Enough already!

Doing my best to be compliant with all the various and sundry laws and regulations that burden small business, I duly ordered my 2007 California and Federal Employment Notices. These notices, which cover the established laws concerning payroll, safety and health protection, family and medical leave, and other labor law snippets, must be posted if you have even a single part-time employee.

Let's ignore the fact that you need a good-sized place to post the notices (they cover nearly the entire door) in lieu of examining the company that I chose to do business with this year.

Starting with Google I located Personnel Concepts (www.personnelconcepts.com) and placed my order online. Simple, right?

Wrong. I then played telephone tag with a representative of the company that spanned two weeks. When we finally connected (on the fifth call), she then proceeded to ask my questions about my business. Number of employees, revenues, etc. I asked if the poster had been mailed yet. No, she answered.

Then she received the lecture, tempered by my stating that I understood that making this call wasn't her idea. I want to buy a poster that keeps me compliant with the law. Her company wants to gather demongraphic information so that they can sell me other stuff, without fulfilling the first order. The company hadn't earned my business, I gave it to them based on a Google placement. Personnel Concepts did, however, earn my ire.

Three weeks and still waiting...maybe I need to make another telephone call.

Jimmy Carter and the Mirror

“I think as far as the adverse impact on the nation around the world, this administration has been the worst in history,” said Former President Jimmy Carter.

With this utterance, Mr. Carter has finally stepped through the looking glass and entered his version of Wonderland. Surely, if any presidency deserves the appellation of “worst in history”, it is his.

Entering the White House in 1977, following the Watergate scandal that led to Richard Nixon’s resignation and Gerald Ford acting as caretaker-in-chief, the nation had high expectations for the Man from Plains. A peanut farmer, a former governor, a man who admitted in Playboy magazine that he had lust in his heart, Mr. Carter promised open government and the highest ethics the office had seen.

What we got was an amateur hour that left the country and the world in financial shambles. America was viewed as an empty shell, incapable of stepping on to the world stage. No longer did we wield the big stick, we relied on the big boycott.

Other than the high-water mark of the Camp David Accords, what composes Mr. Carter’s legacy?

Mr. Carter’s colorful crew of advisers found themselves under a media microscope that uncovered cocaine use and financial chicanery worthy of a Little Rock, Arkansas commodities trader.

Who can forget the sweater? During the energy crises that rocked the country, Mr. Carter held his fireside chats a bit more literally than his recent predecessors. Dressed like the avuncular Mr. Rogers, he enjoined us to turn our thermostats down to 65 degrees. A beautiful, but slightly chilly, day in the neighborhood.

During the Carter administration interest rates soared to nearly 20%, inflation raged, and unemployment grew, spawning a new term in the lexicon of economists: stagflation. Ronald Reagan’s debate team coined the term “misery index” to drive home the economic failure of Carter’s policies.

When the Russians invaded Afghanistan, Mr. Carter announced a boycott of the Moscow Summer Olympic Games.

When “students” took over the American embassy in Iran, Mr. Carter relied on diplomacy devoid of consequence. An eleventh hour hostage rescue mission by Delta Force failed because of equipment problems, an apt, though tragic metaphor for the Carter years.

And that brings us to the Carter administration’s most far-reaching failure. Policy wonks tipped the human rights scales against the Shah of Iran in favor of the Ayatollah Khomeni. In that reversal of foreign policy, Mr. Carter’s State Department transformed one of strongest allies in the turbulent Middle East into a feared enemy and a state that sponsors terrorism. Their sheer naiveté gave the world its first Muslim theocracy in centuries. Muslim fundamentalists now had a road map to achieve their goals. Here, indeed, is a domino theory worthy of discussion.

The resulting wave of global terrorism can be laid squarely at the door of the administration that is truly the “worst in history”, that of Jimmy Carter.

Jimmy Carter has spent the last 26 years burnishing his legacy and his image. He has written enough memoirs to suggest that he has led multiple lives. He has penned sophomoric poetry. Hammer in hand, he builds homes for Habitat for Humanity. He is available as an observer at elections, a peace broker, and he samples Paula Dean’s southern food specialties. Denied any relevance as a president, he seeks a world-wide stage as he strives to become the greatest ex-President.

Yet even in this effort, Mr. Carter has stumbled mightily in the past year. His most recent literary offering Palestine: Peace not Apartheid offers more than a whiff of anti-Semitism. Mr. Carter also chose to keep a monetary award from the Zayed Foundation, supported by the rabidly anti-Semitic Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahayan. Harvard University returned a $2 million gift to its Divinity School from the Zayed Foundation, sponsors of the Zayed Centre for Co-Ordination and Follow-Up that declared that Jews are “the enemies of all nations.”
Jimmy Carter, himself no stranger himself to Saudi Arabian oil men and money, counts Sheikh Zayed as a personal friend.

Perhaps more troubling is that Mr. Carter’s pronouncement is merely the latest in the alternative universe of foreign policy being practiced by the Democratic Party. Whether it’s Senator Moharry ibn-Reid (D., AQ) spluttering that the war is lost, or burqa- sporting Majority Leader Nancy Pelosi making nice with the Syrians, there seems to be a collective amnesia regarding the separation of powers.

As Jimmy Carter backpedals from his statement and the White House dismisses him as irrelevant, perhaps it is time for Mr. Carter to pick up his hammer and go quietly in a self-imposed retirement from public life.

Yoga and Turkey Hunting

One of the 2007 goals was to get to a yoga class. Lynn found a local studio and we have been chanting "Oooommmm", saying "Namaste" and doing downward facing dogs, warrior and tree poses for a couple of months now.

Last week I was in Pennsylvania for a eight days of turkey hunting and fly fishing. Not surprisingly, the yoga helped in both outdoors endeavors.

Turkey hunting requires an number of disparate skills and great deal of luck. Danny Wadkins, a Corrections Officer and an incredible hunter and sportsman, acted as a guide. He called turkey, usually imitating a hen, or blasting the woods with a single shock gobble call to locate male birds. Once we had an idea about where the birds might be located, we sped through the woods and posted to call the birds in closer. It was at those moments that I found yoga kicking in. Controlling my breath, relaxing into position, the ability to hold completely still, sometimes in uncomfortable or awkward positions, all had a foundation in yoga.

Since this is spring turkey hunting only male birds may be taken. On one of our hunts a hen returned the call. Danny said that at times hens will travel with a jake or tom, so we sat beneath a four-stand of hemlock trees as he continued to call in the bird. She came in alone. We saw her at about 75 yards out and watched as she closed within 10 feet, staring at us, wondering where her "girlfriend" might be. In order to enjoy this type of special moment in the woods, you have to been completely still. Even the blink of an eye can alert the turkey, causing them to disappear like ghosts.

I have seen a number of yoga magazines, usually featuring blissed out Gumbyesque wraiths contorted into any number of incredible poses. The articles tend to the vegetarian and holistic side of life.

So this may be the only place you will ever see turkey hunting and yoga in the same sentence.

Airport observations

"Whenever you're feeling bad about yourself, go to an airport."

The first time I said that I was in an airport and directed the comment to my friend, Guy Williams. We were returning from one of the corporate group gropes we frequently attended in the early 1990s.

If anything, the advice is more appropriate these days.

You can place part of the blame on the wheel. Yes, somewhere in prerecorded history the first man fashioned the first wheel, but it took until the late 20th century before someone thought to to put them on luggage. Now all manner of bags sport a set of wheels.

To give credit where credit is due, it was my hunting and fishing "daddy", Bill Howarth who climbed this particular soapbox for one of his rants. Bill will give you a pass if you're dragging 60 lbs. of stuff on your next trip. He saves his ire for the morbidly obese who are tugging a computer case or large purse behind them.

This path of least resistance is also common in the gym that I visit most mornings. Why, if you are going to work out, to stress your body and your cardio-vascular system, would you take the elevator to the second floor? (My gym rant also includes: "Why would you walk or run on a treadmill in San Diego?" Sure, dead of winter Minnesota or Montana, I can see it, but San Diego?)

When we returned from our week in Pennsylvania, waiting for my return flight at Scranton/Wilkes-Barre airport, we matched up the rolling pieces of luggage with the overweight owners. You don't see a lean guy or gal pushing around a rolling valise that can hold a sandwich and a pair of glasses. They're manhandling backpacks that suggest an assault on Everest. (These they'll cram into the overhead compartments, but that's another musing for another Spambrother at another time.)

Riding mower or push mower? Elevator or stairs? Moving walkway or just plain walk? Do you do things the hard way or the easy way? Now, I'm not a Luddite suggesting that we return to a world where we had no mechanical advantage. But in a world where most of us sit on our ever expanding asses, maybe a degree of difficulty is in order.

Swinging for the Fences

Last week I attended the Small Business Success Conference in Pasadena, California. The Conference was the brainchild of my good friend, Ken Keller. Ken is not only a colleague but also a prolific writer. He has penned two business books, writes a weekly "Brain Food for Business Owners" column that goes out to over 10,000 subscribers, and also writes columns for a number of Los Angeles-area publications.

Ken's idea was to craft a conference geared strictly to small, entrepreneurial business owners. The conference offered:

• Personal access to a number of vendors, including AFLAC, Microsoft, Cingular, Bank of the West and Staples
• Speakers on a variety of topics, from succession planning to financing
• Keynote address by Lawrence Haughton, author of It's Not the Big That Eat the Small, It's the Fast That Eat the Slow
• A speed networking session offered by BNI
• A dedicated area where a dozen experts were available to answer business questions

The conference was well-conceived, equally well-run, and offered Pasadena and Los Angeles business owners a unique opportunity to improve their businesses by "sharpening the saw." Two radio stations broadcast from the conference and the Mayor of Pasadena performed a ribbon cutting ceremony to open the doors.

Why didn't business owners and entrepreneurs break down those doors to attend?

That's a question many of us were asking ourselves the day of the conference. There should have been 5,000 people in attendance instead of 800 who showed.

Ken has already conducted a thorough review, and true to form, shared his observations. The media campaign, heavily reliant upon print advertising, did not produce results. He will focus more on viral marketing, the Internet, and his vast referral network to insure that his next conference, October 3, 2007 in Long Beach, California is a huge success.

Here's my observation. Ken swung for the fences. He dared to dream that he could put on an exciting event that would help small business owners. He did. He took great risks, and while the immediate reward was not there he is re-grouping, refining and planning to make the next event even better.

The Sage of the Shoe Rag

On May 2nd I attended the Small Business Success Conference in Pasadena, CA. One of the conference participants, American Insurance Network, had an interesting "hook" to bring you into their booth.

Those of us who have walked the exhibit halls of conferences and conventions have assiduously loaded our tote bags with a variety of give-aways, usually logo items: pens, pencils, baseball caps, calculators, coffee mugs, pads of paper, etc. Other vendors tempt us with food, candy, water or another beverage.

But the owner of American Insurance Network offered a complimentary shoe shine. Brilliant, because you spent at least five minutes sitting in the chair while you got the shine, all that time available to learn about the services of the company.

In the realm of guilty pleasures, the shoe shine ranks right up there with a great cigar.

And that brings me to memories of the late Walter Clark, World War II Army veteran and San Diego's legendary shoe shine man.

In the downtown office that I worked in during the early 1980s it was a right of passage to be introduced to Walter, who held court in the now-closed Florsheim Shoe Shop in the Westgate Hotel. Walter knew every politician, attorney, judge and stockbroker in town. Then Mayor (and later U.S. Senator) Pete Wilson was a loyal customer.

Over the years I got to know Walter. He was politically astute, highly opinionated, and a keen observer of the human condition.

There are two stories about Walter that I tell often.

Walter suffered a heart attack in the mid-1980s. He was so well-known and beloved that the evening news reported on his condition, in part as a request from Sharp Memorial Hospital. So many people called the hospital to inquire about Walter that the switchboard systems collapsed. When Walter returned to work he refused to shine wing-tip shoes saying it was too hard on his heart...he also admonished those wearing the stout brogues (after first suggesting that these middle-aged lions of the legal profession had last purchased shoes before they graduated from college!) to purchase a new, more stylish pair from one of the young men in the shop.

At the time I made three stock market reports each day on KJOY, an easy-listening...well, OK, elevator music...station. One day I asked Walter his opinion of the economy and he said that "things were bad." The next morning the report on Leading Economic Indicators was released, and things were bad. Thus began a ritual. The day before the Leading Economic Indicators were released I would visit Walter and ask for his opinion. In every case he was right. He predicted an improving economy and later opined that the economy was roaring. Finally I asked Walter how he formed his opinions.

"Look across the street," he said. At the time Horton Plaza, a shopping mall in the heart of downtown San Diego, was under construction. "I count the number of African-American kids working on the job. When the number starts to go down I know that the economy is starting to slow down. When there are no blacks on the job, I know we're in for hard times. And when they started getting hired again, I figure things are improving. They are the last to be hired and the first to be fired."

That direct observation made Walter the financial sage of shoe rag.