Thursday, May 31, 2007

Forget something?

On Tuesday I went to see Seth Godin talk about his latest book The Dip. The talk was great, I got him to sign a copy of the book, take a photo with me, and told him that I was the one who sent him this picture of a remarkably un-remarkable shoe store.

At the start of the Q&A session after his great presentation he mentioned that he would give out prizes to the people who asked the best questions. I (and apparently everyone else in the room too) were enjoying the moment so much that no one remembered about the prize. I had even walked out talking with a guy about his video company.

s we parted ways outside the venue I recalled that the prize had not been awarded. The problem is that NYC "cool etiquette" requires that I shrug the prize off as unimportant and walk away. The kid inside me required that I shake off outside approval (aka looking cool) and go back and find out about the prize. We all know what I did...

I went back and got the prize! The Purple Cow Award given to those Transforming Business by Being Remarkable

(btw, I did ask a really good question about what strategies he'd use to engage the world-view of people who want their kids to go after their interests, not just do things to get into college.)

I get the prize, heartily shake Seth's hand, and once again leave the venue. After walking a full block I check my phone for messages, and also to see the photo with Seth, but I couldn't find it! I tried three times... this was not good.
Had I closed the phone too quickly and the picture not saved? Could I go back and ask him to take another picture? Wasn't that going to be too weird? I could tell that he was going to remember me, but no longer in a good way if I went back.

I had overcome NYC "cool etiquette" once, but twice? I wasn't strong enough. So, I accepted that somethings were just not meant to be.

A couple of days later I uploaded the recent photos to my computer ... and lo and behold...

Some possible morals:

- Don't worry, be happy
- Be more careful
- There's a fine line between assertive and obsessed
- [insert your moral here] (or in the comment section)

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

I hate it ... until that other guy likes it

On my way home last night I saw Mario Batali coming out of a ramen noodle restaurant that opened a while ago on 2nd & 13th. To me ramen noodles are pretty plain and basic food. I don't understand how so many have opened up in my neighborhood, let alone how people are willing to put up with waiting on a line (or just loitering) outside for some when there are plenty of good alternatives that serve up more than just noodles.

All that changes when you start asking a famed chef about his and his two dinner companions' descriptions of their meal. They proceeded to quickly list four "must haves" while rubbing their bellies and wistfully remembering their just-finished meal.

So now I have to go try that place ... the place that I've shaken my head at for months now as too trendy and "what's the point."

Worst comes to worst - I'll try it, shrug my shoulders, and move on... but at least I'll understand a bit more about why others will wait on line for it.

P.s. I tried the "amazing" pizza place next door and I don't think my palate is sensitive enough to appreciate the fineness of the ingredients.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Do you have two minutes?

I recently attended a two day workshop on the Sedona Method - a technique developed in 1952 by Lester Levenson, when doctors told him he only had a short time to left live. (He lived another 42 years because of this method.)

It takes you through a series of questions that gently confront and breakdown emotional frustrations.

Naturally at the end of the workshop I was feeling very relaxed and open. It was a gorgeous eventing and I went to eat dinner in the garden of a restaurant around the corner from my apartment.

I continued my habit of exchanging a few polite words with the waitress. At one point she said, "I wish I could be as relaxed as you are."

"Do you have two minutes?" I replied.

She said she didn't - at least not right then, but came by a few minutes later. I had her sit down across from me, took her through the Sedona Method, and humbly accepted her sincere thanks when she got up feeling more joyous and calm.