Tag Archives: life lesson

Sparklin’ Man

Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.


It wasn’t the words. It was how they were said.

His eyes? Right in your face.

His handshake?  Electric.

He sparkled from morning to night.

Chubby Rule Spaklin' Man

I’d sit in his office and listen for hours on end. Each call, each meeting, every hello; he was the focus, the man in command.

One day I asked, “Dad, why are you so full of energy, like ‘really alive’?”

“Greg,” he said. “Stand up.”

And stand up I did.

For the next 30 minutes we practiced handshakes.

Chubby Rule Handshake

Big smiles. Hearty hellos. Grasp deep in the palm.

Look straight in the eyes. Shake from the elbow. Stiffen that arm.

Dad even showed me how to use my left hand to overlap his right. He said that projected warmth and personality.

That night at dinner, Dad asked what I learned.

“Well,” I answered. “How to shake hands.”

“Anything else?” Chubby inquired.

I didn’t know.

He paused; then brought it all home.

“Greg, people live like it’s a crime to stand out. Why?  To me, life is a choice. Cringe in the shade or shine bright in the room.”

What I did I learn from Chubby that day?

Be bold. Liven things up. Shine bright in the room.



The Problem with Lawyers

Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.


“Why do you want to be a lawyer?” Chubby asked.

“Because they’re rich, smart, and people do what they say,” I shot back.

“How do you know lawyers are rich?” Dad continued.

“Cause you’re always complaining about how much they charge!” I answered.

“Fair enough,” Dad said with a smile.

“So how do you know lawyers are smart?”

“Cause you call ‘em when you’ve got a problem,” I replied.

“Greg, you’re thinkin’ pretty quick,” Dad said with a laugh.

“But what makes you think people should do what lawyers say?” he asked.

“Isn’t that why we call ‘em?” I replied. “To know what to do.” READ MORE 

Are You Really That Good?

Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.


“Greg, you’re not really that good,” Chubby said.

genius

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You told me so,” Dad replied. “You just said it.”

“Not true!” I exclaimed. “Dad, you must have misheard.”

“No I didn’t,” Chubby said. “Greg, you just told me you were the best. That’s when I knew you weren’t.”

“What made you think that?” I pleaded.

“Because people who are don’t say it – they don’t have to.  People who aren’t say it all the time – they try to sell what they’re not,” Dad explained.

READ MORE 

Salad Bar Germs

Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.


1959. David’s Buffet, Cincinnati, Ohio.

Salad Bar

Me? An 11-year-old eating machine.

Picture the most awesome salad bar in the universe. We’re not talking salad (in the cucumbers and sprouts sense of the term).

Heavenly hash. Deviled eggs. Creamy potato salad. Rich melted cheese sauce (with a few strands of macaroni).

It was gastronomic sin . . . a calorie rich, stuff-your-face paradise for big boys like me.

I had just returned to the table, my plate fully filled. Mom, Dad and Linda (my sis) were all there.

Chubby looked up and asked, “Greg, where did you grab the ladles that stick out from each bowl?”

READ MORE 

The Two Sentence Rule

Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.


1960. Zipping along I-75. Just Chubby and me.

Chubby Rule The Two Sentence Rule

We had just left Cincinnati to vacation in Northern Michigan. Mom and Linda (my sister) trailed in the car behind.

Suddenly Chubby looked over and said, “Greg, let’s play the Two Sentence Game.”

The Two Sentence Game?” I replied. “What’s that?”

Dad explained,

“For the rest of the trip neither of us can say more than two sentences before allowing the other to speak.”

“What are we going to talk about?” I asked. READ MORE 

Feelin’ the Donut

Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.


“Why donuts?”

Feeling Good or Good Feeling Chubby Rule

“What do you mean, why donuts?”

“Why do you eat donuts?” Chubby asked.

“They taste good,” I replied.

 “But do donuts make you feel good?” he asked.

“While I’m eatin’ ‘em,” I said.

How about afterward?” Chubby inquired.

(He was gettin’ personal. I was 12 years old and weighed over 200 lbs.).

“Not really,” I admitted. “I feel stuffed and my face is all oily.” READ MORE 

The Worst Decision I Ever Made

Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.


Chubby was perturbed. Restless, cranky it seemed.

“Dad,” I said, “What’s wrong?”

I made a terrible decision, he said.

A sales agent named Joyce just left our firm. She took several agents with her, customers too. It’s going to cost me a lot.”

Chubby Rules Decision
I’m sorry,” I said. “Can I do anything?

Yes” Chubby responded. “Don’t make the same mistake.”

What mistake? I replied.

I didn’t.” Dad answered.

Didn’t what? I asked.

Greg,” Dad said. “I knew Joyce was a troublemaker. Late for sales meetings. Complained incessantly. Criticized the company. I should have fired her a long time ago.”

Why didn’t you?” I asked.

“I violated my own rule.” Chubby answered. “I didn’t decide.”

I could see that Dad was angrier with himself than with Joyce.

Years ago when I started the company,” Dad said.

I decided that the worst decisions I’d make would be not to decide. That’s what I did with Joyce. I kept putting it off, hoping she’d change but knowing she wouldn’t.

I’m sorry.” I said. And I was. I felt bad for Dad.

Chubby Rules DecisionGreg,” Chubby instructed, “With every decision, there are only four options:

  1. Decide “yes.”
  2. Decide “no.”
  3. Decide it’s best to delay.
  4. Don’t decide.

Don’t confuse #3 with #4. It’s a critical mistake. That’s what I did with Joyce.

I didn’t decide it was best to delay. I knew better. Every day she was hurting the firm. I put it off . . .  I pulled a #4 wimp-out. And that, Greg, was the worst decision of all.”

The lesson I learned from Chubby that day?

Don’t pull #4 wimp-outs. 
The worst decisions are those you don’t make.