Month: October 2011

“Think Different” was in Apple ads at one time, and it also happens in the immediate aftermath of a Vegas trip that featured sleep deprivation and excess of just about everything else. Like now. I spend a lot of time on the inside of my head anyway, but the combination above has my cranial consommé altered. Maybe over-salted. I have no idea where I’m going with this post, but let’s start with some of the excess:

Information – Oh, you thought I was going right to gambling, hookers and blow? Maybe I’ll get to those later… The conference I attended, and it really doesn’t matter which one, had mostly crappy presentations, at least those that I picked. Still, while panning the hundreds of slides presenters throw into your gaze, there are occasional ideas that spark. Get just one neuron firing about some stray bullet on a slide and before you know it, the mind is lit up with white tracers going in all directions like a darkened beach firefight.

Stimulus – Casinos are designed to be a jungle-like maze of money sucking Venus Flytraps surrounded by a constant barrage of distracting stimuli. Oh, they pump oxygen into the atmosphere to keep you awake, but then bombard your senses with dollar signs, lights, spinning wheels, bells, whistles, music and half-naked waitresses, all designed to help you not notice the money flying out of your pockets. Still, the brain has to process all that stuff, so I theorize that productive thought, crowded out by the noise, springs anew in uncharted dark corners of the grey guy.

Alcohol – Conference drink tickets, complimentary cocktails while gambling, great wine lists and some people’s need to buy their buddies shots contribute to a near 24/7 slow drip (well, not the shots). It’s crazy, but alcohol alters the senses and makes you think different. No, not as well as acid the way Steve Jobs describes it in his new biography, but like that… Just a little. Oh, and the “Up All Night” frozen blend of an energy drink and vodka nearly worked as advertised!

Ego – Vegas is the bar scene from “Star Wars” whether you’re in a bar or not. The endless parade of chaos spawned from the human genome is truly awesome, but some of those genetic accidents just take themselves way too seriously. Like me writing this blog thinking people would be interested in reading it, only way more. One guy came out for his presentation looking like he had just been in hair and makeup for an hour. Another, looking like Sylvester Stallone after all the plastic surgery, spent 45 minutes telling us how he started out just like us commoners, but now is Chairman of a multi-billion dollar corporation. Then he said we should do it too…

Food – There’s plenty of overpriced, crappy food in Sin City, but there is also some of the best and most creative food this world has to offer, and SushiSamba offers the latter. Their dueling cuisines of Japanese and Brazilian is delicious and fun, with or without drinks (and the ridicule one receives from drinking them) containing “muddled fruit.” The Pallazzo hotel gem offers a world crossing array of colorful dishes and taste bud blowing textures and flavors. It inspires me to be more creative in cooking.

Conversation – I failed in my goal to more effectively network at the event. I chatted with a woman at breakfast one morning, but otherwise gravitated to co-workers (and friends) who work in other cities and others that work close by every day. The words flowed and many topics, both personal and professional, explored. Laughter was in excess. And smiles. The conversation excess leaves me invigorated and with stronger relationships that benefit my life in and beyond business.

Yeah, all of that stuff gets me thinking different. As I retraced Sunday’s steps to check out, my rebooted brain processed the thoughts of my life like one of those fast motion movie montages portraying a near death experience. Family. Work. Life. Love. Pros. Cons. Options. Plans. That broken stairmaster… They all flew through the new processor with a slightly different, and hopefully improved perspective.

Oh, and the gambling, hookers and blow? There was none of that for me, but five of my co-workers pooled cash for slots and won $5,000 at about 3AM! They must be thinking different today.

Dad turned 78 yesterday. For his birthday, he choked on his food and vomited a little shrimp scampi on his undercooked filet mignon. “No, thank you. We don’t want a doggie bag,” I said to Joan, the unknowing waitress. In the past few months I’ve heard conflicting stories about the old guy from my two brothers. One has dad a cancer stricken semi-invalid in a wheelchair and the other paints a dance floor dervish spinning on his own two wheels. The truth, of course, does not reside on either end of the story spectrum…

Dad’s wife Caroline passed in 2007, and since then he hasn’t found much to keep living for. His ties to family are threadbare. “I’ve always been a loner,” he says. Our conversations rarely stray from sports and other stuff you might talk to your barber about. I usually go with family stuff, and while he “loves” his family, I’m not sure he ever really learned to really embrace it. He loved Caroline though, and she really understood and accepted him as is. Looking at an old passport of hers, I said, “She was beautiful.” After a few long seconds, Dad cleared his throat and responded, “Yeah, she was.”

When I arrived, Dad had just woke from a frequent nap and was very groggy. As he spoke, he lost his train of thought on several occasions, but after a few hours, and especially during day two and three, the fog had lifted. I thought of ways he could keep his mind somewhat stimulated in the absence of humans. He claimed to like doing crossword puzzles when he was younger, so I got him a couple crossword paperbacks. I’m dubious he’ll open either, but hope I’m wrong.

Our bodies are made up of muscles attached to bones, and Dad does very little to exercise any of them except the ones controlling his TV remote. It’s all he wants to do, which is fine, but just a little work of body and mind could greatly improve his quality of life. For his atrophied muscles, I suggested walking to pick up his mail, about 200 yards from his door. He claimed he’d be on the verge of collapse after such an attempt, so I said try shorter distances and work up to it. “Do two houses and back, then three houses and back, until you can get to the mail center and back.” He gave me a look indicating he wonders why I bother suggesting such things.

Well, life is just better if you live it, so I’ll do what I can to make the oil can squeak out a few drops now and then to help flex his mind and creaky joints. Even if broken, he’s still got a heart.

Late last century I stood outside a running rental car somewhere in the San Francisco Bay area and conversed in a 32 x 80 inch glass box the way we used to about 6 or 7 cellphone generations ago. The familiar voice escaping the grime of the filthy black receiver offered me a 45% salary increase and moving expenses to California.

Money can motivate many behaviors that are just wrong. Sometimes when loyalties are washed away by it, the rational is, “it’s just business.” People lose their livelihoods to money every day, and others lose their souls. Maybe it’s the “root of all evil” thing. That’s one of those cliche’s that get thoughtlessly thrown around, but you have to wonder if an evil like the one money can buy existed before the schekel did.

The closing scenes of the film made me a little squeamish, and given the current slimy turmoil sucking the life out a small nation of fans I belong to, one specific scene left me even colder toward our team. Money can crush the joy of otherwise wonderful working lives, destroy friendships and tear families apart. If we let it.

“You know I can’t do that,” was my reply in spite of the mind fuck the numbers rang up. There were a couple reasons a 2,500 mile re-lo was a no-no, and my children were the first one. Back then there was no doubt my decision was the right one. In hindsight it’s clear my rewards are far beyond anything money can buy.

See “Moneyball.”