There are too many ideas running through my head these days, but what really hurts is the fact that none of them are any good.
I have no validity when my grand ideas are placed up to the light for closer scrutiny. It’s kinda humbling to be stupid, but I’ve learned to live with humbleness.
Motivational speakers will tell you to hold your head high and walk quickly forward with confidence.
When I do that, I walk into furniture and cars and see nothing but pigeons and power lines. I don’t always see the future.
I like to walk with my head down. That way I can see the potholes and mud I am about to step into and an occasional dime or quarter. That’s more rewarding than pigeon poop … and safer.
I would love to be a motivational speaker, but I truly believe most of the subjects have been claimed by the more than 13,000 specialists already out there. There are even motivational speakers who will tell us how to be better procrastinators. How lame is that? I can’t remember the name of their website. I’ll look it up later.
One thing I’ve learned to be pretty good at, is cynicism and skepticism. I even learned how to spell them. That comes with this profession.
I have often told the bride she would make an excellent reporter because she asks interesting questions. Then I realized, she would be a much better police or military interrogator. There’s a fine line between the two, and she wouldn’t mind crossing it.
Discovering that your high-priced motivational speaker is merely spitting out confirmations of a bunch of stuff you already knew, but had dismissed decades ago, in the name of efficiency or laziness, is a real let down. That’s why I don’t bother signing up for any more motivational seminars, workshops or energetic addresses.
I might enjoy a chance to mix in with some of these cult-like Lean seminars/workshops/workbees/specialist training courses, but I’m too busy and they aren’t willing to pay me for my time or raw talent. I’d love to be called sensei Norm, or tick tack patty wack Park and get $3,000 for imparting basic business sense into malleable minds. But that won’t happen.
At this stage, I don’t require any more gung ho, take one for the team rah, rah, sis boom bah speakers to inundate me with their unbridled but well-paid enthusiasm.
I don’t need another Deepak in my wheel house, a Suzy, a Dwyer, a Toby … or any televised evangelist who eagerly spouts what, is in essence, just giftwrapped common sense. Retired farmers will emit more information and education over a cup of coffee and won’t insist that I jump up, run around or shout on cue.
Please place a barrier between moi and enthusiastic religious zealots too. They can be the worst kind of supposed motivators since they are generally one-trick ponies who can bend a Biblical passage to suit their particular purpose or need for cash, from the unsuspecting and unquestioning unwashed populace. The Qu’ran disciples do it too, only they don’t seem to have as much fun as the Bible benders.
When I seek motivation, it usually means I’m hungry, or I’m looking for a broom, rake, hammer or laundry detergent. Nobody makes $3,000 an hour talking about laundry detergent. But I’m not sure about that.
However, I might be persuaded to deliver a rousing address on cynicism, the gift that festers in the mind and spirit of all self-respecting reporters.
Book me now, before you or I lose interest.
