CDTalent Enterprises

Have to admit waking up on sligtly less positive note this morning. It’s Day 3 of setting cell alarm for 7 am, and training habits take 30 days. It’s clearly a habit that needs relearning should a getting-a-little-momentum economy present better job possibilities, so I’ll get used to it. Shooting hoops in warm sunshine, thats an old school technique for relaxing body and brain.

Normally I’d be keeping one eye on ESPN for results, snippets of info about individual players or any lingering facts about these teams as they push to the Final Four, but its a crap shoot at this point if I get a piece of my ‘investments’ back in picking prowess (thanks New Mexico and St. Louis). I’ve knocked out a quantity of ‘fable’ material for a childrens book project with SC HOBY this week, but having something concrete to stake personal triumph on is lacking–picking a ton of winners in first rounds gets at least part of that back.

I *do* believe this country is about to throw off certain restraints and negatives though, so maybe I’ll try that ‘fake it till ya make it’ stuff. I considered this while shooting hoops in Tampa last week, when a real focus came through about it being 30 years since I left Tampa. My folks retired to Florida in 1988 when Dad, 83 when died at the end of January, was 59. THAT is kind of the crux of things for many Americans, because this is going to be a time for a sea change of major proportions.

We need to determine a new way to ‘Better’ because what we’ve been doing isn’t feeling right. Saying “what WE’VE been doing” might be inaccurate, but I’ve been hunkered down in retail and wondering what combination of push and some kind of break might move my cause back onto a more remunerative path. If Mom is a little confused about what comes next without Dad, she has a paid for home and money in the bank. Its not going to be easy, but thats what ‘us guys’ have been taking turns with visiting her, trying to keep things moving in right direction.

Believe it or not, thats where shooting comes in.

At the local court, I started using ‘the other basket’, and instead of chipping paint on my free throws I was making them easy–17 in a row, a streak I haven’t seen in a decade, and on my (un)patented turn-to-the-baseline-from-14′-out I could *feel* the gazeeet! stop action split second where you understand where the basket is and, allowing for physical drift and annnny other factor in the world, exactly how quick you release the shot–NOW!– to miss the edge of the backboard.

One, both FTs and long shot have been missing lately–30 years since Tampa have not been kind to my left knee–and when you lose confidence in something thats been so good so long, it does cause concern. Like when the prettiest girl in high school hits 46 or realizes the white jeans make her hips look wide. Charlotte no longer thinks its bullet-proof to stormy economics because “we’ve got two of the biggest banks headquartered here,” and BofA shareholders are grateful to see stock isn’t ‘under water’ any more. The unemployment numbers are down, and companies have finally decided to put people back to work, since all utility has been wrung from skeleton staffing, even if MiniMe thinks cutting hours is solution to all.

If its going to come down to attitude, I’ve got that, and it only took some time in the sun, an unexpected couple 100 payoff in commission and a new target to get it righter. I don’t expect a hearty dose of respect for my efforts or a raise (reports are even a 74- Very Good doesn’t get a raise), but Jack and I can see Nautica $$ if we crunch it the last week, so thats afoot.

Extra note of pride: my nephew Paul “put the capstone on his collegiate golf career” by halving his match for Oxford vs. arch-rival Cambridge. Brother Steve couldn’t be ‘on the bag’ because of back injury, but played in brutal cold and wind, it must’ve been epic. Steve says they were forced to only 18 holes both days, delayed start allowed high winds to remove 2″ of snow and actually dry the course somewhat. Winter rules for lifting/cleaning were in effect. Incredible!

Glenn S.

Explaining the title is easy but deep, although it’s taken a lot longer, two weeks, to get even these words into shape than I would have imagined. Eulogies aren’t easy; Mom noted my brother Mike wasn’t talking all that loudly at the church service before we buried my Dad, and Mike responded he’d been doing the best he could.

We all grieve in our own ways, and while I choked up a little while saying what I wanted to at graveside, I was glad to have written what I felt needed saying almost eight years ago for my folks 50th anniversary.

If there’s one absolute about having a loved one die, it’s that you shouldn’t wait until after the last moment to tell them how you felt. That was my guiding principle when composing a ‘take-away’ for friends and family at the happiest time of Mom and Dad’s life in 2005, and thankfully only minor updating got me through.

About the tabasco…

Having tasted some of the meatloaf-mac ‘n cheese-green bean lunch plate in his hospital room, I declared the meatloaf needed that particular condiment, and Dad rolled his eyes behind the oxygen mask, because he used to say I’d put it on corn flakes.

Knowing Waldo F. Shorkey (he rarely used middle name, so I won’t) only had 15% heart function, and when Mom reiterated to doctors  about no extraordinary means to prolong his life, “Why should they crack open an 83-year old man’s chest or put him on a ventilator he’ll never come off of?” was her reasoning, I was very aware the end was near.

That eye roll of recognition is an important something for my head and heart I’ve repeated many times since. My three brothers actually made it to Tampa by 6:00 Tuesday evening, an incredible and immediate support for Mom. When she’d been ready to let the only man she’d loved for even longer than the 58 years they’d been married go, that counted as the rightest time.

Gratitude for Being There

I’m grateful for the Luck-karma-Godsend of having two communicants from Christ the King waiting to get into ICU when I returned from a cup of coffee in Tampa sunshine that morning.

Dad was a lector/flower arranger there for 20 years, and when Mom and I had to leave after giving him some soup and water, the nurses call about Dad’s ‘turn for worse’ as I walked in the back door was followed maybe 30 seconds later by a call that a priest was already on his way.

My father getting Last Rites less than two hours later might’ve happened even if I hadn’t gotten him on their list, but that’s one of those moments that isn’t forgotten.

As succinct and dear as those 50th anniversary notes were, I’ll use them again now:

• How he came down our driveway in Schenectady, NY within 5 min. of 5:00 *every day* was a Goodness that isn’t easy to explain. Sometimes it seemed an inconvenience, but I’m smiling with memories of how the other half of our inevitable 3-on-3 basketball games would dig in defensively, knowing 19-16 wasn’t actually a loss if/when we got called inside for dinner. (Major props for our ‘5th brother’ Dave O. for coming too)
• Whistling tunelessly in his workshop and tapping a ring on the steering wheel during many, many family road trips. Swearing I took half a layer of paint off a telephone pole on that first drive after I got my permit.
• Accepting Mom’s “Let it be on your head!” about being paralyzed before signing a release for Pop Warner football and saying “Don’t get hurt.”
• Taking us to the Watervliet Arsenal early on Saturday mornings to tear apart wooden crates, my hammering/knocking apart skills something brothers have called on repeatedly since. How we managed to get one 24-foot beam home I cannot imagine.
• Christmas Cookies. Mom was the ‘regular’ maker, but those last haystacks and biscotti this Christmas were a long cry from the variety and tinfuls from 1960s-70s, the college years. Lacy molasses praline rollups and date filled ones, hours spent decorating others with cherries, sprinkles, slivers of almonds or little silver balls. Oh, and the eclairs in swan shapes!

It wasn’t in my written anniversary piece, but the fact he ate veggies, which he didn’t actually like, but did to set an example for four boys, was righteous. One of the stories he included in the leather journal I gave him, about how he lied about not going to eat a piece of coconut cream pie – which he dearly loved – before giving it to his oldest brother who was scraping the house, was elementally his spirit of giving.

Dad had polio as a child, was very proud about having served his country in the Navy -all four boys in his family actually served. Racquetball games, especially when I got pinned against a wall and needed him to make some shots in the clutch, are held dear. He couldn’t move very fast, but God! the joy in winning the moment against another father-son team worked great for both of us.

The way he turned around and looked at me before one particular serve, because he knew I was somewhat hung over, that’s a keeper memory. I had to dig his nasty lefty, Z-serve out with a low, just off the wall backhand, obviously that bonding that makes memories.

I didn’t actually cry all that much about his passing, and I believe its because he’d lived a good and full life, even if it meant leaving Mom alone. I’d raced down from Charlotte on Monday intending to pay my respects to Uncle Donnie, his baby brother who’d died in the same hospital on Sunday, also of congestive heart failure.

I failed on that, yet getting the last bits of time to give him a sip of water, to watch his open mouth beneath the oxygen mask, realizing he’d normally be making a racket with his snoring, was worth the effort.

Getting up to pee during the night on camping trips, you tried being subtle about shutting the camper door or shaking the floor getting back into a sleeping bag, but if he stopped sawing wood, you tried getting to sleep fast.

My cousin Frank (‘Skip’ for first 30 years of our lives), whose birthday and Dad’s funeral were Groundhog Day, gave an excellent perspective as we had some wings and a beer at the house.

“Uncle Walt had lots of little pieces of wood saved in the garage, because there might be a need for some particular piece for some future project he’d work on. As long as you’re thinking like that, you haven’t given up on life.”

Amen, Frank. And now I’m crying Dad.
Love, Glenn, Son #2

January is a slow sales month, and February is, well, worse. Tomorrow is my birthday and I certainly didn’t expect to be sweating the economics of 30 hour work weeks and how many $20 (75% off!) jackets I need to sell to pay for myself at this point in life, so getting some gripes off my chest just might be useful. If you’re guilty of similar behavior, consider being a ‘customer upgrade’ and change!

“All I want to do” is almost always trouble because the customer KNOWS they’re on wrong side of standard operating procedure. Lady brought a shirt to counter other day and “all I want” request was take her shirt from elsewhere and swap it for right size. “Its a Vineyard Vines, you won’t have any trouble selling it” was the rationale. Oh, and let’s do the same with this sweater. “Call a manager” is definitely a jaw grinder because obvious expectation is you’ll cave rather than risk embarassment of being overruled. After recently refusing to call a manager because guy pointed out (and NOT just kidding around) similar shirts in big/tall area were 40% off and this one had lot less material so it should cost less, his following me through three departments to see my name tag after suggesting he try that reasoning with another salesperson was unreal.

Won’t get overly deep here, but a couple things you can fix easily. Leaving clothes inside out and on the changing room floor–does your mama deserve a headslap for teaching you that? Can’t figure cost of 50% off item? Come on! Being max enthused about an item that’s exactly what wanted, then returning next day because wife or girlfriend didn’t like it. Returning some childrens game to my counter because you’re too lazy to go to downstairs; bringing Polo (or ladies wear returns) because going to righter place means some sneakiness would be recognized immediately. Especially with returns, being a nasty ‘bulldozer’ vs. remembering flies and honey/vinegar axiom. I may be ’empowered’ to cut you slack, but trying to prove some invisible DUMBASS is written on my forehead will NEVER get my cooperation.

Glenn S.

Te’o’s situation, which spilled over on Notre Dame and became a yippee! nugget for everyone from Katie Couric to Letterman, Saturday Night Live, and legions of Notre Dame haters, is probably not the most painful lie he’ll hear, but yikes! on embarassing. I recently had a female from online dating who mentioned being an entrepreuner that dealt in gold antiquities, was headed to Africa and hoped to meet when she came back. I smelled something similar to Nigerian bank scam, and while I hadn’t been contacted about helping get $26million out of a country for which I’d receive a grateful 15%, I did have experience with “help me please, I’ve been robbed/lost passport/no money but many problems about how to get home.” One note about not helping if I got that kind of message ended communications immediately, but that’s what experience is supposed to help with.

Even beyond that, I dated, had sex with, lived in same city with a particular woman for EIGHT YEARS, and while she was often ‘elsewhere’ for 2-3 weeks (and we ended things several times), the last blast was amazing. Worried about not seeing her I was talking to a friend of her’s when a laser of thought made me ask, “What do you think she does for a living?” The response–patient liasion for a local hospital–might’ve been legit, she’d graduated with related degree–but it was miles from what I thought. “Blood stock agent for Fasig-Tipton,” was my response to “what do YOU think she does?” The point is people can/will bamboozle you early, late, standing in front of you, for money (think Bernie Madoff) or no reason at all.

Knowing how enamored the media was about the dead girlfriend Inspiration angle versus ‘just’ his playing, I would have (hindsight is always so clear) gotten to ESPN guy before that Heisman event and said, “Look man, I know everyone is up about the Lennay thing, but there’s some screwed up aspects for me. I’ll give you first word about it real soon, just please don’t ask about it in front of all these people.” Co-opting some political truth or legal dishonesty while being quoted ticks me off, but it’s ever so different to ask for break because its reeeallly time to put brakes on the situation. Tough to think his stock value went down more for hedging around some truths like Bill Clinton about Monica than how Alabama running backs went right through his tackles is unfortunately going to part of his legacy. If he led Cleveland to the Super Bowl and had nine interceptions as Rookie of the Year, Lennay deal will be in third sentence.

I would also make sure the SOB who messed with me knew staying FAR, FAR away from my grasp was important.

Glenn S.

The Notre Dame claim to rising onto the throne of college champion was pulverized early by Nick Saban’s ‘Bama squad last week, officially becoming a dynasty The Bear can’t take credit for. There will ALWAYS be houndstooth hats and jackets worn, and Tide lovers will forever hug this years coronation to its collective bosom. Eaaaasy there about hugging and bosoms Brent ol’ boy, that’s THE QUARTERBACKS honey you’re drooling on…

It was 21-0 by the time I got from work to the business end of a Bacaratt at The Crisiz Center, and in absolute and statistical terms, the gold domers couldn’t get runners on the ground == pulverized. Notre Dame’s best move was offered late, and despite the derisive way I’ve viewed ND for a decade, they did earn their previous 12-0. ALABAMA *is* that good, and there’s really no controversy about Best Team right now. Ultimate playoff? I’ve never felt bad about two places lifting singular digits if thats how it came out. At the end of a week of bowls and an awesome opening set of pro games though, it became anti-climatic. Then came THIS weekend of football nirvana, and thankfully, the Irish getting whupped is quietly laid to rest, and everyone should pay the $5 you were willing to talk about “just to make it interesting.” Nice year and yes, Johnny Football DID deserve the Heisman more than your guy too.

Ray Lewis continues the Retirement Tour, and you can BET that warrior answers the bell next week. Most asked question: how do you not get far enough back to NOT allow a 72yard or whatever last gasp?

Work has involved beaucoup returns, but also wound up with more like 33 hrs. than previously proscribed 30. Saw plenty of football while carving out well above average weekend. Making positive strides on those special interests (like SC HOBY) because of 3-day off work week was cool. Decided as addition to BPBGRJ (bill paying, benefits giving regular job) to push some hours/units elsewhere, and both business meetings in that area were solid. I’ve reconnected with previous volunteer experiences, and bike riding or shooting hoops physical activity is always suggested, but doing fun or profound whatever that hits your Bazinga! button makes sense too. Meeting that Kiwanis group Thursday moved HOBY portion of my personal goals forward greatly–I’m ready for visit to South group with another lunch time available, then on to Columbia perhaps…Success isn’t always about the paycheck.

The NCAA does a great commercial about “This isn’t the finish line in life” thats equal to a previous “462,000 whatever NCAA athletes, and most of us will go pro in something else” public service message. I mention that because Notre Dame has nothing more to accomplish for now, and next year is their legitimate measuring period. Mine however has become creating units and dollars with the hours provided each week, same as its ever been. Now I have better communications tools though. Notre Dame put some points on the board at the end, and you KNOW ‘Bama wanted that shutout, so thats a mark of character. Me too! Will be my mindset about working a little more (or smarter) because it makes a difference in these trying times. Quality always counts, right?

And Notre Dame, much as that Tide rolled, Hurricane Sandy’s devastation of NY-NJ leaves comparison to THAT in rear view mirror. NOBODY better say Peyton failed again in ANY kind of same breath with that Irish loss either. Just sayin’…

Glenn S.

After 12+ hrs. on inventory and one of the last checkers out on Sunday, I’m taking an elementary step towards supplementing my regular bill-paying, benefits providing, reduce to 30 hours-by-executive-fiat-job, beginning with a 7:30 am meeting about fundraising that I scheduled around three straight days off. I’ve worked with Kurt N. before, and meeting includes web content and specific products-programs I’ll be promoting in the scholastic sports arena beginning shortly. Leaving behind economic negatives about a truncated ‘regular’ work schedule, I’ve decided to proactively seek additional opportunities in what I believe requires entrepeunerial spirit in economic action, somehow make my extra time worth while to others.

My professional background in large and small group motivation is a long-time strength, and with a manageable goal in group sales there should be a reasonable payoff for consistent efforts. I have always appreciated a well-displayed carrot, and at least until the end of this year that includes some commission $$ at day job in retail. Jack and I weren’t near last years figures, missing by over $7000, but nobody really was–Polo was $50k-plus shy of last December (which was a record) but we still pumped PLENTY of product down the stretch. Speaking from the ‘eat what you drag back to the cave’ mentality, working the Nautica line for 16 months provided opportunities for extra cash above commission. Our two-man dept. probably goes to 30 hrs. next week, so there’s really no growth possible there. Having consistently warned ‘day job’ customers about slashing staffing levels 20% might affect their shopping experience through FEBRUARY, I see an some pretty short-sighted personnel screwing for the sake of a probably unfixable budget. It’s not going to enhance anyone’s perceptions of Availabilty or Willingness to Recommend (a ghastly 25% on the first 4 returns of the year)when there’s factually nobody around to take their money. I’ve never been Just a Clerk ringing the register; I’m a Salesperson, that truly sorta terrific guy who gave succinct and clear directions, had solid and helpful info and opinions that’s missing from skeleton-staffing.

Getting back to guerilla marketing tactics and counting volume hits a pride chord, but I’m proud of the fundraising/sports memorabilia I’ll also be doing locally and for the So. Carolina chaper of the HUGH O’BRIAN YOUTH (SC HOBY) youth leadership organization as well. Committing to HOBY after 3 days of facilitating a certain Team Belgium in June is energizing to the psyche, brings personal giving to an elevated level. I’m taking advantage of opportunity to sharpen my game, and for my Bottom Line, serving a small but important clientele (like HOBY) for free works because it affirms my belief in Quality People doing the right things at the right time. Experts agree, if you’ve really got a passion that translates into actions for another organization or person, unpaid ‘free time’ in your weekly schedule becomes Better vs. just a bite.

They always say work your passion and you’ll never have a job. Or at least not a second one. When I start getting my production right, I’ll let you know.

Glenn Shorkey

It was great having the Duke football team in for their shopping spree (Cincy came Sat.) Sunday night, and maybe that’s because they looked an awful lot like what I remember about myself as a college athlete. Duke isn’t sporting a half dozen 6’9″ 347 pound linemen, and having met three of the running backs, including identical twins Jackson (generally fullback) and Christian Conway, I got a flashback to what being young and in primo shape looked/felt like. I won’t go deep on similar getting old and slow blast with all Ryan’s and Ian’s pals around at oyster roast, not when event set whole Christmas vibe up so wonderfully.

Duke provided a Belk Bowl crowd with all the excitement one could expect, a late fumble inside the 5-yard line while driving for a score in a tied game derailing a terrific effort. The final 48-34 score was enough to mark me down as someone who believes the rise of a new force in the ACC is coming. As one player laid it out, “Of course you start each year thinking national championship, but we took a major bite to make a bowl game after so long. I’m a junior; I’m looking forward to what we accomplish next year.” That’s legit, as was the player bringing over a sweater with a small broken button and asking if that might get a little further reduction. Suuuure–and its still not my stuff we’re shoveling out the door at 50% off (plus a 10% coupon on clearance).

The true Devil coming is an 11% reduction in fulltime associate hours. “Ho! Ho! Ho! peasants,” says store manager MiniMe after gathering all closer, “be glad you’re not being slashed like the maintenance and display people!” Calling for superior effort from those taking *NOT* the 5-6% cut he sorta-kinda tossed on the table as necessary to making budget is bulls**t when nary a single deposit has been made in the Trust part of a relationship. That shows a real cluelessness about personnel/personal concerns, but LYING about it adds an undeniable stench. To wit–hacking 4 hours from standard 36 is 1/9th or 11%, not 5-6– implies a mentality about everyone having STUPID tattooed on foreheads that he sees clearly. There was literally only ONE dips**t shouting ‘Allright you guys, yay! We can do $530,000!” at Friday meeting. Manager apparently feels he doesn’t have any legs (true enough) to stand on about ask/demanding more than starvation budget for hours, which he blew away with almost totally useless ‘extended’ times during December.

DUKE football sent a solid message of hope to many fans, and because becoming as big a deal as Coach K’s hoopsters isn’t a rationale goal, they’ll just build on this year and maybe become another Wake Forest, which suffered MANY years of beatings before getting into spirit of having a ‘real’ ACC program. Every message sent by TPTB is that the accounting unit each employee constitutes is going to be denigrated and abused more thoroughly in at least the short term, because if it works to balance things now, why change back? Managers are reworking their resumes, anyone having alternatives of any kind will be exploring them, and even if Duke returned in 6 months, there might not be anyone to serve them. Customer service numbers be damned-ignored-reinterpreted might also become basis for cutting hourly rates, but I’ve definitely been warning regular customers they’re in for more inconvenient questions than, “Do you work here?” and “Why doesn’t anyone have boxes at Christmas?”

And FYI, I have terrific personal/executive assistant skills…

Glenn S.

Yesterday Dad and I went shopping for things he hopes Mom will wear and some flannel shirts we hope the long, tall nephews will like. As a customer I was struck by almost the exact same “geez, what a freaking mess!”-minded feeling about areas I needed to search as I consistently bad-talk those less diligent associates about. Three out of four places we went (Jack obviously not included) said they didn’t have boxes, which is crap, since I KNEW I’d gone to get a supply myself on Monday when four skids worth of shirt/sweater boxes finally arrived.

‘Toast’ is where Jack and I are about possibility of hitting bonus for December, but we’ve been resigned to that for a while. After an $8800 Saturday where we lost another $3000 to plan, only an Arab sheik coming in and buying all the heavier coats for an extended family could make up being so far from $148,500. Store had several days of doing only 54-58% of goal last week, a hit that affected even Polo area and certainly wasn’t expected at this point in the season. While ‘Availability of Assistance’ score is back up, I suspect that’s due to customers knowing salespeople are behind the registers more than totally not there, but genuinely low staffing levels continue to be the case during extended hours (Sunday nights until 12:00 and THEN told not to close registers for 15 minutes? {bleep!} that noise)

Brother Steve’s Oyster Roast is something I’m looking forward to tomorrow in a big way. Nephew Ian did a great job on production two years ago, no roast last year because of Steve’s hip replacement, and because weather isn’t supposed to be ideal, a tent will make sure we’re relatively dry while scarfing and guzzling and enjoying the bonhommie of male bonding with perhaps 40 others. Nephew Paul is back from Oxford (England, not Mississippi) and Ryan, who turned 15 Monday and expects to pass drivers test for permit today are around, so all things are proceeding for family goodness. Mom and Mike making a huge comeback in pinochle the other night, well, that’s a burn I’ll just deal with.

Dad was nothing but cold at last roast and appreciated first white Christmas in 25 years only a little, but pushing him around in wheelchair because he got tired fairly quickly during 1 1/2 hour shopping is one of those moments that makes you realize just how precious time with loved ones becomes. You can’t watch the news about the funerals for those children and people slaughtered in CT and not sympathize with those who won’t be able to wrap their arms around a loved one again. Dad’s always been the Christmas cookie maker in our family, and a container of cantucci bars (I still think of them as biscotti) and haystacks (Chinese noodles with chocolate) are a far cry from the lacy pralines, date-filled or colorfully decorated shapes and other looked-forward to production of the 60s and 70s that will always be memories of The Good Good Times. At 83 he just can’t get up the energy to bake all day so ‘us guys’ can enjoy cookies any time we’re in the house and have tins full of stuff to take home too.

It impossible not to feel a small but real regret about that, even more than being toast about any dab of bonus that won’t appear in a January paycheck. Not when so many, in Conneticut, Syria and elsewhere lack basic necessities like food and heat and no longer around family and friends to laugh with or kiss good-night. I’m sincerely grateful for a haystack and being able to watch NCSI with the folks, even if Dad nodded off. I’ll hug them both for as many Christmas’ as possible, suck down my share of oysters and cold beers, and just maybe learn how to make cookies to bring to others less fortunate in the future.

Glenn S.

For all the naysaying about the Panthers failures, everyone contributed a fair share to Sunday’s 30-20 crunching of the hated Atlanta Falcons.  No one, and I mean NO ONE on the Carolina side was forgetting how Atlanta QB Matt Ryan told them to “get off my f**king field!” after he’d survived a seven sack performance to win the season opener 30-28.  I might’ve cooled off a bit since the late manager wouldn’t allow me to leave early last night despite having zero–absolutely true–ZERO customers for nearly three hours and a department in exquisite shape, but I have a feeling there’s going to be similar negative vibes sent his direction in the future.

Give the Panthers credit, especially for the 53-yd. TD from Newton to DeAngelo Williams at exactly the point in game (4:11 in 4th) that they’ve yakked up leads several times this year. Newton silenced, at least for one week, the critics of his less dynamic sophomore year in the NFL with perhaps his most solid effort since that first game, posting a 23/35, 280 yard-two TD day and adding another TD and 116 yds. rushing on 9 carries. Beginning with a high bullet to TE Greg Olsen on Carolina’s first touchdown drive of the day, both sides of the ball performed as most expected them to all year, the offense pounding out 195 yds. rushing while dominating possession (35:47), holding Atlanta to 35 on a paltry 11 carries and building a 23-0 lead before allowing a touchdown with 4:48 left in the third period. Linebacker Luke Kuechly continued his exceptionally solid season with 16 tackles (11 solo).

Of course, most Carolina fans have learned to be afraid of what could happen before the 0:00 mark, but the defense stopped a two-point conversion early in the 4th and recovered an onside kick with :53 left, so a collective sigh of relief was finally enjoyed by all, right Ron Rivera?

As to ‘Touch’ of that manager, such unimaginative play calling in my particular clutch situation (Newton apparently hasn’t learned to audible past things as well as the Redskins heralded RGIII either), the disconnect is definitely aggravating. The Powers That Be are on record as wanting to support associates with feedback, coaching, and an environment of ENCOURAGEMENT AND TRUST, but hearing, “Oh, you have tomorrow off? Go back and pick up another department instead of leaving a cheesly 25 minutes early” builds nothing but resentment. On the bottom line, the only fact that really helped me chill out was understanding someone between TPTB and him was probably responsible.

An old adage, “Stick a fork in me, I’m done” has come through in discussions with several associates and managers. Let a rising economy and the prospect of carrying health care benefits to another job become a hard core reality, a once-proud ‘team’ might quit on a coach who rules without integrity or charm.

Glenn S.