It struck me that this might be a good time to try an experiment that I've wanted to do ever since I read Katy Bourne's book, Weirdo Simpatico: Little Stories for Short Attention Spans.
It's a good read, and she really is on to something. So I adapted the idea for work, and took a shot at it. I added the idea of a micro-essay as well. The Manager liked it. I thought I might share it with you. (The colored fonts reflect the company's graphic for each value.)
Respect
She
acknowledged his value. That didn’t mean
she agreed with him. In fact, often she
did not. However, as she stood silently, skillet held high, she recognized that he
had as much right to be there as she did, and in the end, that is what saved
him.
“At
least he’s honest”, she said to herself.
“I’ll give him that”.
Still,
his words had stung, even if they had gone straight to the heart of the
matter. She lowered the skillet and
turned back to the dishes. “He is good
for taking out the trash”, she grumbled.
Integrity
All
of a thing. One. Undivided. Without flaw. So sat the Space
Shuttle Columbia on its launch pad. It
was seamless. It was One. It had integrity.
Several minutes later it reached orbit, but without its integrity. Frozen chunks of foam had flown off the
rocket during launch and damaged the heat shield on the bottom of the
shuttle. It was no longer of one
piece. It was no longer without
flaw. Only the astronauts did not know
it. They were not aware that they had
been sentenced to death. They continued
on with life as they always had. They
had no idea that they were simply waiting for the right moment. It came, of course. It always does. Stress is hard. It requires integrity to survive. Under stress, the flaws are exaggerated and
cause destruction. Over California the
stress increased. Over Nevada, the flaw
gave way. Over Texas, the whole machine
disintegrated, taking the lives of the astronauts with it. Integrity may not make you rich. It probably won’t. But a lack of it, can get you killed.
Spirit
The
bale floated hazily on the waves caused by the brutal heat. The boy stumbled just as he reached for it,
causing him to miss, and lose his momentum.
Salty sweat dripped into his eyes and blinded him. “Put some ‘oomph’ into it”, cried the old man
on the truck. “I ain’t got all
day!” The boy glared at the old man,
then back at the bale. “I’ll show you ‘oomph’”,
he thought. A deep anger possessed him
now. He’d knock the old man off his high
horse. “This one is coming for you”, he
thought. “I hope it knocks your ass
sideways”. With all the strength he
could muster, the boy grabbed the bale and swung it hard, aiming it squarely at
the old man. The bale rose into the sky
and hung there in the shimmering heat just long enough for the old man to
easily snatch it, and stack it on the truck.
He smiled down at the boy.
“That’s the spirit”, he said.
When
I hear the word “excellence” I always think of the movie, Bill and Ted’s
Excellent Adventure. I especially
like it when one or both of them will exclaim, “Excellent!” and play a wicked
air-guitar. It has always seemed to me
that this is where excellence begins—with a piece of “music” that only you can
hear. If you practice that piece long
enough, outside observers may notice that what you are doing is indeed
“excellent”. But it always begins on the
inside. Excellence cannot be imposed
upon someone or something. It can only
be encouraged. That task you’re working
on may be forced upon you, but the way you do it depends on how you hear the
music. Only you can bring excellence to
it. It’s a choice. Bill and Ted get that. The society they founded gets that. That is why they encourage one another the
way they do— “Be excellent to each other.
And party on dudes!”
Stewardship
Loretta
was at her wit’s end. The puppy she had
agreed to watch over the weekend had just finished its second roll of toilet
paper and was starting on her new shoes—expensive black pumps she’d found on
sale just last week. “Stop it dammit”,
she screamed as she threw her flip-flop at the dog. The puppy cringed, but quickly returned to
gnawing away. Good leather is hard to
resist. Loretta collapsed onto the sofa
and cried softly. She deeply regretted
telling Tim she’d watch his puppy. She
had no pets of her own, and liked it that way.
If pushed, she’d say she was more of a cat person. Still, Tim was such a good guy. How could she say no? “Oh well, what’s done is done”, she told
herself. “Come on pup. Let’s get you some real food. Can’t let your Daddy think we didn’t take
good care of you now can we?”
