Weapons Check

OK if you are in any kind of Selling role, this will mean something to you, hopefully.

Here’s the thought for today – “weapons check.”

It’s pitch black outside, landscape flying by right below the helicopters. Inside the lead helicopter the special forces commander receives a message from the pilot and signals to his team “10 minutes out” and “weapons check.” All the shooters begin a final check of their weapons, kits, gear, getting ready to rappel from the helicopter onto the roof of a building to accomplish their mission.

OK I know. We’re not in the military but there are some parallels. For example: “weapons check.” They and we use weapons to defeat an enemy. In our case it’s competition. Our most important weapon is in our hearts; it’s our Why We Do This. We do this for ourselves and for our families first and foremost. So because we deserve it and because our families deserve it, we need to bring our best to the “fight” so to speak. On with the weapons check. Weapon #2: what we know. This is something we should work to expand upon each day because it’s one of the main ways we bring value to our customers. No knowledge (or old knowledge) means no value. Not good. What’s your plan to regularly add to your knowledge base? Weapon #3: who we know. The network of customer relationships we have is either growing or atrophying. There’s no middle ground. It can grow in number or in depth. The ideal situation is that it grows on both dimensions. Today expand your network a bit. Make an extra call. Take extra time on a call. Write someone a note. See an additional person while you are in the field. Write one more email. Weapon #3: targeting. Our best efforts should be properly targeted on those outcomes which are most critical to our success. Whether that is closing a sale, finding a new opportunity, ensuring a completed sale goes as expected, or whatever, you figure that out and ensure you are focusing on the right activities.

Thanks for playing.

:^/

My One Wish

In 1967, the Vietnam War raged. In the jungles of that country, at the end of a certain summer day, the sun set on a Marine Corps outpost. Members of a Marine Force Recon unit sat atop a bunker watching the beautiful sunset, verbally considering all the constant dangers, stress, combat, death  and discomfort they faced on a daily basis. They mused over it all in colorful language, teenagers most, boys by age but men by experience, serving our country in war. The topic drifted to a question that was posed: if you had one wish right now, at this moment, what would it be?

“I’d wish to be with my girlfriend right now,” answered one Marine.
Another chimed in: “Me too.”
The Marine next to him answered, “I’d love to have a hot fudge sundae right about now.” Other leathernecks grunted agreement.
“I’d wish to be back home, sitting at a drive-in movie.”
And so the wishes went, as men answered from the around the circle, until finally all had spoken their peace. One Marine noticed the Gunnery Sergeant for the company sitting a bit removed from the group, silent. The Gunny was about twice the age of all the other Marines and had seen a lot of combat. “Hey, Gunny! What’d you wish for?” called out one Marine.
Without hesitation the Gunny answered in a quiet voice, without bothering to break his gaze on the sunset: “Tomorrow.”
The entire group fell silent. For one Marine, it was a moment burned into his consciousness.
With all that faced them, the Gunny had the wisdom and presence of mind and focus to wish for what mattered most: one more day. He knew it was a wish and that he may not see it. He knew it was all he could live in: the moment, the day given. He knew that the future and far off dreams paled in comparison to the relevance and critical nature of the present time and place. He had seen for himself and knew with certainty that life was erratically short and often ended abruptly.  He knew that purpose of life was precisely what dictated and enabled an intensity of focus to capture the day at hand. He knew that decisions and mistakes of the moment had sometimes immediate and potentially permanent outcomes, either good or bad.
Psalm 90:12 says “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.” If we are to number our days, our first realization will be that they are finite, that they are limited in number. Our second realization is that we cannot know exactly how many of them we will each have. Our third realization is that we can only experience and live out our days one at a time. Our fourth realization is that each day has its very own serial number of uniqueness, of significance, of impact. Today for me was day number 16,492. What was the serial number of your Today?
These four truths lead me to a further realization: that I must take the gift of each day that I am given and make the absolute most of the seconds, minutes and hours that add up to today. I must invest my vigor and energy in who and what matters most.  If you are paying attention you have reached the same conclusion.
My manager graciously shared the above story with me, of his own experience in Vietnam. He was the soldier who was branded by the Gunny’s answer. I came to understand what the Gunny meant upon hearing the story. My hope is that the meaning and moral is not lost on you.


Thanks for playing. Hope this improves your kung fu.
=^|

Figuring It Out

When I was fifteen, we went on a family vacation – a road trip to the Midwest. We had gotten out to the middle of nowhere in California and it was pretty hot. My younger brother and I were just enjoying the ride and goofing around, occasionally arguing, par for the course for a teenager and a nine year old. My father called me up front. I climbed up from the rearmost seat of our fairly new 1976 VW van and knelt between the two front seats. The conversation went something like this:

“Hey Dad.”
“Hey Mark, take this map.”
“What’s this?”
“The Rand-McNally map of the U.S.”
“Pretty big book. Okay.”
“We need to get to Flagstaff, Arizona.”
“Okay.”
“Get us there.”
“Huh? How do I do that?”
“You have the map. Figure it out.”
              I looked at him with a blank stare that said all at once “You can’t be serious!” and “Why do I have to do this?” He glanced back at me with a look that said “Yes I am,” and “Get busy.” I took the book of maps to the back of the van, sat down and flipped through it. A map of every state in the Union was there in great detail. Flagstaff, Arizona, I thought. Where’s Flagstaff? I opened the map to the index and found the pages that contained Arizona. More questions arose, so I hollered up to the front of the van.

“Where are we?”

“Road sign coming up,” was the only answer I got.

              I looked out the window and read the passing road sign in earnest (for the first time that trip). It said: “Barstow – 17 mi.” So I asked, “Where’s Barstow?” There was no answer – just a look through the rearview mirror that said “You have the map,” and quiet unintelligible conversation between Mom and Dad. So I figured Barstow is either in California or it is in Arizona. I went back to the index for both states and eventually found Barstow listed in California. I sourced its grid location on the map, sitting at the junction of three highways. I wondered to myself, which of these highways are we on, headed to Barstow? I looked for more road signs, saw one in the distance coming up. Highway 58 – that’s the road we’re on. Barstow was ahead of us. I looked outside. It was about noon, so I could not determine which way was east, but we had to be heading east because Barstow was coming up and we were headed to Arizona. I was pretty sure that for whatever reason, neither parent was going to help. Therefore there was no sense in asking more questions.
              Another sign was coming up. Barstow – 12 mi., Needles – 151 mi. I found Needles on the map, which confirmed we were headed east. I felt a bit better about this. With a little confidence, I announced to the family, “Okay, we’re headed east on Highway 58. Barstow is 12 miles away and Needles is 151 miles away…” – I stated the obvious and continued. “It looks like between Barstow and Needles is the Mojave desert, so I am guessing you better top off the tank in Barstow, Dad and we should probably eat, because it is almost one and I’m hungry.”
              We pulled into town and did just that. Dad filled up. We got a bite to eat. As we exited town east, a sign announced the road was now Interstate 40. Off we went. It got even hotter. The heat brought the chatter in the van to a minimum. We all sat there and sweated (the van had no air conditioning). We raided the ice chest for cold sodas and ice. I read the signs and estimated our time of arrival in Needles based on our speed and the distance markers along the highway. It grew hot beyond description.
              We went through Needles and on to Kingman, where I-40 also became Highway 93. After a short bit, Dad yelled back from up front, “93/40 split coming up – which way to Flagstaff?” I got caught off guard. I asked for the highway numbers again and checked the map. “93!” I yelled back. “Are you sure?” came the reply. “Yes!” So my father turned onto Highway 93. As the afternoon dragged on I noticed that the sun began to get lower in the sky to my right. Something did not feel right. I pulled the map back out. We were heading south, had to be because of our direction relative to the sun’s descent into the west. I checked the upcoming highway sign, which simply had the symbol for Highway 93. I carefully traced 93 back to where it broke off from I-40 and with my finger traced I-40 east across the page over to my feared mistake and our destination: Flagstaff.
“Uh, Dad?” I called out tentatively.
“Yes son,” was the reply.
“I made a mistake. We have to turn around,” I said, wincing inside, staring carefully at the rearview mirror for the response.
“You sure, son?” came the reply. I listened carefully and could only hear calm patience in his voice.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I messed up. We should have stuck on I-40. We need to go back.”
“Is there a faster way from where we are at?”
“No Dad. I already checked. They’re all a lot longer than just turning around and getting on 40. I’m sorry.”
“No problem, son. You’re learning.”
My little brother complained vigorously about the mistake and the heat and the wasted time. Neither parent offered a word of criticism. From that point forward through the rest of the trip, I carefully navigated without mistake. I quickly learned to determine route, distance by scale, estimated time of arrival, rate of fuel consumption and maximum possible distance to travel to the next town before nightfall. During that whole trip I navigated the family through thirteen states and over 3,000 miles, without anyone’s help. I figured it out, because I had to. I thank my Dad for that lesson.
To this day, I have tremendous confidence in my ability to figure many things out. I trace much of it back to that vacation trip. The most critical things for that road trip then are still the most critical things for navigating through to goals and destinations in life today: Where is the map? Where am I on the map? Where is my destination? What road am I on? What direction am I headed on that road? Which way is north? Then beyond that, how far on which roads must I travel to arrive at my desired destination? It is surprising what you can figure out if you must and if you have a good map.


Thanks for playing.
=^|

Ideas

Ideas, I love ideas.  Their entrance is stunning. They occur. Sometimes they occur after long, arduous and careful work, thought, contemplation, and research. Sometimes they occur in an instant, as a flash of lightning, unexpected, unaccounted for, powerful and potentially world-changing. We’re not looking to change the world, per se, but we are looking for good ideas. Wait - maybe we are looking to change the world. 


No idea is too small; some will be silly and that’s ok. Some will be brilliant. Some will appear completely obvious only after you disclose them. But be looking for ideas that strengthen or improve your work and life. The world needs them. So when one occurs, share.


Thanks for playing. 
:^/