Re-Post: Sacrifice Self for Service
I spent the last six years working for a large electronics retailer and most of that time was as a Store Manager. In the last year I worked there they changed the title to Store Leader to try to infuse some ownership or enthusiasm into the role. The company was constantly changing terms, role definitions and performance evaluation standards in an effort to create impactful "cultural" changes but it mostly led to inconsistency and confusion. Frequently redefining evaluative tools, job descriptions and philosophies indicates a lack of central vision and understanding of psychology. Ambiguity and inconsistency muddy the waters of an organization's central goals and frustrates managers.
Read MoreJödingers Bullet
Micah and Jared sat across from each other at their favorite diner. They had been coming here since they were in high school together. Now they were in their thirties. Jared was married and had two children and Micah has been divorced and has one child. They did their best to meet up once a week for lunch at the Lucky Horseshoe Diner and while Jared ate his pastrami sandwich Micah stared at him with a crooked smile and wide eyes.
"What?" Jared said after finally noticing Micah's gaze.
"Can you make me a cartridge that looks perfectly real but is actually not?" Micah asked.
Some Thoughts on Writing
Writing about one's experiences allows one to relive experiences and allows others to relive the experience when they read it. Writing expresses thoughts that would have otherwise been memorized. When we have a persistent thought pattern and do not write it down the mind continues to go over those thoughts in an effort to not lose them but when you write them down you no longer need to go over those ideas. The writing acts like an external memory extending our capacities for thinking.
Read MoreRe-Post: Shrooms: A Good Trip and a Bad Trip
This is the story about the first and the last time I ate magic mushrooms.
It was Halloween, some time ago when I tasted my first magic mushroom. A friend of mine had invited me to a party at his friend's house nestled in the forested hills somewhere near North Bend, Oregon. As the sun was coming down the five of us made our way to the back room where we each took hold of a piece of pizza on top of which lay two or so grayish, dried mushrooms. We ate our slices, some in silence and some with childish glee. My nerves were peaked but I was committed to the experience and I ate my slice with all its foul flavors. As it hit my tongue I was compelled not to continue but I forced it down, the pizza barely masking its rotten impression.
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