A few months ago, I had 3 people cancel appointments with me within a 24 hour time frame. It got me to thinking about a number of things...such as work/life balance, priorities, and commitment. I got to talking with a peer about this cancellation pattern. I didn't like it. There seemed to be something for me to learn in the experience.
This is what I think: if I have a kidney dialysis appointment, odds are that a "fire drill" at work or at home won't keep me from it. I likely won't be late, either. But if I have a lunch with a friend, the same doesn't hold true--I may be tempted to expect my friend or family member to understand my last-minute re-scheduling. "Sorry, something came up." Or I may just show up late and rely on a canned apology to smooth the waters.
With my friends, I want to be right up there with dialysis in the priority list. If they wouldn't cancel their dialysis appointment, then they shouldn't cancel their appointment with me, either. I want dialysis friends, and I want to be a dialysis friend as well. Because, really, in today's busy work/life climate, something always comes up. And we tend to make time for the things we truly find important.
So what I learned was this: if I want dialysis friends, I've gotta be really honest about saying how I feel about missed and/or late appointments. And then it's my job to quit making appointments with people who don't follow through.
I've solved the problem for myself, but the systems thinker in me wonders: why is it that this behavior is so prevalent in our culture? What about the structure of our systems encourage us to prioritize the unimportant above the important, such as imagined work crises over family, friends, and health? Got ideas? Share 'em.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
A Heavy Burden Lifted
Years ago my friend Heidi and I were digging up an area of the yard for the purpose of making a garden plot. Suddenly Heidi called out: "Hey, I just found a fan." Sure enough, she had. And it wasn't budging.
So we dug around some more. I'll shorten the story a bit here. The fan was connected to a V8 engine, with the bell housing still attached, as well as an oil filter and motor mounts. The valve covers were absent. And the entire thing was buried in my back yard. It was a tank. We couldn't budge the thing. Ended up dragging it out with a come-along, winching it bit by bit until I got it as far as the cherry tree, to which the come-along was attached. And that's where it sat for years.
I'm selling my house. So the motor had to go. Plus the neighbor lady decided to replace the fence, so I had a shorter distance to get the thing out of my yard and onto her driveway. Sounds easy, right?
Not so easy. I'm six foot two, my brother's got an inch on me, and we're each big, strong Norwegian farm boys. We tried to lift the thing one day, and couldn't hardly budge it. The thing was a tank. We couldn't even roll or drag it. Too heavy. I'll shorten the story a bit more. With an appliance dolly, I managed to get that engine out of my yard and out near the street by the front of my house. With the help of my brother and father, all of us pulling or pushing. Closer. Out from under the cherry tree, and now out by the street. What I couldn't figure out next was how to get it into the back of my pickup. And even if I could, what would I do with it?
I felt a fair bit of emotion about this motor. Somehow this heavy burden had fallen onto me. I felt angry at whoever would bury a motor in a yard. I felt frustration at not knowing how to get rid of the damned thing. And mostly I just wanted it gone, out of my life, this enormously heavy, unmovable, awkward weight. I had some of my energy tied up in this beast, and I needed that energy back.
I called Chuck. From Chuck's Hauling. From http://www.chuckshauling.com/. On the phone he sounded worried--he had a minimum charge, and it hardly seemed worth it for one item. I told him to come anyway, it'd be worth his minimum if he could haul this thing away.
And you know what? He did. Chuck is a first-class guy. He's retired, but didn't care for the retired life, so he started a business. Hired a crew. And now he hauls things away for people.
So he has this truck with a bed that rises, and in the front of it is an electric winch with a long remote wire. Amazing stuff. Now that motor was big and awkward, and it gave Chuck a bit of a hard time. It proved difficult to find a good point on the motor where the cable hook would have a solid purchase and also could lift up at the correct angle. But after a couple of tries, as I walked outside with a cup of coffee, Chuck had that sucker dragged up a ramp and into the back of his truck. I thanked him and paid him and promptly referred him to a half dozen family and friends and neighbors.
What I found most strange was how I felt after he had left. Although I had a list of chores, I couldn't concentrate. I felt overjoyed that he had come and removed this heavy engine from my life. When I saw my neighbor, I pointed to where the motor had sat for a week. "Look! Gone!" Big smile. Joy. Really, it felt like a religious experience. Someone came and lightened my load. Some people seek Jesus. I sought Chuck. I was giddy all day. My concentration was ruined. Even now, as I write, past 2:00 AM, I'm unable to drift off to sleep. Big changes are ahead, and I'm excited.
I think it's that heavy burden that Chuck lifted from me. Thank you, Chuck.
So we dug around some more. I'll shorten the story a bit here. The fan was connected to a V8 engine, with the bell housing still attached, as well as an oil filter and motor mounts. The valve covers were absent. And the entire thing was buried in my back yard. It was a tank. We couldn't budge the thing. Ended up dragging it out with a come-along, winching it bit by bit until I got it as far as the cherry tree, to which the come-along was attached. And that's where it sat for years.
I'm selling my house. So the motor had to go. Plus the neighbor lady decided to replace the fence, so I had a shorter distance to get the thing out of my yard and onto her driveway. Sounds easy, right?
Not so easy. I'm six foot two, my brother's got an inch on me, and we're each big, strong Norwegian farm boys. We tried to lift the thing one day, and couldn't hardly budge it. The thing was a tank. We couldn't even roll or drag it. Too heavy. I'll shorten the story a bit more. With an appliance dolly, I managed to get that engine out of my yard and out near the street by the front of my house. With the help of my brother and father, all of us pulling or pushing. Closer. Out from under the cherry tree, and now out by the street. What I couldn't figure out next was how to get it into the back of my pickup. And even if I could, what would I do with it?
I felt a fair bit of emotion about this motor. Somehow this heavy burden had fallen onto me. I felt angry at whoever would bury a motor in a yard. I felt frustration at not knowing how to get rid of the damned thing. And mostly I just wanted it gone, out of my life, this enormously heavy, unmovable, awkward weight. I had some of my energy tied up in this beast, and I needed that energy back.
I called Chuck. From Chuck's Hauling. From http://www.chuckshauling.com/. On the phone he sounded worried--he had a minimum charge, and it hardly seemed worth it for one item. I told him to come anyway, it'd be worth his minimum if he could haul this thing away.
And you know what? He did. Chuck is a first-class guy. He's retired, but didn't care for the retired life, so he started a business. Hired a crew. And now he hauls things away for people.
So he has this truck with a bed that rises, and in the front of it is an electric winch with a long remote wire. Amazing stuff. Now that motor was big and awkward, and it gave Chuck a bit of a hard time. It proved difficult to find a good point on the motor where the cable hook would have a solid purchase and also could lift up at the correct angle. But after a couple of tries, as I walked outside with a cup of coffee, Chuck had that sucker dragged up a ramp and into the back of his truck. I thanked him and paid him and promptly referred him to a half dozen family and friends and neighbors.
What I found most strange was how I felt after he had left. Although I had a list of chores, I couldn't concentrate. I felt overjoyed that he had come and removed this heavy engine from my life. When I saw my neighbor, I pointed to where the motor had sat for a week. "Look! Gone!" Big smile. Joy. Really, it felt like a religious experience. Someone came and lightened my load. Some people seek Jesus. I sought Chuck. I was giddy all day. My concentration was ruined. Even now, as I write, past 2:00 AM, I'm unable to drift off to sleep. Big changes are ahead, and I'm excited.
I think it's that heavy burden that Chuck lifted from me. Thank you, Chuck.
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