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http://www.bizjournals.com/phoenix/blog/business/2012/02/the-outrageous-courageous-and-highly.html
Those of you who have been regular readers of this blog: thank you!
As you know, the Outrageous, Courageous, and Highly Contagious has been my focus for quite some time now…and the Phoenix Business Journal has asked me to share these powerful stories as their official Wednesday online blogger! For your weekly dose of me, check out www.bizjournals.com/phoenix/blog/business. You’ll be inspired, stimulated, and perhaps even validated for living your Best Life in serving others No one escapes this lifetime without challenging circumstances…how one uses this adversity as their teacher is where the Outrageous and Courageous live and breathe.
Also, I will be sending out eblasts at least once a month, taking these unique stories and lessons even deeper, so please make sure I have your current email address so you don’t miss one. Send it to me now at susan@servesyouright.net so we don’t skip a beat in our connection,ok? OK!
This blog began two years ago with my journey to China, teaching young women global leadership and, more importantly, helping them find their own voice, speaking their own truth. Many of those connections still exist today. From this point on, I’ll still share my more personal perspectives here with you, whenever my Spirit and schedule permit.
Whichever way we stay connected: the Phoenix Business Journal Wednesday blog, the monthly eblast (get me your email address!), or my occasional meanderings on this blog, know I value your presence…and support…always have, always will! Thank you.
You can read my Wednesday blog here:
http://www.bizjournals.com/phoenix/blog/business
Let’s not miss a beat connecting – email me your current contact information at:
susan@servesyouright.net
When I was in Macy’s, the lady behind the counter said that she would help me while she was still on hold with a phone call, picking her teeth with a credit card. In a local pool supply store that felt more like a bowling alley, I waited to pay for my bromine tablets while the lone sales person kept her focus on taking inventory rather than taking my money. I walked out both times.
My senses were particularly heightened more than usual this week because my client in the hospitality world was wanting a new culture, a new sense of Being as well as Doing, and the process for change begins with a new Vision. Who are you? Who do you want to be? And, the best measurement to know that the Vision is being delivered is when your customers come back, again and again.
So, you can imagine my rather dulled expectations when I walked into Calistro (www.calistrobistro.com), a restaurant that opened just 5 days ago. The ambiance was clean and efficient, the warmth coming from the pumpkin colored walls and booths and the enlarged black and white humanistic photographs. The photo that held my eye the longest was that of a 5 year old bare bottomed child, black curls blowing in the wind as she ran in front of sky-reaching saguaros standing like soldiers against the cloudless sky. I was smiling at it, feeling that feeling of freedom, when TJ presented himself as our server and welcomed us with a relaxed intensity. His confidence and congeniality, along with his personal anecdotes, made everything on the menu sound exciting and inviting. All organic, all magnificently presented, this place knows their customers eat with their eyes first. The pumpkin dumplings and exquisite rice pudding were shareable, though as we finished each one and our plates were wickedly clean, a yearning for just one more bite lingered.
TJ was as good as each bite. He noticed my attachment to the 5 year old in the photo and let me know she was the niece of the owner. He knew every ingredient in every dish, and willingly told us his favorites, which of course is what we ordered. His easy manner was anything but scripted, and as we licked our chops one last time, we each made a reservation for the weekend, just a few days later! TJ flushed pink with our praise, and took his time to write the restaurant’s phone number and reservation info on a scratch piece of paper…one friend teased me saying TJ gave her his personal home number, and I believed her! TJ would have done that!
I simply had to congratulate and shake the hand of the Manager, Scott Hendrix. A restaurant open not yet one week, had the Vision ‘pursuing excellence’ and, more importantly, the implementation, nailed down tight. How did he do it? ‘Culture is important to me,’ Scott said. ‘It starts in the interview with me asking questions about their personal life, what their favorite foods are, what music they like, how they spend their time off.’ With this kind of information, Scott envisions the Team that will drink and share in Calistro’s kool-aid. And, are they ever smart! For weeks before they opened, training and cooking was going on non-stop, so what better advertising than grass-roots anticipation? Located in a well-trafficked Scottsdale strip center, servers and chefs delivered food tastes all day long to every shop owner and clients who happened to be in their store at the time. Ooooh’s and ahhhhh’s started the buzz and kept the buzz going, all of them drooling while waiting for the doors to finally open.
Not only was my second experience at Calistro equal to my first (always the real test), TJ remembered my preferences and favorites from the time before. I swooned when he consistently exceeded my expectations. Still licking my lips in the parking lot on the way to my car, a couple stopped me and asked if ‘this place was any good.’ I swooned some more, making sure they knew to ask for TJ, and to save room for that coconut milk rice pudding, tempting me to go back for one more to take home!
Truly TJ and Calistro’s renewed my customer service-driven Spirit: Service Enthusiasm can and does exist…and when coupled with deliciously good-for-you food, what could be closer to heaven on earth???
Today I walked for Parkinson’s. I’ve walked for Alzheimer’s, Diabetes, Mental Health, Cancer many times, and the list goes on and on.
Today, I’m on deadline, too close to being overdue on 3 projects.
And, it’s Sunday… too perfect, too much like Paradise.
Do I really want to put my sneakers on?… navigate my way through traffic to get to the Park?… pray for a parking space that I’ll remember?
The answer is YES! YES! YES!
There we were, pushing our baby strollers and our walkers, all wearing the same color tee shirt in all sizes, surrounded by our family/friends that have touched this disease, up close and personal. We walk together in clusters and en masse in gratitude, to those that walk by our side, and to those that can not. The Perfect Day becomes even more Perfect, and for that hour or two that we all walk, we hold hands with strangers and we are just a little bit kinder to each other, and even to ourselves.
We take a stand on these walks. Disease is colorblind and non-discriminating. It strikes us all. On these walks, we celebrate being alive as the real victory over disease. That’s a whole lot bigger than deadlines and inertia! Move those feet, one after the other, and be grateful you can.
Paradise Bakery is a great meeting place, but a less than mediocre place to eat and be served. The ambiance is right: tables are far enough apart where private conversations can happen, yet not be overheard, there are multiple locations, one usually close enough for an agreed destination, generous space to spread out with wifi so I can stay awhile, before and after an appointment if need be…
But the servers are barely breathing, and the food is simply fuel with no flavor. Staff is always moving, cleaning, re-filling food inventory before it’s needed. Clearly efficiency is one of their core values. Eye contact would be nice. A smile would be even better. I frequent Paradise whenever I have no other choice.
This past week, I had a very important appointment that I knew would take hours. She was on one side of the Valley, I was on the polar opposite. Paradise was the chosen middle. Unfortunately, my appointment before this one ran late, and I was hungry. Bad planning on my part because now I’d have to eat some tasteless gruel to get my stomach satisfied until dinner. As I reluctantly made my way to the salad counter, a young man was waiting for me, ready to serve me with, lo and behold, a smile! His eyes met mine (another shock wave!) as he genuinely listened to me think out loud, as I stared up at the flat, unappealing salad choices. I took a chance: ‘Can you make up my own salad instead of what’s offered on the menu,’ I asked, more under my breath than out loud. He heard me. ’Sure,’ he said, flashing another smile my way, ‘Let’s do it!’ I was now hovering over the glass counter, trying to get a better look at my gazillion choices, my mouth starting to water. He was generous with my favorites, attentive with suggestions, and placed every spoonful where it looked beautifully appetizing. He must have known that ‘people eat with their eyes first.’ He had opinions about the dressing to choose, offering to mix it all up for me. He handed over this bowl that now was so much more than greens, and for that brief moment when his hand and mine were almost touching, he looked right into my eyes, and he thanked me. He meant it.
I could hardly wait to tell my friend as I landed at our table, pointing to the young man who was still smiling as I crossed the floor to my seat. She said he had served her, too, confessing this was her ‘first human experience’ at Paradise. While I stuffed my face with one of the best salads I’ve had in a very long time, she found the Manager. Instead of filling her ear with misgivings and disappointments, this Manager instead heard praise and recognition for this one Server who lived and breathed ‘service enthusiasm’ over at a the salad counter. I can only hope the Manager takes a second look, with fresh eyes, over at the young man, now giving that genuine smile of his, to his next customer…
When my daughter- in- law, Cindy, asked me if I would want to be the fortune teller at Cameron’s 5th birthday ‘backyard carnival’, I couldn’t say YES fast enough. I already had the outfit, in fact several of them because my style isn’t that far off from a gypsy fortune teller, I guess. I chose the Top 5 fairy cards from my personal stash that I knew would be kid-friendly. I found an unopened bottle of red sprinkles that would be my ‘fairy dust.’ I looked the part, now I was ready for business.
Cindy knows how to do kid’s parties, big time. Being a great pre-school teacher gives her lots of experience. She got the whole family involved in making this Cameron’s BEST birthday EVER! Jordan, Grandson #1, was the Face Painter Extraordinaire. Dylan, Grandson #2, welcomed Cameron’s friends in Clown garb, complete with a rainbow wig and red, shiny nose. Adam was the Ring Leader for ring toss and basketball games and prizes. Poppy was the assist here. Cindy helped kids create colorful Sand Castles in ‘to go’ bottles. And, there I was, rounding out this ‘backyard’ carnival as the in-resident fortune teller: Nana The Great!
My tent was covered in tulle, crystals, and beads. I even had a crystal ball. Flanked by Dylan and Jordan on each side, I started to build my clientele.
Stella was my first customer. She came back at least 4x, each time with another friend. I decided to make Stella my agent. I know she loved the fairy dust. Often, she would pick the same card: Making New Friends. I’d hold her open palm with a red center from all the fairy dust, trying not to get lost in her chocolate brown eyes that were so full of animated expression. I asked who her best friend was: “Emma, my sister, is my best friend for forever…and Lucy, too, but she’s in dog heaven now, but I carry her in my heart every day,” Stella stated absolutely, as she shook her thick brown mane away from her open mouth.
Bailey was more cautious at first. But when she chose the card ‘Happily Ever After’, I won her over for life by telling her, in no uncertain terms, that she would have THE most perfect life, where everything she wished for would come true. Bailey looked down at her palm in mine, her eyelashes looking so long they could have been fake…but they weren’t.
Annie’s innocence and trust in my every word, forced me to be very careful with everything I said to her. She was right there, following my stories as if this was the most precious time she would ever have again. I wanted her to stay this sweet forever.
Zach, Grandson #4, tried not to laugh at my efforts in make believe. He knew his Nana wasn’t really a fortune teller. But, when he picked the ‘Vacation’ card, I got his attention like never before. Because I already knew, I told him his next vacation will be for his birthday, and, there’s a very good chance he’ll be spending it with Mickey Mouse! His little pink lips puffed up in a big ohhhh. He looked at me real close to see if I was really telling the truth. I smiled softly, filled his dirty palm with red sprinkles, sending him over to the Petting Zoo, a motley gathering of all sizes and breeds of teddy bears, snakes, and dinosaurs collected from every brother’s closet. Zach shuffled away, but looked back at me several times to be sure he hadn’t been dreaming.
Natasha was full of questions from the get-go. She wanted to know about every fairy card, and why I had on this funny outfit, and why the red sprinkles??? Her curls bounced whether she was moving or not. I could tell she was a bit bored with my act, so I gave her the double star AND red sprinkles to win her over…it worked.
After two hours, Nana The Great! was exhausted. I considered taking my show on the road for the ‘birthday circuit’, but decided instead to hang up my scarves and necklaces and fairy cards for now. I flash backed on my day, remembering every gorgeous little face I gazed into, every tiny hand I held in mine, with all the precious hopes and dreams of every 5 year old I saw that day. I smiled… and kept smiling for the rest of the day… until I was finally able to lay down my own head to dream my own dreams that night…
The Outrageous is not a familiar event in the healthcare arena, but don’t tell that to Sally Grady, Director of Imaging Services at Florida Hospital’s Seaside Imaging Center. Sally insists ‘there was not a creative bone in her body’ when she first arrived from Ohio to the town of Celebration back in 1996. The fact that the Florida Hospital where she would be working was only 2 miles from The Magic Kingdom should have been her first clue that this hospital was built to be different than the norm. She was challenged (often and still) by the CEO: how can you make the Imaging Department different? The CT scans and MRI’s have a larger than life presence where technology and fear do battle with every patient that needs to show up, no matter what their age. There are so many patients and never enough time, so an assembly line mentality prevailed. Patients chose to cancel their appointments more often than not, and when they did show up, sedation was the usual solution to quiet the fear.
At first, Sally ‘didn’t get it.’ Fortunately, she had been a fan of Walt Disney for years. She studied his winning formula to affect all the senses in creating a total immersion into the experiential for the patient. She was determined to deliver the unexpected using high-touch in a high-tech environment. ‘Everyone has a story about the beach,’ Sally says. ‘Building sandcastles at the water’s edge, squishing your toes in the sand…what could be a better environment than that?’
She challenged her vendors to design fun equipment. ‘Patients expect good equipment,’ Sally says emphatically, ‘but when I challenged our vendors to create a CT Scan that looks more like a sandcastle instead of a techno-monster, the bar was raised like never before.’ She had to do her own fundraising for this project, too, looking for different partners to deliver this outrageous Vision. And, deliver this Vision she did…in full out living color!
The Florida Hospital Seaside Imaging Canter today embodies an entire virtual beach environment! Instead of carpet, Sally put down a boardwalk. Sitting in colorful Adirondack chairs in the pre-exam area of the MRI Island, the Lighthouse sits center-stage. Max and Buddy, Seaside’s signature bear characters, come alive in 3D on the surrounding walls, engaging patients in educational (bear facts) videos that are like ‘coming attractions’ to what happens next. Generic changing rooms now look like beach cabanas, and instead of backless paper-like scratchy ‘gowns’, patients wear surfer shorts and tees, with flip flops, of course. They hear ocean waves and birds flying high. They smell coconut oil in the air, and, best of all, technology, like that big CT scanner, is transformed, into a sandcastle that rivals Cinderella’s. Barium is served straight up, in a turquoise glass with a purple umbrella, looking more like a martini or a Shirley Temple than what we know it really is. Imagination is a given here at Seaside, so patients of all ages surrender to the ride. We’re talking a huge WOW factor here!
‘We know this isn’t an amusement park. We’re here for something serious,’ Sally says. Patients respond. They relax and even have fun getting an MRI exam! The cancellation rate has dropped 50%. The sedation rate, which adds to the expense of the procedure, has gone down from 6% to 2%. Sally Grady might say ‘there isn’t a creative bone in my body,’ but in my eyes, she is my hero: a woman who had the courage to bring outrageous to a place where it was least expected. Sally Grady is a healer extraordinaire…and if Sally can bring this kind of magic to a hospital where life and death battle it out in every moment, what can YOU bring to your world??? The Outrageous must be calling your name….
There it was, on top of the stack in my mailbox: my JURY SUMMONS. My wince was on automatic, hoping I had a reason to cancel, sure I’d have to miss something important on that specific date three weeks from then. I made a reminder sign so big that I couldn’t miss it to call the day before I was supposed to show up, hoping, praying my jury group #3405 was settled out of court and I didn’t really have to go in that next day. Wishful thinking got me nowhere hearing my group number called, knowing I had to appear at 8:30am the next day. So, I got busy gathering every piece of reading material I hadn’t read yet, and filled my bag with snacks and munchies that would get me through the day.
‘Lady Wears Prada’ was the video just ending when I walked to the front desk of this bull-pen, where each of us sat, somewhat zombie-like, with ping pong eyes on the clock and/or the TV. It wasn’t until 3pm that my #110 jury number was called. 50 of us followed our cherubic, yet very-much-in-control bailiff, Michael, to the Judge’s courtroom. We took our assigned seats, clutching the laminated cards, milkwatered blue on one side, green on the other, that showed our number for all to see, while preparing us way ahead of time for the questions we will be asked to answer.
Sitting there at attention, our backs straight, our eyes on the Judge, we were informed within the first 5 minutes that we were being considered as jurors for a projected 6 week (!!!) MURDER trial. I squirmed in my seat, trying to picture all the non-negotiables I already had on my schedule, fishing for the excuse that would get me excused. 6 weeks is a long time for me to be out of my routine life…could I really afford that? what about all those declarations and resolutions I just made for this New Year? AND, MURDER??? How did I feel about that??? I looked over at the defendant that, to me, looked better than his attorney. At this point, this was the choice-less choice. Canceling eye doctor appointments and 2 client meetings, I walked in to the court room that next day, settled on the decision I made earlier that morning: I wanted to be chosen.
Before the lunch break on the second day, 18 more people were eliminated. If nothing else than to exercise my voice, I started to talk to Eduardo, another juror in my bench row and part of yesterday afternoon’s group. Today was his daughter’s 18th birthday and we talked about finding him flowers to bring home to her when this day was done. I remembered his response just a few hours previously when the judge asked if anyone had any experience with the law. Eduardo stood up, shuffled his feet in place, saying his brother was currently in Florence in solitary confinement. As each part of this selection process unfolded in ‘slo mo’ for me…I tried connecting the dots, listening to the stories about every life, while witnessing and taking mental notes on the posture of the Judge and the Prosecutor on one side, and the Defense Attorney and Defendant on the other.
The Defendant was dressed and pressed into a navy suit and tie. His shoulders were like that of Atlas, and his hands were super size. I watched him…a lot. The more I noticed his confidence, his assuredness, almost smugness, the more I knew in my gut: he was guilty.
So it was a good thing my Juror #110 was eliminated in the next round. I looked at the 13 jurors that were chosen, and realized they were the ones who never raised their card to an objection, consideration, or participation. They were homogenous, unlike Eduardo and I, who, for one reason or another, had a story with more color. Not good or bad, understand…just different. I was released at 5:15pm after spending 2 full days breathing jury air. I couldn’t wait to get outside again, grateful that I wasn’t the one who had to make a decision about another person’s life…grateful that I surrendered to the possibility of volunteering my services and opinions for 6 weeks because it was the right thing to do…and grateful that through the natural evolution of the process, this trial was not the right one for me at this time.
In 18 months or so, that jury summons will show up again. I’ll be ready by then.
I had afternoon tea with Dr. Gladys McGarey in her enchanted cottage, complete with Quan Yins, angels and real-life bunny rabbits in her yard. We sat comfortably in her living room, amidst her many awards and personal treasures that challenged me to keep my eyes just on her. Her petite and spritely frame held a posture of informal and ageless greatness, chatting away, story after story, keeping me in awe of her world travels and connections. I had to force myself to stay in the present moment with her, traveling through time and a cast of characters that kept me on the edge of my seat. Often, I had to remind myself that she was 91 years old, though her energy and mind defied that fact. I was seated at the foot of a great master, after all, doing my best to memorize her sparkle as well as her words. Her braided silver knot, wrapped atop her head, looked more like a halo to me.
In her 91 years on this planet, Dr. Gladys has traveled the world as the Healer that she is, forever keeping her commitment to serve people first: ‘To treat people exactly the same is crazy making,’ she shrieks. ‘Medicine treats diseases, not people! My life’s work is to bridge the gap between holistic and traditional medicine, treating people as whole unique and individual beings.’ Known as the ‘mother of holistic medicine and natural childbirth,’ Dr. Gladys isn’t done yet. She is outrageously and courageously out there in the healthcare arena, committed to opening a prototype Birthing Center here in Phoenix since the one in the John C. Lincoln hospital recently closed. She has had meetings and conversations with President Obama, whom she notes as ‘the only President who ever asked for help’ in this world of healthcare. As a result, Dr. Gladys initiated a ‘Gathering of the Eagles, 40 well known physicians from all over the world, to ‘leave their ego at the door’ so they could bring ‘a paradigm shift to healing’ that will soon be presented to Congress to help heal a system that is so broken. Her vision for this new Birthing Center not only reduces birthing costs substantially, but, more importantly, brings the human touch and presence back into the most critically important part of life: birth!
Dr. Gladys is a living legacy, picking up the dream her parents, both American medical missionaries, started when she was born and raised in India. At the time of her birth, her parents had to choose again the work they were doing when the hospital they were working in, closed. ‘It’s in my DNA,’ Dr. Gladys declares absolutely. ‘I’m no where near done in helping and healing the birthing process. Women have known how to have babies since the beginning of time…then we interfered! The only babies I have delivered were my own 6 children…and I have only HELPED other women deliver their babies. The organic process is what I believe in, not the mechanical way where moms and babies are hooked up to machines, monitors, tubes and convenient c-section deliveries. Understanding and listening to Mom, her breathing, her pains and positions throughout delivery, is what matters most.’
Amen, Dr. Gladys. Shine on, light the way, to a more perfect world where BIRTH is indeed the beginning of a life’s magical journey. Dr. Gladys still walks this planet at 91, and will have a presence here forever more!
This is a fragile moment we share: endings and beginnings happening at exactly the same time…a letting go, while embracing. I don’t do well with endings, but I tell myself every time that they are necessary for me to grow. This month I was really challenged with 2 endings, two almost year-long projects that I adored and brought to beautiful closures. Now, I practice, again: letting go, while still embracing. I know I will miss the intensity of each, as I welcome the excitement of what’s coming next.
It was no accident that In Barry’s zumba class today, this First Day of the New Year, Lennon’s ‘IMAGINE’ was our cool down. I forgot how much I love that song. I heard the words like the first time…and I let my mind go: I imagined how good life can be…I imagined our world with no war and ‘nothing to die for’. What would this look like in my own world?…what can I do to serve more? how can I be more outrageous in my life? what do I want to learn next? how do I want to grow? I let myself imagine what this would look like, feel like….
Then, the class was over.
So, on this First Day of 2012, before I sit down and finalize all my resolutions, declarations, and promises for this New Year, I’ll give myself a moment to IMAGINE what my 2012 could look like. I’ll think beyond my usual goals and objectives, my lists of things to do. I imagine this New Year offers promise. I imagine more light than darkness. I imagine living freely.
New Year wishes to you and yours!
