Survivors all

Duane, a Harley biker in from West Virginia, was getting his Tundra looked at, and visiting a grave. His twenty-something son died a year ago in a freak motorcycle accident at a car dealer lot in the area. Duane was off for a bike ride on a beautiful southern Wisconsin day while waiting for his service to be completed.

Later, separately, I picked up Mr. Harrison at the airport. He was coming back to town from a long weekend in Ohio. He'd been out to see the relatives for the first time in eight years. They all gathered to spread their father's ashes. He was sitting behind me. We really did not make contact in the mirror. We talked about the weather after that. He was going home to mow the lawn before the rain today. 

How do these things come up … and so quickly? It might be easier that way. There is something about being in the space. It is non-managed. It is safe. It is free. Strangers. No eyes. 

Sooner or later, if we're sitting here reading this, we are all survivors.

Thanks, Frank

Frank was the first ever customer/rider that I brought to my back yard.

He runs his own yard maintenance and landscaping service and was willing to take 2 extra minutes out of his day to look at my back yard on his way to pick up his car.

That is how close I live to my place of employment.

Yes, he would have come out for a quote in another time frame. That's the way small business works. I did tell him he could save at least a half hour if he would invest two minutes now.

And, it turns out he's going to give us a referral to another local guy that has more appropriate equipment. His specialty is really stump grinding. There's always cross-over but, in our case we have a hill and that makes it tricky. We also have power lines in the tree tops and that also makes it tricky. And ... potentially fatal.

Maybe we should call the insurance fellow, too.

Anyway, I've had this project on my mind for a bit this summer. The 'hill', as we call it, is out of order. It's gotten away from us. We don't care. Alright, we do care.

One of those things.

But, in this story, another guy I need to talk to hops into the front seat to tell me how things are.

Thanks, Frank.

Robot Integrator

Mike said he’s been interested in robots since he was 15 years old. Looking at him you get the idea that that’s just a little over half his life ago. And he seems about as enthusiastic as he must have been at the very beginning.

He’s since assembled a team of about 8 engineers and designers that provide custom automation systems for manufacturing. He calls himself a robot integrator.

He primarily buys the Japanese brand Fanuc, programs them, and outfits them with tools for the particular custom job. I told him I’d be interested in seeing what they do.

“Do you have a video brochure or Youtube channel as part of your sales and marketing efforts?”

“Well, … no. This is all custom and …”

“Ah, proprietary.”

“Yes. People pay us to keep them ahead of the competition.”

Mostly he’s gotten good enough that business is pretty much word of mouth. He gets a lot of referrals from the tool guys at trade shows. As a matter of fact there is no website attached to his email domain.

Anyway, he presented it all so well that I was quite enthused. He actually invited me by for a tour of the shop.

It’s possible he thought my interest in video meant that I have some expertise in that discipline. 

“Do you do video?”

“No”, I said, "but I know people if you are interested.”

A tour? I can’t imagine why not. He’s right down in Greendale’s Industrial Loop. 

…

The screenshot is a random Fanuc video from Youtube.

Make my day

We got right into software tools and her preferences and since I apparently knew something about something and was willing to engage she took right off. A breath of fresh air. Chelsea is a recent MIAD grad glad to talk about her work at the front end of a promising career. 

She did have a very well-done business card she was happy to share with me and later online I found this Tweet for me:

"Shout out to the sweet shuttle guy at the Toyota center who chatted with me about my illustration work. Made my day!”

Made her day? Made MY day!

It’s not that difficult to raise one another up. Let go of your self for a blessed second. Actually, there is relief for you in that act alone.

ChelseaLinaeve.com
Illustrator and Natural Scientist

Chemistry and connection

Even though he’s a chemist by profession we often talk about marketing, branding, the buying public. Sometimes we get into colors and fonts. Maybe it’s because I’m not a chemist. He has talked to me about batch sizes and production capacity in general ways a couple of times. I’ll bet I could get a tour now that I think of it.

This last time I saw him I was having a very difficult day with the service advisors and their communications with me. There is no central dispatch for my time. There is a core of about six guys that direct my travel schedule. We could easily imagine another four or five people at least that might ask if I can get something or someone for them. Occasionally I have to say “No, get someone else. I’m already committed." I also have to keep in mind the space/time map. The morning driver is the one with the composite picture of the potential afternoon route. 

So, communication; sending and receiving, senders and receivers. Claudio and I talked about gaps and missed signals. He talked about his wife getting upset with him that he does not remember that she told him something. We talked about joint responsibility in effective communication. The sender needs to be clear that the message was received. The receiver needs to acknowledge receipt. Whether there is comprehension or agreement is another layer or step.

Although I have heard him say “You know, David, I think it’s more like …”, Claudio is very much a “Yes, and” communicator. Yes, and .. not necessarily in the improv comedy sense, but in finding the agreement that keeps the lines open and moving.

Claudio usually has some Christian radio or CD running in his car and we might have a chat about that. I’ve been working on this idea for a bit and wanted to run it by him. I can easily leap from the communication of sending and receiving to writers and readers.

That the Bible is actually a divinely inspired work depends on the level of inspiration of the reader. The Bible, all by itself … fill in the blank. Does it not take a reader? A Reader? An inspired Reader?

One can have the biggest body of water backed up by the dam, or the largest solar array imaginable but if it is not tied to the grid, and ported to your door … if you are not plugged in, it doesn’t matter. Senders and receivers. Writers and readers.

“Yes, and ...” he said, “I have something for you."

His company does not buy a lot of swag but he found a little stash and, knowing how much I like caps, brought me one as a present. And then, as we were stopping right outside the service door, he pulled a copy of my book Drive Time out of his satchel and asked for my autograph. What a guy. That is so sweet.

Real people. What fun.

The slip I was given for Beata said she was going to 108th and Layton. The truth is she was visiting a friend while her car was being serviced and did not know the address. As we are arriving in the general vicinity she does not recognize any landmarks and is getting a bit apologetic. I have time. Not to worry. We’ll get there. The truth is I drove her to S. Foxwood south of Beloit Road at about 123rd St. over a mile and half further on. I am really glad she knew where her friend actually lives.

On the way we had me practice her last name. It took me three times before she was satisfied.

She’s been seven years in America and recently completed some coursework at MATC that allows her to become an intake nurse at a hospital. A first step toward greater things. She is going to need to work on her English if she expects to be hired for an important position like intake.

When I went to pick her up there were a a few people in the front yard including two younger boys - one of them selling lemonade. I bought 50 cents worth from my window seat and gave him a buck. He’s way down in the suburban weeds in the middle of a hot morning. He’s not going to sell much. There’s no one there and no one driving by. He needs a little encouragement.

Anyway, there’s an older guy with Beata that turns out to be her father. She says he only knows a few phrases and so … I test him a bit. Hi. Hello. How are you? I think he knows more than she says.

In my day-to-day life I don’t get to hear much Polish being spoken. I ask her if she can tell me something; a story, a recipe, or a joke. She relays this to him. He laughs a bit. It’s quiet. He’s thinking. Then he gives her the run up to an old family joke they both know. She laughs and then proceeds to tell me in Polish. She gets to the end and they both laugh. Then I laugh. Then she wants to know if I want to know the joke in English. No, I say, I just wanted to hear you talk. She tells him that and we all crack up. 

Laughing with real people; strangers just a few minutes ago. What fun.