WHEN BEZTIES TURN IN TO BOOTY CALLS OF A FEMALE KIND

It starts with making calls that take days to get returned, if…..

And then when calls or texts are returned, it is at a convenience to them, their wants, their needs and desires, and then… nothing for weeks, even months until that call or text or email comes, usually a text asking to do something with them of their want, their needs and desire…..

The signs were there- promises of things that would be done, showing up on your door step at late hours ONE cup of whatever in hand, not two, one for them, one for you… ONE

There was dropping the blunt hint of wanting a specific pitch-in benefiting their life, their convenience, an inconvenience to the askee. The talk centers around their problems with their spouse, their teen, their out laws and bosses. And then there is that use of the ‘word’- the J word, the K word, the M word, the T word and the N word, non of which are used in your home or vocabulary.

Nothing is said. Women are women, timid to speak up, moreso when the offensive one is a Beztie to do things with, maybe, hopefully, for life, or almost as long, until one day, damn if it doesnt smack of Booty Call Of A Female Kind.

Women do make Booty Calls on friendships. Just like in dating men (or women), women do come in to a friend relationship making promises that dont get kept with intentions that came off great out of the chute but, over time, petered (or paul’d) out. It is dating without the sex. It still doesnt feel good to note they werent there because of you.

Know this. It isnt you. It is them. They dont have what it takes for going the long haul. When the proverbial sh*t hits the fan, they will leave you S.O.L., hangin out there on your own where you figure you are better to be, until the next potential Beztie comes along and you try again.

Booty Call Bezties chase when you pull back.

The once in a while text turns in to e-stalking. The “I dont think so” response to their texted suggestion turns into eight more texts each one a cell phone screen longer than the prior text.

Saying nothing doesnt work. Saying something isnt listened to. Late night texts after nine, their talking about their ex or other girlfriends or moms, kids and husbands, learning their week was filled with other women friends….

Don’t take it personal. It’s not you. It’s a Booty Call of a female kind. Women with testosterone. Count to ten, wait 8 weeks and keep on keeping on.

FRC STAYING POWER & STRAW POLLS

Staying power, that is a reward for visions that stand the test of time well. The FRC Values Voter is a mainstay of the D.C. political tourism circuit. Like clockwork, every year, the Family Research Council’s annual convention of faith comes together in North West D.C. Next year will be different. No, not in Jerusalem as the prayer goes this time of year, the Jewish new year, but next year across the Potomac, at the Gaylord Hotel in Prince George county Maryland.

Tony Perkin’s F.R.C. annual Summit is a must stop at for presidential contenders in the years of campaigns racing up to the final vote in 2016. This year is no different. The ‘they’, the hopefuls came in crowded race- Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, Dr. Ben Carson, Governor Bobby Jindal. On their day, Friday, the presidential candidate day, they came, they talked and they hoped they conquered, before heading back out on their POTUS trail.

To the regular attendees, there is little that is different. That, the familiarity is what keeps these attendees coming back year after year. The F.R.C. is the faithfuls camp reunion where friends see old friends, meet new friends and catch up on shared friends that have left them.

The 2015 was elevated to an even higher level of patriotism with this years gala dinner honoring every day people who did extraordinary things, the real superstars who stood up for their convictions in faith, of faith- a clerk, a baker, a fireman along with others told their beliefs were no longer valid.

Kim Davis’ defenders were not the party she belonged to foreheads but men and women from across the aisle standing next to her as her moral fibers were being stripped. Kim Davis stood at the dinner, reborn, a republican. Davis was already a Christian. In a world that holds a different benchmark for Hollywood celebrity multiple marriages, Davis a hometown girl was vilified, publicly raked over the coals for her conviction to marry not live with the men outside of the sanctity of marriage.

Perkins provides a safe forum for people of faith to come together in. And leave from. The Duggars, past attendees at after F.R.C.s events were noticeably absent post the disclosures of son Josh. Not to worry. The unscripted reality that ruled television the past weeks was paralyzing as people witnessed employers flip on their employee, voted in by people who knew her faith.

Davis’ employers made her their sacrificial lamb.

The world watched newscast after newscast, streamed video after streamed video showing workplace violence Davis’ employer, the state did not protect her from- people verbally insulting her, verbally offending her. Davis watched as her employer became complicit in hate speech, against her, leaving her to fend for herself.

Until Conservatives crossed the political divide  and stood with Davis.

The voter Summit is showing its years, the A list of radio row were elsewhere. News competition being what it is, pope stalking was more attractive to mediathen men on mounts battling for their win at the White House. The stalwarts stay. Besides, times have changed. No one needs to be anywhere to be there anymore. Live streaming has become a death knoll to events. That said, the Grand Ballroom was packed.

Kudos.

Non profits were in the  exhibit area- faces of conservatism activism over the decades still present in the conversation of freedom and faith. The swag is candies and ‘pray pins drink sweat sleeves, an occasional books. The conversation is easy. The friends are there. Friends of all colors, ages, plus.

Don’t buy the news alleging the Conservative party is vanilla. Not at all. The FRC is proof positive the Conservative party is vanilla, chocolate, cherry, blueberry and cinnamon.

In the main hall, when the POTUS wannabes are gone, speeches are delivered by activists delivering messages of God, and politics. And dinners.

Attendees race to get speakers books signed. The big announcement of the day is, annually, the result of the Straw Poll, announcing its Presidential choice. And the winner live cast on Fox TV is, was, Ted Cruz, followed by Dr. Ben Carson and in 5th place, The Donald.

Interesting.

In a world driven by polls, interesting.

Authors Note: As long as I covered news in DC, a staple at protests and just plain driving up and down the street, have been the protesters with placards and truck sides  embellished with images of dismembered babies and fetal parts. And then, the videos were released. Those videos. Yup.

Point of sharing  is the annual presence of the sandwich truck outside of conservative events, that truck, with larger than man size life images of fetal baby parts, arranged so the head, hands and legs are where they should be almost. The body parts are separated. And across the street is a restaurant wondering what it did wrong to deserve this truck across from the restaurant’s lunchtime and dinner crowd, as people sat eating their salads and such. Just like in the videos that are bringing good people together across a political divide of horror asking, is this how far we have fallen as a culture, or, more correctly, lack of culture and couth, if baby parts can be sold from a menu……

THE NORDSTROM CUSTOMER SERVICE MODEL A LA WALMART

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It is the classic lesson in customer service. Few know it. I do. I teach it when needed like last week. Simply, the customer is always right.

The retailer, Walmart, had a momentary lapse of forgetfulness of priorities. Four call backs later and asking for a supervisor, I began to teach the Nordstroms Model. Guess what, six days later, Walmart’s Automotive department got it. Love them.

They remembered the customer in service.

Don’t take it wrong. This is a compliment to Walmart’s team in Arlington. Long hours, longer days, customers that complain is more the norm than people are able to admit to anymore in a world of social media used to bully and blast. To not take a moment and thank the team for overcoming the downfall of technology that added to the remiss, would be unfortunate when it is as easy to commend team members who put the customer back in to service.

I learned the Nordstrom’s model back in the ‘90s. I had attended a Beverly Hills Chamber of Commerce meeting. A speaker from the food services industry told a story, the Nordstrom Customer Service story that went on to become a staple in Customer Service Industry bibles.

It goes this way.

A farmer walks in to a Nordstrom’s store, hefts a tire unto the counter and said, “I want my money back.” The sales clerk was taken aback by a tire on a Nordstrom’s counter in the dress department.

She politely explained to the farmer, “Sir, we sell dresses.”

The farmer answered, “I bought my tire here.”

The clerk tried again, “Sir, we sell clothes not cars.”

The farmer, repeated, a little louder “I bought my tire here,” then hitched his thumbs in to his belt loops.

The clerk, schooled in Nordstrom’s Customer Service model, begged a moment from the farmer, called over another clerk to hold her place, and the farmer company at the counter, then stepped in to the back to consult with her superior, said to her superior, “Sir, we don’t sell tires here, we sell dresses.”
Her superior said, “I know, but we are Nordstrom” as he walked her back to the customer where the farmer, and tire, were waiting.”

The clerk’s supervisor asked to see the farmer’s receipt, which the farmer produced that showed a tire store had been located at that same spot that later became the supervisor’s Nordstrom. The clerk’s supervisor counted out the exact change owed the farmer, took the tire with as the clerk’s supervisor returned to his office, tire in hand.

The farmer left pleased.

The clerk followed her supervisor to his office. Without the clerk saying anything, the clerk’s supervisor looked up and said, “In Nordstrom’s stores, the customer is always right.”

Walmart stood behind the warranty of a new tire that deflated under warranty. Technology’s overreach into customer-retailer relations created problems with accessing product in real time along with interfering with other steps in the relationship. A supervisor and team captain took it upon themselves to go the extra mile for a customer.

The upside is, Walmart came out ahead, two baby outfits, a golden book, a sports bra and sweat top and a wish that Walmart superstore was closer. Imagine, a store that has everything from apples to stuffed zebras with everything in between under the same roof.

OMG, my dream vacay is now camping out overnight at Walmart, glamping at the ultimate. Walmart has everything!!!! Food, clothes, snacks, clean bathrooms, bedding, mattresses, books, TV’s, radios, did I say books, crafting stuff, is this not heaven on retail earth?

As if it couldn’t get better with Nordstrom’s, it did. On a recent foray to Nordstrom’s lingerie department, albeit the annual sale time, I received a thank you note and card from my sales assistant. As scary as one could make getting a card from a sales clerk, let’s reframe it. In a world of impersonal emails flooding my Inbox, someone took the time to hand prepare, post and send a note saying ‘we see you, you exist for real.’ Amen. Business card included, too. Take a note, big box retailers.

Why, I don’t even have to pack, bring makeup or think twice about anything because I can do everything once in 24 hours without even repeating myself. Damn, I would forgo camera shyness to live this dream. Birthday is coming, Walmart. Call me. Call me, Sam. You got my digis.

Linda, Mike? You rocked the Nordstrom Customer service model. You made this customer feel like a queen for a few hours. Thank you. Grin, looking forward to 24 hours on your turf….. !

UNDERSTANDING THE FUNK OF FOIA & WHY PEOPLE FREAK OUT, MAY SAVE A LIFE

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The other day I met a man who shared he holds a top job in the Administration. He made it clear he doesn’t work for the Administration. He is a lifer. A long timer. In the real world, they are scoffed at as Federal employees.

Live in D.C. long enough it is wisely known that a snowball cannot be thrown without knocking over about 70K Federal employees. They are everywhere, migrating from around the country, even world, for the guarantee of the three S’- shower, sh*t and shave. Being a Federal employee is security. Being a Federal employee does not mean they are the brightest of the bright. More often than not, they are the complacent, unwilling to rock the boat enroute to pension.

They are just people, at work at 8 and leave at 5.

That is a problem.

This man volunteered out of the blue, he got a F.O.I.A., a Freedom of Information Act request for data on something or other. He had no clue what it was for. He signed the paper denying it.

My eyebrows rose. My question was direct, “why did the man file the F.O.I.A. and what did he tell you was his reason for filing it.”

Dunno “said the Chief of that Bureau as he nibbled on snacks.

“What did he say when you spoke to him” I asked.

“Dunno,” the Chief of the Bureau said, “Never asked.”

I was incredulous. In social circles, the best one can curvaceously explode with is “O.M.G. you didn’t pick up the phone to hear him out, to find out who he is and what can be done?”

“No” he said “he probably wants money or fame, all Whistleblowers do.”

And there you have it why people turn up at workplaces with guns, often. No one took the time to take the person out of the building for coffee to sit down and ask “hello, how are you and who are you?”

A few years back I was at the Social Safeway in Georgetown. Yes, D.C. names our Safeways, – the Soviet Safeway, it’s shelves were almost always bare; the Secret Safeway, it was hard to find it and the Social Safeway where people went to hook up, so I heard.

Starbucks operated a concession inside the Safeway. Safeway employees ran the coffee stand. It wasn’t rocket science work. All it took was asking “may I take your order please” followed with a “how are you paying” then wishing a good day.

One man could not manage that. He was curt, flippant and so weird that customers complained. I come from the Smiles Can Win culture. My smiles were not winning. It got to the point that I spoke to the manager, cautiously. I didn’t want the man to lose his job. My professional opinion was the man was qualified for a job, not this one. This one needed Social Skills..

To my horror the Store Manager opened a drawer exposing papers upon papers of complaints about this man. My eyebrows rose, I asked, “What did he say when you spoke with him?”

The manager answered, “I haven’t spoken with him. I am getting ready to fire him.”

A mentor taught me to ask people if they are open to a thought. Their answering “yes” engages them in ownership of the answer. The Store Manager said “yes.”

I shared, “Have you considered taking him outside of the store, across the street for coffee, chat with him, get to know abit about him, hear him listen…”

The Store Manager said, “I never thought about that.”

The world now knows the shooter of the TV crew lived a hidden life. The murder of these two people began with H.R., Human Resources. Someone did not ask pertinent questions that may have saved the life of these two kids maybe not of two others.

The red flag was there with the man using a name, Bryce Williams, that is nowhere as near impressive as his real name, being a Third, part of a lineage. Thirds and Seconds don’t always see their ‘tack ons’ as impressive. To them being a Second or a Third is an anchor they don’t want to talk about, a liability of having to answer who number One is and whether they lived up to Number One’s accomplishments or could escape his failures.

Congressman Chris Van Hollen was threatened when it came out in his 2010 re-run for office that he is a Second. His constituents never knew.

Van Hollen The First was a giant among men. The world will learn more about shooter “Bryce Williams” over time, more than his being an aging hot rent-boy going for $2000 a night, a success in that field. And of the man denied a F.O.I.A. that his boss did not invite for coffee?

Well, there are some more things the man said that had me worried enough to pen this piece that a simple enough coffee and walk around the block may or may not mitigate…..professionally speaking, is he the man for his job?

No. Not until he learns to pick up the phone and say “Hello, how are you and who are you….”

WHO THE HELL IS RUNNING TRUMP’S CAMPAIGN

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TheDonald is best compared to the fire engine or cop car racing on a street sirens blaring so that people pull over to the shoulder to get out of the fire enginge’s way. The smart people are those that immediately jump back on to the road threading traffic in the draft of the Emergency Services car, full speed ahead.

The question foremost to my mind is who the hell is running Trump’s campaign, a political manifestation of the fire engine parting waves of traffic to make way? Why isn’t that person(s) threading the political needle leaving no room for question or, proverbial holes, that could tear Trump’s campaign apart?

Failure to dot ‘i’s and cross ‘t’s flies in the face of P.R. and logic, as does failure of Trump’s team to build out on his trademark “You’re ……”.

Fill in that blank, I won’t used TheDonald’s trademarked Catch Phrase fearing litigation by TheDonald, a little too aggressive with suits. I will create my own suggesting TheDonald use two golden words will tear a raceway to the presidency the day TheDonald declares, two words that unemployed, financially hurting American are desperate to hear, a promise to learn the pathway being able to provide ,  “You’re Hired” accompanied with ‘Vote For Me If You Want To Hear those words.”

With a reputation for brilliance in marketing, Trump strategists are leaving me wanting for more. These are desperate times getting more desperate.

Failure to clarify his family vestment in Immigration, grandfather Drumpf, Ivana and Melania as talking points to rebalance the miscredit to his name of illegal v legal immigrants, was One.

Failure to answer detractors that business comes with failure and success but track record of more wins than losses that is the goal to aspire to, is Two.

Failure to state his foreign business expertise and foreign government relationships evolved over his decades of licensing his named, brand to buildings and such around the world is Three.

No, I am not holding my breath for Nene Leakes to start stumping for the Donald or any other of the reality checks of the RHO(__) franchise. Quite frankly I admire the man for keeping them out of this circus. Although it would be nice for Marla, Melania and Ivana doing pop ups for their man. Let’s be real, if anyone can speak to women about rights,wrongs and paychecks, it is these three.

I expect TheDonald to step up his game. I do want to know the Donald’s intention for his brood- part of his cabinet? Ambassadorial appointments, give us a hint.

I do want Thedonald to dish on what is discussed at Davos.

I want TheDonald to state emphatically he has no back room business deals with Bill.

In the least, I expect TheDonald wag his finger at his current political team that Sarah Palin ran rogue and in his trademark way, as only TheDonald can, I expect declare, to me, “You’e Hired” then send me on my way to Ireland.

Bring on all the comments TheDonald may make, but nothing beats providing the demanded details that the devil is in. As for working for TheDonald? In a heartbeat. A talented gal can dream cant she…

TRUMPS “PEOPLE OF TALENT” IMMIGRATION IS HOLE-Y

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There are two ways to enter America illegally and off the I.C.E. radar, by racing across the border or by coming in living invisibly on cash.

A fellow passenger reminded me. I took a bus ride. From New York to D.C. You do that sometimes when spontaneous decisions and serendipity rule. I took Bolt.

The young lady next to me attended GWU. We talked. You do that when you sit and slide for hours in seats next to each other. Once laughter settled, we talked. And my eyes widened as I learned the “more to the story” on immigration dominating the presidential 2016 race run.

She is Korean. She entered the country at age 12. Her parents were in Korea. They sent her to America with her aunt and uncle. She is Korea passported not America passported. She cannot be. She does not exist, technically, except at GW when her tuition check cashes. GWU is a private school. Last tuition fee I recall was about $54,000, maybe up since then. I heard that number in and around 2009 at GWU Patriots weekend as part of a headline comedian’s shtick, show, routine.

She explained as long as her tuition is paid in full she doesn’t need to identify or register or anything, successfully, I would say since she is in college, entering America at age 12.

Oh yes, she has a Social Security number so she can work.

This isn’t the first time I heard, or wrote, about foreign students entering America and securing Social Security numbers. I was at the M Street Social Security office a few years back with a peer. He was curious about the young people there in the Social Security office. As a journo, I don’t wonder, I ask.

I asked.

The students were American University students, another private institution. The students were at the Social Security office to get their cards so they could work. They were not Americans. They were Asian, interns at CAP, a democracy non-profit.

So let us be clear, for all the public expression of shock at infants, toddlers and tweens risking death and rape to come to America for a better life, here is the rest of the story. The poor storm the borders, the rich buy their way in. Let us repeat, the rich buy their illegal presence in living off the Immigration Visa overstay and other Border security penetrations.

Ask this question, what good is the tallest wall that can be built between America and Mexico, when planes filled with people with cash can just fly right over them….

A LEADERSHIP LESSON FROM MOSES

The role of a leader is to defend, redeem, preach and govern.

A leader cannot point the way. A teacher just can’t teach. A leader must have intuition, empathy and know how to delegate, giving guidance in a way the recipient will absorb and digest. A leader must observe, be merciful knowing when a lamb is thirsty needing to drink.

The role of a leader is to nurture. When a person leaves their faith they are as if the lamb that ran from Moses to water to drink. A person leaving their faith thirsts for meaning in life.

The true leader will walk with his protege, re-fill their depleted faith, be their defender, the ultimate sacrifice.

Moses learned a lesson in leadership. Moses faith was depleted.  Moses lacked the esteem to believe the people would hear his message.

God revealed himself. God refilled Moses depleted faith. Moses didn’t feel worthy. Moses said , “Who am I?” God said to His protege, “I will be with you.”

Moses said, “no.” Moses knew he wasn’t going to be the person to lead the Israelite in to the Promised Land.  Moses knew he wasn’t worthy. So, Moses said the people needed to be spoken to and that he, Moses, had a speech impediment.

Moses begged God to send someone else to get the job done.
Moses knew the Israelites would be exiled again. Moses knew the temple destroyed.  Moses knew the future of Israel.

So, God gave Moses a test, the burning bush. Seven days, seven nights, Moses resisted that test that teaches us that while leaders can be born, Leaders can be made, that a true leader takes a lifetime of tutoring, the Leadership lesson from Moses .

WHY I HATE BRUCE

Bruce, you say you are happy now that you are a woman. From a woman, let me tell you most of us women go through our lifetimes unable to say that.

Beyond the esteem thing many of us struggle with, there is a lot more to being a woman than putting on a short skirt and heels. That is not being a woman, there is more.

A 65 year old man wearing a dress and assuming a new identity, bypassed what we girls go through, the night sweats, bloating and menopausal weight gain.

Our twins have tumlbed beneath our equator to our knees. The hand we reach out to pick groceries off the shelf belongs to someone else. How can all those wrinkles be explained away. The brown spots, continue to appear exponentially. One day all those dots will be connected shaping out to look like the Statue of Liberty even Iceland.

We watch men grow old and get called gorgeous. We get old, we get called Bella Abzugs, Golda Meir or just, “ma’am.” The bags under our eyes are big enough to carry change in. That wreck of a neck looks hangs more like a turkey’s than we care to admit. All of that beauty product, we paid hard earned dollars for, doesn’t come with money back guarantees. The ‘they’ who market it know we will believe anything and pay top dollar for hope. The only thing that will ever make us look younger is standing next to someone a lot older than us.

As women we had a long time friend. We named our visitor, George. Before we were tweens we couldn’t wait for George to arrive. When George arrived it was usually at the most inopportune time and place while we were wearing light colors and in public. We had no idea for how long, every month, or how long in our life that George would stay in our lives. We knew one thing. It wasn’t a quiceaneras, communion or bat mitzvah that made us a women. It was George.

Oh yes, along with George came odors and options over pads, tampons. And boobs. Guys stopped talking to our face. Their eyes would drop to our twins.

We would spend time in store aisles trying to interpret which was our best choice of pads or tampons. There never was a best choice. The choice would disappoint at the most inopportune time and place. All the odor eating parfumed product in the world could not convince us the ‘they’ could smell us coming. And standing up? Well, we had to learn to camouflage dress. yYou know that jacket or sweater that would drop far enough to cover up red, just in case. There was also the nonchalantly, casually glancing side and back to the chair, just in case George let his presence be known. This is something we women knew as an artform. You won’t.

Cramps? Nothing like runners cramps you might have experienced as an Olympian. Cramps so crippling, for some, they could not even get out of bed.

There was also a sisterhood we shared amongst our friends. Darned if it wasn’t uncanny that George would come visit us all, in time, at the same time, month after month after month until George stopped coming. That is when we began to feel old and liberated at the same time.

George gone meant menopause arrive. We were no longer able to procreate, a double edged emotional sword. Realities settle in.

Our bellies never got quite back to where they were before the kids were birthed. Our hips are so wide we would block traffic on the 95. Most of women still haven’t got past the mentality of travelling in herds. Someone had the bright idea now is our time to embrace the color purple. I hate purple. I want to wear the same clothes you do.

So as women, out of frustration we eat. And with eating, comes wrong foods that work on our systems differently from men. Some food references mean something very different to us than they will to you. Cottage cheese? No, not the kind bought in the store. To us women, it is something you know it when you got it. As for cranberry juice, it is yet another girl thing to drink to combat things girls get.

As women we are science experiments for doctors and nurse practitioners. And targets of medico-s harping products, some that injure in ways count your blessings you cannot experience. You wont ever feel the shame of a doctor diagnosis, “Women your age…” I.U.D. is doctor code for I.E.D. making some women explode with cysts where there were non before. Nor will you know feeling blessed to have dodged the uterine bullet of complications from refusing surgery to put that darn thing in a hammock sling.

The best we women had to look forward to was ‘accept our outside because it is our inside that counts.’ Or, ‘beauty is only skin deep’ that’s why you spend hours with a team in front of a mirror dolling up. “Tuck” is something we cannot do making your teeny mini look we our version of penis envy. There’s plenty I would love to tuck, but it spills over, it seeps out. As much as I try to cage the beast, its busts borders, my ya-ya pours past.

With you wearing designer duds up to your kazoo, we real women lost our equal playing field we hated women on. We could brush off Andy Cohen’s “Real Housewives” franchise excusing their plastic surgery as something we would ‘never do’ or if we did, ‘we would do a life transformative choice maybe ending up looking like Christie Brinkley or you. As a guy you look stunning as a woman at 65. Plastic surgery isn’t my cup of tea. If the girls dangle even more, I will flip them over my shoulder shawl style to stay warm while I battle off cupcakes and blonde brownies salesgirls try to convince me the calories wont stick. I fell for that line once way back when pulling out was a fable innocent girls fell for. After all, we trusted men with poker faces. And then, 9 months later…..

Mattel once did a toy test giving girls the trucks and boys the Barbies. The girls dolled up the trucks. The boys shot each other dead with their given dolls. There is a taste, sorta like a taste test, a test. I wont describe it to you now but if you dare, I will subject you to the test in person. It is a test of tastes itself, something all women do, regardless of culture or zipcode. The choice is yours, literally. What you choose will determine if you got enough in ya’ to claim title as Real Woman or just dig your daughters’ and stepdaughters tastes in clothes. Who wouldn’t.

So there you go, Bruce. I get it about wanting to look like a woman. We want that too except you changed the benchmark we grew accustomed to …. us. As a real woman Bruce, I really don’t hate you, I just hate that you didn’t get to live more like me… though would love the Pat Field’s clutch, babe…

DR. BILLINGTON, I PRESUME

Sort of funny that Congress lets older people in the Supreme Court leave their jobs feet first in a technically challenged world under constant cyber attack while Dr. Billington is being shown the exit portal under the guise of a new world ordered by IT.

Longtime librarian of Congress, James H. Billington, will retire from his post, effective Jan. 1.

America’s loss.

I have known Dr. and Mrs. Billington since the first month I moved to DC in 2003. If anyone was destined to be the Librarian of Congress for life leaving feet first, I knew that person was Dr. Billington. A presence on the DC social scene, Dr. and Mrs. Billington looked the parts, wizened creases, whitened hair, Mrs. B. Wearing pearls with purses that rivaled Queen E, Elizabeth, that is. In fact, the TV series “Librarians” failed because the mentor wise old guardian of the secrets was not modeled after Dr. B.

The last time I saw the Dr. and Mrs. B. was at the annual National Book Festival newly homed in the Convention Center. Philanthropist David Rubenstein was just off his panel, scampering down to greet Dr. and Mrs. Billington where they were sitting, front row.

It was one of those rare moments I wished I was a Selfie Slut followed by an entourage of TV crew to capture that funny DC moments where someone of note someone misgauges who some else is.

I had introduced myself, and my God In The Temples Of Government pictorials, earlier to Mr. Rubinstein. The look of puzzlement on his face was ….standard for DC… a city filled shakers who don’t recognize movers, so to speak, who stay beneath the radar, deliberately. Twelve years in LA were enough to cure me any desire for red carpets and stalkings, not silk ones, but fans with glass eyes or vengeance or lunacy camouflaged by their chameleon ability to appear normal or ‘real.’

Mrs. Billington saw me. Her face glowed in her moment of recognition. We leaned in, kissed cheek to cheek, embraced catching up in rapid fire the last few years of absence from each others lives. Yes, in DC, life catch ups can occur in seconds, until the next time.

The puzzled look on Mr. Rubenstein’s was precious as he watched my intimate engagement with pillars of the Library of Congress. I was part of ‘that’ inner circle he rotates in. My seven league boots always kept me being that ‘one’ stomping tall grass others trailed through, behind.

It had been a few years since I saw Dr. and Mrs. Billington. I left the DC news scene rather abruptly. I missed my Billington encounters. We shared a passion, the Library of Congress, to me that one and only building to visiting DC if your time to tour was limited. Besides, the Library has the best swag in the Capitol, free, a definite brag swag few others know to secure the Library card, of course. Totally, awesome to boast ‘ TJ and I have something in common.’

TJ? Thomas Jefferson, of course, the man behind the Temple of Learning.

The good doctor had slowed some. Mrs. Billington, well, she has grown more elegant over the years. Some women have that eternal internal elegance. I cant imagine the Library without Dr. Billington. He is one of the longest serving members of the Administration. Thirty years is almost a lifetime to some.

In DC. abrupt never happens for no reason. That there was a reason, would reveal itself as the pages, so to speak, turned.

Dr. Billington is a Reagan appointee. The Library of Congress’ collection size has doubled under his tenure, transitioning from a ‘library’ to an ‘i-brary.’ A digital library had been added. The chicken and the egg conversation is which came first the digital innovations or the Digital innovations or the Library staff cut of 30%.

Few know that the Library of Congress is an educational beast that is constantly fed, a hydra of history, so to speak, said to be keeping Legislators abreast of the loop of madness exploding around the world.

In 2014, the Library of Congress offices acquired more than 800,000 items; reformatted more than 1.3 million pages of newspapers, periodicals and pamphlets from 79 countries spanning 120 different languages.

Six of the Library of Congress’s offices are overseas offices some even placed intentionally in unstable regions. The Library of Congress staff says those offices  are ready and able to rescue, archive, catalog and share books, publications, newspapers, maps, videos, recorded sounds and photographs even Osama bin Laden’s autobiography, that legislators need to learn from, you know,  that historic stuff that drones don’t capture in today’s war on terrorism.

March 17, the Senate Legislative BranchAppropriations Subcommittee chaired by chairwoman Senator Shelley Capito, adressing the Library of Congress and Architect of the Capitol budget requests, adressed news reports of ISIS destroying artifacts of their regions ancient civilizations.” Capito called the Library of Congress the ‘world’s resource.’  *********** Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz, ranking member of the House Legislative Branch Appropriations Subcommittee, said, the Library of Congress reaches to places where we would lose these important publications to history, to the ashes, or to floods, or to the simple lack of ability to share and preserve them.”Debbie had done LOC’s office in  Cairo, Egypt, Middle East, along with seven other legislators. Debbie and her  entourage  met the LOC office acting director, Beacher Wiggins, a man Wasserman Schultz describes as loving his work. Wiggin’s Cairo office gathers ‘stuff’ from 23 countries in the surrounding region, including Iraq, Syria and Yemen.

Schultz said, “was very clear about how important it is and what would be lost if we were not there.”  Schultz failed to mention how he failed to protect the Jewel  of  Aleppo and other antiquities bought, sold, stolen for trade. Schultz failed to mention the cost of maintaining one man’s office in a world of crowd sourcing.

Wiggins says Cairo and Islamabad, Pakistan are two offices with high security risk with other LOC oversea offices located in Jakarta, Indonesia; Nairobi, Kenya; New Dehli, India; and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The LOC says these offices are ‘vital’ for understanding the tumultuous Middle East, salvaging and protecting materials.

Mark Sweeney, the LOC’s associate librarian for library services, said security costs for protecting its overseas offices have increased. $$$$$$

Senator Murphy said, he gained an appreciation for all of this ‘material in Arabic’ the LOC said America couldn’t get its hands without “personnel on the ground in the Middle East.”

Wiggins said most of the LOC offices are housed in US Embassy compounds, employing more than 200 foreign nationals, alleging their local and language knowledge are invaluable to the Library’s mission. Wiggins said that these satellite offices cost the Library $10.1 million total of the Library’s more than $600 million fees excluding the $2.5 million annual security fees. though the offices are typically housed in U.S. embassy compounds. Those costs exclude acquisitions travel costs. Wiggins says budget cuts mean directors have to prioritize which countries the director wants to visit. Wiggins says some director are learning to relearn their local area.

GAO, Government Accountability Office reports released before Dr. Billington’s retirement criticized management weaknesses” in the Library of Congress’ IT divisions. Wiggins said the Library shrank its overseas presence to six offices, in 1887, that the Library wont close its offices. The Library instead lead its lead ludite, it’s grand wizard of knowledge, go.

The GAO report said the Library can’t ensure they are meeting cost, schedule and performance goals; can’t deliver the agency capabilities to carry out the Library’s mission; and said the Library’s IT systems are at risk of cyber spying and attack citing the library doesn’t always test technical security controls, putting the Library’s systems and information at risk of compromise. This GAO report was released after the Military was hacked, the IRS was hacked and practically everyone, else on the planet was hacked in a world that cannot be protected. Period.

Point made. Dr. Billington was wanted out. The good Doctor did as his job mandated, with he and his staff pledging to follow through on several of the GAO recommendations.

Dr. Billington is a luddite, the exact person you want near you when broadband reaches its band width, when the lights go out, and when the world is thrust into chaos caused by millennials whose brains work only when the PDA lights are on, whose elevators wont reach the penthouse suites when climate warming considerations collide with practical and simple purpose. Dr. Billington will know how to read and write and communicate, simply said.

The GAO report said the Copyright Office also mismanages it’s IT “upgrades and investments.”

The GAO said the LOC is weak in four areas- strategic planning, investment management, information security and privacy, service management and leadership. The report says the LOC does not “effectively managing” the $119 million allocated for IT in 2014 and that the LOC does not have an “effective process for taking inventory of materials.” The report says Library officials claim the Library has about 6,500 computers in use. A wire to wall count tabulated 18,000 computers. Do the federal employee a Golden Hammer math.

The Library’s acting chief information officer, Elizabeth Scheffler, says the Library is adjusting to a dramatic growth in digital materials., collecting things like Legislator tweets, staff selfie’s as such available to anyone including those with nefarious intentions.  Scheffler admits the Library grossly underestimated technology long term storing considerations.

The Register of Copyrights, Maria Pallante, the GAO, the day after the March 17 hearing, stating her office has to move to digital technology, taking her lead from Congress. Congress is questioning, coincidentally, if the Register of Copyrights should be under the LOC, to begin with. Friends and fans are fickle in DC when it comes to budgets and gain. The story doesn’t usually write itself best until after a crack, somewhere is uncovered then pried open. The wedge now that moved DR. billing ton to forced retirement is, CIO, chief information officer, sorta funny, when you hunk of it, after all this is the Internet age where ‘everyone’ pitches in and everyone is vulnerable, too.

Hence, my not accepting that Dr. Billington wanted to retire but instead, was shown the open portals he could walk through.

Congressional accolades trickled on to the Internet, post announcement. Sad, considering the millions of tourists that walk through the L oC doors annually.

Dr. Billington is ending his reign the way he began it. Dr. Billington announced he will go door to door, desk to desk of each employee, thanking them for being part of his history in service to books and America. Dr. Billing said in his video to the library, “Over the years I have been asked if I have been thinking about retiring; and the answer has always been ‘not really,’ because this library has always been not just my job, but my life… However, I have never had more faith in the leadership and staff of the Library of Congress. The library’s new top management team is as deeply experienced, and creatively collegial, as any I have ever known, and I am confident that they will continue to innovate, adapt and improve on the work we have undertaken during my time as Librarian of Congress.”

Dr. Billington is saying good-bye, an outstanding man showing leadership as he lets go of TJ’s. Book Place, and the steerage of the wheel of history from the poop deck of this man’s ship, navigating what was a good idea that grew into a behemoth gourging gargantuan data preservation.

Thank you Dr. and Mrs. B for a decade of being seen….

THE FIRST TOASTMASTER

I came to Toastmasters because public speaking scared me. Let me be brutally honest, I came to Toastmasters because speaking scared me. I would wait until someone spoke first. Sweaty Palms and hyperventilating outed my fears if I stood at the front of a room or tried to carry on a conversation with more than 12, make that more than 2, make that more than 1.

In my few short months of becoming a Toastmaster, I have graduated. The sweaty clammy palms have gone. I can publicly complete an unscripted sentence that has a beginning and end and a middle. And my heart no longer beats to me to the end of a sentence like American Pharoah crossing a finish line ahead of the whole field. I am able to be heard across a room without being miked. And I embrace my space, talking with arms opening wide in grace filled conversation of motions like a bird in flight.

Toastmasters taught me to soar.

All this time, I hadn’t thought much about where and how Toastmasters got its start. I was fixated on my starting to speak, publicly that is. I had to learn fast.

And then one day I had time to think. I thought about Toastmaster’s origins. Toastmasters magazine prompted me to wonder, who was the first toastmaster was… and when. I understood the why.

I found my answer in a piece penned on Ralph C Smedley. I learned that Smedley had a phenomenal notion about bringing together young men in speaking clubs. Smedley felt the young men wanting work needed to learn to speak, conduct meetings, plan programs and work alongside others on committees. Smedley was the director of education at a YMCA, Young Men’s Christian Association. Smedley named his group of young men, and mentors, the Toastmasters Club honoring people who gave toasts at banquets and other phenomenally celebratory occasions. Seems the name toastmaster may have had an even earlier origin dating back to the Roman tradition of drinking to a lady’s health with spice soaked toasted bread softened in wine.

I didn’t think much more about Smedley’s phenomenal Toastmaster idea until, one day, I was listening to a faith leader speak. He talked, and he talked, and he talked and talked and talked and talked and talked. I was sooooooooooo restless that I reached out to the nearest book I could grab. It was then I had my Aha Mentor Moment that twerked me to realize who the real first toastmaster was.

Bible 1.0.

It was there in Black and White in a book that is read all over. A good book, if you asked me…..

God was coaching Moses to be the first Toastmaster ever. God told Moses to go talk to the Israelites. Moses said no. And God said yes you will. And Moses said I wont, no one will listen to me. And God said say, ‘Moses, buddy, trust me they will.’ And Moses said say ‘I have a speech impediment.’ And God would say ‘so who cares, believe that you don’t, you just need to speak up, and deliver your message, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.’

What a difference a page in history makes. If this was not the first Toastmasters moment then, what is.

We all know how that story ends up. God did a bangup job getting Moses to speak up loud and clear. Moses became such an expert Toastmaster, improving so much that he, Moses, convinced a community of Israelites to follow him in to the desert, wandering for years in a journey that is technically takes hours as the crow flies.

I can only presume that everyone else has history wrong. According to my theory, no, Moses didn’t throw the Ten Commandments down to the ground. That would have been phenomenally dumb, after having spent days and nights alone atop the mountain chiseling away on the first evolution of mass communications, that made him a “rock” star. From my perspective? I think that Moses suffered from palms that were so clammy and sweaty those darn heavy stone tablets slipped from Moses hands, crashed to the ground and shattered.

Thank you Toastmasters for my teaching lesson in grandeur of the mastery of being coached, reminding all of us of the phenomenal power of being mentored in the art of the Toast, by the master…. God.