I’ve started watching a new show. It’s called Undercover Boss. CEOs go undercover in their own companies to get a better idea of what is happening on the front line. It’s a great concept. CEOs have to be big picture people with vision. But too often senior management loses perspective. Sometimes the details do matter. Sometimes they need to remember that their employees are people who can give a lot to their companies but need encouragement and the feeling that someone cares about them. So, let me describe some of what happened in the first episode.

This guy from Waste Management went out into the field. One guy fired him for being too slow at picking up trash. Another guy is someone I would like to see every day because he’s the kind of guy who loves life. This guy cleans port-a-potties for a living. As he was taking the CEO out to a job he says, “We’re like hunters. It’s not a job, it’s an adventure.”  

On another job, the CEO went out with a woman who was on a trash pick-up route who had to pee in a can when she had to go. It just goes to show that sometimes there are policies put into place to cut costs or increase efficiency that can leave out the human element. I’ve had crappy jobs but I can’t imagine having to deal with that.  

Now it’s easy to watch a show like this and take the side of the workers. It’s a case of corporate vs. front line. But what happens a lot is that there are usually good solid reasons for implementing policies. I’ve worked in places where employees take advantage when there is no accountability. And I’ve worked in a place where there has been too much oversight. It’s about trust, hiring the right people, training, and most importantly, communication. Communicating with the employees before the policies go into effect and communicating the reasons and details after. And then encouraging feedback.

Communication is key to relationships. With employees, supervisors, and with customers. I was amazed that some of these waste management employees were friends with their customers. It makes you think about all the people we interact with each day. And how many people touch our lives and brighten our days.

But the most important thing to remember is if you have to clean up toilets at any point in your life, just think of it as a “Battlefield of Poo,” and do your job well and with pride.

I love the Olympics. This year’s competitions are being held in beautiful British Colombia, Canada. A number of years ago I went skiing at Whistler with my parents and it was breathtaking. One of the many things I enjoy about the Olympics are the stories of the journeys the athletes took to get there. I always wanted to be an Olympian but alas it wasn’t in the cards. But I did take an eventful journey to get to Whistler.

Back in the late 90s I was working for a hockey team in Cleveland. The working hours were endless with few days off. By chance, the boys were on the road for a week so I packed my bags and made arrangements to meet my parents in Minnesota where we would travel on together to Vancouver. That was the plan at least.

After working three weeks without a day off, I found myself exhausted. So exhausted that on Saturday morning I woke up with that feeling—you know the one—that something wasn’t right. I knew I had slept too long. I looked up and saw a plane overhead, glanced at the clock and knew that was my plane. Up there. Without me. 

Off to the airport I ran. I managed to rearrange my schedule with the totally incompetent people of Northwest airlines so that I would wait about an hour, catch a flight to Detroit, change to a flight to Minnesota, wait there for six hours, and then catch a flight to Vancouver. A few minutes later, that flight got cancelled. So back to the starting block. There was a direct flight to Minnesota taking off in a couple of hours with a three hour layover and on to Vancouver. If you’re like me, you’re wondering why the airline guy didn’t just give me that option first.

The first flight was delayed but I finally made it to Minnesota. Then had a huge delay in Minnesota. Hours late. By now I’m on my fifth call to my parent’s answering machine (no cell phones back then). This time I wasn’t crying, but I was running late and missed connecting with them.

Just when it looked like I was going to make it, the plane landed in Vancouver at about five minutes to 10 p.m. local time or 1 a.m. Cleveland time. (I started the day at 7 a.m. so I was ready to end this nightmare.) The last leg of the trip was a two-hour bus ride up to Whistler. My parents left me a voucher—but the last bus was leaving at 10 p.m. So I ran over to the customs guys and begged them to let me go ask the bus people to wait a few minutes for me. No go. (And this was pre-9/11.) Needless to say I missed the bus so I made a reservation at a hotel in Vancouver.

The next morning I got into the shuttle (or van) to go back to the airport. I was the only passenger and as luck would have it, my driver was a conspiracy theorist. The entire, terrifying drive to the airport was filled with his theories about government take-overs. At one point he pointed to the lovely landscape and screamed something about “the man.”

It was all worth it. The bus ride up to Whistler was gorgeous and so was the resort. During the next couple of weeks I’ll be rooting those Olympians on as they hurl themselves down and around those mountains. Go USA, Go USA!

I grew up in Pennsylvania where during the winter it snowed. Not only that but it snowed on back country roads and the schools didn’t shut down for a mere couple of inches. But here in northern Virginia, the massive traffic, lack of resources, and crazy people make for a dangerous mix when snow comes. There’s always a panic—which I think comes from the mind-set of the type of people who live here. It’s fast-paced, high-drama, and with all the politicians, things tend to be exaggerated in general.

So with two storms topping a couple feet each, we are talking about snowpocalypse. Snowmegeddin. The blizzard of 2010. I don’t know what they’re going to call the storms coming later this week, but we’re becoming pros at this.

All this snow brings about a change in our routines. Some good and some not so good. My back is killing me but the exercise is good. Grendel and his buddies love to play in it. So do the kids and my neighbors John and Bob, and well okay, me, too. I went over to the guys’ houses this weekend to ask their wives if they could come out and play. Bob ended up with a big bruise on his arm from snowboarding and John got the dogs riled up.

I wanted to build a big, creative snowman but my muscles were aching and so the snow artist in me settled for a smaller one with some of the items lying about in my house. I love, love, love, love snow. It’s beautiful. You can play in it. When it’s falling it feels so peaceful. So I don’t even mind the crap that comes along with it.

These big snows have a way of forcing us outside where we end up talking to neighbors. During shoveling breaks we catch up, joke, and complain about the snowplow guy who just pushed five feet of snow in front of our cars and the mailbox. Then we make bets on how fast it will take “certain neighbors” to steal our spots. We pull together and take care of each other. I actually got to fulfill a cliché by asking my neighbor for some sugar. It wasn’t a cup and it was brown sugar, but still. And my other neighbor gave me some brownie mix and cookies. If you’re going to be stuck with people for a few days, it’s good to have nice neighbors who like to have fun. And who help you shovel.

Happy snow day!

Superbowl Snowman

Superbowl Snowman

Wahooooo!

John and Grendel

Cat watches and tries to catch (from behind the door) icicles falling from roof.