Avery Unlimited

So I’m driving to town this morning listening to the early guys on Sirius Nascar radio. The race at Indianapolis last weekend was a joke and the callers were letting the hosts know exactly how disappointed they were with the race, with Nascar, and with the Goodyear tires that couldn’t last over 10 laps. The hosts had the nerve to call their audience, at least the part that believes that Goodyear should apologize for the mess they caused, “juvenile”.

Let’s get it straight. The Goodyear people are at fault. It is their job to deliver usable tires to a racetrack. I heard every blah-blah excuse made, “should have done this”, testing not enough, etc.. There is no excuse. It is their job to have the right alternatives available for selection. It is their job to know what is needed. No amount of testing will make a bad tire better.

OK, they screwed up. And they admitted it. So what? They have screwed up over and over this racing season. It doesn’t seem to have taught  them that saying they screwed up does not fix the screw up and make it OK.

They also don’t seem to get the difference between admitting they are screw ups and saying that they’re sorry. Saying that you are sorry means that you accept responsibility for how your failure affected others. While it cannot change the failure, it provides a signal that you actually care about the people affected by your failure. Saying that you are sorry is an admission that you have failed to live up to an expectation (for decent tires in this case) that you had engaged in and tried to live up to. Trying is not good enough. When you try and fail, aside from accepting responsibility, you say you are sorry. Only then can trust begin to be re-established.

Not only, as a former marketing consultant, am I shocked that the Goodyear people didn’t start by saying they were sorry, whether the problem was their responsibility or not (which is an absolute requisite for any good PR), I am shocked that so-called radio professionals do not get it. Saying that you’re sorry is completely separate from saying you are responsible.

I wonder if any of these guys (and they are all guys, by the way. Hmmmm) are married. Some marraige if they havn’t learned to say they are sorry even if they don’t know what they are sorry for. What you are sorry for, fellows, is how the other person ( or in the race’s case, the millions who watched a frustratingly lousy race) feel. And if you’re only sorry because somehow you are in a corner being forced to say you’re sorry, say it anyway. Then figure out what the problem is and how to solve it.  Then you don’t have to be sorry the next time.

The boys on Sirius don’t get it. When they start calling their own listeners ‘childish’ the reflection is on them. When you point a finger at someone, there are four fingers pointing back at you. Namecalling of any kind is inappropriate, and only means that you have nothing substantive to say to defend your position. Just verbal bullying.

They need to say they are sorry to their listeners for their comments this morning. Of course, I won’t hear it as I won’t be tuning them in anymore.

It seems I have been remiss in my blogging, having only written something five times in the last seven months.Time for a change, output. Even with this country life, things happen. It might be the challenges of dealing with service people (believe it or not, companies like Dish satellite TV and AT&T still use that euphemism for the torture getting things done involves).

So having just had a great conversation with my friend Rosemary, and encouraging her to start blogging, it seems that a “do as I say” approach to my own actions would be worthwhile. I’ve picked a time of day that should work for me, and let’s see how I do.

Since this is only the first of a couple entries I want to make, let me just note how lucky I am to have wonderful friends like Rosemary and Wendy and…. well the list goes on. I have none here, even after eight years, although there seems a possibility that with a little effort on my part that could change. I’ll keep you posted.

The bottom line is that blogging takes a certain amount of commitment, just like any form of communication. The part I’m looking forward to is the listening, having people respond and interacting. So to start, just having something out there to discuss. Here goes.

There are all sorts of special days to celebrate each year. Christmas, New Year’s, Valentines Day, birthdays - all special. But since the day I met Geoff our anniversary has always been the best and most important.

Geoff and I met over the phone on a Friday. He always has said that our phone conversation, and the fact that I called him back after finishing the pasta I was making when he called, is the reason he jumped on a plane and came east. I met him at the airport that Sunday morning. He had flown in on the redeye, with a long layover in Chicago.

It took about three months for me to realize that, at long last, the man I had been waiting for had arrived. We celebrated every Sunday - “It’s been 20 weeks, its been 32 weeks…” etc. On the 53rd Sunday after we met, we celebrated our first full day of marraige.

That marraige thing is a whole ‘nother story, but we still celebrate our anniversary as the most special day of the year.

Last year was actually pretty grim. Our 10th anniversary. Geoff’s drinking had become a real burden. We couldn’t go anywhere. He basically was passed out most of the time. Turns out that 1 week later he was nearly dead and hospitalized. I was afraid, very afraid of losing him. After 3 days in the hospital, and a long recuperation, he is sober and doing well despite all the donuts and pop he ingests.

So this year we had even more to celebrate. Our life together is better than ever. Last year we were able to buy this place, buy a new car, and build and equip a shop for Geoff to pursue all the dreams he has to create beautiful things - all while getting over a life threatening crisis. Wow!

I have a terrible time at real planning - way too comfortable with last minute and dealing with things as they come up rather that stressing out over details way in advance. Someday I’ll describe our wedding!

Geoff has a more specific idea of what he wants and so, in hopes that his plans would make him happy, and with total confidence in his ability to make me happy, I suggested he take on deciding what we would do for our eleventh anniversary. He excelled as usual. After weeks of computer searching with admonitions to me to “stay out of my office”, he told me we’d spend the day in Covington, the nearest outpost of civilization.

We took off on Friday the 13th (the date/day that falls between our two weddings). Dressing up was fun for a change - gets old wearing worn jeans and T-shirts every day. Even dug out an old pair of heels that hurt like hell. Geoff spiffy as well. We stopped at a couple of places to shop, then on to the restaurant he had chosen for an early dinner.

We twisted around a big road construction project on back roads, ending in Lacombe. The restaurant looked like a southern French villa - appropriately named ‘La Provence’. It turns out to be one of four restaurants run by John Besh, a pre-eminent New Orleans chef. He raises all his own veggies, pork and chicken, among other things, right there in back of La Provence. Geoff went over to say hi to the huge, happy (for now) pigs - I declined. Even a clean pigsty smells like a pigsty. But the gardens were beautiful, well laid out and maintained, with great old oaks and landscaping galore.

I wandered into the restaurant through the back entrance while Geoff explored the little farm. The back room was being set up for a big party. One of the nice features of the place was that it had a little courtyard with windows facing it from each of three rooms, the back room, the bar, and the main dining area. After I wandered through the bar area into the entry, the hostess immediately seated me at a table that looked out over the courtyard.

The ambiance was country French, not pretentious at all, but comfortable and pleasant. A little bit of exposed beams, wood floors, etc. Service was excellent. Once Geoff joined me we were presented with an extraordinary menu, and tried to decide what to have. Duck? no. Had it at Thanksgiving. I finally opted for the trout in a rice flour crust while Geoff went for the Charlerois filet mignon. As appetizers, Geoff had a selection of pates and I had a risotto that melted in my mouth. I had a glass of chardonney wine that I sipped through the appetizer and main course; doing the driving.

Then the main course. Mine very good. Geoff’s was suprelative! He gave me a few tastes - it melted in your mouth. It turns out that Charlerois beef is a special breed from France (somehow, all the biftek I ate there never tasted like this!). Besh has imported some livestock that he’s raising at a ranch near Covington. One bite of that meat was worth the trip! After a very enjoyable meal we ordered desert. Geoff decided to have a cigarette so I asked the waiter to hold up on serving us and went out into the courtyard to join him with my cup of black coffee. What a lovely spot to sit on a warm evening. We just chatted and enjoyed the moment. When we got back in, desert was delivered. Again perfect. Geoff had his favorite, bread pudding, and I had a cheese plate with drunken goat cheese, brie, camenbert and an Italian blue. Just right.

Click here for a link to the restaurant. Besh has a cookbook out as well - check it out!

We cruised back to our little outpost, having enjoyed every minute, and looking forward to an exciting, happy twelth - actually thirteenth - year together. And so far, we are living happily ever after - well, most of the time. If only Geoff’s damn computer was faster.

And the adventure continues!