Turning sixty wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, I was still in pretty good shape and could hold my own on a building project. Things were starting to pick up, we were able to take a few small trips and invest in our business once again, another downturn in my construction business. My business wasn’t just bleeding cash, it was hemorrhaging. I looked over the profit and loss statement and the outstanding debt of unpaid invoices and paid out profits, (that should not have been paid out), I pulled the plug on the business. There I stood again with large debts and all my future efforts was to pay off debt once again, as the darkness loomed.

During my annual physical at the VA, I was shocked at the amount of weight I had gained from the year prior and the interview with the nurse wasn’t going well. My blood pressure was high, and they took it three additional times and the variance wasn’t much different from the first reading. As the doctor looked over the blood test results and explained my sugar was higher than it should be, my cholesterol reading was to high and I should start taking a statin drug to control it, and my blood pressure medication probably needed to be increased to bring in into healthy level. As I stared at the report, the one thing that stood out more than anything was the designation of my body content, the box marked obese. How did I let this happen? A heavy debt and now I’m obese, and at sixty-two years old, I could feel the darkness closing in.

 2016 was beginning to be the worst year of my life. It started out looking good with business coming in and by June, it started to unravel. My annual physical results lay heavy on my mind then difficulty with an aging parent and family influence and deception created additional mental pressures. By fall, a question lingered in my mind from my VA physical; have you ever considered harming yourself? I had never thought about it before, but I was considering it now. While mowing the yard on the riding lawn mower, I was developing a plan of what I needed to accomplish before I pulled the trigger. My plan was to have all the company debt paid off, have the house maintenance up to date, get my dress blues laid out with all the ribbons and accouterments polished and properly placed. I was going to walk into the backyard, call 911 and advise them of my address and where my body would be, hang up, and pull the trigger.  

As a combat veteran from Desert Storm, I had lost the fear of death. The one worry I had was not for me, it was for my wife. Communications were different then, if something would have happened to me, my wife would have had a knock on the door from a Chaplin and a survival officer standing on the other side. We have an extremely close relationship and the thought of her pain kept me in survival mode and now, the thought of her having a police officer knock on her office door would devastate her. I couldn’t bear laying that burden on her, there had to be another way to walk away from the darkness.

What really got me motivated was a picture of me. I had been lying to myself for years, I wasn’t in good shape and I had let myself go and it pissed me off and it was that anger that led me to taking those first steps away from the darkness. I started out with a fitness plan, one that had been suggested by a real estate trainer; two glasses of water and fifteen minutes of a vigorous exercise. My exercise started out with a two mile walk through our neighborhood. The first few weeks I was disgusted with myself with every step I took I could feel the fat around my waist flop and jiggle, and over the course of a month, the jiggle lightened up. I stepped on the scale and I had lost eight pounds, I was on my way.

The next choice I made was to change my diet. I had been suffering with acid reflux for several years and I was constantly eating antacids to control the heartburn. It wasn’t until I overdosed on fresh buttermilk biscuits that the real problem I was having, was with gluten. I stopped eating all gluten products and over the course of two weeks, I was thinking clearer, acid reflux was gone, and I had lost another ten pounds.

Over the next year, I was feeling stronger and I was down two pant size. I had started interval training with a combination of four quarter mile walks and three, quarter mile runs, and I was down another five pounds. The icing on the cake was when I found a good quality bicycle during a clean-out. I decided I would mix cycling with my interval training. The first day I rode my bike for two and a half miles and when I stopped, got off the bike, thank god I had the bike to hold me up as I walked the bike up the driveway to the garage. My legs were shaking so bad, I had to use the handrail to help me up the stairs into our home. Within a few weeks I was riding six miles, then eleven, then twenty and I got the bright idea, (after one to many glasses of wine), I was going to ride to the beach, an eighty-five-mile ride and I would do it for a charity. After just three months of riding, (after not having ridden a bike in forty years), on December 7^th, 2018, a couple of friends joined me for the ride to the beach. It took us eight and half hours for the ride and I was worn out. We made the same trip again three months later and it took us six hours this time. It was during that trip while we were all sitting around the dinner table where we were talking about running, 5K’s and half marathons. It was after an additional glass of wine I told my wife I was going to run a half marathon that fall. I trained all through the summer and on October 20^th, 2019, I ran my first half marathon in two hours, eleven minutes. I finished 125^th out of over two thousand runners and took 3^rd place for my age group. Two months later, I participated in a 100K bike race and finished in the top twenty in my class.

The point of this story is; mental fitness and physical fitness go hand in hand. If you want to become physically fit, you can do it at any age. You just have to make that decision yourself and stick with it.  There will be changes in your eating habits, there will be people along the way to coach you or assist you with your training. You don’t have to run a half marathon or do a 100K bike ride but you will have to write down your goals and create target dates.  Your physical fitness starts just like mine did; two glasses of water and fifteen minutes of vigorous exercise.

  

My First half Marathon

My 100K Bike Race

The before of me 

The Shiny Penny

If you were to offer a child a shiny new penny or a worn discolored dime; which do you believe they would take? Without understanding value, they typically would choose the penny because it was new and larger than the dime, so it obviously would have a greater value, in their mind. Many new real estate agents entering the business do the same exact thing because they do not understand value. The shiny penny gets all the attention with the brilliant office and the smiling face that exudes wealth. Newly licensed agents are promised opportunities from long-standing companies with the reputation of housing top producers or having market share. They promise training and the ability to shadow top producing agents and learn how to become a top producer themselves. Oh yes, their commissions are lower than other firms, but they offer their reputation and services, unlike other firms. They will be among several newly licensed agents which they will all learn along the way and become part of the company team.

The training begins with scripts for calling expired listings and “for sale by owners”, and the role playing begins until they have their scripts down pact, and the phone calls begin, alongside other agents. After many hang-ups and disgruntled persons on the other end of the call, they create an opportunity to make a listing presentation and take on an over-priced listing that will linger once again because of an owner’s preconceived idea of the value of their home, and later expires, again.

The shadowing of top producers becomes stuffing envelopes or applying stamps to postcards and attending closings where they witness large commission checks the top producer receive and their excitement builds once again as the newly licensed agent makes a cash advance on their credit card to make it through another month without income.

Very soon the shiny penny isn’t as exciting as it once was. The newly licensed agent must take on another job to fulfill their financial obligations, often to the dismay of the shiny real estate brokerage. The training fades and very soon the newly licensed agent is cast into the heap of other fledgling agents and the shiny penny becomes a tarnished albatross around the neck of the newly licensed agent as they become tarnished with the real estate industry. If only they had only knew the right questions to ask and were able to look past the shiny penny.

 What many newly licensed agents don’t understand is, they are in business for themselves and they need to understand what tools they must invest into to go along with the training. They need to understand that the market share of the firm is not theirs, a shiny office is to impress the public’s opinion, not theirs. They need to know what other opportunities will available for them to create cash flow and build a database other than working with buyers and sellers? They need to understand, they are building "their" business and not just for the reputation or create a larger market share for the shiny penny.

The old dime is there, long after many agents have been cast into a pile for their tiny piece of market share. There are many opportunities with the old dime that will be bypassed by those who don’t understand the value or what questions to ask. Let's start the conversation.

When Leaders Fail

I was recently talking with the mother of a young soldier who is losing his interest and faith of the Army. She told me his dream of a lifetime was to become a soldier, train and serve his country. His recruiter kept him excited through his last year of high school, explaining of the quality training he was going to receive, all while serving his country. A few weeks after graduation, he shipped off to basic training and fell in love with the Army. He got his first choice of duty stations and soon upon arriving, his unit went to the field and his excitement grew even stronger. Then reality set in after returning from the field, doing maintenance on the equipment and then nothing else happened. Winter set in and it seems the training stopped, and the long days of boredom have set in. I have seen this all before from units I have served in. Training schedules posted and not followed, NCO’s sitting around in B.S. meetings, telling war stories or hiding at home between formations, all while their soldiers sit around in the day room playing video games or watching movies. We spend thousands of dollars recruiting young people into our ranks, spend thousands of dollars molding and training them just to send them to units where lazy NCO’s fail to do their jobs of taking care of their soldiers. There are no reasons soldiers should be bored or idle during the duty day. The job of the NCO is making sure their soldiers are trained and given meaningful tasks for their future development, counseled on what they need to be doing to gain the next rank and develop points to become an NCO. The problem is, they do not want to become like their NCO. Leadership is about setting the example, giving guidance and developing our next generation of leaders. My next step is going to be writing a letter to the young soldier and giving him the advice he needs to hear and not follow in the footsteps of the typical barracks rat private. I will give him guidance about the educational opportunities awaiting him and how he can use his idle time to gain college credits and a future degree he is going to need when he ETS’s. If he continues at his current rate, chances are he will spend four years serving our country in a job he now hates, with limited skills and four years behind his peers back home. My advice for those NCO’s; do your damn job so I don’t have to do it for you. Be the leader and take care of your soldiers, train them, give them guidance and above all; get off your butt and do your job!   

Debt, the Real Killer

During an early morning drive to Orlando for a speaking engagement, while listening to some mindless radio chatter, an advertisement blasted out from a young man, with poor credit, was able to get a car loan from a local credit union, using his car as collateral to pay off some accumulated bills and put some cash in his pocket. My thoughts were; if you have poor credit, why would you borrow more money to extend yourself into debt and put additional borrowed spending cash into your pocket? As the radio signal faded, I changed stations and another commercial blared out the ability to pay-off those holiday credit cards with a home equity line of credit and have additional cash for the Spring get-away vacation. I had to ponder on that one for a moment; let’s see, you spend money you don’t have to make other people happy during the holidays, just to make yourself happy, only to get upset with yourself for creating a financial burden which now you will borrow more money to pay off the debt and then take a vacation you can’t afford using the equity in your home, as an ATM. I asked myself this question; how does that make any sense with anyone? The truth of the matter, that is exactly how a large portion of our society lives today. They use what equity they have built in their home and car to pay off credit cards to lower their interest rate on the borrowed money only to once again make purchases with their credit cards with high interest rates and make minimum payments until the card limits out and the cycle returns for a re-finance of their home mortgage or trade-in their used car for extended financing. Debt is the real killer of our economy, households and relationships. Debt leads to stress, which leads to anxiety, overeating and drinking, which leads to additional health problems. Debt is the real killer in our community. Money management needs to be part of the “Public Service” advertisements on radio and television. Money management needs to be taught starting in elementary school and advanced in middle and high school. Our college graduates are drowning in debt, our nation’s families credit card debt is over one and half trillion dollars and the banks and lending institutions are not helping, they’re enabling. Before you decide to extend your credit card spending limit, re-finance your car or get a home equity line of credit, sit down and create a real savings and spending budget. If you find yourself digging yourself deeper into debt, stop digging! Find an organization who will assist you with your debt, talk with your lenders and stop going down the path of financial ruin. Think about the future and the cash you will need in case of an emergency or your retirement that is quickly catching up with you. Don’t let debt be the killer of you!

Why You're Not Worth Minimum Wage!

Have you ever walked through a shopping mall and thought to yourself; how do the small kiosks make a profit? My wife and I were recently in Dallas for a real estate convention and had the afternoon off, so we took a ride to a local mall. As we strolled through the mall, I couldn’t help noticing that every one of the small kiosk vendors were to busy, with their nose stuck into their cell phone, to address anyone walking past. One of my favorite comments I make to clerks to generate conversation is; “are they working you hard”? I stopped at one of the kiosks and looked over what they had to offer as the clerk paid no attention to my wife and me and I asked them; are they working you hard? To my surprise, they looked up from their phone, rolled their eyes and said; for what they pay me here, I’m not going to work hard and returned to their phone. They obviously knew I wasn’t interested in the product they were peddling and now the question comes to mind; why are they being paid minimum wage? I hear all the crying coming from our elected representatives, minimum wage should be increased to $15.00 per hour.  For our elected officials, it’s an open checkbook to pay their staff but for small business, it’s watching every penny to make a profit. I am all for getting rid of the minimum wage system and bringing out an incentive pay system. If a sales clerk wants a raise, sell something, make a presentation even if nobody is watching. We have all heard the question when at a fast, (convenient), food establishment; would you like fries with that or would you like to up-size? What would happen if there was a meeting before every shift and the manager advised the crew of a minimum goal and once they achieved that goal, everyone would make a percentage of the profit; would that be enough incentive to get them motivated to actually sell something or connect with potential customers? Some will say; you can do that with sales, but you can’t do that with office staff, and I would disagree. You can measure the number of calls, accuracy of paperwork and the overall profitability of the business.

To the surprise of many workers of the future, you will be fired because the current minimum wage you are being paid is far more than your worth as an employee. I foresee a bleak future for many college educated minimum wage people, you might actually have to put your phone down and go to work. Here’s a line taken from one of my favorite professional speakers, Larry Winget, “It’s called work for a reason”.

When you need a speaker for your next event, contact me.

Three words you can use for the Perfect Hire

Possibly, one of the biggest challenges business owners face is hiring new personnel. It doesn’t matter what industry, we all face the same challenge. What about that employee from the past, who seemed to be the perfect hire, only to become a huge disappointment and leave your business in worse condition before they were hired. Then there are the hires who show up and then it goes downhill from there, all they do is show up. One of the best lessons I learned for hiring personnel was at a time I was serving as a project superintendent for a large medical clinic. It was from the general contractor who hired me, showed me how to find that person who would show up and be willing to do whatever needed to be done. I was perplexed at what he showed me and put what he taught me into action and it worked immediately. I had hired and fired a lot of people and crews from the project for many different reasons and it all came down to my lack of interviewing skills. My deadline for the building completion was bearing down on me and I had to hire people and crews who would understand the pressure we were under to complete the project on time. We were running advertisements in several surrounding towns and received many phone calls asking about the project with promises to show up for an interview, only to be disappointed with the skill I learned from the general contractor. I needed carpenters, plumbers, roofers, painters, and general laborers and the skill I learned from the general contractor made it possible for me to hire the right people and we finished the project ahead of schedule. You are probably asking what the secret was to hire the right people and it was just three words that made all the difference; push that broom. Many of those who came to interview only offered one skill, the only thing they were willing to do, and they believed that was all they should do. The look on their faces as we walked around the project and walked into and area covered with saw dust or sheet rock debris and I called a laborer over with a broom in hand and offered the broom to whom I was interviewing, handing them the broom; show me how you push a broom. I was told many times; that’s not what I do or I’m not going to do that. It was the people who had primary skills who took the broom from my hand and cleaned the area were the people I hired. What they showed me was, they were willing to do anything to get the job done and they were hired with the understanding that if called upon them to do something different, they were willing to be a team player. Push that broom, three little words that speak volumes of someone’s character.

When you need a speaker for your next event, contact me.  

What I Learned in Prison

The first thing I noticed before entering prison was the tall chain linked fence with rows of razor wire at the top and along the base of the fence. The first sounds of prison that resonated in my memory was the buzzing for the magnetic release on the steel door, the creaking of the rusty hinges and the clashing sound of steel on steel as the door slams shut behind me. As I lay my carried items on a bench to be x-rayed, I turned and walked through a metal detector, and awaiting me on the other side was a guard who direct me to extend my arms and spread my legs. I felt the guard’s hands run up and down my legs and arms, across my back and sides and down my chest and stomach area. As I processed in, they photographed me, assigned a number and tagged me, scanned my hand for recognition and then directed to another door. Beyond the door was another steel door, another buzzer and squeaking hinges and then another steel door beyond that one, with a buzz the release of the magnetic latch, the door is pushed open and I walked into prison, as the steel door slammed behind me. As I walked through the area, it was as if every convict’s eyes were upon me, some greeted me as others just stared. As I opened the door to the reception area, I was greeted with a smile, a handshake and welcomed. By now, you must understand, I was not convicted of a crime, I was there to teach inmates the art of networking. Of the 1300 plus inmates incarcerated in the prison, I had thirty men who had signed up to attend my eight-secession course. The inmates had been screened by the prison staff and only these select few would be able to participate. What I quickly learned was these men were hungry for knowledge and wanted to learn networking skills they could use in and out of prison. What they quickly learned from me is I held them accountable for their assignments, which many others had not. Several men dropped out of the course after giving them an assignment, they failed to do it and part of that assignment was to write a draft and present it in front of the men. When I called upon them, they said they hadn’t done the homework and I told them; you’re still going to present. They quickly learned accountability was tough and too difficult for them. What I learned in prison was similarities with the inmates. Most of them were from homes with a drug or alcohol addicted parent, had been abused and many had been part of social services and most of them did not have a strong male influence in their life. Without a strong family life, many fled to the streets to find a bond. Many of you reading this will say; they knew the difference between right and wrong, and they would agree with you. But given that most of them were in survival mode, they did what they felt necessary to do to survive.

For some of the men who attended my course, they will be getting released within a few months or a few years and some will be in prison for the rest of their life, and they will have gained networking skills and the ability to determine personalities and know how speak and understand others. As I leave the prison, there is the buzz of the magnetic lock and the squeaking hinges and the slam of steel on steel. As I walk through the last gate into the darkness of the prison parking lot, I think to myself; these men will have better networking skills than most of our population. When they are released from prison, they will be in survival mode with speaking skills.

To learn more about my Networking workshop, visit my website

What our Country Needs is a Real Catastrophe

What our country needs is a good catastrophe. As I drive around our community, walk through airports and witness our community pay attention only to their individual wants and desires, what we really need is a catastrophe that will effect two thirds of our country. Yes, it is a brutal thought, watching people die, right in front of you. The inability to think beyond your personal wants and have to think about your survival. I can’t wait to see when our electrical grid go down and the majority of the population goes into a panic mode when their screen’s no longer function. When they actually have to depend on face to face communications or maybe have to actually talk with someone without an attitude in their voice, just to survive. How will they react when there is no power and when they have not planned for the future, let alone the next day? The smell of rotting corpse and watching the people you love, die right in front of your eyes. Yes, what our country needs is a good catastrophe, a wake up call, of what is really important in everyday life. If you have difficulty figuring out what is really important, you will become a causality of the coming catastrophe. The Grid will go down and there will be many across our nation, watch the demise of the lifestyle of our country. It’s coming and the majority of our population is to busy listening to Pandora, watching a video on Netflix or texting some mindless communication to a friend. What will you do, it’s coming, the grid will go down and we will be able to watch 25% of our population die, right in front of our eyes. Are you prepared for the grid to go down? It’s coming… When you can no longer make a call, a text, an email, or go to an ATM to withdraw cash from an account that can’t be accessed, we get to watch you suffer. How long can you go without your phone, debit card or electricity? If you don’t have enough available cash to buy food, gas or medical care.. you will become a victim of lack of planning. It’s coming, when you least expect it, will you be able to survive weeks without electricity? When your phone has become worthless, when being online means nothing because the internet no longer exists for your area and you get to watch people you care about, die right in front of you; what will life mean to you? I’m prepared, are you? The only thing I request; do not knock on my door and expect me to assist you with your survival. We have planned, we know it’s coming and I can’t wait to watch the change for the better, from those who actually make the sacrifice to survive.

After reading this, do you question yourself if you are ready for a catastrophe? Will you become a victim from your lack of preparation? How will you feel, watching those you care about, die right before your eyes? What our country needs is a real catastrophe so you will realize what is really important in life.