So last night I went to a social event to rub shoulders with people in the academic field. I saw and thanked one of my professors (since he was the only one of them there), and while talking to him briefly met another man. As I was walking around the place later (a really neat museum of memorabilia), that same man said "Don't be afraid to introduce yourself to people." I wasn't afraid, but in the several instances I had tried before that point, I could tell I was interrupting conversations and therefore I was not getting the chance to really talk to who I spoke to in those cases. So, I looked for chances to talk to people who were not already busy with others. The first I spoke to was a graduate of one of the schools I plan to apply to, and we discussed his experience there. He suggested I talk to his advisor there, which I did a little while later. I had been reading a paper written by him that will be presented Monday, so I at least had some things to talk about with him. He was very friendly and took some interest in our conversation, and introduced me to his wife (who is the dean of the business school there). Towards the end of our conversation, a student came up and spoke briefly with him. It turned out that he had recommended the student to another program when his school was unable to accept the student. That student and I ended up talking for a while about his background, and I found out we had some interesting things in common. He strongly recommended the school where he is working on his doctorate, and it turned out that the man who had suggested I talk to people earlier in the evening is one of his advisors. I thought that was quite an interesting way to learn about the people I was meeting. I also felt hopeful from the various people I talked to that I should be able to get in to the schools where I'll be applying. It was a lovely evening.
-- Robert
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
How Do We Know What We Know?
That question got asked in a session all about putting theory into practice. I found the session very fascinating because there were so many different disciplines brought up that study theory application and utilization - psychodynamic approach, leadership development, action learning, action research, just to name about half. Then someone asked that question that sounds so philosophical, yet made sense when he explained how many different cultures he had dealt with in his formative years and educational process (something like six cultures). Then each of these professors answered him in meaningful ways - one discussed that knowledge isn't a concrete thing but very fluid, another commented on "knowing vs. knowledge", and yet another simply pointed out that a lot of people can talk about what they know, but we can only count on what they can actually do with that supposed knowledge. I really enjoyed the session, and it wasn't even on my radar screen until one of the facilitators mentioned it last night at our AOM new member orientation.
So how do we know what we know, and does what we know really matter to others? Is knowledge, as one of them said, simply a security blanket that we use whenever we feel challenged or fear embarrassment? So often, people do just that in the midst of a debate - point out a fact they consider irrefutable, if only to show they are not stupid. The idea of putting knowledge into practice fascinates me because leadership development is such a big part of what first interested me in becoming a professor (and hopefully, a scholar). In the context of my other interests, throwing "facts" around lately seems to be at the center of the political debate. Facts are not being used to educate so much as to throw the next volley of arrows, or at other times they are being used to cover the ears, eyes, and mouth in the "hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil" pose. If facts became olive branches, perhaps we might find our way to a better future together.
-- Robert
So how do we know what we know, and does what we know really matter to others? Is knowledge, as one of them said, simply a security blanket that we use whenever we feel challenged or fear embarrassment? So often, people do just that in the midst of a debate - point out a fact they consider irrefutable, if only to show they are not stupid. The idea of putting knowledge into practice fascinates me because leadership development is such a big part of what first interested me in becoming a professor (and hopefully, a scholar). In the context of my other interests, throwing "facts" around lately seems to be at the center of the political debate. Facts are not being used to educate so much as to throw the next volley of arrows, or at other times they are being used to cover the ears, eyes, and mouth in the "hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil" pose. If facts became olive branches, perhaps we might find our way to a better future together.
-- Robert
Friday, August 8, 2008
Day One of the AOM Conference
So within five minutes of showing up at the AOM Conference , I saw one of my professors who wrote a recommendation for me. The next sign of being in the "right place" was when a doctoral student sat down by me and complained of not having thoroughly read a paper he must critique. We had a great chat about motivations to get a doctorate, about how his own process is going (he's in his fourth year and feeling bogged down), and then he told me to email him because we share the interest of entrepreneurship. Then I went to my first session - a discussion of qualitative research. I ducked out early because my alarm scheduler changed my times on when meetings were happening and I am annoyed because I was really enjoying the talks. I certainly didn't feel like I was dumbfounded by what was being said, though some of it referred to the work of people I am not familiar with (obviously). Still, I felt comfortable. As I was walking to the next program (on the wrong time schedule), I saw a second professor of mine - the one who suggested I attend the conference, and probably my biggest cheerleader for this new step outside of my wife. She and I talked about what schools I'm applying to, and she helped me rule out certain ones and convinced me not to overlook others. It was great to catch up with her because she's such a positive, friendly person. I stopped by a kiosk (not wanting to slip back into the session I left) to check email and write these thoughts down for my own purposes, but I thought I'd share them with anyone interested in what I'm doing in California.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Leavin' on a Jet Plane
Today I will take a leap of faith, right across the country to Anaheim. Tomorrow I will rub shoulders with the great minds in the field of business academia - those I wish to call peers one day. I have never been to such an event, at least not one of a scholarly nature, so I will begin learning almost from the moment I arrive. Hopefully by the end of the week, I will have made a few connections, maybe even formed some relationships, and probably learned enough to make my head spin. I am excited. Energized, even. The feeling of the unknown compels me forward. I just hope I can sleep tonight, which always seems hard the first night in a hotel anyway. A new day will dawn, a chapter will be opened. Am I being overly dramatic? Probably. It just feels like the moment before the curtain rises on the second act of a musical to me. Too bad the symphony didn't show up to add to the effect.
-- Robert
P.S. I cannot promise that I will have a chance to blog at all this week. My laptop's power cord is on the blink, so unless I find one somewhere that will substitute, I am unsure whether my computer will work. If I can, though, I'll try to share my thoughts, and if I can't I'll do my best to summarize them when I return.
-- Robert
P.S. I cannot promise that I will have a chance to blog at all this week. My laptop's power cord is on the blink, so unless I find one somewhere that will substitute, I am unsure whether my computer will work. If I can, though, I'll try to share my thoughts, and if I can't I'll do my best to summarize them when I return.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Messmaker
Some time back, I started singing this song around my son:
Messmaker, messmaker, you've made a mess,
you put your Mom to the test.
Late in the night when you're all alone,
you're making a perfect mess.
It has more verses*, and it's sung to the tune of "Matchmaker" from Fiddler on the Roof, but it is definitely my son's theme song at times. Last night, he lived up to it, and I just had to laugh.
He was happily eating dinner, and I needed to get a mattress out of our room so I could bring in a replacement, so we felt it was safe to leave him alone for a short time. There was nothing on the plate he could choke on, and he loved everything we gave him, so no reason to expect it to be thrown anywhere. I got the mattress mostly down the stairs and went to check on him before making the difficult turn into the garage (mostly I needed a breather, king-size mattresses are not light). He was making a sound like he was choking and pointing to his mouth, so I got momentarily worried and ran over to him.
Then I noticed the salt pile on his plate and his place mat. He apparently had decided his food needed some salt and dumped a pile of it on his food. He wasn't choking so much as trying to get the taste of pure salt off his tongue and not knowing how. It was a priceless moment, and I called my wife to come see. I said, "You should blog about this." but she said I should since I was the one who found him. It was pretty funny, and the tiny mess was easily cleaned up. He gladly took a drink of water and then milk to wash the salt taste out of his mouth. A picture might've been worth a thousand words, but I didn't have a camera, so here's my best shot. I know one thing, he certainly knows how to live up to his song.
-- Robert
*For anyone interested, other verses are:
For mama, make it some yogurt,
for Daddy, make it crayons on doors,
for me, well, I wouldn't holler
if there was a mess all over the floor (my wife's contribution)
Messmaker, Messmaker, make me a mess,
you've put your Mom, to the test.
And when you're done
we'll think you're a pest. (my daughter's contribution, thanks to another person who suggested that line to her, though we would never call any of our children pests).
There may be one more I'm forgetting, but it's just a song we sing while we clean up messes.
Messmaker, messmaker, you've made a mess,
you put your Mom to the test.
Late in the night when you're all alone,
you're making a perfect mess.
It has more verses*, and it's sung to the tune of "Matchmaker" from Fiddler on the Roof, but it is definitely my son's theme song at times. Last night, he lived up to it, and I just had to laugh.
He was happily eating dinner, and I needed to get a mattress out of our room so I could bring in a replacement, so we felt it was safe to leave him alone for a short time. There was nothing on the plate he could choke on, and he loved everything we gave him, so no reason to expect it to be thrown anywhere. I got the mattress mostly down the stairs and went to check on him before making the difficult turn into the garage (mostly I needed a breather, king-size mattresses are not light). He was making a sound like he was choking and pointing to his mouth, so I got momentarily worried and ran over to him.
Then I noticed the salt pile on his plate and his place mat. He apparently had decided his food needed some salt and dumped a pile of it on his food. He wasn't choking so much as trying to get the taste of pure salt off his tongue and not knowing how. It was a priceless moment, and I called my wife to come see. I said, "You should blog about this." but she said I should since I was the one who found him. It was pretty funny, and the tiny mess was easily cleaned up. He gladly took a drink of water and then milk to wash the salt taste out of his mouth. A picture might've been worth a thousand words, but I didn't have a camera, so here's my best shot. I know one thing, he certainly knows how to live up to his song.
-- Robert
*For anyone interested, other verses are:
For mama, make it some yogurt,
for Daddy, make it crayons on doors,
for me, well, I wouldn't holler
if there was a mess all over the floor (my wife's contribution)
Messmaker, Messmaker, make me a mess,
you've put your Mom, to the test.
And when you're done
we'll think you're a pest. (my daughter's contribution, thanks to another person who suggested that line to her, though we would never call any of our children pests).
There may be one more I'm forgetting, but it's just a song we sing while we clean up messes.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
"Delivery!"
Yesterday, as I was reading Natasha's post about mail, I remembered some of the more bizarre mail situations I have encountered. I wrote some of them on her blog, but as she suggested, I believe today I will write them here. This post is not intended to be negative, but simply written for the comedic value. I really am over it. Really.
UPS: I call them Oops because they seem to screw up more than any of the rest. My first experience with their ineptitude came when I had ordered an item for one of my collections off eBay. I waited at home for it to come, and when I never heard or saw the UPS truck, I finally called to track it. They said "it has been delivered." so I asked where it was. They said "The note says 'outside garage'" so I looked. Outside garage meant "unceremoniously thrown in bush". The second time I was receiving something important from Oops at home, I put a note on the aisw door to the garage telling them to leave the package just inside that door. I thought "this way, they won't throw my new camera in a bush." Well, they didn't throw it in a bush. Instead they left it on the back porch right under the rain gutter with a note taped to the window overlooking it. Problem was, the shutters were mostly turned and the note wasn't obvious. I noticed it as I was sitting down to breakfast the next day, somewhat perturbed my camera never came, and I probably looked like a dog watching TV as I tried to figure it out with my wakening brain. I decided right then I would never actively choose to use Oops. Then the third error really sealed the deal. I ordered a desk from Office Depot, who uses Oops to make many of their deliveries. An office desk, not a single ream of paper, not a box of envelopes. Yet somehow they managed to lose the desk. Like I said, an office desk - not a small item. Office Depot finally had to bring me a desk on their own truck because Oops never found it... or never admitted to finding it. For all I know, someone in the back of a UPS facility (or maybe at home) has a really nice desk.
Airborne Express: Before they were purchased by DHL, Airborne already had plenty of problems. In our apartment in Idaho, they never could seem to figure out that the basement apartment was not on top of the house, so our neighbors got a lot of packages for us. I'm still not sure we ever got all those packages, either, because these were the sort of neighbors who intentionally blocked a parking space out by parking two cards about five feet apart. Then we moved here, and I got an Airborne package containing my repaired laptop. The package had clearly been sitting in a puddle or at least some water because the entire bottom was soaking wet. Fortunately the computer worked, but I never used Airborne again.
DHL: Now that Airborne has been bought by the German DHL, they have these nice new yellow vans, more available packaging facilities, and less competent delivery people. One day at my office, one of my employees received a package and just automatically opened it. He was never been on reading labels first, considering it safe to assume the packages were for our office - crazy idea, I realize. Well, he called me over to his desk and said, "you need to come check this out." I came in to see two envelopes with stacks of bills sticking out. I took the cash and counted it (not thinking until later I was putting my fingerprints on every bill). Each envelope contained exactly $500, so we had $1,000 in cash we knew nothing about. He looked at the envelope and the address was for something in a trailer park east of town. Nothing on it matched our company in any way. So I called DHL to tell them of their mistake. They would not send the driver back (she only goes through town once a day, apparently), so I told them they probably better reconsider. "Someone is probably expecting this package." When I explained the contents the woman informed me "Oh, we'll have to send that back. We don't ship cash." I said, "Well, you only know it's cash because I told you, so you probably better drop it off." By then I had considered the possibility the money was drug-related, and I did not want a dealer to come packing heat to my door looking for his money. That time, DHL kindly obliged and sent the driver back. The second time they failed to deliver the package to the right address - this time the correct recipients were customers of ours south of town, but still there were no markings suggesting the package should come to our address - DHL would not send the driver back. She only came by two days later to bother to pick it up and redeliver. I decided I would not entrust DHL with anything at that point.
United States Postal Service: the post office regularly refuses to deliver priority or express packages to our address simply because we have a post office box, even though that is against their own stated policies. The worst, though, was when I sent a package to South Jordan (in Utah) and discovered it took a detour through Amman, Jordan. The postal service worker explained that they used five numbers for postal codes, too. I asked if anyone bothered to notice the address referred to a golf course (I won't say the exactly item because it would be rather easy to find the street if I gave a normal person that information). Apparently they did not, but it eventually arrived in Utah. I decided I would still use the post office, but I would make sure anything important was trackable (which that one was, fortunately).
The only service I have never had a major problem with is FedEx. Both the regular FedEx carriers here in town known me by name, and even know me well enough to know if they're at my office and have a package for my house, they can just drop both off at the office. We even call one of them Mr. FedEx because he is so friendly, so responsive, and so good at his job. We even wrote a letter of commendation to his superior to let them know how much of an asset he is to their company.
And no, this was not written as a FedEx commercial.
-- Robert
UPS: I call them Oops because they seem to screw up more than any of the rest. My first experience with their ineptitude came when I had ordered an item for one of my collections off eBay. I waited at home for it to come, and when I never heard or saw the UPS truck, I finally called to track it. They said "it has been delivered." so I asked where it was. They said "The note says 'outside garage'" so I looked. Outside garage meant "unceremoniously thrown in bush". The second time I was receiving something important from Oops at home, I put a note on the aisw door to the garage telling them to leave the package just inside that door. I thought "this way, they won't throw my new camera in a bush." Well, they didn't throw it in a bush. Instead they left it on the back porch right under the rain gutter with a note taped to the window overlooking it. Problem was, the shutters were mostly turned and the note wasn't obvious. I noticed it as I was sitting down to breakfast the next day, somewhat perturbed my camera never came, and I probably looked like a dog watching TV as I tried to figure it out with my wakening brain. I decided right then I would never actively choose to use Oops. Then the third error really sealed the deal. I ordered a desk from Office Depot, who uses Oops to make many of their deliveries. An office desk, not a single ream of paper, not a box of envelopes. Yet somehow they managed to lose the desk. Like I said, an office desk - not a small item. Office Depot finally had to bring me a desk on their own truck because Oops never found it... or never admitted to finding it. For all I know, someone in the back of a UPS facility (or maybe at home) has a really nice desk.
Airborne Express: Before they were purchased by DHL, Airborne already had plenty of problems. In our apartment in Idaho, they never could seem to figure out that the basement apartment was not on top of the house, so our neighbors got a lot of packages for us. I'm still not sure we ever got all those packages, either, because these were the sort of neighbors who intentionally blocked a parking space out by parking two cards about five feet apart. Then we moved here, and I got an Airborne package containing my repaired laptop. The package had clearly been sitting in a puddle or at least some water because the entire bottom was soaking wet. Fortunately the computer worked, but I never used Airborne again.
DHL: Now that Airborne has been bought by the German DHL, they have these nice new yellow vans, more available packaging facilities, and less competent delivery people. One day at my office, one of my employees received a package and just automatically opened it. He was never been on reading labels first, considering it safe to assume the packages were for our office - crazy idea, I realize. Well, he called me over to his desk and said, "you need to come check this out." I came in to see two envelopes with stacks of bills sticking out. I took the cash and counted it (not thinking until later I was putting my fingerprints on every bill). Each envelope contained exactly $500, so we had $1,000 in cash we knew nothing about. He looked at the envelope and the address was for something in a trailer park east of town. Nothing on it matched our company in any way. So I called DHL to tell them of their mistake. They would not send the driver back (she only goes through town once a day, apparently), so I told them they probably better reconsider. "Someone is probably expecting this package." When I explained the contents the woman informed me "Oh, we'll have to send that back. We don't ship cash." I said, "Well, you only know it's cash because I told you, so you probably better drop it off." By then I had considered the possibility the money was drug-related, and I did not want a dealer to come packing heat to my door looking for his money. That time, DHL kindly obliged and sent the driver back. The second time they failed to deliver the package to the right address - this time the correct recipients were customers of ours south of town, but still there were no markings suggesting the package should come to our address - DHL would not send the driver back. She only came by two days later to bother to pick it up and redeliver. I decided I would not entrust DHL with anything at that point.
United States Postal Service: the post office regularly refuses to deliver priority or express packages to our address simply because we have a post office box, even though that is against their own stated policies. The worst, though, was when I sent a package to South Jordan (in Utah) and discovered it took a detour through Amman, Jordan. The postal service worker explained that they used five numbers for postal codes, too. I asked if anyone bothered to notice the address referred to a golf course (I won't say the exactly item because it would be rather easy to find the street if I gave a normal person that information). Apparently they did not, but it eventually arrived in Utah. I decided I would still use the post office, but I would make sure anything important was trackable (which that one was, fortunately).
The only service I have never had a major problem with is FedEx. Both the regular FedEx carriers here in town known me by name, and even know me well enough to know if they're at my office and have a package for my house, they can just drop both off at the office. We even call one of them Mr. FedEx because he is so friendly, so responsive, and so good at his job. We even wrote a letter of commendation to his superior to let them know how much of an asset he is to their company.
And no, this was not written as a FedEx commercial.
-- Robert
Monday, August 4, 2008
Stages of Marriage
Yesterday a young couple about to be married came to our church because the bride had grown up there until she moved away as a teenager. The groom stood up and talked about how much his impending marriage means to him, and how much he looks forward to spending his future with his wife-to-be. I would not say I "remember" what that was like, because I think I still know what that is like. I am thankful every day for my wife and the time we spend together, and I miss her any time we're apart. The difference between that couple and us is simply time and experience. We have been through a lot as a couple, and we have come out stronger in the end. My wife also stood up and talked about the stage we appear to be in right now. She described it as running hand in hand, one child in each arm, toward a cliff to jump off. We don't know what we will find once we leave the solid ground of where we are, but our faith tells us we will be safe. I had started the meeting by talking about how much I have recently learned about the principle that obedience to commandments brings prosperity, but there is still a lot of opportunity to grow our faith through continued obedience to what I feel I must do with my future.
So I write now to consider the different stages of marriage I observed yesterday. I saw a couple about to become married, and the faith they have in each other and in God that they are meant to be together forever. I saw our situation, where we are making a big leap of faith into an unknown future. I even saw other couples who talked about their situations - retirement, grandchildren, married children who are facing trials - and I saw so many different stages of marriage around me. And it was beautiful. The love in our little church is potent - something the young groom-to-be commented on despite having never set foot there before - and deep. I have grown to love the people there, and we will miss them, but we will also remember the example they each gave us of how beautiful a union can be when it is nourished with faith and prayer.
-- Robert
So I write now to consider the different stages of marriage I observed yesterday. I saw a couple about to become married, and the faith they have in each other and in God that they are meant to be together forever. I saw our situation, where we are making a big leap of faith into an unknown future. I even saw other couples who talked about their situations - retirement, grandchildren, married children who are facing trials - and I saw so many different stages of marriage around me. And it was beautiful. The love in our little church is potent - something the young groom-to-be commented on despite having never set foot there before - and deep. I have grown to love the people there, and we will miss them, but we will also remember the example they each gave us of how beautiful a union can be when it is nourished with faith and prayer.
-- Robert
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