There’s a spot near my BART station where bike messengers gather. One guy seems to be in charge. He’s older than most, and has an ex-military bearing. We once had a nice chat in line at the adjacent coffee kiosk. I imagine one day I’ll run afoul of a messenger, and just as I’m about to get clocked with a U-lock, The General will step through the haze of pot smoke and say, “Stand down, rider. This one’s okay.”

People love dogs in this city

I’ll be walking down the street, thinking about what I need to do that day, and a happy dog walks into view on the end of a lead. Sometimes it’s a big man with a little dog, wearing a look that clearly indicates none of this was his idea. At those times I wish I could sit them both down and help them to some sort of reconciliation. 

Albany Line Assassin Update: Holding the Line

There are a few people I chat with at the bus stop in the morning, including one nice guy about my age who seems to have a similar sense of humor.

This morning I noticed he was standing in the spot usually claimed last minute by the Albany Line Assassin. I took the chance and asked if he had ever noticed her tactics. Not only has he noticed, but he experiments with different defensive positions himself to see how she responds.

The Alliance grows.

The Albany Line Assassin

This morning I was the only person at the bus stop when she arrived. I was right on the curb. She positioned herself about 20 feet uphill from me, well outside the area of average doorfall. Good luck, I thought. You’re out of range.

As the bus approached, she moved downhill, closer, taking little bunny-feet steps until she was about five feet away from me, arriving precisely as the driver was braking and picking his aiming point.

She was squarely in front of the door when it opened. She beamed at the driver like a toddler who just found a piece of forgotten Halloween candy without too much cat hair on it under the sofa. I’ll admit I was impressed. She has honed her craft.

Just FYI, I nearly unfriended radical cyclist John Rees for asking why this matters. I should not have to explain this to right-thinking people.

You’re either on the bus or off the bus.

What do you want to be when you die?

I’ve always envied people who were driven in their careers. Not just the people who knew they wanted to be a doctor or a pilot at the age of 10 and made it happen, but the people who seem completely focused “or “laser focused” as we said at my last company”.

I envied them because I’ve always had to work to stay focused, to keep on with the project plan after the excitement of the brainstorming and planning was over. I’ve learned how to do it; after all I did manage to co-write a book and build successful social media and content marketing programs in four different organizations so far. “My best best practice is to make sure I always have a detail-oriented, focused, Type A planner on my team.”

As I get farther along in my career, I understand things I didn’t understand before. I have a better idea of how I work and what I need to do to succeed. I also have a better idea of where I provide value and where I’m happiest. I need to be in amongst the action, and also part of the strategy process. That seems to be easier to accomplish in a smaller company.

I also know I’m not willing to make the sacrifices some people make to advance. I’ve seen first hand what it takes “and what it takes out of you” to be a senior executive at a large company. I used to think I wanted to rise to that level. Now I know I don’t, and probably won’t, regardless.

This has been a difficult and reflective year, filled with personal loss and grief, as well as professional. So many things are different in my life than they were a year ago. But going through all this has helped me get a better understanding of what I want and what’s important to me.

My father’s funeral was filled with people who loved and respected him. He touched a lot of people with his generosity of spirit. That message came through loud and clear, especially in contrast to the people I’ve encountered in my career who seem so willing to put their essential humanity on hold for greater success at work.

I hope you don’t do that. If you do, ask yourself why. If you have a good answer, and it really does sustain you to work like that, okay. But I’ll worry about you.

There’s the “apt” cliché that says no one ever wished on their deathbed that they’d spent more time at the office. True. But I wonder how many people on their deathbed, or worse, in the many years between retirement and death, wish they hadn’t been such an asshole.