A story on the radio
A restaurant in Haiti, Munchies Pizza (spelling?), too expensive for most Haitians, realized all of their food was going to spoil. They opened their doors and started feeding people until the food ran out. Local businesses, started bringing food to the restaurant and they kept feeding until that food ran out. The owner’s brother in law, Bailey, packed a truck full of food in the Dominican Republic and drove it over. The restaurant is now feeding 1000 people a day. There is now a facebook page to continue to feed people.  The business owners says he didn’t intend for this to happen from his food decision and it is giving him hope. A new purpose in life.
Unintended consequence of being pragmatic. Beautiful.

In the work I do, I often have unintended consequence that are seeds for my inner critic.  I so wish there was some drug out there that would REMOVE my inner critic from my head for just 10 minutes.  Unintended consequences aren’t always bad.. they just sometimes feel bad when they happen.

ps: No matter how much I google the story, I can’t find it. If you do - let me know.

http://27bslash6.com/p2p.html

This is so perfect I just can’t stand it. Thank you Sandeep!

I arrive in Dallas feeling good. I get my bag and look for directions to the hotel. There is no phone number in the confirmation so I’m a little annoyed.   The transitions are always the hardest when I’m in a hurry, I just found out my meeting starts at 5:30 not 7:00pm.  The website gives the reservations number, not the hotel number.  I call 411 and can’t connect where I am standing.  “Look for the pony.”  I say to myself.

Alas! A wall of hotel signs and a phone. Wyndham is there.   Hooray!!  I call, I wait and I get a happy gentleman on the line.

“Hi, I just arrived at the airport and my name is Christina Harbridge. I’m staying there tonight, can you come get me?”

“Absolutely. Go to passenger waiting area D1 downstairs and we will be there within 15 minutes.”

I find the spot. I wait.

I get a call from my buddy Theresa (with an H) who is staying with me at the Wyndham. We agree to meet there.
After 20 minutes, I call the guy. I ask him if I am in the right spot.

“Oh. Um. Our driver isn’t there yet. Just wait and he’ll get there soon.”

My phone rings. Theresa is on the phone. “Christina, I just talked with the shuttle driver at our hotel and he says they do not pick up passengers from the airport.”
Just then, a driver taps me on the shoulder. “Wyndham?” He is a sweet kid, takes my bag and we get in the shuttle.
“Theresa, I’m getting in the shuttle. See you soon.”

He tells me he is really sorry that I had to wait so long and that it was their fault.
“Oh, what happened?” I could see him pause for a moment perhaps wondering if he should tell me what did happen. “Well, we made a mistake and missed you on the first call. I’m really sorry.”  He doesn’t blame anyone… just takes it for the team.

My annoyance immediate gone. Front desk people get busy, I can see it happening. It is only 15 minutes of my life. No worries.

Ryan, the driver and I, both have young sons,Sebastian (4) and Michael (5).  We have a lively conversation about kids and customers. Somehow we figure out I am not going to his Wyndam.

You see, there are TWO Wyndham Hotels near the airport. BOTH are on John Carpenter Drive. When I called the hotel I asked, “Is this the Wyndham on John Carpenter.” The guys said yes.

Ryan called in his manager and let them know I was at the wrong hotel and said he was only 2 miles away and would just drop me off at my hotel. The manage said (I could hear him) “No way. Bring her here and she can take a cab.”

I was in awe as Ryan fought for me a little. He did this in hushed tones to protect the reputation of his hotel and his boss. I could hear him saying “It will take me less than 5 minutes, please? We have done this before and we don’t have any other calls right now.”
The boss told him to call the other Wyndham and tell them to come get me from THEIR hotel.

I was sort of in shock. Of course I know the Wyndham isn’t the Four Seasons- certainly they realize that this 5 minute moment can create an evangelist or a critic for a lifetime.

Ryan understood it. He fought for it. “Ryan, can you let your manager know that I’m late for a meeting that starts in 5 minutes and I’d so appreciate him doing me this favor.”

The manager still said I should call my hotel.  Ryan whispered to him, dude, we already made her wait 20 minutes because we forgot the call.  Can’t we just drop her?

We were 2 minutes from my hotel. Ryan took me there. He told me how he was happy to have a job and how much he enjoyed what he did. He spoke highly of the hotel and the people who work there. He as perfect.

I worry that he might be fired for this. Will his manager understand what this kid did?

What startles me about this whole scenario is how often this mix-up must happen.  Two Wyndhams on John Carpenter.   Why didn’t the front desk person CONFIRM that I was staying that the right Wyndam. Why did he leave that to chance?

Oh, it gets better. I arrive at my hotel. I walk in. I tell Raz the front desk guy what happened. His response? “They are really busy over there. I can see why they wanted you to take a cab.”

Are you kidding me? Really?  Couldn’t you just say, “Ouch, that sucks. “  or “Wow, what was the kid’s name?  I’m gonna send him flowers.”
SOMETHING that resembles I’m on your side customer, I travel and I get it.  Raz is a nice guy, he just forgot forgot that the person standing in front of him just wants a human nod not an excuse or even an apology.

I’m hoping the Wyndham gives Ryan a huge promotion and puts him in charge of customer service: for the entire chain.   I don’t expect a lot when I travel as a customer.  What I often end up getting are individuals who make individual decisions that make me feel human.

By the way, Ryan is under 30.  I often find that this age group tends to do the ‘right’ thing rather than the ‘corporate’ thing.    Like it.

Wow. I’m so proud of all my friends who give 1000’s of hours to make this happen. So inspirational.
Brava Dhaya! Rocked it.

http://video.kauffman.org/services/player/bcpid40280745001?bctid=51706359001

If you now me, you know I had the most incredible father imaginable. He died in 2004 before I was pregnant and knew Sebastian was coming. I often imagine the joy my son would have brought to my dad had he met him.

Friday night, Sebastian was hitting the couch with a stick. He was making quite a raucous and I thought about asking him to stop. Then I thought, heck, I was gone for 2 days.. let the kid beat the couch.

Suddenly, the house was silent.  I looked over at Sebastian.  We have this funny look we do to each other across a crowded room.  He returns the look and says, “Grandpa told me it was too loud so I stopped.”

Oh, is grandpa here Sebastian?

“Yes, he is just invisible.”

Sebastian has said this before.  It gives me tingles every time he says it.  I so hope it is true.  That somehow my dad is here holding my little boy.  (and disciplining him on annoying noises… Dad, coach him to eat more vegetables while you are at it.)

If you know me.. you likely know the story about the liquid amber seeds.

Last week in a lonely hotel in New Jersey, I found another one. My dad works in mysterious ways.

I showed it to my son today. He asked if he could put it in his pocket. I hesitated for a second, not wanting to lose it.  It has been worn down by the vacuum or traveling through a worm hole to get here so it is comfortable in his pocket.  He smiles and rides away on his scooter.

Moments later we adventure out into the light drizzle for a scooter ride. There is this great car-less path in Brisbane with a slight downhill on the way back.

I hear Sebastian talking… I catch up with him and ask him what he was saying.

“I’m not talking to you momma, I’m talking to grandpa.”
Oh, what were you saying.
“Well, I’m taking grandpa on his first scooter ride. He wants me to do it from the top of that turn over there. You wait here momma.  Really Momma. You wait here.”
Tears now, I nod.
“Don’t worry momma, we will be safe.  I’ll take care of grandpa.”
He runs up to the top of the turn talking all the way there. In the sweetest little hushed voice.
He squeals as he races to the bottom of the hill. I can barely catch him with my knee issue. He is laughing and talking and it is such bliss.
We fall to the bottom and we are both laughing and rolling on the ground. Sebastian looks at me and said, “Uh oh.. grandpa wants to do it AGAIN momma!”

Life is so sweet.  I just hope my dad didn’t see me throw a hand size peace sign at the cat last night when he tried to take the table cloth off the table…..I want him to remember me as NOT an incongruent 40ish year old.

it is weird
80% of the people I have met here answer my question the same way.
“Born and Raised”

New Jersey is different. Folks I have met here can’t tell me what it is. Why do so many people stay here? Born and raised is rare where I am from and in most cities I visit.  Born and Raised in New Jersey seems to be common.

I’m at a local bar. It is fun. Lots of great conversation about family and the real stuff. Folks seem to swim in the deep end here fairly quickly.
Like it.
I am in a huge bar. Two levels of people.
I have a small bladder. Not over sharing with you, just setting you up for a later musing.
I expect a line. I walk toward the back of the venue before I need to, just sure I will have to wait.
I find a door with a picture of a stick figure in a skirt.
I go in. Beautiful bathroom. Sink, stone, clean nice.
I’m happy in my own little private, um, space. No one to see my feet or hear my, um, tinkling.
I then realize as i wash my hands in my own private potty nirvana… OMG.
This is a huge venue. wtf? I can’t believe they don’t have more bathrooms. This is CRAZY with a capital urinary tract infection.  With this many women drinking there must be some unhappy girls come 2nd beer time.

I begrudgingly leave my amber lighted sanctuary and see some women in the hall. “Wow, ladies, I can’t believe there is only one bathroom.”
They give me a nice look and then direct my eyes toward the 6 or 7 private little stall rooms.  Complete with their own individual sinks.    Um. Whoa.

Did I just discover it? Is this why New Jersians stay in New Jersey? Is it a person’s own private space to pee, wash their hands and pretend that by applying more lipstick they will lose those  post-40 tiny little upper lip verticals?

I’m on a mission. I meet Ed, and Joe, and Kim and Dan etc etc.
I ask each of them “where are you from?”
“Born and Raised in New Jersey.”
I ask a weird question that most people do not hesitate to answer.
“This is a weird question. Random. How many bathrooms in your house?”

I’m from the Bay area in San Francisco area. Most of my friends have a 3/1 ratio. If they are lucky: 2/1.
Every person I asked had as many bathrooms as bedrooms. Everyone.

Is this why no one leaves New Jersey? Elimination real estate?

Whatever it is.  I noticed and I like it.  Most of the questions I received after my ’speech’ were directed toward family.    Definitely going back for more time.

The CUTEST production. An all kid play … Sound of Music in Mill Valley. Adorable set, red cheeked kids, good voices. Sebastian a wee bit more excited about it than I realized he would be. Got super antsy waiting in line.

Finally, the singing began. He looked at me and laughed each time they sang, “When the dog bites…”
He started getting antsy. “Momma, when is the movie starting.”
I whispered in his ear, that this is a movie.. it is just live. You see, Sebastian doesn’t get to watch TV. He gets a movie each week and it is usually on the weekends. He anticipated this ‘movie’ all week.

I failed to set his expectations very well, As the children sang “Do Ra Mi…” he got louder and louder.
“MOMMA when is this PREVIEW going to be over?”

I raced him out of there. He wailed in the lobby. 7 adults shushed him. He wailed on the sidewalk. Several Marin-ites gave me a look of child abuse.
He wailed behind his seat belt. He wailed as we drove on the 101.
I asked him if he wanted to talk about it.

He stopped crying immediately. “No, Momma. I’m too mad. I want YOU to talk about it.”

As I explained to him the play, the act of signing, performance… I pulled the car over.

“Sebastian, I made a mistake and I am sorry. i think what happened is you thought it was a movie. Mommy should have explained it to you before we went in there.  Next time you’ll know a little more and enjoy all the singing.”

He sniffled for a while. Fell asleep.

Still asleep.

I wonder how often in his life humans will give him that look.. that… “you are a bad kid look,” when actually it was an example of missed parenting.

It made me think about expectations.  So often in the business world the relationships fall to the floor in tiny fragments as “busy” and “no time” result in unclear expectations.    My son, once again, has reminded me to slow down and have more conversations.    TO make sure those around me are clear on what to expect or what I expect.

Now … if I can just find another 2 hours in the day to make that happen…..

As usual, my son and I cuddled on his bed and talked about his life. Every night since he was a baby we spend a half an hour to an hour just chatting before bed.
We were talking about Star Wars when my little 4 year old looked at me and let out a loud cry of anguish. He sobbed and cried for 10 minutes. He couldn’t get words out to tell me what what hurting him. He wailed in the way I cried the day my dog died. It was a deep guttural experience. (A little scary for a moment, I had never seen him cry this way.)   Uncontrolled sobs…

I held him and talked him through it. I asked him what happened. I anticipated something at school although it seemed odd that he would feel that hurt by something.

He told me a story of going camping. That his friends ran ahead of him and he couldn’t catch up. That his friends left him and forgot about him. His chin quivered as he recounted the story. “My friends forgot me momma.”
He cried again. Wailed actually.
This event happened 4 months ago on an ALL BOY camping trip. This little human has held this in his body for 4 months.

We talked about Disneyland and how at Disneyland he kind of forgot about his friend Ella and just ran ahead. That all the excitement made him focus on running forward rather than waiting for his friend. We talked about how friends are always in our hearts even if we forget them in a moment of happiness, joy, enthusiasm or even pain. That is what friendship is.

We went into strategy mode… what he could do next time.. run after them.. look for something amazing that is around him that he might miss if he ran ahead…. He looked at me and said, “Mom, I like all those options.” (oh my god, one of my parenting things is when he is being difficult I offer him OPTIONS. It is weird to hear my words come out of his mouth.)
He took a DEEP breath, put his head on my chest and fell asleep. Seriously. Snoring louder than my grandpa used to.

We all walk around with these stories in us. We decide what they mean and whatever emotion is attached to it. We make decisions and have behavior based upon all these attachments to experience.

This morning I got up early to do some catching up. As the sun came up I closed my eyes and checked in on the day before. It was odd to realize that something had bothered me that I didn’t intellectually notice. That was ‘in there’ lurking. I actually cried for a moment and then laughed at how often I learn the best lessons from a child.

From now on, I’m carrying Kleenex in my purse. I’m thinking I just added 10 years of health to my life.

Life is good.

A week ago.  Late.  Again.  the acrobatics of a 3 year old and an early morning hair appointment.

I must admit, I stumbled a little, hiding the broccoli in the peanut butter sandwich he requested for breakfast.

In the car.  “walk walk”  “C’mon honey.”

He hands me the 3/4 eaten sandwich, “Done mommy.”   We race toward his preschool.

The past few days, the Brisbane police have been speed-trapping our route so I’m actually going the speed limit.

Red lights.  i get pulled over.  Great.

I explain to SJL what is going on.  Cop takes my stuff (paperwork)   phone rings.. I take the call.

Police does the drill  I see him checking all the vitals on the bureaucratic by the book rigamarole.  (that just rolled off my tongue)

He walks up to the window.  i get off my call.  “people usually ask me why i pulled them over.”  He looks at me expectantly.

“um.  I figured you’d tell me eventually.”

“Ma’am, you have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on your car.”

whoops   I had meant to toss that.  I laugh.  Then start to ask if I can get a ticket for that….

Sebastian yells in an obstinate tone, “IT IS ALMOND BUTTER… !!!!

Cop laughs, “I can’t give a ticket for being precocious.”

We drive off.    That night we have an elaborate birthday dinner I planned…. a mini  fireworks festival for him.  This is my 3rd year celebrating his birth with a visual outburst.  Dinner and then KABOOM.

My friend xxx was over the top… giant incredible fireworks.  Really profound and fab.

Cops show.  Oh, really, no fireworks on the beach?  That is weird since almost every group there had them.  Cop is Unhappy.  Clearly freaked out about safety and 4 young boys at the beach after 9pm.  I  explain to  sjl how cops are there for our safety and perhaps we aren’t’ being safe.    The cop was not in a good mood clearly.  A totally different experience from the cop in the morning.  Sebastian looks back over to him and says, “Thank you for coming to my birthday party.”

I think this kid has just learned how to gauge the outward affect of a police officer and respond accordingly.    Oh, will the teenage years be fun.

Scare Grove. Nice.
Jeremy: performer
Picked an 8 year old out of the audience. Handed her a torch that was 1/3 as tall as the kid.
Lit the torch.
The parents in the audience looking at each other. A mixture of, is this safe and how neat.
She lit his juggling batons and he lit is unicycle on fire.
I’m hoping we are taking a turn in our society. Allowing a little more risk and less fear of lawsuits.
I asked him about it after… “I trust kids more than adults.”
Me too.