Jack D. Deal
It was one of those 'stellar' or rather 'solar'
California afternoons.
The sky was a deep, dark blue -- a storm having cleared out the skies the
day before. We walked through rows of brussel sprout plants that were
beginning to lean with the weight of the sprouts. Surfers were scurrying
down to the beach. The waves, ten and twelve footers, were breaking
several hundred yards out and rolling in just right. We reached the cliff
and walked down the narrow path which still slippery from the recent rain.
What could spoil this perfect setting?
I kept thinking back to the management meeting I had conducted the day
before. There were six of us seated around a conference table evaluating
employees and discussing how to create an employee buy-out program. We
were fifteen minutes into the discussion when one of the managers said, "I
have to say something".
My first impulse was 'oh boy'. In the past when these kinds of
statements came up it was something like -- 'I quit' or 'We gotta fire Joe'
or 'Someone's stealing the coffee money'. But that wasn't the case this
time.
"My best friend stopped by to see me last night," said the manager,
"we went to grammar school together. The good news was that his company
went IPO last year and he took home five and half million dollars. That
was the good news. That same day he got the good news from his accountant he
also got a call from his doctor. He had cancer; it had metastasized and
was non-treatable. He had 6-8 months to live."
There was a silence around the table. After a pause I made some
comment about how sorry we all were and went back to our agenda. I lay
awake that night thinking about the peculiar occurrence at the meeting. I
did not think about the buy out -- that was simple. I kept thinking about
the cancer and the millions of dollars.
What would five million dollars look like? Could you go down to the
Credit Union and withdraw five million dollars? Could you get the 5M in
gold? What would 5M in hundred dollar bills look like? The truth of the
matter was, the five million really did not physically exist -- it was just
a bunch of bits and bytes on a computer database. Sure the money could be
spent but only because others gave value to the database. If it were wiped
out by something like the Y2K bug, would it still exist? What if everyone
said 'your bits and bytes aren't worth anything anymore to us?'
Then I kept going back to the terminal condition. Would he get to
enjoy his money? Would he give it away? Would he throw one big party?
Would he live lavishly as his physical condition deteriorated? Did his
quest for the 5M contribute to his cancer? Did he work too hard and lower
his immune system? Was it a cruel joke played by fate? Was the doctor
only kidding?
The more I thought, the more absurd my ideas became. Nothing made
sense and a hundred years from now, I thought, who would care? As I sat
on the beach my editor (and life companion) looked at me strangely. 'All
this pure air, sea and beach and you are not enjoying it,' she said,
'business problems don't usually get you this down -- especially at the
beach.' I then told her the story. She shrugged and started looking for
shells.
I never resolved this one and concluded that there really was no
resolution. We are all animals and the price we pay for not being a rock
or the sea is mortality. How we live is all we really have and how we die
in a certain sense is rather insignificant. In the total scheme of things
it matters very little.
So when our teenager acts up I really have to put it in perspective.
Are the annoyances really important? How would I feel if he had the
cancer? Or my editor? Or me? Some would care - some would cry but for
most, life just goes on.
The next day I was reviewing a motivational tape in my car on my way
to a client site. The speaker was talking about discipline and how we must
manage our lives with discipline to achieve business success. And then
came the clincher: "And some of you instead of being disciplined would
rather spend the afternoon at the beach."
That's me, I decided! Sure I work hard and will work hard in the
future. But I will take some time. Even 5 million dollars can't buy an
afternoon at the beach.
Jack D. Deal
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