Best Laid Plans

I had such big ideas in my head. You see, in there, the magazine required a ton of work. A complete overhaul. Then the reality of what I could actually do with my canvas set in. What followed was a month of struggle, frustration and ultimately, not a whole lot of change.

The thing about this genre of career I’ve chosen is that it is fraught with self-doubt and competition. My particular corner of this field is near empty. No one else does what I do. There are some that are similar but none match my circumstances exactly. I get to keep the self-doubt but not the competition. It isn’t a necessary component to my job. But I kind of need the competition. I was an athlete; competition is how I improve.

When I was about 13 or 14, just before foster care, I picked up my first basketball. It would be 20 plus years before I’d put it down. I was tall and lanky, which was kind of new, the height, not the lank. I’d played baseball, football, heck, even a little street hockey, but never basketball. Never came up. I had a cousin I idolized and he asked if I wanted to learn. That was it.

I took to it like a fish to water. I got really good, really fast.

Soon, I NEEDED to get better. I was miles ahead of my friends who didn’t play, a bit better than anyone my age and as good as most of the older kids. I needed to be better than all of them.

A funny thing happens when you get good at something; people want you around and want to be around you. Even people who never showed any interest in being around you before. It’s weird.

“If this many people want to be around me now, at this skill level, imagine how many will want to be around me if I were the best.” This thought was one that had to be uttered by me audibly at some point during that time.

I’ve wanted to be liked by everyone for as long as I can remember. It’s the reason I’m kind. It’s the reason I’m funny. It’s also the reason I spent every moment of my teens with a basketball in my hands.

Out of necessity, I spent all the time that wasn’t devoted to the myriad of jobs I had to sitting, waiting on the sidelines for the chance to play against the kids on the varsity team. Those guys had skills…and beards! If I could compete with them, on that level, no one my age would be able to stop me.

I spent those days getting banged up and pushed around by kids 4 grades above me. I bled. I got hit. I got bullied. I got tough. I got mean. I got better. Gradually I would solidify myself as on the guys who didn’t have to sit and wait any longer. Guys getting ready to graduate would have to take a seat for the kid who couldn’t get into a PG-13 movie without his Mom.

And that’s what I’ve done ever since those days. I find the best people at what it is I want to do, and then I do everything I can to get so good that I pass them in talent.

I did it with car sales. I skipped a job at a local dealership and hit the road with a group of the best salespeople in the country on a traveling team that stormed up and down the east coast. When a dealership was having trouble making their sales, they called us. We would travel to dying dealerships in small towns and in one week would help them make as many sales as they would make in months. I started as the person who checked people into the sales and ended as a top salesperson in the crew of 20-year veterans at the job. That led me to be the top salesperson at a local dealership when my wife and newly born third child reeled me back home from the road. I keep the Salesman of the Year award in the same drawer I keep all the magazine awards.

I did it with parenting too. When I started the magazine, it gave me access to some of the nation’s leading child and parenting experts. It helped me become a much better parent than I would have been otherwise. That access gave me the tools I would need to convince my son’s school that I could handle any behavioral issues he had without the aid of Ritalin. I can’t remember a giant chunk of my childhood because of those pills and I wasn’t going to let him have that same fate. I don’t know if I’ll ever get a Father of the Year award for being a Dad. But I can be the best Dad my kids have…I’m the only nominee, I like my chances.

So, I thought I could do that with the magazine, but you can’t really shadow better people in this game. Just networking and taking advice from those who have been where you are. There’s room to get better here, but the ascent is far different from my other experiences.

This gig is a lonely one. I compensate for the loneliness by working my tail off. Especially in the first five year. I never slept. I can tell you THAT finally caught up with me. I’m exhausted these days. And with that, I’ve met my toughest competitors to date; time, health and myself.

Maybe you know, maybe you don’t. I have had scoliosis forever. It matured to degenerative scoliosis. That just means my spine started twisting and wants to finish what it started. I’m convinced my spine will find a way to become a part of my chest before it’s all over. Over the last few years it’s become a real problem. It’s made me cut down my travel to near nonexistent. Pain makes you sleepy. I sleep a lot now. It’s all so frustrating. My brain is angry that my body can’t keep up anymore. But we soldier on.

With all of this swirling around me, I thought it may be time to hit the refresh button on all areas of my life that needed a jumpstart.

The magazine is a huge part of who I am and a logical place to start. I dug in. Prepared for a mountain of work. What followed was a heavyweight bout between my need for change and the reality that I’ve already built a quality product. I need the change, but the magazine is pretty good already. What I thought would be a mountain of work turned out to be a manageable dune of changes.

I set out to change the world and ended up cleaning a metaphorical garage. Still, great work if you can get it.

Next issue I’ll explain the changes and why I made them. For now, see if you can tell any differences. Like a Highlights magazine.

See you next month.