No, that is not the sound of a pirate - that would be "ARRRRRRRRRRRRH" & most likely followed by "matey". That is the sound of a lonely salesman, sitting in a vacant hotel meeting room set for up to 30 attendees. That same salesman has been doing this for about 3 days now with similar results. While you may question said salesman's capacity for sales, I should point out that these particular miseries are not self inflicted. 'Twas my job to set up host sites & the inside sales team's job to put butts in seats. I provided said seats, but, alas, there are no butts. No butts at all.
So I have been reading 'Tis by Frank McCourt, which explains the Irish brogue you may hear if you were to call me today, and enjoying the scenery of the East TN mountains in Fall. I was feeling particularly sorry for myself earlier today, while driving a lonely country road 'twixt Sevierville and Maryville, when I came upon an exceedingly windy stretch of road, pressed on either side by the most amazing trees you have ever seen. It was like something you would see on one of those screen saver sites (isn't that poetic?). It was less than a quarter of a mile before I was back between field and pasture with the great Smokey Mtns off in the distance, but it was absolute therapy for my soul. It was, oddly enough, a little glimpse of my happy place.
I often play a little "getting to know you" game with folks when I have dinner with them (which may explain my wide open calendar for the coming months or the lack of attendance at my sales meetings), asking them questions that will help me see what matters to them...what's important. One of the questions is kind of a happy place question, asking to describe what is, in their mind, a perfect scene. I thought I'd share mine today, if for no other reason than the therapeutic value of typing it out for myself:
It's about 50 degrees, morning with a slight breeze. I'm watching the breeze move through the trees and hearing the "thump thump thump" of my rocking chair as it makes it's way over and back again from wood plank to wood plank on the back porch as my feet rest on the rail. To my left is an fireplace, burning bright and warm with a stack of wood in one of those iron circular wood holders. To my right is my big ol' outside dog (outside, I say... outside) - maybe a chocolate lab or an Irish setter - lying content in the warmth of the fire. In my hand is a hot cup of Mama Lee's hot chocolate, being held by the handle with my right hand and with my left hand pressed against the side to keep warm. Beyond the trees gently swaying in the morning breeze are snow capped mountains, just beginning to glow with morning light... glowing just enough to reflect off of the gentle waters of the mountain lake that lies between us. Jutting out into that pristine body of water is a simple pier and dock, with an old wooden ski boat rocking gently on the morning waves and a wooden canoe on the other side mimicking the dance that welcomes the morning. Ducks and birds can be heard from time to time over the lapping waters, nature's chorus disturbed only by the occasional sound of horses gathered near the barn for warmth and the morning feed. Mist rising from the water, the warm breath of horses and the hound, steam rising from Mama Lee's goodness, gentle additions to the morning in my happy place.
A fellow just came in to ask about our programs. Sadly, he was looking for initial certification as an adminsitrator in TN, which I can't give him. I told him where he could get what he needs as his 7 year old son woofed down my brownies and cookies. Y'all excuse me while I go back to my happy place... in fact, run on to yours for a while.
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