We learn a great deal of useful information in school.  Arithmetic and reading are two of the best.  But there are also many life skills we have to learn on our own because they aren’t taught in school (or anywhere else). Office etiquette is one of those skills.

My first real office job was with the national accounting firm KPMG.  After my junior year in college, I was hired as an intern.  This later became a full-time job, but not because of my sartorial elegance.

No one had ever told me how to dress appropriately for the office.  My mother was a homemaker, and my dad was a musician, so I’d never learned what I should wear in a professional office setting.  I dressed in my usual school attire – white or blue shirt, with tie, slacks, and black shoes.  My idea of acceptable fashion was fine except for one detail.

I always wore white socks.

Why?  I suppose they were cheap. Also, that is what my mom bought for me.  I didn’t even think about it.  But while white socks might have been acceptable for home or school, they stood out at the office and marked me as a young man who didn’t know how to dress for success. After six months my supervisor politely mentioned that perhaps a solid color, such as black or navy blue, might be more appropriate.  (At that time the dress code of the Chicago office of KPMG was still so formal that hats were a required accessory.)

If you’ve ever unintentionally violated a social norm, chances are you were oblivious to it until someone pointed out your transgression. If you’re lucky, as I was, they did so compassionately.

Even so, I was embarrassed to learn that I had been violating an unwritten office rule.  I left work early that day to go shopping.  I purchased a dozen pairs of black socks.

You are welcome to come and check out my sock drawer.  To this day every pair is either black or navy blue.  I assume the accountants at KPMG would approve.

Of course, there remains the issue of my office desk that is in a state of, well, disarray.

But I’ll leave that confession for another day.

Alan

As those of you who follow my blog already know, my dad was a renowned teacher of musicianship.  That means whenever I practiced the piano, he felt compelled to interrupt.

I will always remember his frequent admonition, “Phrasing.  Color each phrase.  Make each phrase interesting.  Crescendo.  Diminuendo.  There are no throw-away phrases.  Pay attention to each one.”

My father’s advice on phrasing has become a metaphor for my life. It’s one I’ve written about before because it applies to so many different aspects of living well. Ultimately my father’s emphasis on phrasing was his way of encouraging me to pay attention to each moment.

This is especially important when driving.  I am thinking of this as during the past few weeks California has been inundated with rain. Many parts of the state have been flooded, and driving is hazardous. As I have told each of my six children since they were old enough to drive a car (and legally imperil both me and themselves), “Driving is the single most dangerous activity we engage in often.  If you daydream in class for an hour, your grade might suffer.  If you daydream while driving, even for a few seconds, you could be dead, or worse.”

My dire warnings seem to have worked for my children and also for me.  None of us have ever been involved in a serious auto accident.  In fact, the only three moderately serious auto accidents I’ve been in were each caused by the other driver who was in a hurry and not paying attention. Each turned left directly in front of me – without signaling.  Crash.  Thank goodness for mandatory seat belts, and the fact that I drive slowly and carefully, now more than ever.

So at the beginning of a new year let’s give a nod to my dad, who shared with me many really good ideas, and keep our lives, and the lives of others, both interesting and safe.

Better living through phrasing.

Alan

A number of years ago, I enjoyed my last trip to Venice. And I do mean my last.  Too many of their “merchants” turned out to be thieves.

Venice is noted for its beautiful art glass sculptures.  I purchased several for about $8,000, and delivery by air express was promised. But a month later, I still hadn’t received anything.

I telephoned the merchant, who suddenly had trouble understanding English (even though he understood me perfectly when I made the purchase). I conferenced in an Italian-speaking representative from American Express.

What an instant transformation.  After offering several lame excuses, the merchant promised immediate delivery.  Clearly, he did not want to displease American Express, a powerful corporation, even though he hadn’t cared a bit about pleasing me, his customer.

While I still enjoy the sculptures, I obviously harbor negative feelings about the experience.

That same merchant had directed us to a restaurant owned by a friend of his.

“Just let him take care of you. Don’t bother with the menu,” he said.

Feeling special, I took his advice. Dish after dish was served to our party of eight. Prices at that time should have warranted a total tab of no more than $50, to which I had planned to add a generous tip. But the check, when it arrived, was for $300. I was appalled.  I left no tip.

That evening we stood in line for three full hours, waiting for a water taxi to return us to our cruise ship. We finally called my nephew, who was already back onboard. He woke up the concierge, and thirty minutes later a water taxi appeared. While our party was accommodated on that taxi – the operator left many other cruise passengers stranded (even though it was only half full).  Apparently, the trade unions run the water taxis – for their own benefit, not for us “tourists” even though tourism is at the heart of their economy. This attitude certainly doesn’t bode well for a city dependent on tourism.

I’ve read that Venice is gradually sinking into the sea, and that its lowest point, St. Mark’s Square, is flooded about 100 days a year.

I’m never going back, and I wish the merchants of Venice a hearty “bon voyage” as their fiefdom slowly sinks into the Adriatic.

I look forward to every one of those pirates going down with their ship of prey.

Aside from that, happy new year.

Alan