Life, Work & Wonder

Tag: life

  • My Struggle With The Balancing Act As Social Media (AKA A Natural Goofball Trying To Reign It In)

    I’m a bit of a goofball by nature.

    It’s largely genetic.

    My dad (who is long retired and nearing 80) is by nature a clown. Although he wore a tie and reigned in his goofy behavior during the work day, as a kid he was voted “Class Clown” and as an adult at night he became a natural ham.

    For me, he was the dad who at a crowded restaurant stepped up to the front desk and pretended he was the snobby host, much to the laughter of the crowd when they learned he was just a patron like the rest of us. He was the Huskies fan who mowed a big “UW” into Cougars-loving neighbor’s lawn to the laughing delight of all the other neighbors. People love him and his antics. But at work he was someone else. I first witnessed this when I joined him for lunch at work 30 years ago, when he seemed very serious and people called him “Mr. Mathison.” I had never seen that side of my dad before.

    Time was in my 30s and into my 40s I tried to reign in my own goof behavior. But I find it increasingly hard in this era of social media and the ability to post words anywhere and everywhere. One where as agents or professionals we’re encouraged to post often to build a platform.

    For example:

    • Last week, I wanted to post a video of using children’s clip clops to navigate between houses to keep my shoes dry during a rainy day.
    • I wanted to post a mock video of ways to help our children cheat on tests better, saying this was the real way of helping them get ahead in 21st Century Corporate America.
    • I wanted to post an AI-generated video of a superhero real estate agent (me) saving a tree from crushing a client’s house, not unlike the infamous Vern Fonk videos.

    Of course, a calmer head and my wife (and real estate partner) stopped me. “Would you want a goofball negotiating for you?” My wife asked. But it’s hard.

    I’m in some training the past couple of weeks. “Social media, social media, social media,” we’re told. But I don’t want to do social media to self-proclaim how amazing I am. Or to add yet more seriousness to the world.

    I want to be spontaneously me. And genuine. And for me, what is genuinely normal is being a good at what I do but also being a total goofball who doesn’t take himself too seriously. Because work is work, but social media takes itself too seriously. There are too many pundits and influencers out there who proclaim they are The Stuff.

    Me? I want to do the social media thing as a sign of respect to my trainers. But I want to do it my way, much to the chagrin of my respectable wife (she wisely asks, would you want someone who is goofy on social media negotiating for you?). In the end, I guess I’ll choose to do it more anonymously (here). And not so much in a professional forum.

    In other words, I’ll try my best to be serious with a tie on (figuratively speaking) who then mows a giant UW into the neighbor’s lawn at night.

  • Budgeting: A Tale Of Two Lives (Then and Now)

    Write about your approach to budgeting.

    Over the decades and over the years, my approach to budgeting has changed.

    Partly because of the times, but mostly because of the circumstances.

    Time was I had to budget to the penny every single month.

    Part of this was because my mom was a CPA and budgeted to the penny every month so that was normal for me. But mostly it was because I was broke.

    I was in graduate school with rent to pay, then I was a lowly-paid teacher with a mortgage to pay, and every single month money was tight. Exceptionally tight.

    At the time, I used a chart on graph paper to keep track of every necessary bill (mortgage, electricity) and reconciled the checkbook to the penny, and if a bill didn’t arrive on time I called to ask how much it was so I could pay it and not worry about it showing up unexpectedly. Every month was down to the dollar, and more often than not the last week of the month was a reliance on broccoli soup since broccoli was cheap. I remember joining a mail-order coffee club because they gave a free coffee machine, and that was the only way I could afford a coffee machine. Adding to that was the city of Seattle, of course, which had exceptionally high license renewal fees/taxes each year for car renewals despite the fact I was driving a very basic and aging car, so every August when that was due I’d moonlight a second or third job to cover that expense so I didn’t have to fret about it.

    But overall it was hell.

    Today budgeting is easier.

    I have some money in savings, I am steadily building my retirement savings for 10 or 15 years down the road, and we’re good about not living beyond our means, and all my financial obligations except credit card* are on autopay, and my daily expenses go on credit card, so I don’t have to hyper manage my budget anymore. In fact, although I religiously check every expenditure that goes out, I don’t budget per se, and I don’t fret per se, although if we have a big expense coming up (trip to see family, house repair) I’ll put the money for it aside in a separate account.

    It’s hard to be poor. It’s exhausting to be poor. It’s stressful to be poor. There is absolutely no margin for error to be poor. So for me when I was part of the working poor (much of my adult life, actually, given that I gave my 20s and part of my 30s to teaching) I relied heavily on a budget, had no room for extras, and kept track of every single penny.

    I’m grateful that in recent years I can be more re-active and less stringently uptight. It makes life more enjoyable. And it also gives me compassion for the people who are part of the working poor like I was.

    NOTES

    (*) Not having credit card on autopay forces me to go through the bill each month in a timely manner to comb for errors and/or fraudulent charges while also keeping an eye out on my spending habits for the month so I can adjust if necessary.

  • Where Did 35 Years Go??

    Today I was driving home from errands and it was sunny, a rarity on a February Sunday in Seattle. Being that it was sunny my head felt clear, and being that I was stuck in traffic my mind was wandering, and my thoughts eventually drifted back to 35 years ago.

    Back then, in the late 80s and early 90s when I was in college, every boy I knew played and watched basketball. Football was fine, and some kids watched baseball, and a few were into hockey, but the majority of us were mostly into basketball. We all played basketball, and most kids were at least decent at it, and we had a lot of really fun games playing on the playground, and then in the evenings sometimes we’d gather to watch the college and pro games.

    I was thinking about this, and then thinking about Christian Laettner, who is about my age and was a marvelous basketball player at Duke, and I was thinking how talented he was and tall he was and self-assured he was. And I realized that that self-assured kid who had everything (talent, height, fame, athletic ability, future wealth) including his ENTIRE ADULT LIFE still ahead of him is now (WTF!!!) 56 years old.

    56 is not young. In fact, it’s closer to 80 then it is to 30, and closer to 90 then it is to 20. And what’s more 56 arrived very very rapidly.

    How did all of this happen?

    How did someone my age become 56? How did I become that age? How did Michael Jordan become old (60s) and Jerry Rice become old (60s) and Joe Montana very old (70s) when just last year they were young with their entire adult lives ahead of them.

    I just don’t know how it is that 35 years went by so quickly, and also where they went. And also it’s amazing how often and how hard this realization strikes me. I can never quite get over how quickly this life thing whisks by for all of us, including me.

    Anyway. Life is so very short. And our youthful primes are even shorter. And 35 years goes by — poof — in a blink of an eye. Here’s hoping the next 35 years go a lot slower 🙂 And I’m grateful that at least I have my memories and can remember very well back when I was in college.

  • My Autobiography Title Would Be “Ugly Boy” (AKA Takes A Licking And Keeps On Ticking)

    If there were a biography about you, what would the title be?

    As a teen, I was teased a lot about my looks.

    But my favorite tale is the time in eighth grade when my classmate burst into class. “Hey everyone, get this!” He called out to the class. “Tony’s grandma was looking at our yearbook last night and stopped and pointed at a picture and said, ‘Now that boy’s ugly.’ So Tony looks who to see it was and it was Rob!” Of course, I’m Rob in that story, and I can still hear the laughter from my classmates.

    To make a long story short, that was a painful comment but I kept my head up. And I have many many faults, but I’m a reasonably confident person who didn’t let that teasing about my looks in my formative years bring me down and in fact had a lot of fun in my teen years. I’m actually kind of proud of that if I’m honest, that I hung in there and resisted the urge to withdraw from the world despite some heartless ribbing along the way.

    I’ve had a lot of luck in my life. But I’ve also had my share of times where I was kicked in the groin. I had undiagnosed autoimmune disease as a kid but somehow emerged from that reasonably productive as an adult. My first marriage was to a selfish narcissist who eventually kicked me to the curb after extracting every morsel that she possibly could from me but again I emerged from that too (and today am re-married to a much better person). And perhaps luckiest of all, I was diagnosed with a potentially terminal (50/50) lung disease at age 42 but not only survived that but emerged from it mostly okay.

    So I feel like I’ve lived a lucky life where I have so much to be grateful for, but also one where I’m frequently called “Ugly Boy” (mostly figuratively but one time literally) that I have had to stave off and then emerge from. And I have done just that.

    I feel so fortunate for all that. So grateful for that. I am proud to say that I was called “Ugly Boy.” And that I emerged from that a-oh-kay 🙂

  • Living A Different Life Than My Parents (AKA My Parents At My Age)

    PROMPT: What were your parents doing at your age?

    I was always 5-10 years behind my parents.

    By the time they were 20, my parents were married (to each other 🙂 ). They started careers at 21, having kids (me) at 21 and they owned a house by 22. Later, they upgraded their house by age 27, started earning decent money at 30, and making great money at age 40.

    Me?

    I was married (for the first time) at 25. Started my career job at age 29. Had kids and a house at 30. And started earning decent money at age 35.

    Always I was about five or ten years behind them. And that was okay.

    By some miracle I caught up to them by age 40.

    At age 40 I had some lucky breaks in my career, and I too suddenly started making pretty great money, just like my parents themselves had done at 40. Mom was proud of me, telling me that I was farther ahead of them by age 40, but the reality is we were about even.

    Then life took me on a different path for me.

    I got lung disease at 43. What started out as some fatigue and breathless when I exercised at age 40 was diagnosed as potentially-fatal lung disease when I was 43. That irrevocably changed the course of my life.

    Whereas my parents spent their 40s having fun and accumulating money for retirement, I spent my 40s managing my health and holding on for dear life to my life and my career.

    I spent countless hours in the doctor’s office. I lost a job, then found and lost another job. Meanwhile, after 5 years of trying to push and horse whip me back into my past successes despite my lung disease, my (now ex) wife lung gave up on me and moved on, first emotionally and then completely.

    By 50 my parents were living their greatest life and could retire at any time.

    By 50 I was job hopping, making half what I’d been at age 40, job hopping, managing my health as a second job, and hoping I could scrape enough together to retire by age 70.

    In short, by age 50 my parents had been a LOT better off than I was.

    And that’s okay.

    I’m not my parents. My life is not my parents’ life. I was blessed because life could have just used my lung disease to kill me, but instead it spared me and I learned that I am a survivor, a battler, and surprisingly resilient.

    And, overall, happy. Happier than I was at age 40, for sure.

    I’m remarried. I won’t retire rich but by age 70 I’ll be okay.

    In short, I was behind my parents, then caught up to my parents, then life pushed them ahead while knocking me back. And all in all I’m grateful. Because at the end of the day, all that matters to me is carving out some joy, managing my stress, and being alive.

  • Is There Any More Evidence That Earth Is Hell Than No One Breaking In To Clean Our House?

    It’s a long decidedly-uninteresting story as to why, but our cleaners don’t clean our basement, just our main floor. Which means cleaning the basement is on us, which means in busy times (nearly always) the basement doesn’t get cleaned as often as it should except for our office area.

    This morning I noticed some dirt left by our contractors (or me) next to the basement exit door. It needs to be swept. And it sure as heck won’t get swept today. Yes, I keep a small broom upstairs to sweep by that door, but in my long list of priorities sweeping the floor next to the basement door is not high on that list.

    Which makes me wonder: Why don’t good break-ins happen??

    We’re forever worried about people breaking in to steal our laptops from our office. And it’s possible that can happen if we don’t take precautions like not leaving the laptops in view when we’re not around. But there is basically zero chance of anyone breaking in and stealing the dirt by the back door.Of breaking in and sweeping, or cleaning the bathroom, or upgrading/optimizing our laptops, or vacuuming the couch.

    Which is more evidence that Earth is actually Hell. That somewhere out there in the omniverse at some point in the past we were condemned to amnesia and prison or to hell, and it’s here, on Earth. I love life. And I love our Earth. But that doesn’t mean it’s not hell.

    For example:

    Why is paranoid schizophrenia always bad? Why is it that the unfortunate souls* who suffer from it have misguided delusions that often hurt themselves or others? Why aren’t they walking in an imaginary world filled with happy people who tell them to do amazing things, rather than a scary world where voices tell them to do bad things?

    Why are people always abducted for bad things? For money, or to hurt them? Why isn’t there ever a time where someone disappears and it’s because some good samaritan crazy person kidnapped** them to HELP them by curing their cancer or making them more youthful or something? Like suddenly our friend is abducted, then a few days later they’re returned with that cancerous growth removed?

    Anyway. Earth is Hell. I’m convinced of it. And I need to look no further than the unswept dirt on my floor and how there is zero chance of some hooligan sweeping it away for us.

    NOTES:

    (*) Note: a recently past family acquaintance had this — it’s awful)?

    (**) My heart goes out to the Guthrie family. And also the families of the 90,000 outstanding missing persons cases in the US.

  • Super Bowl Not An Excused Absence? (AKA Where’s The Humanity)

    Two.

    That’s how many Super Bowls the Seattle Seahawks have won in my lifetime, and I was alive and well during our first season in 1976. (It’s also how many Seahawks games I’ve watched over the past 10 years — the NFC Championship and the Super Bowl — although I do root from afar and read about them every day in the sports journals).

    So it’s a special occasion for a city to win the Super Bowl, and there are projected to be a million delirious Seattle-ites at the Super Bowl Parade today.

    The Seattle Public Schools announced that schools will be open as scheduled and the Super Bowl Parade is NOT an excused absence.

    As someone who attended Seattle Public Schools as a student for 13 years (K-12), then taught in Seattle Public Schools for a year as a substitute teacher and administrator, and who now volunteers for a charity that helps deliver food to kids in need at schools, I think it’s AMAZING they’re keeping the schools open. Because there are families and kids who need the schools to be open as a safe space for eight hours.

    But wow oh wow. To not EXCUSE attending the parade? Making kids miss a memorable experience? Or making them fight through overpacked busses or closed streets to get to school? Where’ the humanity in that? Why not keep the schools open but also be understanding if kids can’t make it to school that day because of the parade? That would be the double-awesomeness of humanity.

    We live in a world where there is increasingly less humanity. Where wealthy people lay workers off while pocking more money. Where companies lay off human beings for robots. Where people hate on each other over political beliefs? Why not show a little extra humanity when we can by having a place kids can go to but not expecting them to be there on what is a special day for their city?

  • A Night Of “Sunset Boulevard” And “Breakfast At Tiffany’s” (AKA The Risk Of Being Kept. Or Suckered)

    Last night, for the first time in maybe five years, we walked two movies back-to-back. It just so happened that both were classics.

    The first was Sunset Boulevard, picked for the primary reasons that we haven’t seen it in a long time, we love it, and it was free. The second was Breakfast At Tiffany’s, which I’ve seen twice (not in a long time) and couldn’t recall either of it other than it was two young kept people who develop a friendship. It was surprisingly good.

    It was interesting that we watched both movies on the same night because there is a similar string in a way. In essence, all the main characters are younger people struggling to pay bills who are at risk of (or dream of) becoming kept people by people with means.

    It is an interesting dynamic in a romantic relationship, a financially struggling person and financially comfortable person. Both people have to be totally grounded (I believe) and noble for it to work. The risks otherwise of course, is that one person takes advantage of the other. This can work how we might expect it to work, wherein the wealthy person exploits the poor person; in Sunset Boulevard, the struggling “hero” as consumed by the wealthy older person until he loses his independence and identity and becomes a virtual prisoner. But it can work the other way too, where the struggling person wraps their tentacles around the poor person.  In my own instance, I think of how I was 20-something with work ethic and a college degree and a savings account who met a high school dropout with bad credit and literally nothing to her name. I feel like she latched on to me and drove me to get what she wanted in life until such time 30 years later that I was no longer capable or needed and so was put to pasture, all the while gaslighting me. I was duped. I should have been wiser. Smarter. I became a victim. It worked out for me in the end (I was free!!!) but I lost 25 years of my life and my health in the process.

    So it definitely can be where a person-in-need becomes entrapped, but so too can it work the other way. So it’s very important always that we enter a relationship with our eyes wide open, and we are aware of the potential dynamics, and we work to stay on sound footing, whether financially or otherwise. Anyway, that was my take.

    I loved watching those movies last night. It was a fun way to relax on a stormy evening. And I liked Breakfast At Tiffany’s a lot more than I thought I would. And how much I wish I’d been wiser about relationship dynamics when I was 23.

  • AutoPay and Digital Music Are The Greatest Inventions In My Lifetime :)

    The most important invention in your lifetime is…

    The world has changed so much in my lifetime.

    When I was born, we’d never been to the moon. It’s possible it was all a hoax and we still haven’t been to the moon, but let’s assume that it’s real and we indeed have been to the moon. That was the year after I was born. Pretty amazing. In my lifetime, so much has changed, of course. There are too many inventions and changes to even begin listing since we all know what those are. But, for me, the greatest inventions have been autopay and digital music.

    How much I hated paying bills before the 2000s. How much drudgery it was. There were checks to write, stamps to buy so I could send in those checks, reconciliation at the end of the month to make sure everything was accurate. Then for every day spending there was so much speculation how much cash I might need, then persistent worry I might lose or miscalculate the cash. Now it all — everything — just goes on my Visa which I can then peruse in a few minutes at the end of the month, challenge quickly online with Visa if something seems amiss, and then pay with the click of a button. Every expense imaginable goes on that credit card, and it has just made everything so much easier to deal with!

    And then there’s music.

    How much time did I waste in my life making mixed tapes. Or rewinding cassettes. Or cleaning records. How much money I spent for albums that overall I didn’t like very much but had two songs I liked. And how many times did I have to listen to a song over and over and over again on the radio until the point a song that I might have once liked became absolutely intolerable to listen to, not to mention all the ads in-between songs. But with digital on-demand music, every song I could possibly imagine is right there for free.

    The world has changed so much. Many of these have been bad, some of these have been good, and there’s no doubt it has changed the world so very much in 50 short years.

    But my favorite changes are on-demand music and auto pay. They’ve made my life so much easier and more enjoyable — every single day.

  • Pride Is Folly

    Pride.

    There was a time I had too much pride.

    Waaayyyyyy to much pride.

    It was pride that prevented me from being too open and out there in public. For example, I dreaded sales calling because of pride. And didn’t have social media accounts because of pride. And never ever allowed dirty dishes to be in the kitchen because of pride.

    Pride brought my spirit down when there was a flaw with my house or car. It made me sensitive (and lash out) at criticism (“f— you!”). It made me fret too much about silly statistics, like batting average or shooting percentage or quota attainment percentage. Who cares what I batted in recreational softball??

    It was pride that embarrassed me when my (now ex) wife promoted her business and herself, like that time she stood on the street corner and handed out Halloween candy with her business card on it. I remember having to quietly work so hard to swallow that pride, to let her do what she needed to do without commenting that it was embarrassing seeing my last name being handed out on a street corner.

    And it was pride that drove me to always look my best, to make sure my hair was good and my body was firm and I stayed youthful looking.

    In short, pride made me worry too much about how people perceived me.

    Then lung disease grabbed me in 2011. Put me in a hospital bed. Made me tired. Nearly killed me. Then, by some incredible undeserving miracle, it loosened its grasp on me and retreated, sparing me and letting me not only live but live without an oxygen tank (a 50/50 chance)!

    Maybe best of all, when lung disease retreated, it also took with it my pride. Which I think is a good thing. In fact, it’s a great thing.

    I could care less how people (except Larissa) perceive my career. Or whether they remember me as a good athlete or smart or not. Or see me as attractive or not. Who cares?? What does it change or matter??

    In 2019, when my hurtful ex-wife chose trying to shame me about various things rather than just honestly saying she wanted to move on with her life (i.e. chose gaslighting and shaming rather than transparency), I guffawed at her. “I won’t be judged by you,” I said. “I beat lung disease. What the f— have you done?”

    That was the moment I realized that I was truly confident. That lung disease spared me from the judgement of others. Because when we’ve faced the specter of death, not much in life can scare us after that.

    Now I don’t care how people perceive my career. Or think I’m goofy. Or roll their eyes at my goofy rambling face-book posts.

    It’s incredibly liberating.

    Today I made myself vulnerable. Posted on Facebook and Instagram and my LinkedIn page that I was holding an open house tomorrow. 15 years ago there is no way I would have done that, but today I only felt happy that I could do my best to promote Larissa’s client. It felt good.

    Meanwhile, I could care less if ultimately people on LinkedIn think I’ve had a successful career or not. I know the truth. What do I care how some random person perceives me based on my profile? This also feels good.

    Pride is folly. Because at the end of the day we’re all human and vulnerable and fallible. No matter how perfect we are or rich we are or even strong we are, we’re just a bout with lung disease or cancer away from death. This is humbling. And it’s beautiful.

    Here is to being pride free. And the incredibly luck that is beating terminal illness. I’m so grateful.