The following is an e-mail I recently sent to James Baker (Mayor, City of Wilmington, Delaware), Norman Griffiths (Council President, City of Wilmington, Delaware), and Lowell McAdam (President, Verizon Communications).
Mayor Baker, Mr Griffiths & Mr McAdam,
I am hoping you can provide an update on a matter that’s important to me. In November of 2008, a decision was made to reject Verizon’s application for television franchise in the city of Wilmington, Delaware (http://web.archive.org/web/20081207072654/http://www.ci.wilmington.de.us/newsroom/2008/1120_Verizon_TV_Franchise_Filing.html). I understand this decision was made to protect the residents of Wilmington, but, as we are now nearly three years past that initial decision, I was hoping some progress had been made between the City of Wilmington and Verizon.
As Comcast essentially maintains a monopoly in the City, there is no incentive to provide acceptable customer service or competitive pricing, and it shows. We recently had Verizon FiOS internet service installed and were blown away by the technician simply showing up when he was supposed to, being friendly, knowledgeable, and accommodating. The reality of this situation is these are behaviors and traits that should be expected of a provider that’s being paid for a service, something that Comcast apparently doesn’t understand.
If nothing else, please consider this message a plea for both parties to return to the table to work on an agreement that will allow the residents of the City of Wilmington to have a choice of service providers.
Regards,
Mike Waters
On Wednesday, October 5, 2011, it was announced that Steve Jobs, co-founder, sometimes CEO, and Chairman of the Board of Apple Inc, had passed. At a time when much of the world is mourning the loss of a person who dared to think differently, it’s difficult to put together thoughts that won’t simply fade into the background of the ever-chatty internet, but I think that’s a good place to start.
Initially, as I watched the world respond to the news of Steve’s passing, I was irritated. Suddenly, everybody knew Steve and had something to say. But, after thinking about it more, of course everybody had something to say - whether they knew him or not, they knew his company, its people & products, and his stories.
As somebody who worked in Apple retail, it quickly became apparent that the people who are attracted to Apple, both the customers and the employees, are unique, yet somehow very similar. In fact, it’s not uncommon for a customer to seek employment at an Apple Store because they simply want to hang out and talk about the products they love with other like-minded people. There is a deeply personal bond between the customers, employees, and the products that bring them together. Hugging feels as natural as breathing in the store; though it’s quite common for the employees to hug each-other, frequently the customers are so elated after assistance that they’ll ask “May I hug you?” I believe it’s that emotional connection with Apple, both internally and externally, that makes Steve’s life have such a far-reaching touch.
Steve was a master storyteller. Through his involvement with Pixar, a company that wouldn’t have existed without him, and his often-imitated keynote presentations at Apple, to which I credit the title of this post, Steve had a way of captivating audiences. The buildup of anticipation leading up to a keynote frequently overshadowed the actual presentation not because the products weren’t “magical”, as he said, but because he left you wanting more. It was like watching your favorite musical act perform, and not wanting the night to end. Ultimately, though, they are just additional examples of how well he was able to build a personal relationship with all of humanity, without even being in the same room.
As President Obama noted, ”…[Steve] exemplified the spirit of American ingenuity.” At a time when it feels like America is in the proverbial basement, Steve represented a company that’s not only surviving, but flourishing. Steve lived the American dream, and I will remember him.
Last Wednesday, August 24, 2011, I received a call from my brother; “Hey, bud, mom died.” were his words. I was caught off guard. Kat and I had just seen her the week before. She seemed to be doing as well as somebody living with cancer can be; she had a plan. For reasons that I honestly can’t put into words, my relationship with my parents had become strained. We didn’t speak that much and less frequently saw each-other. Since her passing, the entire process has seemed sterile and emotionless; Catalog her pain medicine for disposal, arrange her cremation, write her obituary, and plan the services.
When I was a child, my granduncle Martin died. This was my first experience with death. I was probably 6 or 7 at the time, and thinking back, I don’t think I could have picked Martin out of a lineup - I can’t even put together a mental image of him now. I do remember, though, how upsetting his death was to me. Whether it was my age, the strangeness of a funeral, or just seeing all the people around me upset from his passing, I remember being emotional, siting in the back of our family’s station wagon with my brother, wiping my eyes and blowing my nose on his tie.
“Oma”, my grandmother, and I were much closer. Oma was my mom’s mom. For as long as I can remember, she lived five minutes from our house. We frequently went over just to visit for a while, or have “supper” with her and her second husband, Carney. I was 8 or 9 when Oma passed from cancer. I don’t remember my parents telling me about her death, but I do remember being at Oma’s house with my dad after she died. I was walking around the family room where the hospital bed had been, seeing pictures of Oma and our family, and it hit me that I would never see this person again.
Some years later, Carney would join Oma. I don’t remember much about his passing other than the issues that came from dealing with his family; financial and property disputes. Hell of a memory.
In 2008, Kat and I were moving out of our apartment and closing our our first house. My dad was helping us move and he received a call informing him that “Nan”, his mother, had died. Nan lived in the Baltimore area for my entire time knowing her. Looking back today, that’s less than two hours away, but if we saw her six times a year, that was a lot. I specifically remember thinking to myself “you need to put this away, too much going on today to deal with this.” What I don’t remember is “taking it back out.” For whatever reason, I decided I would speak at her funeral. I wrote two eulogies for that service. The first eulogy was arguably angry. Why would a woman decide not to live close to her only son and his family? I remember reading it over the phone to my mom, and her response essentially being “You can say what you want, but you may not want to say that.” My revised eulogy was decidedly more even-tempered, trying to focus on the positive things that I could recall about Nan.
I’m not sure if it’s a biproduct of growing up, or just the way that I’ve learned to handle death, but I’ve been expecting that moment when it “hits you” the past few days since my mom’s passing, and it hasn’t come yet. I’ve never in my adult life described myself as an emotional person, in fact, if you ask Kat, she’d probably tell you I’m an angry person. I’m accepting of not being overtly emotional, but I’m hoping I’ve not grown to be numb.
It has been weighing on me lately how much potential there is in our lives to spend time doing things that are not self-gratifying. This has especially been on my mind since finding out yesterday that one of my customers passed. She was only 66.
I don’t claim to know her well, in fact, I would say that I didn’t really know her at all. What I mean is that I knew her in a purely professional manor; I couldn’t tell you anything about her family, where she grew up, or what she did for fun. What I can tell you is that she was pleasant to be around, and she was always nice to me. I can only assume that she had found a job that made her happy.
An average working adult spends about one third of their time awake working. It’s likely that my generation is going to be working into our seventies. That is far too much time spent to be doing something that doesn’t make you happy. That being said, it’s time for some changes.
I can’t say that I have a road map for my life. What I can say is that what I’m doing, and, to a large degree, where I live right now, do not positively contribute to my happiness. My girlfriend and I are likely moving in the next couple years. We’re not positive, but Savannah, Georgia may be where we end up. She is going to run a half-marathon there this Fall, which will give us an opportunity to check out the place and get a feel for it.
But that still doesn’t address my need for professional gratification. I want a job that I can see myself in for the next thirty-five or more years, where they literally have to force me into retirement because I enjoy what I do so much. I also want that job to abide by my personal mission statement: “To better myself and have a positive impact on all aspects of my surrounding environment.” The only job I can think of that may meet those needs are teaching.
Everything I’ve ever heard about teaching is that you have to really want to do it. I have several friends who are teachers, and I assume they “really want to do it,” but their actions, their words, speak differently. They frequently post on Facebook how “horrible” this student is, or how much they hope school is canceled tomorrow due to the weather. Rarely, if ever, do they say, “Wow, I really reached them today.” I don’t mean for this to be critical, and I don’t know that I would react differently.
I guess what it comes down to is that I can’t make everybody happy, but I hope that I can at least make myself happy, and be a positive person, so, when I die, people can say “At least he wasn’t a dick.”
Here I am again. Another year, another “new” website. I don’t know how many times I’ve gone through the routine, thinking I found the next best way to do this, got all excited, only to abandon the effort a few weeks in. Well, the odds would dictate that’s likely what’s going to happen again, but I’d like to hope not.
I’m going to start this off assuming I don’t know you, so let me introduce myself. I’m a twenty-something (though, if you’re a clever one, it shouldn’t be too difficult to figure out exactly what that something is) guy, currently living in Wilmington, Delaware. I live with my girlfriend of nearly five years, our two cats, and a rather large goldfish. I work in information technology. When I’m not working for the [wo]man, I enjoy listening to music, reading, drinking beer, and other sedentary activities.
I’m going to attempt to to make somewhat short, frequent posts here, focusing on things that don’t fit in the 140 character constraints of Twitter, or things that may not be received well by the Facebook friends. That being said, I’m being reminded by my girlfriend that we’re supposed to get some dinner, so that’s all for now.