It’s not for them, and that’s OK.

Not everyone has time for your story. Even if it’s a good one.

Not everyone likes the taste of the dish you love to cook. Even if you think it’s delicious.

Not everyone can join you on your journey. Even if you’re great company.

Not everyone is excited about your work. Even if you’re endlessly passionate.

Even your friends. Even your family.

And that’s OK.

It’s not personal.

It doesn’t mean you’re worth less, or that your work is lacking.

It means your work isn’t for them. Or maybe it’s not for them right now.

It’s not for everyone. So who is it for?

If we could create a culture where we ensured everyone’s needs, we wouldn’t be afraid to give away our last dollar. Or to share it at least.

But we live in a culture that’s focused on wants, regardless of whether needs are met.

And when we prioritize wants over needs, we can never fully address the needs of others... because our wants — the kind that seem to drive our culture — those wants are never fully satisfied.

What is the best compliment?

The way you answer that question can tell you a lot about what you value, who you strive to be, who you respect, and where your quiet jealousies are hidden.

A short rant about the customer service flow chart. This is the scripted path that agents navigate based on customers’ questions and responses during a call or chat.

My issue is specifically about the end of the conversation. Many of these flow charts end with the agent asking, “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

They ask this whether they’ve helped or not. Twice, recently, I’ve had interactions where the person on the other end of the line was not able to help me. Not one bit.

And so the question, “Is there anything else I can help you with...” is one that annoys. In these cases, my internal narrator was quick to point out, “You didn’t help me with the first thing.”

Corporations: please. Allow your employees to be human enough to say, “I’m sorry we couldn’t help you today.” Sometimes, it’s the awkward truth. But when that happens, let the cogs in your big machine have the agency to acknowledge it, maybe even with a little bit of personality.

“My dream is to _______.”

Let’s take a look at that statement. What’s stopping you from living that dream?

Is it impossible? Or does it just seem impossible because it involves change, risk, sacrifice, or uncertainties that you’re not ready to face?

If it’s your dream — truly your heart’s ambition — wouldn’t it make sense to start taking steps towards it?

Yes, those first steps might be challenging. After all, it’s easier to talk about the dream you have for yourself than it is to begin making it a reality.

Or is it? Maybe, just maybe, those steps aren't so difficult... if you can just tell your own fear to take a back seat.

There’s a Keurig machine in an office where I work. A brew cycle for a 10 oz. cup takes 45 seconds.

Every day, at least one person will set a mug, press the brew button, and then walk away.

The idea — I’m sure — is that he will be able to accomplish some small task instead of waiting idly.

But often, the brewed coffee is forgotten.

Two things to consider:

One, the act of brewing coffee is perhaps what people seek. That it’s an alertness placebo.

Two, there are times when we feel overwhelm to the point that 45 seconds seems too precious to waste.

I offer no advice here, except this: wait for it.

If it’s worth brewing, it’s worth waiting.

There are different ways to approach drawing and painting.

One way is to start in one section, to complete it, and then to move on.

Another is to draw some registration marks, some sketchy lines, some general forms, and then to build up the work slowly.

A third way is similar, but it relates to an overall vision: it’s to complete the work such that it is always in a state of being finished.

It’s a mental shift. Instead of working section by section, or building foundations upon which to grow, the artist works the entire canvas at once. The whole of the work is considered — at the same time — throughout the process.

This approach is not always practical (a builder cannot pour foundations and simultaneously set windows).

But the concept can be useful — to work with an all-over approach, where there’s a continuous sense of completeness.

When you work in this way, you can’t hide behind the phrase, “don't look... it’s not finished.”

For some of us, the opposite idea — the idea of “please look, it’s ready” — could help us to grow in new ways.

Just as I was contacting a colleague, I remembered that he was in a different time zone.

Mid-morning for me, predawn for him.

Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our own world that we forget where others are.

And of course, I mean this both literally and figuratively.

The last airline ticket I used afforded me “premier” access. That is, I could board the plane before the general group of ticket holders.

Here’s the wrinkle: more than two-thirds of the ticket holders had “premier” access. More than two-thirds.

That’s upwards of 250 passengers waiting in line to board early.

When everyone is given special status, the status isn’t very special.

I thought it was amusing. Worth discussion, for sure.

But as you might imagine, there were plenty of sour faces in line.

There’s only so much that can fit on the table. Some of it’s important. Some of it’s urgent. Some of it’s extraneous.

And in addition to the things we’ve put on the table, other people contribute. She’s busy. She gets things done. We’ll add this one more thing to her pile.

Before long, things can start to fall. We just can’t manage it all.

So from time to time, we need to look under the proverbial table. To see what’s fallen off and gotten kicked to the side.

For some tasks, it’s a fine fate; those things weren’t important anyway. But sometimes — with shock — we’ll find something down there that has no business being forgotten. With relief that you’ve rediscovered it, give that project its proper place back on the top side.

I’ve had a woodworking project that has been coming together in the workshop for over two years. It’s almost finished.

But these final stages — the complicated glue-ups, the priming and finishing — these are stages I almost want to avoid. I can feel the temptation to procrastinate.

Here’s the thing: these remaining tasks all involve risk. If I screw up, I could negate hours of progress. Maybe weeks. I could be faced with hours and hours of re-work.

And yet, the final steps must be taken. In order to finish the piece and ready it for installation, there is work to be done, risky or not.

* * *

It prompts me to think of other situations where we hesitate to take the next step because it involves risk. That the next step could ruin some of the good work we’ve already done. That the whole thing might not work.

There’s a romantic allure to work-in-progress. It has promise. It hasn’t faced possible failure because it’s not complete. It still might succeed.

Like an unfinished screenplay. An incomplete degree. A rough draft.

We tend to protect the work that we’ve already done, and we hide from the judgement that will come following completion.

But we can’t stay in that unfinished state. Not if we’re serious. Not if we’re professional. Those risky next steps... we’ve been building up to them all along.

We’ve just got to take them.

When we’re out walking, and we smell a faint, but persistent odor of dog scat, we’re likely to check the bottom of our own shoes. “Have I stepped in something? Is it me?”

But consider other situations. A negative work environment. A combative relationship. An ineffective team. A gathering that feels unwelcoming.

Are we brave enough to ask ourselves, “Am I contributing the problem? Is it me?”

Airport check-in clerk: Have a safe flight!

Passenger: You too!

* * *

Sometimes, we’re on autopilot with our responses. Like the receptionist at the coroner’s office who absentmindedly says, “Have a nice day,” while ending a painful telephone call.

Or a politician’s practiced motion to shake a hand before seeing that the veteran has no arms.

When these moments happen — and they inevitably happen — it’s an opportunity for us to recommit to being present, mindful, and intentional in our words and actions. That is… after we shake off the pang of embarrassment.

It’s easy to feel grateful for things that happened today. Or yesterday. Even months ago.

But as time goes by, the intensity of our gratitude for things of the past can soften.

The kindness we encountered a decade ago.

The hard work of those who raised us.

The many sacrifices of past generations.

We’d do well to remember these things, too, from time to time. To be grateful for them, and to honor the rich and nuanced history that affords us this very moment in time.

Adolphe Monet had hopes that his son, Oscar-Claude, would join in managing the family’s grocery business.

* * *

There can be a big difference between what’s best for you, and what someone else thinks is best for you.

Sure, there are times when we’re a bit blind — when we brush aside advice that probably shouldn’t be ignored.

But mostly — particularly when it comes to our own hopes, dreams, and ambitions — we know what’s best. We know what drives us. We know there’s a unique journey that we have to navigate. One where we own the choices.

Ultimately, we know what’s best for ourselves, even if others don’t yet see it.

When visual artists are examining a subject, or developing tone within an image, we sometimes squint. (Go ahead. You can look at something and try it right now.)

Squinting helps us to see — very generally — what’s in light, and what’s in shadow. The finer details in each area fade away as the lights and darks coalesce.

It’s an easy way for us to see the overall picture, in a tonal sense.

* * *

Useful as it is, this technique is a little trickier to use when examining other things, like our lives, our circumstances, and our situations. To allow the endless details to momentarily fade away as we assess the light and shadow... the positive and negative.

But it’s worth a try.

And… we might even find that there’s a lot more light than shadow.

Do you seek to do good work?

Or do you seek praise and acknowledgement for what you do?

You can hold both in your hands, but the second part is a much heavier load; carrying too much of it will eventually sink you.

Sometimes, busy people behind counters like to pretend that customers are invisible until they’re acknowledged. That the best policy is to ignore the patron until she can be served.

For customers, however, the better experience is hearing, “Hello! We’ll be with you in just a minute.”

A simple acknowledgement of someone’s existence.

The same thing goes for when a coworker darkens your office doorway.

You may indeed be in the middle of something important. Deep into your work. Great. That’s a good thing.

But there’s a human in front of you. A human who is much more likely to appreciate a simple “please hang on a second” than to be silently ignored.

It can be helpful to think about yourself through the lens of, “I am the type of person who _______.”

Serve yourself. Figure out how you want that statement to end, and repeat it to yourself as much as you need to.

Then, make sure your actions agree with what you tell yourself.

The end of a year can be a time of reflection. A time of looking back to review our footsteps. To see where we’ve traveled. To see where we’ve stumbled. To see where we’ve taken brave leaps.

But it’s also a good time to ask ourselves, “What now? Where do we go from here?”

This fresh start... this arbitrary fresh start... the fresh start that we could have chosen yesterday, or the day before...

What does it mean this time?

Let’s not focus on the start of a year as though it’s magical.

Let’s focus on “now”. That precious opportunity of the present. To be our best selves. To shake off the fetters of our past. To make change happen. Not “this year,” but now. Always now… because that’s all we’ve got for sure: now.