He Pointed His Gun at My Nose
I didn’t mean nuthin, honest!
I really meant well. On the interstate heading to the Worcester (MA) State Hospital, bringing a sandwich to a young cousin overcoming substance addiction. I knew I had to get there before 8 p.m. closing and it was going to be close. Wintertime and dark and I was in a big car with a defective rear light, driving way over the speed limit (I was really trying to do good) and there was the flashing blue light. The State Police officer took my papers back to the cruiser to write the ticket and I decided to try to charm him with sweet talk. Not a good idea. I left my car and approached the cruiser with my hands folded behind my back, trying to effect the ‘cat that got caught with the canary’ posture, but the officer, unable to see my hands became concerned. As I approached the window of the cruiser, all I could see was a monstrous handgun pointing at my nose. My hands flew upwards as I shouted a prayer to deity. The officer got out of the cruiser, pushed me over the car’s hood, made sure I was unarmed, after which he, unnecessarily, apologized for drawing his weapon and proceeded to write the speeding ticket.
Well, I was young, naïve, inexperienced, and thankfully, unhurt. But I could so easily been killed because of my own stupidity. That was about forty years ago and ever after, when stopped by the police I always: 1. Drive the car well off the road. 2. Lower the window. 3. Turn off the ignition. 4. Rest both hands high up on the steering wheel, await instruction and never try to con the officer. They’ve heard it all and respect truth and candor.
Ever after, although I continued to speed, I was never abused by the police. All they want is the respect to which they’re entitled and often will give you a break when appropriate.
Hal Fishbein
October 2007
The Time I Knew I Knew God
There was a time my business was doing well. It was growing up a storm. The Sr. Vice President, and I, with unrealistic visions of grandeur, decided to take flying lessons to better serve our locations thru-ought New England.
The Norwood, Massachusetts’s airport did not have commercial airline service. It specialized in private planes, the flying school and little else. With only one runway and no tower, planes were permitted to take off and land at will. Safety was the responsibility of the pilot, his eyes, ears, intelligence and will to live. For that matter, I’m not sure ears were of much help.
Flying instruction was a heavenly (no pun intended) experience. When flying above the clouds a bright sun would create a circular rainbow around the plane’s shadow, visible on the clouds below, a celestial sight viewed by few.
Once, while flying straight and level, I noticed a small plane well off to the right, heading our way. I didn’t think much about it. The instructor, a seasoned experienced professional, was sitting to my left and, of course, knew what he was doing. It appeared the plane was continuing on course with potential for collision at which time I deigned to bring it to the instructor’s attention. “By the way, did you happen to notice the plane…†With that he grabbed the controls, pointed the plane skyward, gunned the engine, and shouted, “Where did that son-of-a-bitch come from?†It then occurred to me, this flying stuff was serious.
Finally, It was solo time. The instructor, sitting as close as conjoined twins, saw me take off and land scores of times and had confidence in me. I knew I was ready. And then, there I was, alone at the foot of the runway. I pushed the throttle all the way using full engine power. ‘The little single engine trainer, sounded like the roar of a mighty jet and just before the runway disappeared I was airborne. Yippee! What a thrill! I was Superman, more powerful than a locomotive.
I took the prescribed three turns around the airport and prepared to land. Only then did it occur to me: Nobody, but nobody on this planet, but me, was going to put the plane back on the ground. I verbalized the briefest prayer and then I knew I knew God.
Right after that came my first gout attack and, coincidentally, a softening of the business climate and I never flew again. But ever after I was in that select fraternity of those who soloed. It was worth every dime.
Hal Fishbein
October 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Raising Well Behaved Children
We raised two, of whom I am totally proud. They are fine, considerate, caring adults, for which I give my spouse full credit. But that’s not the subject of this piece. The subject deals with the method, technique, and skill of raising well-behaved children.
Two boys, I’m told, are the worst combination. I agree. It’s axiomatic. For us it was a daily struggle. Why? We didn’t know the method, the technique nor did we have the skill. So what qualifies me now to address the subject with expertise?
For the past twenty-two years my residence has included a full spa with common whirlpool and swimming pool and for over two decades I’ve observed hundreds of families with various aged children, many of who were poorly behaved as well as the majority who were well behaved and discovered the common thread inherent in each group. The method, technique, and skill are no secret. It should be obvious, although it wasn’t to us. It’s just a matter of manner, courtesy and respect, not from the children; to the children. Those struggling with the poorly behaved attempted to control with intimidation, shouts, and threats with the result the children responded in kind.
Those with the well behaved needed not intimidation, shouts or threats. They addressed their children respectfully, quietly, knowing compliance was a given and it was. It was almost as if the parents were addressing other adults. It’s as simple as that.
I don’t know how my eldest son (my younger is just recently married) and his wife discovered the skill, but they have it. Their six children are just a joy to be with. The two eldest help care lovingly for the others. That’s their job, their responsibility, their joy.
Do I oversimplify? Perhaps, but that’s the way I see it.
Hal Fishbein
October 2007
Two boys, I’m told, are the worst combination. I agree. It’s axiomatic. For us it was a daily struggle. Why? We didn’t know the method, the technique nor did we have the skill. So what qualifies me now to address the subject with expertise?
For the past twenty-two years my residence has included a full spa with common whirlpool and swimming pool and for over two decades I’ve observed hundreds of families with various aged children, many of who were poorly behaved as well as the majority who were well behaved and discovered the common thread inherent in each group. The method, technique, and skill are no secret. It should be obvious, although it wasn’t to us. It’s just a matter of manner, courtesy and respect, not from the children; to the children. Those struggling with the poorly behaved attempted to control with intimidation, shouts, and threats with the result the children responded in kind.
Those with the well behaved needed not intimidation, shouts or threats. They addressed their children respectfully, quietly, knowing compliance was a given and it was. It was almost as if the parents were addressing other adults. It’s as simple as that.
I don’t know how my eldest son (my younger is just recently married) and his wife discovered the skill, but they have it. Their six children are just a joy to be with. The two eldest help care lovingly for the others. That’s their job, their responsibility, their joy.
Do I oversimplify? Perhaps, but that’s the way I see it.
Hal Fishbein
October 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Lesson 4--Do Nothing
I choose to write about one of the most memorable conversations I had, but must premise with the following true anecdote: Clark Clifford, Secretary of Defense during the presidency of Harry Truman and adviser to many of the presidents of the twentieth century, while practicing corporate law, received a letter from the attorney of a major corporation requesting his advise. Clifford wrote the attorney a short letter in which he said, "Do nothing" and enclosed a bill for fifty thousand dollars. The attorney wrote back asking, "For fifty thousand dollars, would you tell me why I should do nothing?" Clifford’s response was another short letter saying: "Because I said so." and enclosed a bill for an additional five thousand dollars.
My work as an undergraduate at the University of Vermont was such that I barley graduated and with that modest performance, had the audacity to apply to the august Columbia University for enrollment in a masters' program in clinical audiology. I was so sure my application would be rejected, I wrote the Dean of Admissions for an interview prior to completion of the application process. It was my intention to 'sell' my application as I was already fitting hearing aids and it would be in the best interest of my patients if I had the benefit of professional training.
At the appointed hour I was ushered into the office of the Dean who opened my file and apologetically told me that if their secretarial services were current, I would already have received notice of acceptance. I immediately adopted the advise of Clark Clifford, told the Dean that there was nothing further to discuss and left.
During the last forty-three years in business, I owned several companies involved in the retail dispensing, manufacturing and wholesaling of hearing aids, and would have been more successful if I had, on several occasions, taken the advise of that sage presidential adviser and done nothing.
My conversation with the Dean may have been brief, but I remember it as clearly as the birth of my first-born and have offered that experience as a prelude to reiterating the advice of Clark Clifford, "Do nothing."
Hal Fishbein
October 2007
My work as an undergraduate at the University of Vermont was such that I barley graduated and with that modest performance, had the audacity to apply to the august Columbia University for enrollment in a masters' program in clinical audiology. I was so sure my application would be rejected, I wrote the Dean of Admissions for an interview prior to completion of the application process. It was my intention to 'sell' my application as I was already fitting hearing aids and it would be in the best interest of my patients if I had the benefit of professional training.
At the appointed hour I was ushered into the office of the Dean who opened my file and apologetically told me that if their secretarial services were current, I would already have received notice of acceptance. I immediately adopted the advise of Clark Clifford, told the Dean that there was nothing further to discuss and left.
During the last forty-three years in business, I owned several companies involved in the retail dispensing, manufacturing and wholesaling of hearing aids, and would have been more successful if I had, on several occasions, taken the advise of that sage presidential adviser and done nothing.
My conversation with the Dean may have been brief, but I remember it as clearly as the birth of my first-born and have offered that experience as a prelude to reiterating the advice of Clark Clifford, "Do nothing."
Hal Fishbein
October 2007
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
top ten lists
(Hal--I went ahead and posted these for you so that your colleagues could leave you comments about them-GT)
Ten subjects I wanted to write about: I don't have that list, but let me think about subjects in which I may have interest: 1. Intimacy and commitment. 2. The importance of truth. 3. What you can and cannot take for granted. 4. Leadership. 5. U.S. presidential commonality. 6. Raising well behaved children. 7. Keeping commitments. 8. The common denominator of my friends. 9. How I make people laugh. 10. The second greatest man of the 20th century.
Ten meals I made w/love for someone. This exercise leaves me depressed as I cannot think of anytime I attempted to make a meal of such significance for anyone. Thus this, my response, may be a subject deserving great thought and analysis.
Ten life-changing moments.
1. When I found out I could sell hearing aids with such success that those consequently affected suddenly perceived me with an entirely different attitude. 2. Graduate work at Columbia University - not a moment, but surely momentous. 3. Surviving life-threatening cancer times two. 4. My solo flying experience. 5. When a police officer drew his pistol and pointed it at my nose. 6. Giving my first all day seminar on selling. And, of course 7, 8, and 9 which should have been numbers 1, 2, and 3, getting married and the birth of my two sons.
Ten most significant conversations: 1. The time I was unjustly accused of stealing by my employer and my response. 2. My interview with the Columbia University dean of admissions. 3. My response to the request of a college department head, when an undergraduate senior, to evaluate an instructor. 4. Termination of one of my most valuable business associates. 5. Termination of one of my least valuable business associates. 6. Recommendation of instituting a profit sharing plan. 7. My wife's advise to not accept an unjust accusation by a significant financial source. 8. Advise from my wife in dealing with an automobile transaction. 9. Advise on negotiating. 10. Advise on buying.
Ten things I love most in this world and why.
No, I just cannot attempt to deal with this most profound subject with this limited format, but will be happy to do a serious piece on this at some future time.
Ten subjects I wanted to write about: I don't have that list, but let me think about subjects in which I may have interest: 1. Intimacy and commitment. 2. The importance of truth. 3. What you can and cannot take for granted. 4. Leadership. 5. U.S. presidential commonality. 6. Raising well behaved children. 7. Keeping commitments. 8. The common denominator of my friends. 9. How I make people laugh. 10. The second greatest man of the 20th century.
Ten meals I made w/love for someone. This exercise leaves me depressed as I cannot think of anytime I attempted to make a meal of such significance for anyone. Thus this, my response, may be a subject deserving great thought and analysis.
Ten life-changing moments.
1. When I found out I could sell hearing aids with such success that those consequently affected suddenly perceived me with an entirely different attitude. 2. Graduate work at Columbia University - not a moment, but surely momentous. 3. Surviving life-threatening cancer times two. 4. My solo flying experience. 5. When a police officer drew his pistol and pointed it at my nose. 6. Giving my first all day seminar on selling. And, of course 7, 8, and 9 which should have been numbers 1, 2, and 3, getting married and the birth of my two sons.
Ten most significant conversations: 1. The time I was unjustly accused of stealing by my employer and my response. 2. My interview with the Columbia University dean of admissions. 3. My response to the request of a college department head, when an undergraduate senior, to evaluate an instructor. 4. Termination of one of my most valuable business associates. 5. Termination of one of my least valuable business associates. 6. Recommendation of instituting a profit sharing plan. 7. My wife's advise to not accept an unjust accusation by a significant financial source. 8. Advise from my wife in dealing with an automobile transaction. 9. Advise on negotiating. 10. Advise on buying.
Ten things I love most in this world and why.
No, I just cannot attempt to deal with this most profound subject with this limited format, but will be happy to do a serious piece on this at some future time.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Lesson #1 Look at these hands!
These hands have never done an honest days work! Just look at them. Not a scar. Not a callous. Not a disjointed joint. Un-muscled, (remember, they never did an honest days work). They’re not large, but not small for a tall man.
Not recently manicured, but not bad. Nails, neatly trimmed. (There was a time when there were no nails from nail biting, but that’s a story for another time). But if you look at the nails closely, the vertical lines will tell you these hands have been around for a hell of a lot of decades. Another give-a-way is the skin, wrinkled when the fingers are extended and elevated.
No these hands are the hands of a business executive that never did much more than write: evaluations, recommendations, and sometimes, terminations, but while they may have never done an honest days work, they’ve given employment, encouraged careers, and helped others enjoy the abundant life, even unto succeeding generations.
Hal Fishbein September 25, 2007
Not recently manicured, but not bad. Nails, neatly trimmed. (There was a time when there were no nails from nail biting, but that’s a story for another time). But if you look at the nails closely, the vertical lines will tell you these hands have been around for a hell of a lot of decades. Another give-a-way is the skin, wrinkled when the fingers are extended and elevated.
No these hands are the hands of a business executive that never did much more than write: evaluations, recommendations, and sometimes, terminations, but while they may have never done an honest days work, they’ve given employment, encouraged careers, and helped others enjoy the abundant life, even unto succeeding generations.
Hal Fishbein September 25, 2007
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