Day 4 in the Great White North

First of all, thank you Japan, thank you Thailand: we've had sushi and Thai cuisine the past two nights and both meals were excellent. And, good coffee today so Canada is not as lame today as it was yesterday. However, it is rainy and wintry cold outside which does not bode well for the weekend. We had planned to drive the 120 miles to Banff on Sat. afternoon but if the weather is bad, it is a matinee in Canada. Which sounds incredibly sad.

I am on my mission again, that is for sure. I live with my sales manager/companion all day, every day; we eat together, sleep in the same room, drive in the same car, work the same room and basically never leave each other's side. If I am getting on his nerves like he is getting on mine, this relationship may blossom into a full blown hate-affair by the time our plane leaves Sunday morning.

Anyway, this trip is getting really old really fast and I can't wait to get back home. Will I miss Canada? No. I will not miss anything about this country. It is lame and turning me into a sour angry person.

Canada Day 3: Calgary

We are now in Calgary which is a relief but still no relief from the flies. They are everywhere. The food has not gotten any better today and the coffee is still poor. However, our hotel is much nicer and since I'll be staying here for the next five days, that is good news.

The crowd at our lunch event today was unusual to say the least. Let me sum it up with this: how many Jewish Cowgirls do you know? I know one now and her name, her Jewish name, is Sarhah. She wore a huge cowboy hat and a large Jewish star pendant to the workshop today. However, she left early so I didn't get to experience the full weirdness that her persona promised. Instead I got the weirdness of Owen and his mother who kept talking to us even 30 minutes after the workshop ended. About strange Canadian stamps that you can purchase on the post office. That was awkward.

Not too sure yet about this experience here in Canada. I wake up depressed and go to bed depressed but the days seem ok. Every day is another dollar in the bank which is the cut and dried, cold hard fact.

We are going to sushi tonight and we'll see if that is any better on the food front. In the meantime, it's off to shake hands with more Canadians. They are nice folk and very proper. Still trying to find out how best to connect with them.

I've heard Canadian weed is good.

O Canada! Day 2: Flies in my enchiladas

Alright Great White North country, what the hell is up with all the freakin' flies??? Seriously, I have been waving my hands in front of my face for 48 straight hours. I look like an idiot walking around with my hand flapping back and forth past my nose and head to get rid of the flies. I go to the convenience store across the street from the hotel and there are flies buzzing around. We walk into our climate controlled ballroom to set up our workshop and there is a fly cruising about (and that would be the Canada 'about' which is pronounced, "uh-boot"). I walk into the hotel room and flies appear. We just finished lunch at a Mexican restaurant and I spent half of the time trying to shoo away a fly. And just right now, in the lobby of our hotel, a fly landed on my keyboard.

Now, this little fly predicament paired up with the bad food is making Costanza very unhappy and grumpy. So grumpy in fact that as my companion, er, sales buddy and I drove from Medicine Hat, Alberta to Lethbridge, Alberta (about a 90 min. drive), I sat in the front seat and hardly said a work because I was totally pissed off about the lame coffee. I even tried another place on our way as we stopped for gas and the coffee was horrible. And the radio stations are crappy and the only song I remember them playing this morning on five different stations was a Nirvana song.

Canada, in other words, is making me into a super high maintenance, whiny little turd. To top it all off, I feel like I've just been dumped right back into my mission in South Africa. We even had a conference call at 8am today, just like we used to do back in the mission field. And I live with another guy practically 24/7 and that is also working on my last nerve, even though he is really a pretty cool guy. Not sure what he thinks of me but I can only guess.

As for the people here in Canada, very nice and accomodating. Not the most outgoing folk but that's ok. I'm not feeling too friendly.

But that could change in an instant with just a perfectly blended French roast. Oh Canada Coffee Gods, please bless Costanza in this time of dire need.

Day 2---out!

Canada Day 1: It's like America but different

I am traveling in Canada this week with my new job and we just finished our first workshop. All of 10 people showed up but four purchased our software which I am told is a pretty good sales ratio for our product. The Canadian people are very nice and very attentive to our every need (no, I have not visited a Canadian massage parlor, I'm just referring to the hotel folk and the restaurant folk).

What is weird about Canada is everything looks exactly the same as any other place in the States but all the names are different. Instead of a TJ Maxx, they have a Zellers. Instead of a Big O, they have a Canadian Tire. Instead of bacon, they have um, let me see, oh yeah: Canadian Bacon! However, the food here sucks. The water sucks. And, because the water sucks, the coffee sucks. So three strikes against our Northern friends so far on the dietary side.

The landscape is flat. Since we are in the Alberta province, on the south side, it is freakin' flat out here. I mean Nebraska-flat. I have been on the Banff side which is beautiful and mountainous. This scenery is like Wizard of Oz with no wizard, no Toto, no awesome Tin Man and plenty of windy, windswept flatland.

Not too great.

I am traveling with my Sales Manager who is a very cool guy. We have to share a room and when he saw all of Costanza's beauty products, courtesy of my wife the Master Esthetician, he thought I was super, duper gay or at least a flaming metrosexual. But, he calmed down once he got to know me. Now, he wants to know what my skin care regimen is so he can look super fine, like yours truly.

I also asked him his pet peeves and he said, with no hesitation, "Don't touch me." I said ok. And he then augmented this with, "I mean, don't put your hand on my shoulder, on my back, on my arm or try to get my attention in some way that involves touching. I'm not homophobic, just don't like to be touched."

So friends, here I am in Canada, with crappy food and water, touching myself!!!
More later.

Horrible Listening Skills

I am just finishing five days of sales training and orientation for this new job I have and one thing has become abundantly clear: most people have no idea how to listen. I sat with five different people over the past two weeks and just kind of monitored their level of listening and attentiveness and it was shocking. I know I have my moments of ill communication; those times when I just zone out or don't feel like paying attention when someone is talking to me. But over the years I've come to understand that being a really good listener is one of the most valuable traits you can ever acquire. And, knowing when to be quiet and not speak. That is also a very valuable skill and it's different than the listening skill.

Let's just analyze one of the guys I worked with this week: Tommie. Tommie is a super nice guy, very friendly and really, really naive. He hasn't traveled much, hasn't lost anything or anyone significant in his life and thinks life is just extra neat and wonderful. He is about 25 and a recent graduate from a local university. The second day I trained with Tommie, we had a few minutes to talk before the training began and we started small talking. This is not my favorite activity but Tommie is, as I stated, a very engaging and cool dude so I was up for it. He also had his cell phone in his right hand, which he kept glancing at periodically. This is kind of how it went:

P: So, you graduated in...
T: Broadcasting.
P: But you didn't want to go into that field?
T: Hold on. (Looks at cell phone, types in something, closes phone, looks at me). Wow, that training was kind of crazy yesterday. Lots of information.
P: Yeah, but it seems pretty straightforward. I think you'll like the software training next week.
T: Cool! I'm excited!
P: (I don't say anything for a minute because it's kind of his turn to ask me something. I'm pretty comfortable in complete silence with strangers which makes people think I'm weird. Actually, they are the ones who are weird. But, I digress. So, I sit).
T: Um, so, where do you go next week?
P: They are sending me to Calgary, Canada.
T: Nice! Hold on. (Looks at phone, types something, looks back at me).
P: Yesterday after we left, I think I saw you on the freeway. Were you in a silver PT Cruiser?
T: No.
P: Oh, cause it had some advertising for window washing and they guy looked exactly like you. Did you make pretty good money washing windows for the last, what did you say? Six years?
T: Yeah, it was good money but you had to be careful when the sun got too hot. It screwed up the windows. But, my partner, he paid me pretty well.
P: Hard labor, nothing like it right?
T: (Looking at his phone). What?
P: Nothing. (I now stand up and grab this huge coffee table book that's in front of us in the lobby called "Timpanogos".) My buddy, Willie Holdman, did all the photos for this book. We went to high school together. Very talented guy.
T: (Now looking out the window, gazing at...something...or nothing). Oh.
P: (Now I'm just kind of done with this whole trying to talk to him deal. And, I now begin to think that either a) I'm the worst conversationalist in the world or b) he could care less or c) he has no listening skills whatsoever.) Anyway...
T: Yeah...

Thankfully our training starts and we get to role play. Role playing is my favorite part of sales training because you get to be someone different. Just like Halloween, where you can take on some different persona for the night, in sales role play, you can be a meth addict with a trust fund, a software developer with poor people skills or a jerky mortgage broker. It's awesome. So Tommie and I get to role play. And I show no mercy to this guy. I am the jerky mortgage broker and, based on our previous interactions, I am going to hit him in his soft underbelly: I am going to make him listen or LOSE. Dahl, our instructor, watches us for 10 minutes and then stops us. He gives Tommie feedback. This is what he says:

"Did you hear what Phil was saying? Because you took the conversation in a whole different direction than where it should have gone. (Tommie is totally blushing right now, very embarassed). He didn't say he was starting a new business, he was saying he was thinking about various businesses to start with an online store being one of them. If you would have caught that major piece of information, you could have led him to a decision to work with us. As it is now, you've lost the sale."

OH SNAP! Take that Tommie!!!

See kids, you need to listen and pay attention and talk less. Don't be like our boy Tommie and wind up on the barbed end of a sales tirade from Costanza. That's not how to be a winner.

My Job Sucks...But No More!!

So, if anyone has spent a few minutes with me over the last six or seven months and has asked me about my job, you have received one of three typical responses:

1. It's ok.
2. It totally blows.
3. I think it will get better.

Well, it never did get better and now...it's over. I have left Tetra Financial Group and will be joining a company based in Orem called StoresOnline.com. This is a sales position which involves travelling one week on/one week off schedule. What this means is I will be in a city (or country, since this company also sells in the UK and Canada) for five to six days and then I come back home and will be home for one full week. It's a bummer to be gone that long but it's nice to be able to be home and not have work to worry about work.

If you've ever been in a job that questioned every thing you've ever supposed about yourself, it is not fun. Maybe there should be a primer for someone to follow if they find themselves in a work position that they loathe.

Here are some signs that should tell you clearly you need to run away from your job:

• You wake up in the morning, every morning, and consider calling in sick.
• You pick your music very carefully for your drive in because you know it will be the only pleasurable thing in your life for the next eight hours.
• You try to park in different parking spaces every day to break up the monotony. But then you realize all the spaces are the same and it doesn't really help.
  
• You get on the elevator and push "4" for your floor and the electronic voice comes on and says "Four" and you want to punch through the control panel and rip out the tiny little chip that holds this electronic voice and smash it into tiny, tiny pieces.
• You are putting your food in the refrigerator and the other person in the kitchen (doesn't matter who it is) says, "Hey, it's almost Friday!" and you have to control yourself from yelling back at them, "Hey, but it's FUCKING NOT IS IT!!"
• You turn on your computer, sit in your chair and stare at your monitor and sigh. Then you sigh again. Just as you're about to sigh again, your work mate in an adjoining cubicle says, "Hey Tucker, shut the hell up. I don't want to be here either."
• As you're making your 98th or 99th phone call of the day (150 calls per day is the goal), and you leave your 50th or 60th voicemail and you know it won't be returned, you understand more clearly than ever in your life the saying, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result." Insanity approaches with every phone dial.
• When Friday does come and you walk out at 5 o'clock, an incredible, heavy, depressing sensation comes over because you realize that you have to be back at your job in just 72 hours.
• When you get home, and it's a perfect sunny early evening, and you have a lot of options in front of you (bike ride, walk, hit golf balls, mow the lawn, hang on the porch with a beverage), the only thing you want to do is put on your sweats, pull your hoodie over your head and lie down in bed for the rest of the night, the blackest of black thoughts piercing your fevered, exhausted brain.

Hope that helps everyone. I'm very happy today. So happy.

You have no idea.

Whiskey, Lemons and Chocolate

7:10pm Friday night

I think I'm going to the liquor store.

The night is still very hot, almost like a furnace blast blowing across the porch. Dinner is done and the water fight has ended.

Dad, can I come with you?


Really? Why do you want to go to the liquor store? I'm not going anywhere else.


I just want to spend time with you. Is that ok?


Absolutely. Let me get my keys and flip flops.


I unlock the door and sliding into the car seat is similar to rolling into a sleeping bag that has been sitting on the lawn during the midday summer hours--stifling. I turn on the CD player.

Is this Tool?


Yeah.


Is it new?


No, one of their releases from 2001 I think.

I pull out onto 1300 East and head south. Not many cars on the road for a Friday night. At 1300 South, I turn west. As we drive by a neighbor's house on that street, a neighbor we both don't care for, we make stinky faces. At the same time. We both laugh at this. Now turning north on 1100 East.

Hey, can we come back to Liberty Fresh and get some lemons?


No. We don't need lemons, do we?


Please? They are sooooo good and you can even use one for your beer.


I'm not having beer tonight, I'm having whiskey. That's why we're going to the liquor store.


Well, still, they are really good.


True. OK, we'll get some on the way back.

Across 1700 South now and passing the Scientology office right next to the Post Office. Those Scientologists are a tricky bunch. Hard to get a read on them. Not Christians, not Muslims, not Buddhists and not atheists. Not even nihilists. I'm going to declare them aliens. Changing the music now to the iPod. CSS.

This is a good song. Who is this?


CSS.


Are they speaking Spanish?


No, Portugese I think. They are from Brazil.


What's this song called?


'Music is my Hot Hot Sex'.


He makes a face.


Um, ok. It's still cool.


Now pulling into the liquor store. Busy night. Weekend has arrived, it is summer and it is time to party. An abundance of parking spaces however. It's also walking weather. At least it is for the drunks who can walk from Fairmont Park. Tonight, it's mostly middle aged women getting wine for parties, young couples getting gin and vodka and actually a few dads with fathers and daughters grabbing exotic beers and small pints of the hard stuff. We enter. A policeman says hi. We say hi and continue walking on in.

I know that guy! I've talked to that policeman before, at the jewelry store at the Gateway. I was asking him about his gun. Wow, that is cool.


You know the policeman at the liquor store? That is random dude.


No, seriously, I know him. He probably doesn't remember me.


Well, go say hi.


No, that's ok. Where are we going?


To the whiskey aisle, I told you.


90 seconds later we are back in the car with the booty. CSS comes back on.

I really like this song. Can we start it over?


Sure.

The song commences. The beat is setting a certain mood, the one you wait all winter to find. A hot summer evening mood.

Dad, what does whiskey taste like?


I would say carmel but kind of sour carmel that burns your throat on the way down. But it doesn't really hurt.


(yucky face being made) Gross. That sounds horrible. Why do you want it?


I like to mix it with Coke. It has less calories than beer if I mix it with Coke Zero.


Why do you even drink it? Do you need it?


No, I don't need it. I just like to relax with an adult beverage on a weekend.


Now pulling into Liberty Heights Fresh. This place is also busy. Two guys pull up next to us and get out at the same time. I walk ahead, a nice breeze cruising through the parking lot, and open up the door for them. They say thank you. I feel a small nudge.

(whispering) Gay.


What?


(whispering again) Those guys are gay.


Yeah? So?


Just sayin'.


Glad you identified them. Everyone needs love and happiness. Don't you agree?


Yeah...where are the lemons?


We locate them in the middle of the store. They are at the top of a display of really good looking fruit. I love this place. A neighborhood garden two blocks from our front door.

How do you pick a good lemon?


Look for a deep color, and they should be a little soft but not too much. Smell them, they should be really pungent.


(inhaling) Wow, they smell great. Holy crap, I want to eat one now.


We reach the check out line and survey the chocolate brownies. The are made with exotic chocolate and were baked today. I pick one up.

I need this brownie. I mean, I need it.


I'd rather have a piece of their bread.


Really? Over this luscious bit of chocolate heaven? Come on man, this brownie is money. You usually can't say no to a treat.


OK, let's get the brownie.

We pay and walk out, just slightly ahead of a family with a daughter that looks about 12 years old. She steps out in front of us and holds open the door.

Thanks!


She smiles.


(whispering as we get into the car) She's kind of hot.


Yeah?


Yeah. I mean, I'm not going to ask her out or anything or ask her to go with me. But, she's hot.


I put the car in D and then change my mind and put it in R. As I reverse, I realize I could have gone forward and pulled onto 1100 East a lot easier. Now I have to basically do a U turn to head North again.

You just pulled a Lucy.


A what?


A Lucy. You know, when you do something kind of dumb? Like Lucy, on that show, she's kind of a klutz?


Oh I know about Lucy. How do you know about Lucy?


I've seen the show at my dad's. Christa pulls Lucies all the time. She once spilled water into her purse and it soaked everything.


That sucks.


That's a Lucy.

The sun is a little lower now as we pull into the driveway. The CSS song is winding down and the cat is lounging further up on the driveway. Our hands full of good things, we shuffle across the porch and head inside.

Friday night begins.