The three of us sat quietly in the conference room; there was not the customary banter about work and people. We waited for the phone to ring; but it remained still. We checked our Blackberries for that elusive message, but they were also at rest.
Night replaced day; employees left for home unaware of the tension that was building in Room 6.03. My young General Counsel asked me, the old, experienced hand with the grey hairs to prove it, “Is this normal?” “No,” I replied without elaboration.
It was my birthday; but I had no plans to celebrate. My family was far away; my mind focused on the crisis before us.
I am Chairman and CEO of one of the bigger companies in Australia; let’s call it Propco rather than the real name. But the Company is very real. We have 250 employees and another 350 employees in a sister company that is still tied to us financially. These employees depend on the Company for their livelihood. In a recession, there are no jobs for them if we fail. We pay good salaries and benefits; I feel responsible for each and all of them.
I also feel responsible for our investors, typically pooled retirement accounts and pension funds, who have entrusted us with their future. I feel responsible to the banks, who loaned us precious and now scarce capital to expand our business. The burdens weigh heavily; we cannot fail; too many are counting on us and me specifically. This year has not been a good one for me to sleep.
The Company is a model corporate citizen. We are the leading property company in environmentally sustainable efforts. When we were public, we led the international Dow Jones corporate sustainability index. This year, as others cut back their environmental efforts, we launched a Sustainability Institute to fund and coordinate worldwide research on sustainability efforts and results in the commercial property sector.
We support key charities to help those in need. When the Property Council solicited donations to provide for homeless kids, we gave more than any other company in Australia by far. When neighbors lost their homes in the Victoria bush fires last year, we donated land and built a house, which was auctioned and all the proceeds donated to the bushfire victims.
We are the number one rated company in Australia for worker safety. Ask the Mayor of Sydney about us, and she will describe us as a poster company for corporate citizenship.
We did not reach this precipice of corporate life or death by poor performance or bad investments. The Company is outperforming all of its peers. Our office buildings are among the best in Australia; maintenance and presentation are unsurpassed. Our tenant retention is an unheard of 80%. As industry wide average rents decline, ours are increasing; as market vacancy increases, our vacancy diminishes. Our performance is above budget and all expectation. Our portfolio is exceptional and our employees even better.
We stand at the edge because of the global liquidity crisis. We have loans that were made when banks had money and these loans are now maturing when capital is unavailable. There is no issue of our ability to repay the debt; we just do not have a billion dollars of cash to pay the loans off now.
We sit and wait for the call from a U.S. international bank, our lender facility agent, telling us that all the banks have agreed to extend the loan maturity from 4 June until 30 June. This large international bank was saved from failure by the U.S. Government. If they had failed, our hopes would likely have suffered similar fate.
No one benefits from our failure. The employees, who are productive members of the community, lose their income; investors lose their investment; banks lose part of their capital they will not be able to relend; the community loses a key and active force for good.
Under Australia law, if the Directors determine the Company will be unable to pay their bills in the next 12 months, the Directors must close the company and cease doing business. Failure to act accordingly is both a criminal and civil offense; continue doing business when you know you will default on a loan translates into jail time and loss of personal assets. The stakes are high and no one, including me, will take that chance.
Chapter 11 bankruptcy is a United States’ issue. Australia, and much of the non US world, does not treat debtors so kindly.
If Propco were closed due to ‘insolvency,’ a receiver will come in, liquidate the assets, and pay whatever proceeds to the creditors. If our portfolio were liquidated at fire sale prices, because potential buyers cannot access capital, it would result in major property devaluations and certain further bank defaults. It is probable, the property industry would collapse in a series of loan defaults triggered by asset devaluations, and the banks would fall next. The economy would be devastated; an economic depression almost a certainty.
Propco is one of thousands (maybe hundreds of thousands) of businesses around the world that rely on banks and related financial institutions for capital and liquidity. If major banks were allowed to fail, companies everywhere would fail – not because of poor performance but due to the sudden withdrawal of financial liquidity in global markets. A global depression would be the inevitable consequence.
Back in Room 6.03, the CFO’s Blackberry phone buzzes and then rings. Citibank has received the extension approvals; the risk of default has been pushed back until 30 June. The agent cautions, however, no one believes we can refinance the loan by 30 June and there will be no more extensions.
In the weeks that followed, staff worked day and night, weekdays and weekends to refinance the maturing debt. Thanks to the active leadership of key banks including a German bank, which was saved from illiquidity by the German Government, the loan was refinanced on 30 June, to the amazement of all participants except us.
Our employees continue to work productively, our investors continue with their retirement funding plans, our banks feel assured their loans will be repaid. The economy has stabilized giving hope that a recovery is near.
For those who argue that major banks should be allowed to fail and the Federal Reserve and other governments’ central banks should not have acted proactively to provide bank liquidity, I think their theories are not based on real people and real business.
30 August 2009
16 August 2009
Nanuk: A Dog's Life
A friend recently asked me if I liked dogs. I recalled an essay I wrote a few years ago about our family dog, which I enclose below.
*********
Nanuk was my third son. He was the only member of our family with four legs and a bark, but he was definitely a family member. Today, Nanuk died. And amidst the sadness that consumes me are my memories of him that I will take to my grave.
Ross was 8 years old and Andrew 13. It was an overcast day in San Diego even in Rancho Santa Fe, which lies inland from the Coast. My wife, Jill, was out of town, visiting her mother as I recall. Andrew had a soccer game in Rancho Santa Fe, and Ross and I were there to cheer him on. Ross’s soccer game started a couple hours after Andrew’s finished, and we boys had time to kill.
Across the street from the Rancho Santa Fe soccer field is Helen Woodward, a care and adoption facility for pets, especially dogs. With time on our hands and nothing better to do, we wandered across the street to Helen W. This was a fateful journey.
I grew up with a dog. Mandy was my best friend as a child. He watched over me when I was only crawling, and went everywhere with me when I was walking. I know the attachment that can form between a boy and his dog.
Andrew and Ross were immediately enthused about the idea of adopting a dog. As we wandered through the outdoor pens, Andrew was attracted to Charlie, one of the most enthusiastic and excited dogs in the place, but probably the ugliest dog too. Ross was attracted to a shy but comely dog that looked part golden retriever and part something else. I was concerned the shy dog would not be as friendly if adopted. I was wrong.
When Jill returned, she was confronted by two bubbling boys who could not wait to share their excitement about what they saw at Helen Woodward. It was not fair. Jill had never spent much time around dogs and was definitely not a fan of owning a dog. But no one could resist the excitement that poured from the two boys with ever more promises of taking care of the pet. Her resistance melted under the earnest pleadings of her young sons.
Upon returning to Helen Woodward, Jill did not care for Charlie. That was okay, because another family was there and wanted to adopt the non-stop jumping and gyrating Charlie. Ross’s pick was being viewed by a single, working woman who wanted to adopt him. Jill liked the shy dog’s looks and demeanor, and the Helen Woodward staff could not resist Ross’s imploring that Nanuk be given a home with a family instead of a single person. We left that day with Nanuk.
It did not take Nanuk long to adopt his new family. He had lived with a woman for four years and then had been given up for adoption when she lost a place to keep him during the day when she was at work. Nanuk was not shy; he had been rejected by the only person he ever was attached to and put in a sterile pen. He was depressed and probably feared added rejection. Once he realized we would not reject him, he moved right into the family circle.
Soon after we adopted Nanuk, Jill had Nanuk at the Veterinarian, who discovered that Nanuk had hip dysplasia. This is a degenerative disease that eventually leads to loss of the use of hind legs. The Vet explained to Jill that’s Nanuk’s mobility would be affected as he aged, and it would probably affect his lifespan. Jill called Helen Woodward to complain, and, their staff apologized and suggested Jill return the dog and they would return it to the original owner (who did not want it). The Helen Woodward staff did not feel anyone would want a dog with serious health impairment.
We decided to keep Nanuk, realizing we would have to face his mobility issue some day. The boys had quickly become attached to Nanuk and Nanuk to them, and we could not bear the thought of rejecting Nanuk and sending him to where he was not wanted and could not be cared for.
Nanuk became best buddies with the boys. Wherever they went, he wanted to be there to. He did have a few unusual characteristics at first. He felt the need to defend Jill against strange men – i.e. any males Nanuk did not personally know. Whenever one approached Jill, whether it is at the shopping center or in the front yard, Nanuk would growl and bark. I had nothing to do with this characteristic; it must have been related to something in Nanuk’s memory and his former owner. Eventually, Nanuk learned no one was going to harm Jill, and he stopped his ferocious demeanor and begged everyone for pets and treats without discriminating sexes.
The second characteristic was his insistence that he pee everywhere possible to leave his scent. At soccer games, this included lawn chairs, scorecards that fell to the ground, and the conventional bushes, fire hydrants, and the like. Nanuk’s desire to be the last to pee somewhere stayed with him throughout his life.
In contrast to his initial shyness, he became the friendliest dog who ever lived. That is an overriding statement, but I believe it to be true. He liked all dogs, people, and other animals in that order. He would run up to strange dogs, his tail wagging, eager to sniff and be sniffed. Some dogs are not so friendly, and Nanuk never won a fight. When attacked, Nanuk would lie down and whimper. I don’t think he was afraid; I think he was disappointed his new acquaintance was not to be a friend.
I remember one time a man with a pony came to a children’s party on our cul-de-sac in Houston. He also had a fierce looking, huge Doberman pincher staked to his truck with a big metal chain restraining this made-for-movies monster. Nanuk saw the creature and immediately trotted over to welcome the dog to the neighborhood. Jill and I looked with horror as Nanuk approached the creature. Jill screamed, “Nanuk you idiot, stop.” Nanuk didn’t care. He went up to the creature sniffed the surprised monster, who was then pulled back by his owner; afraid the Doberman was about to kill Nanuk. Nanuk plodded back to our yard, tail wagging, and peed on the nearest bush. For Nanuk, every day was a happy day.
In San Diego, I would walk Nanuk at night before bed. Not once, but twice, Nanuk encountered a skunk and ran up to the furry black and white slow moving denizen. Nanuk’s tail was wagging 90 miles an hour, at least. But when he went to sniff his new friend, he discovered that some animals really smell bad. One night, Andrew and I washed Nanuk with Campbell’s Tomato Soup. I had read somewhere that tomato soup helped reduce skunk smell. Afterward, Nanuk smelled like very bad soup.
Nanuk tried to befriend wild coyotes in San Diego. Fortunately, the stray coyotes always ran away from the tail wagging, hard charging dog. Fortunately, one of us was always close behind and pulled Nanuk back from chasing into the canyon after his wild cousin.
Our move to Houston was difficult for all the family; but Nanuk was probably the first to adjust. Andrew and I flew to Houston first, because Andrew had high school band camp before the start of high school, and Jill and Ross needed to stay in San Diego. I remember waiting in baggage claim with Andrew, looking for Nanuk’s kennel to arrive. When it did, Andrew went running to the kennel, opened it, and exclaimed, “Nanuk is okay.” What a relief amidst Houston’s hot August weather.
For the next few nights, Andrew and I slept on the floor of the new house without benefit of any furniture, which was due to arrive the week following. We could have stayed at a hotel, but Andrew was worried that Nanuk would be lonely in the empty new house. So the three of us, Father, Son, and Dog slept together on Andrew’s bedroom floor.
Nanuk soon made friends around the cul-de-sac. His home away from home was the Quirk’s, who lived next door. Ann and George always welcomed Nanuk whenever he came over for a visit, which was every day. He played with their three dogs, opened the toy chest in their house and helped himself to their toys, begged for his daily treat, and hung out. When we could not find Nanuk, he was usually at the Quirks.
George Quirk recounts the story of when he was napping in the rocking chair, and Nanuk showed up. The front door was not secure, and Nanuk head butted the door, as he was prone to do, and walked in. When George did not notice Nanuk (because he was asleep), Nanuk barked and nearly frightened George out of his chair.
Nanuk became a party animal on Broken Bough Circle. Whenever there was an outdoor, pool party, especially with kids (who tended to drop food on the ground), Nanuk wanted to be there. He let us know he needed to go out (presumably to go to the bathroom) and would disappear into neighbor Jay’s backyard to bogie with the kids, who loved him and fed him pizza. I would wander over after a while, claim Nanuk, and apologize for his intrusion, which no one ever seemed to mind.
Nanuk was always quick to want to meet new visitors, especially workmen who may have lunches to share. One afternoon, I was looking for Nanuk around the cul-de-sac, calling his name without response. Then the Mexican workers who were working on Jay’s garage begin hollering “Nanuk” in heavy accents. I was mystified. How did they know Nanuk? Sure enough Nanuk emerged from behind the garage, appreciative of the tacos he shared with the workers for lunch. Nanuk was everybody’s friend.
When we first moved to Houston, Nanuk needed a job. Everyone needs tasks to do so they feel productive and contribute to the well being of the society around them. Nanuk’s self-chosen task was to make sure all the squirrels stayed up in the trees. I do not know why Nanuk assumed this arduous task, for there were many squirrels in the cul-de-sac, but he did. For years, until he became slow and lame, Nanuk would charge out of the house, and run around until he was satisfied all the squirrels were up in the trees. One time, in the back yard, Nanuk actually caught a squirrel. Jill and I think the squirrel fell out of a tree or off the telephone wire; because Nanuk was never that fast and catching a squirrel was his impossible dream. With the squirrel at his feet, Nanuk just did not know what to do. He had never caught a squirrel, and was unprepared for that eventuality. The squirrel was dazed (supporting the tree falling theory), and when Nanuk came inside, the squirrel wandered off, unhurt but dazed.
Today, Ross and I took Nanuk to the Veterinarian in Houston. Nanuk could no longer rise or walk without pain. Otherwise, he was alert and loving. The San Diego’s Vet’s warning had come true. But we made the right decision then. Nanuk had a wonderful life, filled with love and affection. And he gave us ten years of unquestioning love. Oh how I miss those big, longing brown eyes, the enthusiasm and wagging tail to greet me when I came home tired from out-of-town travels, the constant companionship for all of us, and knowing that my other two sons had someone to turn to who always, without question, understood their side of every story. Thank you, Nanuk.
*********
Nanuk was my third son. He was the only member of our family with four legs and a bark, but he was definitely a family member. Today, Nanuk died. And amidst the sadness that consumes me are my memories of him that I will take to my grave.
Ross was 8 years old and Andrew 13. It was an overcast day in San Diego even in Rancho Santa Fe, which lies inland from the Coast. My wife, Jill, was out of town, visiting her mother as I recall. Andrew had a soccer game in Rancho Santa Fe, and Ross and I were there to cheer him on. Ross’s soccer game started a couple hours after Andrew’s finished, and we boys had time to kill.
Across the street from the Rancho Santa Fe soccer field is Helen Woodward, a care and adoption facility for pets, especially dogs. With time on our hands and nothing better to do, we wandered across the street to Helen W. This was a fateful journey.
I grew up with a dog. Mandy was my best friend as a child. He watched over me when I was only crawling, and went everywhere with me when I was walking. I know the attachment that can form between a boy and his dog.
Andrew and Ross were immediately enthused about the idea of adopting a dog. As we wandered through the outdoor pens, Andrew was attracted to Charlie, one of the most enthusiastic and excited dogs in the place, but probably the ugliest dog too. Ross was attracted to a shy but comely dog that looked part golden retriever and part something else. I was concerned the shy dog would not be as friendly if adopted. I was wrong.
When Jill returned, she was confronted by two bubbling boys who could not wait to share their excitement about what they saw at Helen Woodward. It was not fair. Jill had never spent much time around dogs and was definitely not a fan of owning a dog. But no one could resist the excitement that poured from the two boys with ever more promises of taking care of the pet. Her resistance melted under the earnest pleadings of her young sons.
Upon returning to Helen Woodward, Jill did not care for Charlie. That was okay, because another family was there and wanted to adopt the non-stop jumping and gyrating Charlie. Ross’s pick was being viewed by a single, working woman who wanted to adopt him. Jill liked the shy dog’s looks and demeanor, and the Helen Woodward staff could not resist Ross’s imploring that Nanuk be given a home with a family instead of a single person. We left that day with Nanuk.
It did not take Nanuk long to adopt his new family. He had lived with a woman for four years and then had been given up for adoption when she lost a place to keep him during the day when she was at work. Nanuk was not shy; he had been rejected by the only person he ever was attached to and put in a sterile pen. He was depressed and probably feared added rejection. Once he realized we would not reject him, he moved right into the family circle.
Soon after we adopted Nanuk, Jill had Nanuk at the Veterinarian, who discovered that Nanuk had hip dysplasia. This is a degenerative disease that eventually leads to loss of the use of hind legs. The Vet explained to Jill that’s Nanuk’s mobility would be affected as he aged, and it would probably affect his lifespan. Jill called Helen Woodward to complain, and, their staff apologized and suggested Jill return the dog and they would return it to the original owner (who did not want it). The Helen Woodward staff did not feel anyone would want a dog with serious health impairment.
We decided to keep Nanuk, realizing we would have to face his mobility issue some day. The boys had quickly become attached to Nanuk and Nanuk to them, and we could not bear the thought of rejecting Nanuk and sending him to where he was not wanted and could not be cared for.
Nanuk became best buddies with the boys. Wherever they went, he wanted to be there to. He did have a few unusual characteristics at first. He felt the need to defend Jill against strange men – i.e. any males Nanuk did not personally know. Whenever one approached Jill, whether it is at the shopping center or in the front yard, Nanuk would growl and bark. I had nothing to do with this characteristic; it must have been related to something in Nanuk’s memory and his former owner. Eventually, Nanuk learned no one was going to harm Jill, and he stopped his ferocious demeanor and begged everyone for pets and treats without discriminating sexes.
The second characteristic was his insistence that he pee everywhere possible to leave his scent. At soccer games, this included lawn chairs, scorecards that fell to the ground, and the conventional bushes, fire hydrants, and the like. Nanuk’s desire to be the last to pee somewhere stayed with him throughout his life.
In contrast to his initial shyness, he became the friendliest dog who ever lived. That is an overriding statement, but I believe it to be true. He liked all dogs, people, and other animals in that order. He would run up to strange dogs, his tail wagging, eager to sniff and be sniffed. Some dogs are not so friendly, and Nanuk never won a fight. When attacked, Nanuk would lie down and whimper. I don’t think he was afraid; I think he was disappointed his new acquaintance was not to be a friend.
I remember one time a man with a pony came to a children’s party on our cul-de-sac in Houston. He also had a fierce looking, huge Doberman pincher staked to his truck with a big metal chain restraining this made-for-movies monster. Nanuk saw the creature and immediately trotted over to welcome the dog to the neighborhood. Jill and I looked with horror as Nanuk approached the creature. Jill screamed, “Nanuk you idiot, stop.” Nanuk didn’t care. He went up to the creature sniffed the surprised monster, who was then pulled back by his owner; afraid the Doberman was about to kill Nanuk. Nanuk plodded back to our yard, tail wagging, and peed on the nearest bush. For Nanuk, every day was a happy day.
In San Diego, I would walk Nanuk at night before bed. Not once, but twice, Nanuk encountered a skunk and ran up to the furry black and white slow moving denizen. Nanuk’s tail was wagging 90 miles an hour, at least. But when he went to sniff his new friend, he discovered that some animals really smell bad. One night, Andrew and I washed Nanuk with Campbell’s Tomato Soup. I had read somewhere that tomato soup helped reduce skunk smell. Afterward, Nanuk smelled like very bad soup.
Nanuk tried to befriend wild coyotes in San Diego. Fortunately, the stray coyotes always ran away from the tail wagging, hard charging dog. Fortunately, one of us was always close behind and pulled Nanuk back from chasing into the canyon after his wild cousin.
Our move to Houston was difficult for all the family; but Nanuk was probably the first to adjust. Andrew and I flew to Houston first, because Andrew had high school band camp before the start of high school, and Jill and Ross needed to stay in San Diego. I remember waiting in baggage claim with Andrew, looking for Nanuk’s kennel to arrive. When it did, Andrew went running to the kennel, opened it, and exclaimed, “Nanuk is okay.” What a relief amidst Houston’s hot August weather.
For the next few nights, Andrew and I slept on the floor of the new house without benefit of any furniture, which was due to arrive the week following. We could have stayed at a hotel, but Andrew was worried that Nanuk would be lonely in the empty new house. So the three of us, Father, Son, and Dog slept together on Andrew’s bedroom floor.
Nanuk soon made friends around the cul-de-sac. His home away from home was the Quirk’s, who lived next door. Ann and George always welcomed Nanuk whenever he came over for a visit, which was every day. He played with their three dogs, opened the toy chest in their house and helped himself to their toys, begged for his daily treat, and hung out. When we could not find Nanuk, he was usually at the Quirks.
George Quirk recounts the story of when he was napping in the rocking chair, and Nanuk showed up. The front door was not secure, and Nanuk head butted the door, as he was prone to do, and walked in. When George did not notice Nanuk (because he was asleep), Nanuk barked and nearly frightened George out of his chair.
Nanuk became a party animal on Broken Bough Circle. Whenever there was an outdoor, pool party, especially with kids (who tended to drop food on the ground), Nanuk wanted to be there. He let us know he needed to go out (presumably to go to the bathroom) and would disappear into neighbor Jay’s backyard to bogie with the kids, who loved him and fed him pizza. I would wander over after a while, claim Nanuk, and apologize for his intrusion, which no one ever seemed to mind.
Nanuk was always quick to want to meet new visitors, especially workmen who may have lunches to share. One afternoon, I was looking for Nanuk around the cul-de-sac, calling his name without response. Then the Mexican workers who were working on Jay’s garage begin hollering “Nanuk” in heavy accents. I was mystified. How did they know Nanuk? Sure enough Nanuk emerged from behind the garage, appreciative of the tacos he shared with the workers for lunch. Nanuk was everybody’s friend.
When we first moved to Houston, Nanuk needed a job. Everyone needs tasks to do so they feel productive and contribute to the well being of the society around them. Nanuk’s self-chosen task was to make sure all the squirrels stayed up in the trees. I do not know why Nanuk assumed this arduous task, for there were many squirrels in the cul-de-sac, but he did. For years, until he became slow and lame, Nanuk would charge out of the house, and run around until he was satisfied all the squirrels were up in the trees. One time, in the back yard, Nanuk actually caught a squirrel. Jill and I think the squirrel fell out of a tree or off the telephone wire; because Nanuk was never that fast and catching a squirrel was his impossible dream. With the squirrel at his feet, Nanuk just did not know what to do. He had never caught a squirrel, and was unprepared for that eventuality. The squirrel was dazed (supporting the tree falling theory), and when Nanuk came inside, the squirrel wandered off, unhurt but dazed.
Today, Ross and I took Nanuk to the Veterinarian in Houston. Nanuk could no longer rise or walk without pain. Otherwise, he was alert and loving. The San Diego’s Vet’s warning had come true. But we made the right decision then. Nanuk had a wonderful life, filled with love and affection. And he gave us ten years of unquestioning love. Oh how I miss those big, longing brown eyes, the enthusiasm and wagging tail to greet me when I came home tired from out-of-town travels, the constant companionship for all of us, and knowing that my other two sons had someone to turn to who always, without question, understood their side of every story. Thank you, Nanuk.
21 June 2009
A Few Rays of Sunshine
There has been considerable discussion in the media recently about economic “green shoots.” It appears economists and politicians are seeing the earliest indications that maybe the global economy is stabilizing and may soon begin to improve. The analogy is the springtime emergence of green shoots from plants emerging from winter hibernation leading to subsequent blooming flowers.
I don’t care for this analogy; maybe it is because I grew up in Chicago and know green shoots are often followed by late winter snow storms.
Lately, I have been feeling some rays of sunshine finding their ways through the overcast. Sunshine beats green shoots every day. Sunshine brightens the day, brings energy and vitality, and warms the body and spirit. My doctor says he has fewer patients when the sun is shinning and more after a few days of dark skies and rain.
It has rained quite a bit in Sydney lately. By the time the storms pass, it will have rained several consecutive days. Yet, there are brief periods of sun between the showers which blow through. A few days ago, a rainbow painted the sky above and touched down at our door; surely a symbol of better times ahead.
I continue my uphill journey, but the glimpses of sunshine lighten my burden and quicken my pace. After a year long winter of personal grey skies and stormy weather, the rays of sunshine, even if intermittent, offer hope to a brighter future.
My wife signed a divorce settlement agreement last week after months of acrimony and accusation. I cannot read the terms of the agreement; the scanned copy has been faxed or scanned too many times. I called my attorney, but he lacks a legible copy. "No worries," he says, he and my wife’s attorney will figure it out.
But why not resign a legible copy? No one wants to ask my wife to sign anything again. I have signed three settlement offers from my wife’s attorney, only to have them withdrawn by my wife because she wanted to add more demands. Now she wants to add more demands again, but the documents are executed by all and will not be changed – even if they cannot be read.
I signed up without forethought for an internet dating service and am overwhelmed by the number of single women who want to meet me. Maybe they all are ugly or have psychological issues; maybe there is an ax murderer among them; I don’t know but I appreciate their expressions of interest after being the subject of non stop criticisms for so long. It gives me a measure of hope and confidence there is someone out there who will be my partner and friend.
At work, the mood has definitely experienced some sunshine. In a market environment suffering from tenant contractions and rising unemployment, we succeeded in gaining agreement on the largest new lease for an office tenant this year in Australia. The tenant had firmly rejected our proposal previously, but our staff persevered and would not accept “no” for an answer.
Our $600 million loan is now due June 30 after securing a last minute extension; it now looks like we will be able to refinance and extend the maturity date. No easy feat with 10 banks in the syndicate and the lead bank in the process of being nationalized by the German Government.
After being told by a local bank they would make no more property loans this year, we were approved for a big loan on a development project in North Sydney that was desperate for funding.
The capital markets have been closed for a year with only smaller buildings trading due to lack of debt availability. We signed a Letter of Intent last week to sell a big office building; if it closes it will be the largest asset sale in Australia for many months.
Our one derelict building, unoccupied and uninhabitable is now under terms of agreement to sell it for $75 million for a critical public use.
Today is the winter solstice in the southern hemisphere; from now forward for the rest of the year, the days will become longer. That means more sunshine awaits.
So there are still problems; too much work to do; too many things that can and will go wrong. The economy is still weak and revenues are under pressure. My wife is still sending accusatory emails and calling with confrontational tone. My youngest son continues to dream of a career in Hollywood as the movie industry downsizes. And I continue to live alone.
But the sunlight lingers behind the cloud cover, waiting to break through and light the world. And I continue to climb my mountain, until I reach the sun. I know I am getting closer.
I don’t care for this analogy; maybe it is because I grew up in Chicago and know green shoots are often followed by late winter snow storms.
Lately, I have been feeling some rays of sunshine finding their ways through the overcast. Sunshine beats green shoots every day. Sunshine brightens the day, brings energy and vitality, and warms the body and spirit. My doctor says he has fewer patients when the sun is shinning and more after a few days of dark skies and rain.
It has rained quite a bit in Sydney lately. By the time the storms pass, it will have rained several consecutive days. Yet, there are brief periods of sun between the showers which blow through. A few days ago, a rainbow painted the sky above and touched down at our door; surely a symbol of better times ahead.
I continue my uphill journey, but the glimpses of sunshine lighten my burden and quicken my pace. After a year long winter of personal grey skies and stormy weather, the rays of sunshine, even if intermittent, offer hope to a brighter future.
My wife signed a divorce settlement agreement last week after months of acrimony and accusation. I cannot read the terms of the agreement; the scanned copy has been faxed or scanned too many times. I called my attorney, but he lacks a legible copy. "No worries," he says, he and my wife’s attorney will figure it out.
But why not resign a legible copy? No one wants to ask my wife to sign anything again. I have signed three settlement offers from my wife’s attorney, only to have them withdrawn by my wife because she wanted to add more demands. Now she wants to add more demands again, but the documents are executed by all and will not be changed – even if they cannot be read.
I signed up without forethought for an internet dating service and am overwhelmed by the number of single women who want to meet me. Maybe they all are ugly or have psychological issues; maybe there is an ax murderer among them; I don’t know but I appreciate their expressions of interest after being the subject of non stop criticisms for so long. It gives me a measure of hope and confidence there is someone out there who will be my partner and friend.
At work, the mood has definitely experienced some sunshine. In a market environment suffering from tenant contractions and rising unemployment, we succeeded in gaining agreement on the largest new lease for an office tenant this year in Australia. The tenant had firmly rejected our proposal previously, but our staff persevered and would not accept “no” for an answer.
Our $600 million loan is now due June 30 after securing a last minute extension; it now looks like we will be able to refinance and extend the maturity date. No easy feat with 10 banks in the syndicate and the lead bank in the process of being nationalized by the German Government.
After being told by a local bank they would make no more property loans this year, we were approved for a big loan on a development project in North Sydney that was desperate for funding.
The capital markets have been closed for a year with only smaller buildings trading due to lack of debt availability. We signed a Letter of Intent last week to sell a big office building; if it closes it will be the largest asset sale in Australia for many months.
Our one derelict building, unoccupied and uninhabitable is now under terms of agreement to sell it for $75 million for a critical public use.
Today is the winter solstice in the southern hemisphere; from now forward for the rest of the year, the days will become longer. That means more sunshine awaits.
So there are still problems; too much work to do; too many things that can and will go wrong. The economy is still weak and revenues are under pressure. My wife is still sending accusatory emails and calling with confrontational tone. My youngest son continues to dream of a career in Hollywood as the movie industry downsizes. And I continue to live alone.
But the sunlight lingers behind the cloud cover, waiting to break through and light the world. And I continue to climb my mountain, until I reach the sun. I know I am getting closer.
04 June 2009
Introduction to Australian English
I grew up in America and learned English there. Subsequently, I have traveled widely and conversed in English with people from countries throughout the world including business associates, travel and tour guides, and friendly folks at restaurants and public places. Only when I moved to Sydney, however, did I realize that a second form of English existed. I guess the Scots have their own version of English too but I question whether their language can really be called English since no one outside the country can understand them.
I have encountered many ‘men of few words’ in my journeys. However, in Australia it is more common to meet men of ‘few letters.’ It is typical in Australian English to eliminate letters from multi syllabic words. I am surprised there are still 26 letters in the alphabet here.
I do not know the historic antecedents which led to the widespread demise of long words here, and I thought at first it was the penchant to be economical and efficient with speech. Others more knowledgeable than me suggested otherwise including the following theories:
• You can’t talk and drink beer at the same time and
• Chants at sporting events are easier if they are short (‘go’, ‘stop’, ‘kill’…..)
And we know going to sporting events and drinking beer are favorite pastimes.
For visitors who are unaccustomed to Aussie English, here are the rules as I perceive them.
As indicated, Aussies prefer shorter words or phrases. If an Aussie wants to use a long word or phrase, he or she just drops most of the letters after the first or second syllable. It conserves effort and time. Why, for example, would anyone want to say ‘Good Day’ or ‘Guten Tag’ or ‘Buenas Dias’ when he or she can get by with G’day? And why attempt a long five syllable word like ‘university’ when all you need to say is ‘uni?’
If you try this technique and want to delete miscellaneous letters or syllables to speed up the conversation but are unsure how many to drop, my advice is to drop as many as you want and then tack a ‘y’ or ‘ie’ on the end of the mangled word. This rule allows you to condense any word as long as you then end it with a ‘y’ or ‘ie’
Think Barbie for barbeque or Brekkie for breakfast. Want to guess a few others?
• Footy
• Sunnies
• Truckie
• Westie
• Pokie
• Soapie
• Mozzie
• Vinnies
If you need to contract a word and adding ‘y’ or ‘ie’ just does not seem to work, it is okay to delete the letters and add an ‘o’ on the end. So the garbo is the trash man; one’s bizzo is what you do for a living; and you buy petrol at the servo.
A few words and phrases which seem to come up all the time include some of my favorites.
When a guy has questionable ethics or character or his actions are highly suspect, he is ‘dodgy.’ Maybe he is trying to dodge the law or behavior rules; but ‘dodgy’ just sounds like an appropriate label for an untrustworthy character.
When someone is really screwed (American phrase) or stuck in an undesirable situation, he is ‘stuffed.’ Maybe he is figuratively dead and faces the added insult is being stuffed. I don’t know. I do know it does make it a lot easier to say you’re stuffed than trying to explain the complex set of circumstances that led you to some yet to be described set of unfortunate circumstances.
Give and take negotiations are called ‘argy bargy.’ I get the impression that you cannot have ‘argy’ without ‘bargy.’ Maybe the derivation is arguments among barristers? These days every time I need a bank to do something; I get argy bargy, so maybe bargy is something to do with bankers.
When it gets too cumbersome for an Aussie (short for Australian with i.e. ending making it acceptable contraction in Aussie English) to speak sentences and words – even condensed words, they just use initials. In the United States it is okay to use State abbreviations (TX for Texas for example) but you still verbalize the word (‘Texas’). In Australia the States are often just referred to as abbreviations -- N-S-W, VIC, W-A, etc.
Other abbreviations which save time and effort include The Melbourne Cricket Ground stadium which is called the ‘MCG,’ and Tasmania which is just ‘Tassie.’ Even the newspapers revert to acronyms such as ETS (Energy Trading Schemes) and in my profession, woe is to you if you do not know about LVR’s, ICR’s, and EVR’s. Some people can speak sentences without using real words; but everyone seems to understand.
The weather in Australia is either raining or is ‘fine.’ In the U.S., there may be a 10% chance of showers, a 50% chance of clouds, and a 40% chance of sun according to various computer models and multiple simulations based on 100 years of data; in Australia the weather is just ‘fine.’ I kind of like ‘fine.’
‘Bugger’ is an expression when you are upset or angry at an unexpected setback. In the U.S., the comparable phrase is ‘Oh Shit.’ Aussies are more polite. I think maybe early settlers here used to exclaim whenever they saw one of Australia’s many crawling denizens and the phrase just achieved more extended usage.
The use of the pronoun, ‘on’ is different Down Under. In American English, ‘on’ simply means on top of. Here ‘big on’ may mean enthusiastic as in he’s big on cricket. ‘Good on you’ is a complement which seems self explanatory and replaces the more traditional sentence structure that includes a verb.
The most universal phrase in Australia is my favorite, ‘No worries,’ or ‘No worries, Mate.’ This phrase has multiple meanings but I have come to learn that one common translation is roughly as follows: something bad is about to happen or just happened but relax because there is nothing you can do about it. When I was in the Whitsunday Islands watching a Category 5 cyclone approaching recently, the prevalent attitude on the island was ‘No worries.’ In the U.S. there would have been evacuations, 24 hour news coverage, and panic. “No worries’ may not mean no worries but it is a great phrase and reflects the optimistic sunny attitude in Australia.
So this weekend, if you’re going to the footy in the arvo with your rellies, don’t forget your sunnies. Stop by the servo to fill the ute on the way. Hopefully the weather will be fine and your team will give it a fair go. If your team is losing, no worries, she’ll be right in the end. Good on you, mate. G’day.
I have encountered many ‘men of few words’ in my journeys. However, in Australia it is more common to meet men of ‘few letters.’ It is typical in Australian English to eliminate letters from multi syllabic words. I am surprised there are still 26 letters in the alphabet here.
I do not know the historic antecedents which led to the widespread demise of long words here, and I thought at first it was the penchant to be economical and efficient with speech. Others more knowledgeable than me suggested otherwise including the following theories:
• You can’t talk and drink beer at the same time and
• Chants at sporting events are easier if they are short (‘go’, ‘stop’, ‘kill’…..)
And we know going to sporting events and drinking beer are favorite pastimes.
For visitors who are unaccustomed to Aussie English, here are the rules as I perceive them.
As indicated, Aussies prefer shorter words or phrases. If an Aussie wants to use a long word or phrase, he or she just drops most of the letters after the first or second syllable. It conserves effort and time. Why, for example, would anyone want to say ‘Good Day’ or ‘Guten Tag’ or ‘Buenas Dias’ when he or she can get by with G’day? And why attempt a long five syllable word like ‘university’ when all you need to say is ‘uni?’
If you try this technique and want to delete miscellaneous letters or syllables to speed up the conversation but are unsure how many to drop, my advice is to drop as many as you want and then tack a ‘y’ or ‘ie’ on the end of the mangled word. This rule allows you to condense any word as long as you then end it with a ‘y’ or ‘ie’
Think Barbie for barbeque or Brekkie for breakfast. Want to guess a few others?
• Footy
• Sunnies
• Truckie
• Westie
• Pokie
• Soapie
• Mozzie
• Vinnies
If you need to contract a word and adding ‘y’ or ‘ie’ just does not seem to work, it is okay to delete the letters and add an ‘o’ on the end. So the garbo is the trash man; one’s bizzo is what you do for a living; and you buy petrol at the servo.
A few words and phrases which seem to come up all the time include some of my favorites.
When a guy has questionable ethics or character or his actions are highly suspect, he is ‘dodgy.’ Maybe he is trying to dodge the law or behavior rules; but ‘dodgy’ just sounds like an appropriate label for an untrustworthy character.
When someone is really screwed (American phrase) or stuck in an undesirable situation, he is ‘stuffed.’ Maybe he is figuratively dead and faces the added insult is being stuffed. I don’t know. I do know it does make it a lot easier to say you’re stuffed than trying to explain the complex set of circumstances that led you to some yet to be described set of unfortunate circumstances.
Give and take negotiations are called ‘argy bargy.’ I get the impression that you cannot have ‘argy’ without ‘bargy.’ Maybe the derivation is arguments among barristers? These days every time I need a bank to do something; I get argy bargy, so maybe bargy is something to do with bankers.
When it gets too cumbersome for an Aussie (short for Australian with i.e. ending making it acceptable contraction in Aussie English) to speak sentences and words – even condensed words, they just use initials. In the United States it is okay to use State abbreviations (TX for Texas for example) but you still verbalize the word (‘Texas’). In Australia the States are often just referred to as abbreviations -- N-S-W, VIC, W-A, etc.
Other abbreviations which save time and effort include The Melbourne Cricket Ground stadium which is called the ‘MCG,’ and Tasmania which is just ‘Tassie.’ Even the newspapers revert to acronyms such as ETS (Energy Trading Schemes) and in my profession, woe is to you if you do not know about LVR’s, ICR’s, and EVR’s. Some people can speak sentences without using real words; but everyone seems to understand.
The weather in Australia is either raining or is ‘fine.’ In the U.S., there may be a 10% chance of showers, a 50% chance of clouds, and a 40% chance of sun according to various computer models and multiple simulations based on 100 years of data; in Australia the weather is just ‘fine.’ I kind of like ‘fine.’
‘Bugger’ is an expression when you are upset or angry at an unexpected setback. In the U.S., the comparable phrase is ‘Oh Shit.’ Aussies are more polite. I think maybe early settlers here used to exclaim whenever they saw one of Australia’s many crawling denizens and the phrase just achieved more extended usage.
The use of the pronoun, ‘on’ is different Down Under. In American English, ‘on’ simply means on top of. Here ‘big on’ may mean enthusiastic as in he’s big on cricket. ‘Good on you’ is a complement which seems self explanatory and replaces the more traditional sentence structure that includes a verb.
The most universal phrase in Australia is my favorite, ‘No worries,’ or ‘No worries, Mate.’ This phrase has multiple meanings but I have come to learn that one common translation is roughly as follows: something bad is about to happen or just happened but relax because there is nothing you can do about it. When I was in the Whitsunday Islands watching a Category 5 cyclone approaching recently, the prevalent attitude on the island was ‘No worries.’ In the U.S. there would have been evacuations, 24 hour news coverage, and panic. “No worries’ may not mean no worries but it is a great phrase and reflects the optimistic sunny attitude in Australia.
So this weekend, if you’re going to the footy in the arvo with your rellies, don’t forget your sunnies. Stop by the servo to fill the ute on the way. Hopefully the weather will be fine and your team will give it a fair go. If your team is losing, no worries, she’ll be right in the end. Good on you, mate. G’day.
25 May 2009
Walking Uphill
It seems like I am always walking uphill, and I am beginning to think this is not my imagination; maybe I really am always going uphill. I start in the morning in Kirribilli, across the Harbour from downtown Sydney, take the ferry or train, and walk up hill to my office in the CBD. At night I usually walk uphill to the Harbour Bridge and walk across the bridge to Kirribilli.
Sometimes I even walk down to walk up. Take the Cahill elevated walk from Macquarie Street to the Harbour Bridge. It is uphill all the way until you reach the bridge. Then you are required to walk down steps in order to walk uphill back to the Bridge walkway. Who would design something like this?
Sometimes I have to climb stairs instead of walking up hill. From Argyle Street, there are 69 stairs to reach Cumberland Street and then another 64 stairs to the Harbour Bridge walkway. I think I would rather walk uphill than climb so many stairs.
I know theoretically if I end where I started; the uphill walks should be balanced by downhill walks. But I don’t remember walking downhill; only the uphill hikes. Maybe it is an Australian thing. Perhaps the earth rotates in such a way that it is uphill to the CBD in the morning, but cosmic changes make the return journey uphill in the evening.
Sound crazy? If you’re from North America everything else in this country is crazy. The sun comes up in the wrong place; Christmas is in the summer, and the country celebrates the Queen of England's birthday in the wrong month. By contrast, always walking uphill would not come as a surprise.
My life seems like a metaphor with one uphill journey after another. Let me count the hills I have walked recently.
• Managing a company through an economic downturn. How do you grow when the surrounding world is shrinking? You don’t; you just try to shrink less.
• Banks. Lately, I have been dealing a lot with banks. Getting them to agree is more like climbing a mountain.
• Saving money. It is really challenging to save money here. The Government takes the first 45% of my salary. Then they take 10% every time I buy anything. If I were to buy a house in the suburbs, the State Government requires an infrastructure charge that can add $100,000 to the cost of a home. I see the charge but what happened to the infrastructure?
When I started working in Sydney, the Aussie dollar was almost at parity with the U.S. dollar. Since then, it has averaged about 2/3 the value. So I am paid in discounted dollars, taxed at 45% and then taxed again in the U.S. My soon to be ex-wife wants the rest. No wonder saving money is a challenge.
• Gaining weight. At first I lost weight in Sydney, probably due to all the walking – in the U.S. I drive a car everywhere. But I am regaining weight in response to high calorie coffee (I drink uncontaminated black in the States), too many business lunches and dinners, an Aussie beer now and then, too much Aussie wine, working too many hours, eating snacks to compensate for insufficient sleep, etc.
• Exercising. Everyone says exercise is good but who has the time? I typically work 12 hours a day and am tired the other 12. Last week I went swimming for the first time in years; I almost drowned in the slow lane.
• Dealing with my soon to be ex-wife. This may be more like jumping off a cliff.
• Dating single women after being married (and faithful) for 30 years. Aren’t I too old for this?
• Communicating with my youngest son; “I don’t need your advice Dad. I only graduated a year ago and am working on a finding a job.”
• Sleeping after reading the latest missive from my divorce attorney outlining my wife’s latest demands and my limited options
• Sleeping after receiving the latest invoice from my divorce attorney.
• Sleeping after meeting with the banks.
• Sleeping after meeting with the investors explaining what happened to their investment.
So lately my life has included a lot of walking up hill. But one thing about hills; there is always a top. I sense I am getting closer to the top and when I do reach the top of the hill, it should be all downhill from there …. unless there is another taller hill blocking my path.
Sometimes I even walk down to walk up. Take the Cahill elevated walk from Macquarie Street to the Harbour Bridge. It is uphill all the way until you reach the bridge. Then you are required to walk down steps in order to walk uphill back to the Bridge walkway. Who would design something like this?
Sometimes I have to climb stairs instead of walking up hill. From Argyle Street, there are 69 stairs to reach Cumberland Street and then another 64 stairs to the Harbour Bridge walkway. I think I would rather walk uphill than climb so many stairs.
I know theoretically if I end where I started; the uphill walks should be balanced by downhill walks. But I don’t remember walking downhill; only the uphill hikes. Maybe it is an Australian thing. Perhaps the earth rotates in such a way that it is uphill to the CBD in the morning, but cosmic changes make the return journey uphill in the evening.
Sound crazy? If you’re from North America everything else in this country is crazy. The sun comes up in the wrong place; Christmas is in the summer, and the country celebrates the Queen of England's birthday in the wrong month. By contrast, always walking uphill would not come as a surprise.
My life seems like a metaphor with one uphill journey after another. Let me count the hills I have walked recently.
• Managing a company through an economic downturn. How do you grow when the surrounding world is shrinking? You don’t; you just try to shrink less.
• Banks. Lately, I have been dealing a lot with banks. Getting them to agree is more like climbing a mountain.
• Saving money. It is really challenging to save money here. The Government takes the first 45% of my salary. Then they take 10% every time I buy anything. If I were to buy a house in the suburbs, the State Government requires an infrastructure charge that can add $100,000 to the cost of a home. I see the charge but what happened to the infrastructure?
When I started working in Sydney, the Aussie dollar was almost at parity with the U.S. dollar. Since then, it has averaged about 2/3 the value. So I am paid in discounted dollars, taxed at 45% and then taxed again in the U.S. My soon to be ex-wife wants the rest. No wonder saving money is a challenge.
• Gaining weight. At first I lost weight in Sydney, probably due to all the walking – in the U.S. I drive a car everywhere. But I am regaining weight in response to high calorie coffee (I drink uncontaminated black in the States), too many business lunches and dinners, an Aussie beer now and then, too much Aussie wine, working too many hours, eating snacks to compensate for insufficient sleep, etc.
• Exercising. Everyone says exercise is good but who has the time? I typically work 12 hours a day and am tired the other 12. Last week I went swimming for the first time in years; I almost drowned in the slow lane.
• Dealing with my soon to be ex-wife. This may be more like jumping off a cliff.
• Dating single women after being married (and faithful) for 30 years. Aren’t I too old for this?
• Communicating with my youngest son; “I don’t need your advice Dad. I only graduated a year ago and am working on a finding a job.”
• Sleeping after reading the latest missive from my divorce attorney outlining my wife’s latest demands and my limited options
• Sleeping after receiving the latest invoice from my divorce attorney.
• Sleeping after meeting with the banks.
• Sleeping after meeting with the investors explaining what happened to their investment.
So lately my life has included a lot of walking up hill. But one thing about hills; there is always a top. I sense I am getting closer to the top and when I do reach the top of the hill, it should be all downhill from there …. unless there is another taller hill blocking my path.
10 May 2009
Anxiety
In 1977, Mel Brooks released the movie, High Anxiety, and introduced the Psychoneurotic Institute for the very very nervous. I would not qualify for the Institute but lately I seem to be suffering from an occasional bout of anxiety. As I talk to others, I am finding anxiety is pretty common; I have lots of company. So what are the causes of such widespread anxiety? There are so many causes and events it is a wonder we all do not suffer permanent anxiety.
Here are a few examples I have encountered.
Flying Anywhere
• Getting There. Anxiety starts even before you get to the airport. Did you forget anything? Do you have the flight time correct? Do you have your ticket? Does your bag weigh too much? What did you forget?
Driving to the airport or taking a taxi knowing that the plane is leaving whether you are there in time or not causes concern. Add some traffic congestion and a late start and suffer all the way to the airport.
I used to fly occasionally from Tijuana Mexico. Aero Mexico had a rule; the plane departed when the captain wanted to. If the captain had a hot date waiting in Mexico City, the plane left early. Passengers arrived very early; no one knew what the captain’s plans were that day.
• Long Lines. Okay, so you arrive early; why is the line so long? If there is more than one line, the odds always dictate you will pick the slowest moving line. Should you switch to the back of a faster moving line? No, as soon as you switch, the old line will pick up and the new line will slow. Always happens. Maybe a mathematician will figure out why this is and win a Nobel Price someday.
• Security. I always feel guilty when I approach the presence of so many uniformed security officers, even though I would never bring anything that raised questions (sorry but my son must have put the scissors in the bag officer…). In India, there must be 10 security checks just to reach the gate. India is not for people who worry.
• Taking Off. Planes taxi on the runway for a couple days before they actually take off. This is just the suspenseful build up to the take off; it is the airline’s equivalent of foreplay. Taking off is a game to see if 1 million kilos of metal and flesh can lift off the ground before the runway ends.
I have a friend who formerly did business in one of the remote areas of Russia. Occasionally a Russian flight would crash taking off or landing at the local airfield. The Russians just left the debris of the crashed plane at the end of the runway and scavenged the downed planes for parts when needed. Imagine how secure you would feel seeing other planes that previously crashed on the same runway. Maybe you can take comfort that the parts in the crashed planes have been reused and possibly are in your plane.
Late for a meeting or an appointment
• I hate being late for a meeting. Driving in traffic always raises the worry I will be late. Driving in traffic, running late, and having to go to the bathroom are the perfect storm for anxiety sufferers.
• I suspect driving to a job interview, stuck in traffic, in need of a bathroom probably surpasses even the perfect storm. It is not comforting to know that there are a few hundred other qualified candidates who want the same job and you are about to show up late for the interview.
• I can become anxious even walking across town to a meeting if I am late, the crowd is moving too slowly, and the crossing lights seem synchronized to delay my progress.
Doctors
• My blood pressure rises as soon as I enter a doctor’s office. Just being there adds stress. If I do not feel ill when I go (for a check up for example), I feel ill by the time I leave. There have been studies that people who go to a hospital for treatment have a greater chance of getting sick than those who do not go.
• Dentist offices are even worse. The sound of the drill sends chills – too many memories of childhood cavities. The American CIA really did not need water-boarding to make terror suspects talk; they just needed to let a dentist drill’s shrill sound to emanate from the room next door.
Public Restrooms
• It is bad enough to use a public restroom (or airplane bathroom) not knowing how disgusting or diseased the person was who used the toilet before you did. But if there is only one or two usable toilets and you cannot go right away, you struggle knowing the line to use the facility is probably growing longer and the queue impatient.
Sleep
• Everyone I know seems to have trouble sleeping. For me, it is too much on my mind after a long day dealing with problems. As I slow down, the problems linger longer. I often solve issues lying in bed; but I would prefer not to solve so many issues at 3 AM.
Other Anxious Moments
• Dealing with my soon to be ex-wife. The stress level spikes just seeing her name on the email or seeing her number on the ringing telephone.
• Dealing with a divorce attorney or receiving an invoice from one.
• Entering the dating scene after being married and faithful for 100 years
• Being married in general
• Being single
• Borrowing money when the banks do not want to loan. I met with one banker who said, “my first answer is No; my second answer is No; my third answer is No. What else can I tell you?” I replied “The first three answers don’t work so let’s discuss answer number 4.”
• Having the guy next to you retrenched
• Being retrenched instead of the guy next to you.
• Being the boss and having to retrench both guys
• Having a cockroach run across the dressing area or bathroom countertop as you ready for bed and disappear before you kill him.
• Going to Mexico in the midst of the Swine Flu epidemic. Mexico can be a tough place to visit even without the flu. Now you can get robbed and contaminated at the same time.
The environment in which we live is filled with anxious moments and events. I am unsure of the best solutions to deal with these moments but here are a few recommendations I have encountered.
• Drink 4 glasses of red wine a day. This was the philosophy of a guy I worked for. He never seemed too stressed so it seemed to work; but the company did eventually fail.
• Take sleeping pills. These things seem to work for a short time and then stop working. According to one warning label I read, they cease to be effective after a few days and will then actually cause insomnia. I guess this means you have to switch to other pills every few days. Sounds like a marketing plan from the pharmaceutical industry based on addiction.
• Find a low stress job. I do not believe they exist but if they do, most people I know will find a way to introduce stressful conditions into an otherwise unstressed situation.
• Arrange to meet God and work out a deal. The devout seem to be less stressed (unless they signed on as a suicide bomber but are not fully convinced about the 21 virgins waiting for them in the afterlife).
• Exercise to the point of exhaustion. You may be too tired to be stressed.
• Read a book or The Economist Magazine – it takes longer to read than most books.
• Pretend you’re a writer and author columns on such current topics like “Anxiety.”
I do not think anxiety can be avoided; but the recognition of its widespread presence seems to lead to a less anxious feeling. Misery does like company. So encountering and recognizing more anxiety can lead to less anxiety. If the ‘more is less’ argument does not appeal, talk to your doc and get drugs.
Here are a few examples I have encountered.
Flying Anywhere
• Getting There. Anxiety starts even before you get to the airport. Did you forget anything? Do you have the flight time correct? Do you have your ticket? Does your bag weigh too much? What did you forget?
Driving to the airport or taking a taxi knowing that the plane is leaving whether you are there in time or not causes concern. Add some traffic congestion and a late start and suffer all the way to the airport.
I used to fly occasionally from Tijuana Mexico. Aero Mexico had a rule; the plane departed when the captain wanted to. If the captain had a hot date waiting in Mexico City, the plane left early. Passengers arrived very early; no one knew what the captain’s plans were that day.
• Long Lines. Okay, so you arrive early; why is the line so long? If there is more than one line, the odds always dictate you will pick the slowest moving line. Should you switch to the back of a faster moving line? No, as soon as you switch, the old line will pick up and the new line will slow. Always happens. Maybe a mathematician will figure out why this is and win a Nobel Price someday.
• Security. I always feel guilty when I approach the presence of so many uniformed security officers, even though I would never bring anything that raised questions (sorry but my son must have put the scissors in the bag officer…). In India, there must be 10 security checks just to reach the gate. India is not for people who worry.
• Taking Off. Planes taxi on the runway for a couple days before they actually take off. This is just the suspenseful build up to the take off; it is the airline’s equivalent of foreplay. Taking off is a game to see if 1 million kilos of metal and flesh can lift off the ground before the runway ends.
I have a friend who formerly did business in one of the remote areas of Russia. Occasionally a Russian flight would crash taking off or landing at the local airfield. The Russians just left the debris of the crashed plane at the end of the runway and scavenged the downed planes for parts when needed. Imagine how secure you would feel seeing other planes that previously crashed on the same runway. Maybe you can take comfort that the parts in the crashed planes have been reused and possibly are in your plane.
Late for a meeting or an appointment
• I hate being late for a meeting. Driving in traffic always raises the worry I will be late. Driving in traffic, running late, and having to go to the bathroom are the perfect storm for anxiety sufferers.
• I suspect driving to a job interview, stuck in traffic, in need of a bathroom probably surpasses even the perfect storm. It is not comforting to know that there are a few hundred other qualified candidates who want the same job and you are about to show up late for the interview.
• I can become anxious even walking across town to a meeting if I am late, the crowd is moving too slowly, and the crossing lights seem synchronized to delay my progress.
Doctors
• My blood pressure rises as soon as I enter a doctor’s office. Just being there adds stress. If I do not feel ill when I go (for a check up for example), I feel ill by the time I leave. There have been studies that people who go to a hospital for treatment have a greater chance of getting sick than those who do not go.
• Dentist offices are even worse. The sound of the drill sends chills – too many memories of childhood cavities. The American CIA really did not need water-boarding to make terror suspects talk; they just needed to let a dentist drill’s shrill sound to emanate from the room next door.
Public Restrooms
• It is bad enough to use a public restroom (or airplane bathroom) not knowing how disgusting or diseased the person was who used the toilet before you did. But if there is only one or two usable toilets and you cannot go right away, you struggle knowing the line to use the facility is probably growing longer and the queue impatient.
Sleep
• Everyone I know seems to have trouble sleeping. For me, it is too much on my mind after a long day dealing with problems. As I slow down, the problems linger longer. I often solve issues lying in bed; but I would prefer not to solve so many issues at 3 AM.
Other Anxious Moments
• Dealing with my soon to be ex-wife. The stress level spikes just seeing her name on the email or seeing her number on the ringing telephone.
• Dealing with a divorce attorney or receiving an invoice from one.
• Entering the dating scene after being married and faithful for 100 years
• Being married in general
• Being single
• Borrowing money when the banks do not want to loan. I met with one banker who said, “my first answer is No; my second answer is No; my third answer is No. What else can I tell you?” I replied “The first three answers don’t work so let’s discuss answer number 4.”
• Having the guy next to you retrenched
• Being retrenched instead of the guy next to you.
• Being the boss and having to retrench both guys
• Having a cockroach run across the dressing area or bathroom countertop as you ready for bed and disappear before you kill him.
• Going to Mexico in the midst of the Swine Flu epidemic. Mexico can be a tough place to visit even without the flu. Now you can get robbed and contaminated at the same time.
The environment in which we live is filled with anxious moments and events. I am unsure of the best solutions to deal with these moments but here are a few recommendations I have encountered.
• Drink 4 glasses of red wine a day. This was the philosophy of a guy I worked for. He never seemed too stressed so it seemed to work; but the company did eventually fail.
• Take sleeping pills. These things seem to work for a short time and then stop working. According to one warning label I read, they cease to be effective after a few days and will then actually cause insomnia. I guess this means you have to switch to other pills every few days. Sounds like a marketing plan from the pharmaceutical industry based on addiction.
• Find a low stress job. I do not believe they exist but if they do, most people I know will find a way to introduce stressful conditions into an otherwise unstressed situation.
• Arrange to meet God and work out a deal. The devout seem to be less stressed (unless they signed on as a suicide bomber but are not fully convinced about the 21 virgins waiting for them in the afterlife).
• Exercise to the point of exhaustion. You may be too tired to be stressed.
• Read a book or The Economist Magazine – it takes longer to read than most books.
• Pretend you’re a writer and author columns on such current topics like “Anxiety.”
I do not think anxiety can be avoided; but the recognition of its widespread presence seems to lead to a less anxious feeling. Misery does like company. So encountering and recognizing more anxiety can lead to less anxiety. If the ‘more is less’ argument does not appeal, talk to your doc and get drugs.
01 April 2009
The Bug in the Bedroom
Last night I noticed a bug walking across the floor of the bedroom as I readied for bed. I ran to the bathroom for Kleenex to catch this misplaced creature and flush him away; but when I returned the bug was gone. Where did he go? Not under the bed, not on the bed, not under the table, where is that buggar?
As I climbed into bed I could not help wonder if the ugly critter had somehow gotten into the bed. Perhaps even under the covers. Lights on, out of bed, covers peeled back, but no sign of the creepy denizen.
Lights out, back in bed, time for sleep. It is late and I have an early meeting tomorrow. So what happened to the buggar? Could it be in the pillow case? Probably not. Why do I care; it was just a harmless bug. Maybe I should check the pillows.
If it was a cockroach, I would be more concerned. Roaches travel in groups. See one roach and there are relatives nearby. I hate roaches. Once I went to brush my teeth, and there was a roach on the bristles of my toothbrush. Yuck!
Once I stayed in a cheap motel and the wall seemed to move when the lights were out but a little light creped in from outside through the thin curtains sufficient to show movement and shadows. When I turned on the lights, I was astonished to see roaches on the wall. The lights remained on all night and I slept not.
But the creature in my bedroom last night was not from the hated roach family; he was just a brown buggar intruding on my private space. Maybe he is nocturnal and when I turn on the lights, he will be out of hiding. Lights on; no bug.
Once my ex-wife and I had a cat who used to catch big bugs and bring them home to show us. One night the cat let a katydid go under the covers of our bed and danced around the bed as the bug moved under the covers. My wife awoke and screamed; I thought Hells Angels motorcycle gang had broken in and we were under attack.
This was not a katydid. Nor was it one of Australia’s many venomous spiders or scorpions; it was just a bug. So where did it go? At least I know it was not in the pillow case.
As I climbed into bed I could not help wonder if the ugly critter had somehow gotten into the bed. Perhaps even under the covers. Lights on, out of bed, covers peeled back, but no sign of the creepy denizen.
Lights out, back in bed, time for sleep. It is late and I have an early meeting tomorrow. So what happened to the buggar? Could it be in the pillow case? Probably not. Why do I care; it was just a harmless bug. Maybe I should check the pillows.
If it was a cockroach, I would be more concerned. Roaches travel in groups. See one roach and there are relatives nearby. I hate roaches. Once I went to brush my teeth, and there was a roach on the bristles of my toothbrush. Yuck!
Once I stayed in a cheap motel and the wall seemed to move when the lights were out but a little light creped in from outside through the thin curtains sufficient to show movement and shadows. When I turned on the lights, I was astonished to see roaches on the wall. The lights remained on all night and I slept not.
But the creature in my bedroom last night was not from the hated roach family; he was just a brown buggar intruding on my private space. Maybe he is nocturnal and when I turn on the lights, he will be out of hiding. Lights on; no bug.
Once my ex-wife and I had a cat who used to catch big bugs and bring them home to show us. One night the cat let a katydid go under the covers of our bed and danced around the bed as the bug moved under the covers. My wife awoke and screamed; I thought Hells Angels motorcycle gang had broken in and we were under attack.
This was not a katydid. Nor was it one of Australia’s many venomous spiders or scorpions; it was just a bug. So where did it go? At least I know it was not in the pillow case.
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