BLADAM: Life, Liberty, Love and Stuff - (Full-text feed)

I’m Yoga’ing and I feel a bit like Homer Simpson

2008-07-17T02:59:01Z

Today I completed my third yoga session. The class is taught by an apparently-quite-skilled (and patient and helpful!) instructor here at the main Google gym, and she’s noted that it’s essentially “Iyengar-flow” style.

I, however, have decided to nickname it D’oh-whoa style. D’oh: not in a painful sense, but in a OH HAI I HAZ HIDDN MUSSELS kinda way. And whoa: just absolute wow in watching my classmates.

Let me clarify. This class—though filled with more intermediate/advanced folks than beginners—features people of many ages and all body types. I’m staring at shapes and movements… people doing handstands and headstands and balancing with grace… and I’m admiring deceptively simple and stunning lines.

Maybe it’s my background as a dancer that has me being so observant, so in awe, and also so embarrassed that my body is not moving like that, probably will never move like that. And yet, despite my dancing experiences and mindset, I’m also feeling a bit shy and embarrassed about staring. Perhaps being a guy (but, interestingly, far from the only guy in this class) is partly to blame for my self-consciousness… not primarily about my own un-performance, but about my watching of others, learning, trying to do what they’re doing, feeling what they’re feeling.

* * *

The instructor kindly noted that—while most can achieve great improvement and wonderful results from yoga—some are innately, genetically predisposed to being able to do certain things. I, seemingly, do not have such genes.

But I’ve already felt good things from this class. I’ve enjoyed the feeling of stretchiness and the body awareness afterward (with surprisingly and happily not too much soreness). And after each class, I seem to be in a better mood than before I hit the mat.

So I’ll likely continue this, along with my (typically) once-weekly weight lifting and about once-weekly swing dancing and/or waltzing. You may note that all of these activities have two things in common: they’re improving my body, but they’re also at least slightly social. Sure, there’s very minimal talking in yoga, but there’s a pleasure in the familiarity; I’ve already seen several folks I know from around the ‘plex, and this is both motivating and comforting.

* * *

Have any of you tried yoga? If so, what kinds, and do you have any words of wisdom or encouragement for me?

Of little sleep, many chances, big dreams

2008-06-29T01:22:00Z

Tuesday I will be in Mountain View. Tomorrow I will be in Frankfurt with good friends and many drunk loud Germans screaming at a big TV. Tonight beyond the witching hour I declined an adventure in Koeln, being the wise or stupid one. Today I was rocking out with people from 10 to 79 and also teaching a tango dancer to waltz to a band playing surprisingly damn good cover songs. Also today I unexpectedly toured Bonn for two hours with a beautiful new also-unexpected friend, played piano for an entire wedding in Sankt Augustin, and ate a breakfast of bread, sausage and cheese for the many-hundredth time.

Now I am not clubbing. I am not answering any work e-mail. I am recharging my phone, my camera, and I am thinking. And yes, writing.

Writing and thinking about how every new experience, every new friendship brings discovery, along with often joy, wistfulness, confusion… reminders of what was, what will not be, and choices. Always choices.

Sometimes I envy those with simple lives. They grow up and die in the same small land. They marry their high school sweetheart. They are neither worldly nor stupid. They don’t have huge dreams to dream or to shatter or to just miss by a teeny tiny what if or an almost or a one-courage-short. With small dreams come exponentially smaller risks, fewer disappointments, less uncertainty. And certainly less angst.

I travel a lot. I see a lot. I have friends in more countries than I can count on my two hands doubled, and close distant friends in at least one hands-worth. They’re so far away. They’re having kids, they’re changing, they’re focusing.

And I… I am still exploring. Sometimes regretting. But—in those moments when I let my mind wander in the way that is not wandering to procrastinate or to forget—I am more wondering. I cannot change what I’ve done and what I’ve become, but will I make better choices tomorrow? Or, rather, will they be more important choosings of the things that matter, not which coupon site mint gum new web too oh site cool phone app sock alignment?

So here I sit, much loved and alone in yet another hotel room. And I wonder if they are fast asleep or wondering, too.

Dear PayPal - Please shrivel up and die

2008-06-22T18:35:01Z

I like paying for things with a credit card. It’s typically pretty fast (especially with those merchants that don’t require a signature for <$25 purchases). It's secure. And I earn travel rewards for every dollar I spend.

So when it comes to the occasional purchase online that I can only buy via PayPal I cringe. Why? Because PayPal really really really doesn't want me to pay with a credit card, and they'll harrass me about this during every checkout, creating a user-hostile experience each and every time I use their dog-forsaken service.

A friend recently lamented that it took eight clicks for them to buy something on PayPal. That sounds about right. You see, PayPal defaults users to paying from their bank account… so we have to search for a tiny “more funding options” link and then select the credit card, then be subjected to a long whiny please “Are you absolutely positively sure that you don’t want to pay from your bank account? It’s really a better option yadda yadda yadda...” followed by a charmingly shifting yes/no set of buttons.

Look, PayPal, I want to pay by credit card. I’ve told you this more than a dozen times. I’ve also read/skimmed/ignored your stupid please-don’t-pay-by-credit-card notice more than a dozen times. And, by the way, I’m well aware that you already pass on extra associated charges to your merchants when buyers pay by credit card.

So SOD OFF! Either let me set “pay by credit card” in my preferences somewhere, or leave me the frack alone.

In the meantime, I’m hoping you go out of business, to be replaced by a company that doesn’t repeatedly spit on its users.

ADDENDUM / DISCLAIMERS:
- I work for Google, which offers a somewhat-competing service called Google Checkout. I use and like that service, but am not part of the Checkout team.
- My anger towards PayPal may seem heavy given the seemingly light-transgression described above. But it’s just the last straw. PayPal has a history of thumbing its corporate nose at its users, and I’ve had the displeasure of using PayPal for many years as a buyer and seller on ebay.

Where the hell is Matt?—Huge smiles guaranteed!

2008-06-21T20:35:00Z

Today’s entry is short and wonderful. Behold, in the video below, Matt Harding… “dancing” around the world, one city at a time. At the 54 second mark, watch the video really come alive when he delights countless locales who join in the dancing… and, i guarantee, charms all of you watching, too .

For more information, see www.wherethehellismatt.com.
Also, you really really must see his other videos (linked under his name).

Edited on June 23 to add: Thank you to Bee for pointing out my URL typo! Now fixed

Adventures in flying, part 13

2008-06-05T04:57:00Z

Once again, I was off to Germany… home of good friends, heavy food, wacky long sentences, and Lufthansa, the airline whose plane I was unceremoniously squished into not like a sardine, but wurst.

I had the foot-munching-tray aisle to my right, and a stupendously larger-than-life and dumber-than-devil-fossils young fella to my left. To his left sat an acquaintance of his, seemingly of equal gelatinousness and dimwittedness. For the purposes of this entry, we’ll call them Slad and Elad, respectively if not respectfully.

* * *

Slad had no sense. No sense of etiquette, culture, space, or time. No sense at all, really. And he was happy to share this nonsense with me, loudly… cheerfully interrupting the safety instructions which were actually melodious and fascinating in comparison.

Slad: HEY!
Me: Hi.
Slad: THEY’RE TALKING GERMAN!
Me: Yeah.
Slad: WHY ARE THEY TALKING GERMAN?
Me: It’s Lufthansa, a German airline.
Slad: [A look even blanker than usual]
Me: ...And we’re going to Germany, so there are Germans on board.

Only the first part had sunk in. And barely at that.

Slad: LUFTHANGLE?
Me: Lufthansa.
Slad: YEAH!? BUT THEY’RE STILL TALKING GERMAN!
Me: [speechless]

About 30 minutes into the flight…

Slad: HEY?
Me: Yeah?
Slad: HEY! UM, I SHOULD TELL YOU SOMETHING.
Me: You’re pregnant?
[er, actually...]
Me: Yes?
Slad: SOMETIMES I GET TIRED. AND I GO TO SLEEP AND, LIKE, LEAN TO ONE SIDE. [gesticulates in the most unfortunate of directions. My direction.]
Slad: SO IF I DO, YOU CAN PUSH ME. IT’S OKAY.
Me: [Nodding, once again quite speechless]
Slad: AND I CAN’T SLEEP WITH THIS ARM REST [pointing to the last barrier between the two of us]. SO I’LL MOVE IT.
Me: Uh, um… I…
Slad: [moving armrest] MRUMPH AAHHHH.

It was about at this time that I chuckled inwardly and looked for the camera. I had finally figured out what was happening; I was now the unwitting future star of “American’s Funniest Videos… in the Sky!”

Except I wasn’t. There was no camera. On the stage that mattered at the moment, there was just me, Slad, and his up-’til-now mute-and-slackjacked buddy. The audience, if one considered it to exist, was likely amusedly credulous and undoubtedly happy to be more or less apart from the action.

* * *

Another hour later, I discovered that there was loving, needy-yet-giving part of Slad… which was manifested by his tender-but-firm nuzzling of his head on my shoulder, his hands in a further solid embrace upon my upper arm. Adding to the unreality of the circumstances was Slad’s increasingly-window-rattling snort-snores.

Temporarily frozen in a powerfully combimatic state of disbelief, amusement, and horror, I began to contemplate the most efficient and effective methods of extrication.

Elad was also clearly experiencing a combination of emotions, but unlike me, was decidedly unfrozen. In a quick flash, Elad grabbed one of the dirty-and-unsoft airline pillows and aimed to violently wack his compatriot-in-stupidity out of his amorous slumber.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Elad was bereft not only of speech and thought, but also aim. THWWWWACK! went the pillow into my face. I was now, even more than before, very, very awake. In contrast, Slad simply missed a snort-snore beat, which was replaced by a relatively mild gruntle before the rhythms of his sleep began anew.

It was long past time for a heave-ho. I pushed Slad to the left, causing him to flop onto Elad. Elad—stunned at this apparently not-before-experienced leftleaningness of his duncetwin—did the only thing he knew how to do. He shoved back.

A soon-mostly-awake and thoroughly befuddled Slad was catapulted squishily into my lap. Dimly ascertaining that he wasn’t where I wanted him to be, he grabbed my thigh with one hand and—with all his weight—gruntily pushed himself mostly upright.

* * *

I looked around in desperation. A couple sympathetic looks, but no empty seats. I was tempted to tell Slad that there was a big case of beer on the other end of the exit sign, but I deduced that:
1) He’d really fall for it.
2) He undeniably had the heft to easily open or at least gleefully smash through the emergency exit door.
3) I’d have even a more miserable flight at that point.

So what could I do? I rotated through the possibilities in my head:

“Excuse me, but these guys are bear hugging and pillow fighting me!”

No, no, that made it sound very warm and fuzzy. And I was not feeling warm and fuzzy.

“Pardon me, ma’am, but my seatmates are so dumb, I fear that they’re sucking brain matter out of me and it hurts.”

An evocative and perhaps all-too-true observation, but also unlikely to result in a satisfactory resolution.

* * *

Slad: HEY!
Me: Hi.
Slad: WE ALMOST THERE?
Me: Not soon enough. Not nearly soon enough.

Bureaucratic snafu snags Catholic Priest and leaves me wondering: what’s my role?

2008-05-30T04:18:00Z

A friend of mine just let me know of a frustrating and seemingly unfair issue in his neck of the woods: A popular and much-loved priest in South Dakota is apparently about to be deported due to what seems to be a pretty lame bureaucratic snafu (pemanent residency application accepted but later lost/misplaced). An advocacy site is here: HelpFather.

But nothing is quite as simple or as black-and-white as it seems, of course, at least in my mind

Here are reasons why I was tempted not to post this on my blog:
- I’m agnostic, and am not a fan of Catholic doctrine / influence / etc.
- This matter’s already gotten press. What more could my humble blog do?
- Speaking of my humble blog, and selfishly for a moment, would my readers really care about this somewhat-local-oriented issue at all?
- This guy’s a priest. Can’t he just pray for this to get fixed? If that’s ineffective, maybe it’s God’s will for him to return to Ireland?
- There are always at least two sides to every issue. Can we trust that the folks advocating on behalf of this priest are telling the whole story?

And reasons why I ultimately posted this:
- A favor to my friend
- Someone’s gotta help the little guy. And this one seems like a nice fella, mired in an uncaring and often-crappy bureaucracy.
- I do have some power as a blogger. Perhaps by helping get this guy’s predicament known outside of South Dakota I—and my readers—could make a difference.
- Sometimes it’s the little things in life that matter. Is this guy really important in the grand scheme of things? Maybe not. But he means a lot to my friend and my friend’s family. Lots of small things, “small people"… they all add up, all contribute to the richness of communities, to our planet.
- And, let’s be honest here… I bet people are more interested in this story than in my swinger blatherings, no? (hmm… I’m combining a priest-related posting with a swinger reference; it’s a good thing I am agnostic, or I’d be going to hell :D).

* * *

What about you?

What do you think of this priest’s situation? Of me posting this on my blog?

Three short tales of not speak English

2008-05-24T20:05:00Z

Something you can count on

I managed to get up at 8am to go to the gym today. This is impressive, because:
- Today is Saturday.
- I went to the gym yesterday.

But that’s not really the story here. Rather, we had a substitute teacher for our gym class who giggled in an adorable, Japanese-school-girl’ish way, and apologized for not speaking much English. Continuing on in mildly broken English, she pleaded for us to just follow her and everything would be okay.

Okay, then. But I soon realized that something wasn’t quite okay.

Before long, it was clear that she had a pretty impressive and ready vocabulary for someone who “no speak much English.” The only consistent FAIL part was her use, er, abuse of numbers.

“Just four more!… Okay… Eight, Seven, Six...”

“Last one! Good!… Ten, nine...”

By the end of class, I was convinced that her English was just fine. Indeed, her masochistic promising of “almost done!” and “just one more!” was simply an oft used evil trick of gym trainers seeking to perversely motivate people, Peanuts style ("Of course I’m not going to move the football, Charlie Brown!")

* * *

Checking out my German

About a decade ago, I found myself living in Germany. My entire German knowledge was squeezed in beforehand by a handful of one-hour German tutoring lessons and a “Learn German Today!” type book which I frantically eyeballed for the first 42 minutes of my flight to Germany before semi-dozing off.

In due time I managed—out of intense personal interest and self-preservation concerns—to learn approximately 1,742 food words. But other vocabularies were more difficult and more risky. Therefore, when it was time for me to set up a checking account, I knew without a doubt that it was time to plead for English.

In the Deutsche Bank in Mannheim, all in German…
Me: Good morning. Do you speak English?
Bank Frau, beaming mischievously: No, no I don’t. But you speak good German!
Me, getting both scared and frustrated: Hmm. Does anyone speak English here?
Bank Frau: No, only German.
Young woman behind her, now also smiling broadly: Correct, only German. Speak German, please.

I think I subsequently set the record for longest-time-to-set-up-checking-account. Thankfully, I inexplicably escaped ending up with a home loan, a retirement account, seven different German Gov’t bonds, and a free t-shirt proclaiming “Ich Bin Ein Berliner.”

* * *

The brilliantly stupid Spanish teacher

Back in junior high, when I struggling through Spanish class, my dad told me a little story about an old high school teacher of his, whom we’ll call Señor Gonzalez. Señor Gonzalez apparently didn’t speak English. ANY English.

“Lo siento, no hablo inglés. Español, por favor.” y “Cómo? Cómo? No hablo inglés!”

And, as you can imagine, this was both incomprehensible and maddening to my dad and his fellow first-year Spanish students.

Bravely or masochistically, my dad stuck with this teacher for all four years of high school, improving his Spanish greatly. The same linguistic improvement seemingly couldn’t be claimed by Señor Gonzalez, however; despite living in the heart of America for undoubtedly far more than my dad’s four years of high school, the stubborn Spaniard still spoke not a lick of English.

Eager to take a break from his studies, my dad got tickets for the senior prom and arrived early to help set up. As he began walking around to the back of the auditorium, he overheard Señor Gonzales quietly talking with the principal:

“Yeah, looks like we’re gonna need some more punch and...”

My dad stood at the door entrance, jaw dropped and staring in disbelief at the English-without-an-accent-Gonzalez.

“Uh… uh… hola, Jerry! Cómo estás?

* * *

Have you had any similar experiences? Ever faked not speaking English (or another language) that you actually know?

Paradox of choice

2008-05-24T19:39:01Z

I’m not a crazy athlete, but I like working out at the gym and also dancing a few times a week.

Finding good dance shoes wasn’t so hard for me. I got personal recommendations from some of my lindy hopping friends, and was also delighted that the friendly folks at dancestore.com were happy to offer personalized suggestions over the phone. For the record (and now from personal experience), I recommend that all lindy hoppers get this dance sneaker; it makes turning and spinning a breeze.

But I’m having a much harder time finding good cross-training and running shoes. I’ve had good luck with New Balance shoes in the past, but it’s hard to find a good selection of ‘em locally in my size, so I decided to go online. Sure enough, via Amazon.com or Zappos and undoubtedly countless other sites, I have a choice of zillions of shoes. And that would be okay if there was some help filtering… but there’s not! :o

Yes, you can do a search and narrow down by technology, but you end up having to do sets of half a dozen clicks repeatedly to decipher the meaning of brandspeak features (NBZip, Abzorb, etc.), and then lots of clicking back and so on.

I want one of the following:
- A nice wizard that asks me what I want to do with the shoes (running, walking, activities that require lateral stability like kickboxing, etc.), lets me specify a price range, style type, etc., and then recommends a set of shoes for me.
- A comprehensive table (in HTML, Flash, PDF, I don’t care) that shows a list of shoes, approximate street prices, features, target activity, etc.

Because right now, let me tell you, I’m tempted to say $#!* it and just stick with my current trusty shoes and go do something more fun like, oh, floss my teeth or relabel my matchbook collection or lock myself in a closet with Vanna White night after night after night. In other words, New Balance, NO SALE FOR YOU.

Major brands, listen up. In this world of an increasingly crazy amount of choices, you need to do the following if you want to remain competitive:
- Make your content FINDABLE by people and search engines.
- Make it ACCESSIBLE so, for instance, I can look up stats on your shoes on my phone when I’m at the local sports store with too-busy or ignorant salesfolks.
- Make the info DIGESTIBLE so I can learn what I need to know and make informed decisions
- Make the damn thing EASY TO BUY, but I’m guessing you’ve heard that enough times already from other frustrated bloggers.
- Offer outstanding SUPPORT post-sale.
- Give me ONGOING INFO but only when and how I want it (customized e-mail newsletters that I can easily unsubscribe from, RSS feeds, etc.)

* * *

In the meantime, if anyone knows of a good athletic shoe guide or chart and such, let me know .

Oh, and watch this video on The Paradox of Choice. I had the pleasure of hearing this fellow at a Google TechTalk; Professor Schwartz is an engaging speaker and absolutely spot-on in his commentary.

(it’s even close captioned!)

EPIC DIET FAIL

2008-05-22T20:10:00Z

Yesterday, I bought ”Wii Fit” (a balance board + training CD). I decided I was really committed to exercise more and eat right. Today, unfortunately, I missed breakfast due to a dentist appointment and came into work late. I grabbed a pack of cashews… not too bad.

And that’s when it happened. Charles walked by my desk.

”Cafe 150?” he suggested.
“I just ate a bit ago, but thanks. I’ll grab lunch later.”
“Seared ahi tuna!” he added, temptingly.
(Hmm, I thought to myself, that sounds pretty healthy).
“And prime rib. And buffalo wings!”
Oh boy. Maybe I’ll go and just eat the tuna.

I did, but I didn’t. What I did have was this:

- Chef salad
- Seared ahi tuna with wasabi crème fraiche
- Prime rib with horseradish cream
- Rice pilaf with almonds, onions, carrots, and peas
- Steam spring veggies with butter and parsley
- Saffron rice

One of the chefs was walking by and kindly pointed out an intriguing big brown vat. This, then, led me to

- Chocolate-peanut-butter-milk

Right next to it was the dessert table. Being the disciplined guy that I am, I just grabbed one… to go, even. Which resulted in my procurement of

- Apricot Caramel bread pudding
with blackberries, condensed milk, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice; served with chocolate cream cheese

* * *

With some off-the-napkin calculations, I believe it would take approximately 42 hours of intensive aerobics with the Wii Fit to burn the calories I’ve just consumed.

This, I think, could be classified as EPIC DIET FAIL :-\

Unmushy And Obnoxiously Geeky Thoughts on Love

2008-05-17T05:03:01Z

In junior high, I was not thinking about love.
In high school, love was for everyone but me.
In undergrad, love was only for the Bad Boys.
In grad school, I was delighted to realize that good guys could find love, too.

And now, I am tempted to believe that love is surprisingly, frustratingly, completely random.

The Rational Me yearns to apply logic to love, typically less out of need than pure intellectual curiosity. Do [x] and you will find love. Be [y] and you will find love. Or, most simplistically and IMHO reasonably, be a Good Person and you will be well-deserving of love and will be correspondingly likely to find it.

And yet, despite seemingly having many data points, I fail to find many firm correlations, much less prerequisites or guarantees.

What triggered this musing? Well, I was out last Saturday night and bantering with two acquaintances I much admire. Both professed almost matter-of-factly that they were single and—despite wishes to the contrary—expected to remain so for the foreseeable future. They had, at least for the time being, pretty much given up on men. And to stave off the anticipated finger-pointing, no, I am not a decent match due to some rather solid reasons. And further pre-empting unwise contributions from the peanut gallery: no, blogging on a Friday night does not a loser make, and commenting on such timing can hardly make one an erudite pundit.

Anyway, these women are quite bright, athletic, artistic, thoughtful, friendly, and attractive. “Good people.” And single.

And yet, in painful contrast, I have the displeasure of too-frequently encountering masses of woefully mismatched pairs… of dense men with brilliant women, supercilious women with kindly men, and so on. Ah, and given a recent (outstanding) California event, let me add, in timeliness and fairness: slothful men with industrious men.

Where once I bitterly rued a chasm of inopportunity (unopportunity?) in the world of dating and love, now I see delicious opportunity tinged by capriciousness and chaos. Certainly a marked and personally-much-appreciated improvement, yes, but undeniably annoying when considering the greater scheme of things. Yes, not everything can or even should be quantified, analyzed, predicted, even explained… but a bit more karmic matching would be nice. If somehow the Good folks could consistently win in the game of love, Darwin might not be appeased but we’d likely have a kinder, more productive, and happier society long-term. And as a refreshing bonus, I’d not be stuck in awkward conversations trying to defend the lameness, timidness, or simply cluelessness of my male brethren.

Great ways to discover and (legally) listen to music online

2008-03-30T02:11:00Z

Here are a few thoughts on music services I’m in love with online. CAVEAT: Many, if not all of these only work in a limited number of countries due to lame licensing complications… typically the United States, often coupled with Canada and/or the UK. And it’d be wrong, oh so wrong to use proxies to get around this .

* * *

I just learned that on Last.fm you can not only play tons of (full length!) songs on demand now, but do so without even having an account. This makes it a great service to share neat music finds with others!

Here’s an example:
The short, catchy, and wordless 47 Reasons, from the charming and often hilarious a cappella group, The Bobs.

Downside: Individuals are technically only supposed to be able to stream a song full-length three times.

Other music services online that I love:

Yahoo Music Unlimited, but it’s being discontinued soon, sending all of its members to…
Rhapsody, with limited free streaming online and a service that offers memberships with unlimited streaming / tethered downloading for $13-$15/month. Great selection of artists and tunes!
Imeem, which—like Last.fm—also lets you stream a ton of awesome music full-length for free… and on Imeem you can even embed/share it, too, but all of this only for folks who are logged in. Others get 30 second snippets. Still, better than nothing… and better than services like iTunes which require you to use proprietary software.
Pandora, which doesn’t let you stream on demand or download, but it’s a fabulous (and free) online radio service that learns quickly what you love. Not just artists or genres, but actual sounds… swing feel, lots of trumpets, major keys, fast tempos, etc. Note that you can establish many different stations to fit your mood (big band jazz, laid back acoustic piano, etc.). Try this one out, create a couple of stations, seed ‘em with a few artists and/or song names, and then rate a handful of songs (thumbs up, thumbs down). You’ll be amazed and grateful .

Have thoughts on the ones I’ve listed above? And are there other music services online that you love and I haven’t mentioned?

[Hat tip for Last.fm info: DeWitt Clinton]

An example of (usually) effective communications

2008-03-02T03:51:00Z

I recently joined an interesting little aggregator / life-streaming sort of service called FriendFeed. I’m finding both the service and the customer service to be admirable. Here’s a recent set of comments on their support list from one of the founders:

That is a very good point [...] this was unintended [...] This was a bad decision, and we will undo it promptly today. Thanks for bringing this to our attention.

And then soon after:

This issue has been fixed and pushed [live to production]

This, typically along with other communications from the company, contains several core components of what I feel is (typically) effective customer service communications. The note…

- Thanks the user for the feedback.
- Acknowledges the problem.
- Expresses regret.
- Specifies action that will be taken.
- Confirms the action, reiterates the appreciation, and closes the loop.

Or, more succinctly, here’s an often-good cycle for similar situations: Thank, Acknowledge, Apologize, Promise, Provide closure.

So why don’t more companies communicate in this way?

- As companies grow, particularly into mass markets, their users may not be reasonable or respectful. This makes it harder to diagnose and communicate.
- Also as companies grow, this type and tone of support becomes less doable. Personal responses from those who are actually doing the coding certainly doesn’t scale, and responses from intermediaries may end up being little more than canned responses.
- Acknowledging a mistake can—especially in the charmingly litigious culture of America—lead to additional liability from shareholders, angry/greedy customers, etc.
- Sometimes the problem and/or the next steps are not inherently clear. Saying, “We’re not yet sure if this is a problem, and are not sure if/when we can change the behavior” is likely not to play well in Peoria.

So given an “ideal” and the challenges listed above, what might be some good common ground for customer-service-oriented communications?
- Acknowledge receipt of the message.
- Manage expectations (don’t promise a response if you can’t deliver).
- If you have automated, non-1:1 support offerings, make them effective and delighting rather than cold and cumbersome.
- Remember that, for a wide swath of your users, English is not their mother tongue.
- In correspondence, use your name. Even a first name is a start.
- Empower your users to help each other. Don’t just put a forum, cultivate a community. And give love to your superusers!

What are your thoughts on customer-service communications? What do you love? What do you hate? What are some companies that are doing it right?

P.S.—A little welcome-back note for myself. I’ve been working on a really comprehensive and reasonably “deep” article to post here or on my upcoming wiki, but haven’t found the time to put it all together. So I’ve kept putting off resurrecting my blog, hesitating to post something too fluffy or flippant or insufficiently deep, yadda yadda yadda. That’s not very blogger like, is it? Not everything can be a masterpiece. And I’m sick of my micro-blogging efforts being used as a substitute for chatting with you loyal readers here, even if the conversation’s gonna be a bit more on the bite-sized level.

P.P.S.—You can find me as “ThatAdamGuy" on FriendFeed.

What I’ve been up to

2007-07-30T03:49:00Z

As many friends have reminded me, I haven’t blogged for a while.

Here’s a refresher on what I wrote a while back about why I blog.

And here are a few reasons why I haven’t been blogging for a while:

Scrubbing
I had to prepare my apartment for a parental visit. ‘nuff said.
Traveling
I visited Seattle, Ottawa, and Toronto… which involved preparing presentations, doing my first-ever TV interview, filing expense reports, escalating/acting upon tons of awesome webmaster feedback, recovering from staying in a tiny room above a Mexican restaurant (which cost nearly $150 a night!), helping a friend break up, and beforehand personally booking plane rides, train rides, hotel rooms, and more. Trips are a lot of work, especially those that combine business and pleasure.
Recovering
I spent time recovering from having many bits of glass fly into my head. This was associated with an accident involving me, my parents, my new car, and a very, very stupid and/or suicidal skateboarder who ignored a stop sign at a busy intersection and collided at high velocity with my slowly-moving vehicle. While my parents and I are thankfully all healed up, I’m still dealing with financial and legal ramifications… and my car is still in the shop. Upside: I’ve been getting lots more exercise from walking and jogging and have lost two pounds of fat .
Practicing and performing
I recently performed on stage at the huge Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View, California. What a scary and exhilarating experience!!! I hope to have a recording that I can post here in the near future.
And yet more travel-planning
I’m planning trips in the remainder of this year to Dublin, Seville, Louisville, Los Angeles, Chicago or Las Vegas, Viernheim, Mannheim, and Caracas. I’m excited but stressed about this, as you can imagine.
Working
I’m heading up two major events at Google, taking on new responsibilities, attending Search Engine Strategies San Jose in August, and much more.
Apartment searching
Though this has been temporarily put on hold while I’m carless, I have been scouting out a new place to call my own closer to the Googleplex to eliminate the generally-comfy-but-time-consuming daily commute from San Francisco to Mountain View.
Facebooking
Facebook has both taken time away from my blogging and has dried up much of my drive to blog. With Facebook, I’ve been able to share what’s going on in my life with friends, highlight interesting articles, ask questions and get answers, show off music and photos, and learn what’s going on in my communities, in my friends’ lives, and so on. Still, though, Facebook isn’t (yet) a complete replacement for self-hosted blogging as I see it, so don’t count on me shuttering BLADAM just yet .

* * *

I always have tons of stuff I want to share… continually have blog drafts bouncing around in my noggin. But now you understand why those have remained mental drafts for the last months.

So… no promises that I’ll blog more often—sorry. But be assured that I’m not just belching in front of the T.V.

Free hugs and the beauty of human touch

2007-06-02T20:08:01Z

I just learned from BLADAM member Flathead in the Netherlands that there’s a worldwide movement involving Free Hugs. I just watched a few snippets, and this just totally made my day!

It also brings to mind some thoughts I shared in an early blog entry (”Non-sexual Healin’” )

[...] It was then that I realized how much the whole concept of touch means to me and likely many of my Lindy Hop crazy friends. There’s such a comfort and warmth in—if you’ll forgive the modified Moulin Rouge reference—holding someone and being held in return.

At least in my case (and I suspect, for most others as well), this is all not really about sex or even necessarily flirting. As a heterosexual fella, I still enjoy hugging my friends regardless of their gender, and I likewise appreciate being a follower in Lindy Hop, even with guys.

Sure, there’s sometimes an underlying sensuality in dancing, especially when blues-dancing with someone you are attracted to from the way they look or the way they dance, and so on. But I still think that the overall non-sexual pleasure of touch is one of the leading factors that contributes to folks’ joy in dancing, and this also highlights just how much closeness our American society often lacks.

In much of Europe and Latin America, for instance, there seems to be less perceived overlap between friendly touching and sexual overtures, and I really like and respect that. When I lived in Europe, I found that I was encouraged to give and receive friendly hugs or even snuggle with others without ulterior motives or expectations.

Anyway, thanks, Flathead, for the neat link and good feelings .

Provincial half-wits okay, but no Goddamned atheists!

2007-05-29T01:35:01Z

In the marvelous The Week magazine (March 2007 edition quoting a USA Today / Gallup poll), it was disclosed that 53% of Americans wouldn’t vote for an atheist for U.S. President (and, unsurprisingly but just as sadly, 43% said they wouldn’t vote for a homosexual, either). Barring a horribly worded poll question—which, I concede, isn’t out of the question—I’m guessing the real percentage of Americans who are prejudiced against atheists is even higher; assuming the poll was done by phone or in person, I can imagine some people thinking to themselves “Well, darned if I’d ever support one of them goin’-to-hell types, but I gotta sound enlightened here and not admit it!”

You know, I don’t care what people believe in: the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, the Boogie Man, or—my personal favorite and Savior—The Flying Spaghetti Monster… nor do I care whom they sleep with (men, women, or even The Flying Spaghetti Monster Himself, though I admit that could get messy), as long as no one gets hurt. For instance, a pediatrician saying, “I’m sorry, son, I can’t see you today unless you pledge allegiance to Harvey, my invisible rabbit"… that would be wrong. And weird… though (IMACANSHO) not a jot weirder than lots of other belief systems out there.

Personally, I’d actually be happy to elect anyone as President—regardless of his or her religion or sexual habits—if he or she would fulfill just some very basic criteria:
- Has visited at least four countries in three continents. And not just on business.
- Can read—and speak—at higher than a sixth grade level.
- Is respected by more than half a dozen world leaders. And not the machete-wielding ones, either!
- Has publicly admitted to being wrong… and apologized!
- Has an innate sense of curiosity about the world… including people, science, the arts, etc.

And, most importantly…

- Views the world LOGICALLY. Doesn’t make decisions to appease some invisible being or out of “faith” or whatever… because all of us, dammit, are likely to see *different* invisible beings depending upon what we’ve ingested recently… and frankly, it makes a hell of a lot more long term sense to have faith in science and scientists (who haven’t been muzzled by bureaucrats, but that’s another story). A candidate who avoids run-on sentences would be even a better man than I!

And, a helpful example:
WRONG: “I’m signing this bill because the Flying Spaghetti Monster told me that it’s the right thing to do.”
RIGHT: “I’m signing this bill because all independent research consistently shows it’s the logical choice based upon a thorough assessment of risks, opportunities, and benefits.”

* * *

So, zigging back to the original issue, I really don’t get why people would care about the belief system of their President. Then again, I also don’t get why many people elected our last one because—and, as Dave Barry would say, I swear I am not making this up—they could really themselves see chuggin’ a beer with him. Look, I know lots of guys who are amiable and often quite entertaining (and frequent) bar dwellers. However, I sure as hell wouldn’t want them as my neurosurgeon. Or life advisor. Or Leader of the Free World.

No, I’d like to have someone who is insanely smart and sober and thoughtful. Even a total nerd. Sure, it’d be nice if he were social enough to not bungle through pleasantries with other heads of state, but I bet even the most socially awkward nerd wouldn’t be runnin’ around giving unsolicited shoulder massages. Honest. And wouldn’t that be a delightful improvement right there?

* * *

In the meantime, it really saddens me that so many folks harbor such a prejudice against atheists, homosexuals, and, indeed, probably anyone who “threatens” their intellect, sexuality, or overall belief structure. How is it that so many people—especially (I’m also sad to say) Americans—are so damn insecure?

Look, I think ABBA wrote delightful music. I get teary-eyed at many Sondheim musicals. If you don’t feel the same way, ~~you have lousy taste~~ hey that’s hunky dory. As long as you don’t get elected as President and say… okay, due to my undying love for ABBA and Sondheim, I am going to put 42% of our budget into ABBA and Sondheim museums in every city. In the world! We’re going to take over Funkistan and put museums there for the ABBA- and Sondheim-less heathens!

Fine, fine, I’m getting a bit silly. Belief in invisible beings is, I suppose, more profound than my tastes in music and theatre. And, you might argue, someone’s belief system might guide them in their executive decisions. Wars in the name of spaghetti sauces. Tax policies to favor yellow marshmallow peep production. And that, my friend, would be wrong. Very wrong.

Logic transcends all of this. If only so many folks weren’t quite so busy forcing beliefs on others. Maybe if we had just had better logic and statistics teachers in school? Hmm....