The ineffectiveness of signage

A rule of signage that people don't seem to understand:

Signs only work on people who obey signs.

I worked with teachers this summer who wanted to hang signs on campus to enforce rules that they already had the power to enforce. Parents who were visiting the school weren't adhering to the limitations outlined during orientation, so the teachers wanted signs so they could point to something in the event they were required to act as an authority figure. 

As if a sign would abdicate them of any responsibility and therefore eliminate any potential confrontation. 

"Sorry, sir. You can't be in this building. It's not me. It's the sign."

"Apologies, ma'am. But did you see the sign? It says you can't be here."

I tried to explain that parents already understood the rules and were purposely violating them. The signs weren't telling these parents anything they didn't already know. Therefore, additional signage would not change behavior. 

Human intervention was required.

I know this because I am not a rule follower. If I see a rule as arbitrary or ridiculous or unfair, I often disobey the rule. I plow through signs quite often. For people like me, a sign is irrelevant if we do not agree to the rule stipulated on the sign. A sign is merely a suggestion about how the world should operate, but if that vision of the world strikes me as unnecessary, inefficient, arbitrary, or a hindrance to the way I think the world should operate, a sign is not going to stop me. 

The authority behind the sign may alter my behavior. The parking ticket or the air marshal or the social pressure applied by friends or colleagues may convince me to adhere to the rules, but a sign?

No.

When people are knowingly disobeying the rules, signs will rarely stop them, and they do not afford an ounce of backup or support to the person required to enforce them.

As a person who has accepted the responsibility of your position, you must enforce the rules. You must confront people like me and explain the expectation is and the potential consequences of failing to meet these expectations. I know that for some of these teachers, that would be hard. An annoyed, angry, or entitled parent is not pleasant. Confrontations aren't always fun. 

But when you accept the job, you accept the responsibility that comes with it. 

Signs won't do your job for you. Nor will they offer any support when you're dealing with someone like me. Decent people who are also rule breakers will often abdicate in the face of authority. If pressed on the issue, we will usually alter our behavior.  

But not always.

I was photographing the menu outside the cafeteria at Kripalu, hoping to send it to Elysha so she could tell me what to try (since I recognized nothing on the menu). As I was snapping my photo, a woman approached.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But this is a cellphone free floor."

I considered debating her on the subject. "Listen, if I had a camera in my hand right now, you'd have no complaint. So can we just pretend that this is just a camera for a moment? I'd like to take a photograph of your menu and send it to my wife so she can tell me what I might want to try, since I don't know recognize anything on your menu. I'm a heathen. A man child. Uncouth."

Instead, I asked, "Are you going to take my phone away if I keep using it?"

"No," the woman said, looking befuddled.

I smiled. "Then I'm going to keep using it for a minute or two."

Never tell a rule breaker that there is no consequence to breaking a rule.  

Thoughts on hiring

I think we should hire people for any and all jobs using the following procedure:

1. Interview the last five people who served the candidate in a restaurant. Inquire about how the candidate treated them over the course of the meal.

2. Interview the candidate. Ask the following questions:

• Please explain the Bill of Rights to your best ability.
• Tell me about the last three books you read.
• Tell me about one goal or aspiration that you have yet to achieve. 
• Are you a good person?

Unorthodox but effective, I think.

Not unisex. Omnisex.

Like me, my friend, Charles, agrees with the implementation of unisex restrooms but makes an excellent point about the naming of these spaces. 

Shouldn't they be called omni-sex restrooms?

"Uni" is a prefix meaning "one, or having or consisting of one. 

"Omni" is a prefix meaning "all, of all things."

He's right. 

A unisex restroom is intended for all people, and yet the name we currently use implies that it is for only one person. 

All gender restroom works, too, but definitely not unisex.

Someone go fix this. Okay?

There are six seasons. Not four.

Kurt Vonnegut proposed a restructuring of the seasons that I like a lot.

January and February: Winter
March and April: Unlocking
May and June: Spring
July and August: Summer
September and October: Fall
November and December: Locking

Vonnegut argued that March and April never really exemplify spring. It's still cold. The grass is brown. Trees aren't yet budding, and winter can still offer its last gasps of snow.

Similarly, November and December rarely feel like winter. November feels like the bastard stepchild of fall and winter, unsure about what it should be. And white Christmases are hardly certain.  

Instead, November and December is a period of locking. The ground begins to freeze. Nature begins to slumber. Winter coats, hats, and mittens begin to find their way back into the world. 

And March and April are unlocking. The ground begins to thaw. Kids track mud into the house. The first green shoots emerge from the ground. Golfers count the days before they can play again. 

In Vonnegut's own words: 

““One sort of optional thing you might do is to realize that there are six seasons instead of four. The poetry of four seasons is all wrong for this part of the planet, and this may explain why we are so depressed so much of the time. I mean, spring doesn’t feel like spring a lot of the time, and November is all wrong for autumn, and so on.

Here is the truth about the seasons: Spring is May and June. What could be springier than May and June? Summer is July and August. Really hot, right? Autumn is September and October. See the pumpkins? Smell those burning leaves? Next comes the season called Locking. November and December aren’t winter. They’re Locking. Next comes winter, January and February. Boy! Are they ever cold!

What comes next? Not spring. ‘Unlocking’ comes next. What else could cruel March and only slightly less cruel April be? March and April are not spring. They’re Unlocking.””

— Kurt Vonnegut

Of course, Vonnegut's proposal (and the demarcation of seasons in general) is irrelevant if you live in Southern California. Or Kenya. Or Boca Raton.

Poor souls.

But for those of us who experience the seasons in the way they are stereotypically presented, I like this a lot.    

Fill your life with young people

Yesterday I mentioned that someone on Facebook recently asked his friends when they knew that they were old.

It was an annoying answer, I know, but I responded by saying that I still feel young.

As young as I felt 20 years ago. Truly.

I wrote yesterday about the importance of aggressively trying new things whenever possible as a means of always feeling young.  

It's hard to feel old when life never gets old.

I suspect that I also feel young because I am constantly surrounded by younger people. As a teacher, my life is filled with kids who are decades younger than me, but because we spend so much time together and become so close, those decades always seem to melt away. Kids who are just 10 and 11 begin to understand me better than some of my own friends, and I feel the same about them.

Later on, when these kids grow up, many come back. They babysit my children. Attend my storytelling shows. Visit the classroom. Become genuine friends. 

This week I'm teaching storytelling at Miss Porter's, an all girls school in Connecticut. I'm working with girls ages 11-15, and I have a staff of juniors, seniors, and college students working with me as well. 

I'm spending my days telling stories. Listening to their stories. Teaching. Laughing. Walking around campus together. Eating meals together. I'm a 45 year-old man sitting at a table with 19 and 20 year-old women, but except for the occasional reference that I make that soars over their heads, I honestly don't feel much older than them.

We're working together. Doing the same job. Trying to make the same difference in the lives of these girls. 

And it's not only through teaching that I stay in contact with young people. Last week at The Moth, I spent the evening with my twenty-something friend. Met his girlfriend. Hung out with some of his other friends, all younger than me.   

Keeping young people in your life is important.

I suspect that the reverse does not apply in this case. These younger people whose company I enjoy likely see me as older than they are. Much older in many cases.

I know this.

They know my life story. They know how long I have been teaching. They are aware of my writing career.  They understand the long journey I have taken to get to this place. They see the bits of gray hair and know that I was alive before the Internet even existed.   

I'm quite certain that the decades don't melt away as easily for them as they do for me.

But that's okay. It doesn't matter. When I spend time in the company of people who are one or two or three decades younger than me, those decades really do melt away for me. Before long, I see them as fellow human beings, occupying a space in my life like any other person, regardless of age.

It's a beautiful thing when you feel as close to a 10 year-old boy or a 20 year-old woman as you do to your 45 year-old friends. 

Recently, I played golf with three friends who are about my age. We had a great time together, but throughout the day, there were the occasional groans associated with getting older. Painful joints. Tired muscles. Expanding waist lines. Laments about a time when they could hit the ball farther and straighter.

I have no problems with the groans. I try to avoid them myself, and on that day, I honestly felt none of them. I play golf more often than these friends, so perhaps my body was better prepared for the rigors of the game.

I've also never hit the ball that far to begin with.

But I tried to imagine how I might feel if I was constantly in the company of friends and colleagues who lamented their advancing ages. Groaned about muscles and joints. 

I think I might start to feel old, too.

But it turns out that children and teens and even people in their 20's and 30's don't lament their age. They don't groan about their ailments.

This is a good thing.         

If you want to feel young, find a way to spend time in the company of people younger than yourself. 

Sharing your vacation photos is lovely, but how about some wisdom and insight to go along with it?

On Thursday night I had one of those nights at a Moth StorySLAM where two sets of judges thought I did quite well and awarded me high scores, but the third judging team disagreed severely (earning a rarely heard chorus of boos from the audience), thus ruining my chances at winning.

Always frustrating.

I've been fortunate enough to win 30 Moth StorySLAMs, but winning a slam never gets old.

As I was leaving, a fellow storyteller stopped me. He told me that something that I had written about a month ago about the power of incremental progress has really made a difference in his approach to life. He was sincere, thankful, and sweet. 

It almost made up for the frustrating night with the judges. Almost.

But here's what I thought as I walked to my car:

When I wrote that post on incremental progress, I didn't think it would have any real impact on anyone. I write these things as much for myself - as sort of a personal mantra - as I do with the hope that someone might benefit from the tiny bits of wisdom that I've gleaned over the years.

I send my thoughts, ideas, and experiences into the world, through books, magazines, blog posts, social media, and live performances, and more often than you could ever imagine, something good and oftentimes surprising comes back.

Sometimes it's a day later. Sometimes it takes a month. There have been times when it's been five years later. It's pretty amazing. 

But I'm certainly not the only person who has gleaned a little wisdom over the course of his lifetime. Everyone has, I suspect. We all know things that have helped us to survive and succeed and thrive. Insight, ideas, strategies, personal experiences, and more. 

You should share your wisdom with the world. Truly. 

Create a blog. Post for Facebook. Write a book. Share your insight at the next dinner party.

We all know stuff that could help others. We've all learned lessons that are worth sharing. We all have ideas and insights worth sending into the world.

You never know when you can help to change a life. Truly. 

Sharing your vacation stories with the world is lovely. Baby pictures are always appreciated. Please don't stop sharing your foibles and faux-pas. You successes and failures. 

But every now and then, perhaps you could also share some wisdom, too. A life lesson. An understanding of this world that perhaps only you know. A strategy or insight that has helped you survive and thrive.

If you do this, good things will come back. I believe this, because I have experienced it in abundance.

It can turn a frustrating night at The Moth into a good one. It will bring unexpected joy to your heart. It might even create a memory that you will never forget. 

The law of choice in dating (and a call for the end of tribalism)

I've been thinking about how tribalism can be so limiting when it comes to finding and choosing the right spouse. When you choose to be inclusive to a particular sex, religion, race, nationality, or socio-economic status, you eliminate vast swaths of human beings from your dating pool.  

I don't think this is good. 

The basic tenet of this belief is this:

The more choice you have in potential spouses, the greater the possibility that you will land your ideal mate, and therefore the greater the chance that you will end up in a happy marriage and remain happily married for life. 

The fewer choices you have, the greater the likelihood that you will settle for someone less than ideal. You will opt for the best of your self-limited pool of candidates. Perhaps you'll never even be exposed to the ideal. Never understand what the ideal could be. 

Right?

If I have 100 potential spouses in my dating pool, for example, and you only have 25 in your dating pool, the chances that I will find happiness is far better than yours. 

Therefore, it only serves to reason that bisexual people have the greatest opportunity at the ideal spouse. While heterosexual people automatically limit their choices by 50%, bisexuals do not.

The world is their oyster.

There are men who I have loved, for example, who I could not marry because I was not physically attracted to them. A bisexual person might have had that opportunity.

Sex and gender are not limiting factors for these lucky people.  

If you only date within your race, you also have less choice and therefore less opportunity at finding the ideal spouse. If you only date within a race that is also a minority, then your choices are increasingly limited.

The same goes for religion. If you’re Jewish, for example, and you will only date within your religion, you have limited your choices enormously, particularly if you're living in the United States, where less than three percent of the population is Jewish.

And some places are more challenging than others. If you live in the Dakotas, there are fewer than 1,000 Jews between the two states. This means that there are only 500 potential dating partners, and only if every Jew in the Dakotas is single. 

It's a miracle that any Jew in the Dakotas finds any fellow Jew to marry. 

And if your brand of Judaism plays a role, too, your percentages are reduced even further. Once you start slicing the religious pie into slivers, the numbers get exceedingly small/ 

My wife is Jewish. Thankfully, she did not limit her choices of people who shared her religion. If she did (as many Jews do), we would not be together today, and Clara and Charlie would not exist. 

I've always admired Elysha's willingness to date outside the religion and forgo tribalism, because it's not always easy. There is enormous pressure by certain elements of the community to marry within the religion. Had her parents applied similar pressure, it would've been even more difficult for her to date and marry me. 

But not impossible.

Many people don't see Elysha as a nonconformist and a rebel, but that is exactly what she is. In many ways, she has been more than willing to blaze her own trail and reject the expectations and norms of society. She does this absent of any fanfare or bluster (unlike her husband), but that rebel streak is alive and well.    

I'm thankful and grateful. We are together today in part because she rejected the expectations of a community and opened her heart and mind to the world. I think we are both happier for it.  

Tribal pressure can be insidious at times.

I have a Portuguese friend who parents would not allow her to marry someone who was not also Portuguese.

I have a Nigerian friend who was disowned by her family for marrying outside the culture.

I had an African American coworker who lost friends when she married outside her race. 

I've known Jews whose lives have been upended (and relationship destroyed) when they fell in love with people outside the faith who their parents rejected.   

As a person whose parents have always held little sway over the course of his life, it's easy for me to argue against rejecting the expectations and norms of parents who have seemingly placed their own needs and desires ahead of their children's needs. It's easy for me to suggest that you should push back against culture and society when that has always come easy for me. 

Still, it needs to be done, because tribalism makes no sense when it comes to finding a person who can make us happy. If we want our children to be happy - and if we want to be happy - we should open our hearts and minds to all possibilities. It only stands to reason that the less tribal you are, the greater your likelihood of finding happiness in your marriage. 

The more willing you are to look beyond the confines of sex, race, religion, culture, familial expectations, and the like, the greater your chances of finding the ideal spouse. 

The greater the chances of you knowing what an ideal spouse can be. 

This is not to say that if you only date within your minority group that you cannot find happiness. I'm simply implying that your chances are enormously limited, and even worse, your chances of even knowing what happiness could be are reduced. 

You may never know real happiness.

Then again, you may believe that there is a multitude of ideal spouses in the world for any one person, and therefore your chances of finding one even within your minority group is good.

If you are of this opinion, bully for you. 

The next time you need to go into battle...

Not a literal battle, I hope, but one of those fights for what you believe is right...

• Facing off against a school administrator to get your child the services she so sorely needs
• Shouting over the fence at the neighbor who refuses to put his erratic poodle on a leash
• Demanding a raise from your seemingly recalcitrant boss
• Asking out the hippie girl you've been staring at in the coffee shop for weeks
• Telling your mother that you're not flying to Tennessee for your second cousin's third wedding
• Informing your husband that a third trip to Vegas with his friends this year isn't happening
• Explaining to the employee at the DMV that you will not be taking another number, damn it
• Demanding that the gang of teenage boys in the movie theater "shut the hell up!" 
• Informing a fellow customer (a little too loudly) that criticizing the speed of the pharmacy employee behind her back is a cowardly and pathetic act (something I may do more often than I should) 

... the next time you find yourself in one of these possible conflicts, think about this photo,
this face,
this seeming force of nature,
and perhaps you'll find the inspiration to charge once more into the breach.  

How Can You Help Students Cope With Getting College Rejection Letters?

Slate asks: How can you help students cope with getting college rejection letters?

The answer to this one is fairly simple, I think:

• Remind them of how many young people can't afford to attend a college of any kind. 
• Show them the statistics on the enormous number of young people growing up in impoverished, crime-riddled neighborhoods, living in foster care, or sleeping on the streets. 
• Introduce them to a high school graduate who can't attend college because he or she is caring for a for a sick, disabled, or dying parent.
• Bring them to a military recruiter's office and introduce them to young men and women who are joining the military after high school in hopes of making college more affordable when their commitment to the armed forces is complete.  
• Take them on a road trip through the inner city of Detroit or Baltimore or Chicago. Show them what it's like not to have any options.
• Turn on the nightly news and show them what it's like to be living in Syria. 
• Remind them of how lucky they are to have the opportunity to attend any college. Yes, perhaps it won't be at their first or second or even third choice of school, but they're going to college, damn it. They have opportunities that so many young people in the United States and around the world could only dream of having. It's time to find gratitude and appreciation for their position in life. It's time for a little perspective, damn it.   
• Explain to them the meaning of the phrase "first world problem." 

I hated this question. You might have noticed.  

I actually liked the answer offered by Bruce Epstein, technologist and college counselor. He didn't sugar-coat a thing. His response may have been more reasonable and measured than my own. 

But as a person who didn't have the option to attend college after high school - who made it to college four years later after getting himself off the streets and only then by working more than 50 hours a week while attending college full time - I find the plight of the rejection letter a little pathetic. The cry of the privileged who fail to appreciate their good fortune.

There's nothing wrong with being disappointed by a rejection letter. Frustration, sadness, or even anger are all understandable.

But when your child reaches the point that he or she requires coping strategies, I think a healthy dose of perspective is in order. 

Or perhaps Bruce Epstein's advice, if you want something less caustic. 

19 Things I Wish I’d Known When I Was 20

1. Limited time and money are obstacles easily overcome with long days, hard work, and a clear vision.
2. People will die unexpectedly. Stay connected. Don't assume there is a tomorrow.
3. Every pound you add to your body will be ten times more difficult to remove.  
4. Every problem has a lifespan shorter than your own.
5. Have sex more often.
6. Move fast and without fear. Seize opportunities and experiment often.
7. Never allow yourself to be interrogated by police officers without an attorney present.
8. There is no cost to asking a girl on a date except the risk of her saying no. So ask, damn it, even when she seems way out of your league. Ask often.
9. Do not be ashamed about life circumstances beyond your control. 
10.  Peppermint schnapps is not an acceptable substitute for mouth wash. 
11. Take more photographs. 
12. The way that you argue is more important than actually winning the argument.
13. Being known for kindness is more important than being known for cleverness.
14. Write everyday without exception.
15. It’s better to look stupid than to not ask a question.
16. Humility and gratitude can never be overdone.
17. When the opportunity for a threesome arises, take it.
18. Assuming anything is an act of aggressive stupidity. Always try the damn thing rather than making an assumption.
19. Kind, thoughtful, generous words are the best thing you have to offer anyone.

If your schedule your meeting for one hour, and then your meeting lasts exactly one hour, you have failed.

If you schedule an hour for a meeting, and your meeting lasts for an hour, you have failed, for three reasons:

1. The efficient person attempts to complete tasks in less than the allotted time. If you've given yourself 60 minutes to complete a task and require all 60 minutes to do so, you have not been efficient.  
    
2. Meetings that end early are always perceived more positively than those that end on time or later. Ending your meeting on time eliminates this simple means of improving the perception of every meeting that you conduct.  
    
3. What are the odds that you have precisely 60 minutes of content to cover in your meeting?Not likely.

This means that you are either filling time because you are a rule-following completist who oddly believes that an hour scheduled must equal an hour filled, or you have scheduled too much content for your meeting and have either failed to complete your agenda (which is always frustrating to attendees) or are rushing through items that deserve greater attention. 

Not good either way. 

Here is the correct mindset for every meeting that you plan:

“I have scheduled 60 minutes for this meeting. I will be thorough but efficient. Every minute under the 60 minutes that I have allotted brings me closer to superhero status. 

I want to be a superhero. 

Now...  which of the items on my agenda could be sent as an email to save everyone some time?”

Be happy. Judge on intent.

A suggestion that will make you a happier person and a more pleasant person to be around:

Judge others solely on their intent. 

One night my friend and DJ partner, Bengi, we were heading to the shore to perform at a wedding. As we wound down a country road, I noticed a pedestrian on the side of the road in dark clothing. "Watch out!" I shouted, pointing frantically at the man.  

"I see him," Bengi said. 

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Bengi replied. "You were trying to save me from killing someone. I'll never get angry at you for trying to keep us safe. Never be afraid to point something out on the road if you're trying to help."

That moment stuck with me. How often in my life had a passenger pointed out a potential hazard on the road that I had already seen, and in response, I scolded the passenger, asserting my expertise in the process.

"Let me do the driving. Okay?"
"No one likes a a backseat driver."
"Did you want to drive today? I'd be happy to give you the wheel." 

Yes, I had done that before. I had done it a lot. But Bengi was right. These passengers were just trying to keep us safe. Why be angry with them?

Why become angry with anyone who is trying to do the right thing? 

This was the moment when I decided that I would try to judge the actions and decisions of others solely on intent. If a person or organization or even an animal meant well but the results turned out poorly for me, I would try like hell to refrain from anger, outrage, or complaint. 

This means that when Elysha forgets to turn off the burner on the stove (which she has done from time to time), and I unknowingly place my hand on the 350 degree burner (as I have done several times) and spend the next hour wrapped in ice, I do not become angry. I don't complain.

She didn't want to hurt me. Her intent wasn't to leave the burner on. It was an accident. She was busy making dinner. 

When my dog tears open the garbage bag that I left by the door for one minute while I was using the bathroom, I don't get mad. She didn't know any better. She's a dog. It's not her fault. 

When my friend ruins the surprise party that I'm planning for my wife, I don't become angry or outraged. I may remind him of this stupidity (Tom) on the golf course and the poker table for years to come, but that is done in jest. In truth, I can't be angry at someone for making an innocent, albeit careless mistake, because he didn't mean to ruin the surprise.

When my boss reschedules a meeting for a day and time that is least convenient for me, I don't become upset, because she's not trying to ruin my day. She's solving a complex problem, and in the process, I ended up on the losing end of the deal. But she didn't want to ruin my day, so I'm fine. No worries.

This is how I have lived my life for more than ten years, and it has made my life decidedly simpler and happier. I am admittedly not perfect in adhering to this policy. I am much more likely to apply it to friends, family, and colleagues than the driver who cuts me off on I-95 or the slow moving players on the golf course.

But when it comes to people I know, my application of this policy is fairly consistent. As a result, I complain less. I am angry with friends and family far less often. I rarely hold a grudge. I really am a happier person.

This policy has worked wonders for me.  

When I suggest this policy to friends, their reaction is fairly standard:

Aren't you special?. Apparently your achieved some level of self actualization that the rest of us may never attain. You are clearly so perfect in every way, Matt. How noble of you. Are you sure you're not the Son of God?  

In order words, the policy strikes them as unrealistic.

Here's my issue with their response:

They declare this policy unrealistic without ever giving it a try. I explain my philosophy. Describe the benefits of adopting this policy. Suggest that it might be something they consider. Then without even a moment's consideration, they declare me holier-than-thou and dismiss my suggestion as nonsense.

I will never understand this.

People want to be happier. They want their lives to be simpler. Easier. They want to reduce conflict in their lives.

But so often, it seems as if they want this happiness in pill form. They don't want to work for it. They are unwilling to change. Experiment. Try something new.

Yes, my policy of judging on intent might make me sound holier-than-thou as I describe it, but in practice, it has made me a happier person. Less prone to anger, conflict, or grudges. I never appear holier-than-thou in the application of the policy. I'm simply happier. More forgiving. I don't complain. I'm far less frustrated or annoyed than many people I know.

It is said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. This may be true, but when it comes to dealing with people who I know and love (and sometimes people who I don't know at all), I'm willing to risk a little hell, for their benefit and mine. 

Simplify your life. Just love everyone. Even if you're a bigot.

I love this sentiment. Even as a reluctant atheist, I love it.

Not only would it make the world a much kinder place, but if you believe that Jesus was the Son of God (or even just a solid guy), the message on this church sign also adheres to one of his clearest and most repeated messages, stated most simply in Matthew 22:39:

"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."

Take solace, bigots. If you think that same sex marriage is an abomination, or if you think transgender children should be forced into restrooms that make them uncomfortable, or if you believe that African Americans or Mexicans or the Irish (shout-out to old school racists) are sub-human, why not just leave everyone alone and trust in God to deal with these people in Heaven?

Eat some ice cream. Take a walk. Adopt a cat. Learn to play pinocle. Do something for yourself with the full knowledge that these terrible, rotten, no good, very bad people will be punished for eternity by someone more powerful than you.  

Just love everyone. It'll allow you to remain a bigot but will also allow you to enjoy your life a little more and shout a lot less. 

When is complaining acceptable?

First, a fact:

People do not like to listen to other people complain. This seems like a fairly obvious statement, yet I hear people complaining constantly.

I try not to complain. I aggressively try not to complain. I am a bit of a complain-avoidance machine. Part of it is an awareness of how complaints are generally received.

Another part is simply perspective:

When you've been homeless, hopeless, hungry, and facing a trial for a crime you did not commit, a lot of problems don't seem so big a deal anymore.  

This doesn't mean that there is no room for complaints in the world. Complaining is a legitimate form of communication and can be an effective agent of change. But in order to effectively complain, I complete this simple calculation before doing so:

If my complaint has the potential of yielding an actual and desirable result that is worth the risk of being labeled as a complainer, then I complain.

For example:

My waiter fails to bring your soup?

I complain. I'll get soup.

My colleague leaves his dirty dishes in the sink every day?

I complain. His slovenly behavior is worse than any complaining I might do. 

But If my complaint will not result in meaningful change (which is the case for the vast majority of complaints) or will result in change so infinitesimal that it's not worth the risk of being labeled as a complainer, I do not complain.

For example:

 My boss says something that hurts my feelings?

Much more complicated than a bowl of missing soup or dirty dishes in a sink. Here are some questions that I ask myself:

• Is this a pattern of behavior or a singular event?
• Will the complaint be received well?
• Have I complained about something similar before? If so, what was the result?
• Have I waited a sufficient period of time (at least three days) to cool down before complaining? 

If complaining seems to get me nowhere and may ultimately damage my brand, I say nothing. 

We have a choice to make when we open our mouths. I sometimes think that some people fail to realize this. Things can go unsaid. Sometimes it's better to simply move on. The desire to "get things off your chest" should not supersede your desire to be seen as a problem solver.   

It's almost always better to be perceived as a problem solver than a problem speaker. 

This is not to say that I should go into the kitchen and get my own soup. This is not to say that I need to ignore my colleague's dirty dishes. There are moments when complaining is completely appropriate.

This is also not to say that I can't share your complaint with my wife or a friend at the end of the day. Though I may not lodge a complaint with the offending party, there is nothing wrong with sharing the story with someone willing to listen.

But when in doubt, not complaining is always preferable to complaining. 

Every time we speak, we alter our reputation and brand in the minds of others. The alteration may be minuscule each time, but we speak a lot. It adds up. It adds up quickly. If you're not thinking about this when you do something as universally unpalatable as complaining, you're making an enormous mistake.  

Your compliments about physical appearance are meaningless. Try these instead.

One of my New Year's resolutions (and likely one of my lifelong policies now) is the following: 

I will not comment, positively or negatively, about physical appearance of any person save my wife and children in an effort to reduce the focus on physical appearance in our culture overall. 

I've been adhering to this policy since the beginning of the year, and I'm here to report that it is not difficult to follow.

It's fairly simple, in fact.

Other than a handful of times that I have wanted to point out the oddity of a person's appearance to a friend or family member, the elimination of comments related to physical appearance has been blessedly easy.

And in those cases when I have wanted to point out the oddity of someone's appearance, I reminded myself, "Who am I do judge how that person presents him or herself? People can be whoever they want to be. I left middle school behind a long time ago."

One of the more amusing aspects of this policy is how I am occasionally required to generate a compliment that isn't related to physical appearance when a simple comment on physical appearance would do just fine.

Though I haven't been forced to research possible alternative compliments yet, I have always loved this list and offer it here as an alternative to the standard comment on clothing, hair, or shoes, which in my experience are the most common (and frankly least meaningful) compliments offered in the world today.  

The 6 levels of humility

Below is my proposed list of the six levels of humility, beginning with the best and descending to the worst. While I think that human beings can fluctuate between these levels depending upon circumstances and needs, I think that most people tend to occupy one level most of the time. 

If you have any suggestions for additions, deletions, or re-ordering, I am humble enough to consider all ideas. 

1. Authentic, honest-to-goodness humility: This is a person who is authentically humble about his or her success, ability, and/or achievement, oftentimes crediting others for the role that they played during their journey and avoiding self-congratulatory statements of any kind. This is a person who knows that it is always better to allow others speak highly of you than to ever speak highly of yourself and would never dream of singing his or her own praises. 

2. Disingenuous but effectively feigned humility: This is a person who lacks humility for a variety of reasons but is wise enough to know that humility is an essential quality of a fundamentally decent human being. Therefore, this person convincingly pretends to be humble, thus appearing to possess authentic, honest-to-goodness humility. In effect, this person appears no different than an authentically humble human being. There may be absolutely no humility in this person's heart, but no one would ever know it. 

3. Ironic lack of humility: This is a person who expresses almost no humility whatsoever but does so in a tongue-in-cheek fashion for the sake of irony or humor. Their use of irony is a clear indication that the person understands the importance of being humble and likely possesses some degree of humility but chooses not to express it explicitly for the sake of amusement or humor. Kevin O'Leary (Mr. Wonderful) of Shark Tank fame is a perfect example of this type of person.  

4. Disingenuous and ineffectively feigned humility: This is a person who is not humble but understands the importance of humility but still boasts about him or herself even though the person knows better. This is the classic humble bragger who manages to sing his or her own praises in the midst of an expression of feigned humility. Sadly, most humble braggers are not aware of their transparency and believe that their feigned expressions of humility are perceived as authentic.    

5. Authentic, honest-to-goodness lack of humility: This is a person who is not humble. This person does not express humility, nor does he or she see any need to be humble. This person is direct and honest about his or her high level of self perception. You know exactly where this person stands and how this person feels about him or herself at all times.  

6. Unconscious lack of humility: This is the person who genuinely believes that he or she is humble yet repeatedly proves otherwise through comments that everyone perceives as lacking humility except for the person making the comments.   

Change can happen quickly. If you allow it.

This is a photo of my son, Charlie, taken last Sunday.

This is a photo taken of the same spot exactly three days later.

It serves as a reminder for you (and perhaps for you) that change can happen a lot faster than we can sometimes imagine.

Earlier this week someone told me that she was "thinking about finally going to college." 

I asked what she was thinking about? What was she considering? What was stopping her?

She told me that she just wasn't sure if she was ready. She wanted to "give it some time." 

"What a terrible idea," I told her. "The worst idea."

Far too often, people stall their lives, imagining what they could be doing rather than doing it, failing to realize how quickly their lives could be different and better if they took action. Instead they linger on the worry. Focus on the hard stuff. Debate a decision when they already know the answer in their hearts.  

In 2009 - just eight years ago - I had not published a book or spoken on the stage in my life. Nor did I think that either of these things would ever happen. But I wasn't waiting. I wasn't "thinking about it." I was constantly writing. And when given the chance, I took the stage and told my first story, despite my fear and uncertainty. 

Today I have published four novels. Two more are on the way, along with my first YA novel and a instructional memoir on storytelling. I'm the humor columnist for Seasons magazine. I've written a rock opera and three musicals. I'm publishing two more essays in Parents magazine this summer.

Since 2011, I have told stories on hundreds of stages large and small. I've won 28 Moth StorySLAMs in 52 tries and four GrandSLAMs. I've traveled all over the country telling stories and spent two weeks in Brazil last summer teaching and performing. I teach storytelling and public speaking to individuals, corporations, school districts, and universities. I've taught storytelling at Yale University, The University of Connecticut Law School, Purdue University, Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health, and many other places. Along with my wife, I founded Speak Up. We produce more than a dozen shows a year. Most of them are sold out. I've spoken at half a dozen TEDx conferences.  

All this in just eight years.

And I'm not resting on my laurels. This year I plan to perform my first one-man show. I will try stand-up for the first time. I'll write my next screenplay. I'll begin my first book on teaching. 

If another opportunity arises, I'll seize it.

I don't expect my life to be the same eight years from now. I'm not sure how it will change, but I expect it to change, because I know that change can happen quickly if you let it. If you jump in head first. Stop the calculation and consideration. Embrace the fact that your life can be different and better in what will seem like the blink of an eye if you allow it. 

Don't be complacent. Don't settle. Don't mistake the life you have for the only life you can have. Change is a beautiful thing. You must fight for it everyday.  

Rules of Self Praise by the Brilliant and Handsome Matthew Dicks

Rule: If you have to say that you were the smartest person in the room, you were not the smartest person in the room. 

Not by a long shot. 

Corollary: Always allow others to sing your praise. Self praise is almost always disgusting. If you don't feel like you're receiving the credit you deserve, you haven't earned the credit you deserve. Try harder. Do better.

Corollary to the corollary: If you engage in self praise, please know that people will most assuredly disparage you when you are no longer present.   

Addendum to the corollary: Self praise is permitted in the private company of spouses, significant others, and in salary negotiations. But even in these cases, it must be deployed with grace, humility, and moderation.  

Additional addendum to the corollary: Sarcastic, exaggerated, tongue-in-cheek self praise is permitted when done to be amusing because humor trumps all.

Note about the additional addendum to the corollary: Donald Trump has permanently tainted the use of the verb "trump." 

Michael Bloomberg on succeeding in business

Michael Bloomberg - three term mayor of New York and eighth richest man in the world - recently offered his insight in a New York Times piece entitled Michael Bloomberg on How to Succeed in Business. 

He said a few things that I liked a lot.

“Nobody remembers where you went to school. The first job they may ask, by the third job they won’t remember to. People put too much emphasis on that. It’s much more important that you go to a place where you fit in and which has decent academics. ”

I have watched students and parents twist themselves into knots trying to get into this school or that school, when it's absolutely true:

No one will remember where you went to college unless you're the douchebag who brings up your time at Princeton whenever possible.  

Bloomberg is right. Find a place where you fit in and that has decent academics. 

My wife attended Smith College. It's an excellent school, but more importantly, it was a place where she felt completely at home, and she remains closely connected to the school even today.

I attended Trinity College for my English degree and St. Joseph's University for my teaching degree - two well respected schools - but the best education I ever received was the three years I spent at Manchester Community College. My years spent at Trinity and St. Joseph's pales in comparison to the instruction I received at the community college.   

“The part that’s most important in an education is how to deal with people. There’s no job I know that you do by yourself, and I learned as much from the two guys I worked for at Salomon Brothers, Billy Salomon and John Gutfreund, as I’d learned at Harvard. In the end, it’s people skills that you need. ”

The greatest eduction I ever received in terms of dealing with people was the ten years I spent managing McDonald's restaurants, beginning in high school and continuing through college. Learning to train, manage, and motivate a vast array of employees ranging from pregnant teens, paroled felons, non-English speaking immigrants, college students, empty nesters, and everything in between taught me more about management than any MBA program could.

I have always believed that companies would be wise to identify highly effective McDonald's managers in inner city restaurants and steal them away for whatever management positions they may have. When you can operate a fast food restaurant in the inner city profitably, you can do almost anything.     

“What disturbs me is you talk to kids applying today and they invariably say, “I cured cancer, I brought peace to the Mideast.” Spare me. How about, “My father never existed, my mother is a convicted drug dealer. I worked three shifts at McDonald’s.” That’s the kind of kid I want — with an ethic of taking care of his family — because then he’ll take care of others. Some of us don’t have much prenatal intelligence, but nevertheless go out and try and have a decent chance of surviving. I’m not the smartest guy in the room, but nobody’s going to outwork me.”

I couldn't agree more.

I recently met a person who recently graduated from a prestigious university after attending a private boarding school in high school. He managed to land a dream job in New York and was telling me about how lucky he felt to break into a tough industry so early in life.

Lucky?

His parents sent him to a prestigious private school. He had all the advantages that a person could imagine as a boy. Then he attended a prestigious university on his parent's dime. He spent his summers interning in his chosen field. No part-time or summer jobs. He's traveled the world, studied abroad, and graduated without any debt.    

Landing that job was not lucky. His entire life was designed to land that job. 

Give me the kid who had to claw and scrape his way through college any day. Give me the kid who has faced enormous adversity and came out on the other end stronger, wiser, and with a perspective that will serve him well. Give me the kid who wasn't supposed to make it as opposed to the kid who had no choice but to succeed.

This position may reflect a personal bias, but Bloomberg agrees with me, so it can't be all about my own experience.

Joy is the willingness to show your underwear on a roller coaster

You can choose to live your life with the joy of the front row or the joylessness of the third row.

The choice is yours.