Hello, My name is Wolf and I am a ……

Have you ever interviewed yourself?

In the job setting?

Try it.

See who you are.

Or what you are.

10 questions.  Answer honestly or answer how you believe you are perceived. It’s up to you.

  1. Define your current role. What value do you add?
  2. Using one word, how would your co workers describe you?
  3. Attendance/punctuality/reliability:  Yes? or No?
  4. Disaster occurs:  Take the sword?  Take the fifth? Take the “I have not been trained”?
  5. Your personality?  A. In charge.  B. Team centered  C. Problem solver. D. Suck up.
  6. Importance?  1. To win.   2. To be liked.  3.  To avoid pain.
  7. What would entice you to leave your job and accept a position with another company?
  8. Do you have a mentor? A hero?  Or are you one of a kind?
  9. Moody? Or consistent?  (consistent can be positive or negative)
  10. Do you thrive on interaction with others? or prefer to work alone?

There are no correct answers.

There are no perfect people.

Well, except for you and me, maybe.






Universal questions, from a deranged chicken butt

What is on your mind tonight?

Do you feel like it’s time to do the dishes, give the kids a bath and climb into bed with a book?

The sun is going down early.

Dark by 815pm.

Summer is waning.

The kids are back in school.

Another year begins.

Football, soccer, swim meets, orchestra, marching, home work.

It’s a mile stone for some.

Kids are entering Jr or Sr high.

Oh yeah.  Those were the days.

Vacations are over.

The work force is gearing up for the 4th quarter push.

Competition rules.

Make the team.

Get good grades.

Be popular.

Be visible.

Get involved.

Rise above.

However, remember, the team rules.

Or does it?

The team may win a game.

The team may win an account.

The team may get an award.

The team carries the trophy.

And then?

Who is it that rises to the top?

Think about those you admire.

They might be a member of a team.

They often take the team to new heights.

They convince the team that everyone counts.

But in the end, who do you really think counts?

NY football: Joe or the Jets?

NY baseball:  Derek or the Yankees?

Aerosmith:  Steven or the other guys?

The Kennedys:  JFK or his brothers?

Civil Rights:  MLK Jr or the Supreme Court?

Microsoft:  Bill Gates or Paul Allen?

Santa or Rudolph?

Peter Pan or Tinker?

The Wiz or Dorothy?

Landing a big account or holding onto an existing one?

Making money for your company or collaborating to make money for your company and your account?

Retiring because you are tired, or working because you are determined to make it, after all.

Taking an expensive vacation or hanging out with friends and sharing what you have?

Ok. I have no answers.

I only want to know the answer to one question:

What the hell are we all looking for?

Damned if I know.

Cheers, everyone.

Your friend, in need, indeed.




Do what it is that defines you

An artist must stare at a blank canvas, before a masterpiece can be imagined.

A musician starts with a few chords, adding each nuance, until the finale is realized.

A writer begins writing, letting the mind wander and finds a story.

A sculptor takes clay in hand, watching the magic emerge.

A poet sees the world in another dimension, filling pages with a vision that most of us fail to see or to understand.

An athlete will stretch his/her ability to its limit, to succeed.

A mother will lay down her life for any of her offspring.

A father devotes his life to provide for his family.

A teacher believes that the youth of today are the hope of tomorrow.

A doctor’s goal is to preserve life.

A friend is one who will let you be whatever and whoever you are.

A spouse is your greatest supporter.

A sister will listen to you, laugh with you and tell you the truth.

A brother, your protector.

A child, your legacy.

Your pet is your non judgmental companion.

Your material possession and wealth don’t really matter.

Only your relationships, your passions and your beliefs can define you.

The sky is the limit.



Some accept, forgive, but never forget.

Happy Birthday, Brother.


Hold it.

I don’t know where you are.

You left… several years ago, and disappeared into the vast Canadian  landscape.

Yes, I know you had issues growing up in the family.

You were the baby.

You were Mom’s fav.

And you could not accept the dysfunctional life the rest of us lived.

Oh yeah, Dad was a humdinger.

A man’s man, who arrive on Ellis Island with his Mother, in the early 1900s.

The rest of his family had been wiped out by a bird, in Norway.

Yup, the bird flu.

Dad never did recover from that.

He loved Philadelphia, but moved with his Mother to Northern Minnesota.

Met Irene, got married and had 7 children.

The last : Jimmy.

There was a tug of war in the family.

An agnostic vs a strict Catholic.

An idealist vs a man struggling with chemical dependency.

Jimmy was born to be a star.

A very handsome, charismatic kid, who loved sports and went to the Little League World Series in the 60s.

When he graduated, he found a lovely girl who shared his dreams of fixing the world, and they joined the Peace Corps. Tanzania.

He wanted to stay after the tour was up.

She didn’t.

They divorced, and Jimmy went to work for the US Government.

Oh my!

A tragedy.

He was into helping.

The Government was not.

He became disillusioned, withdrawing from his friends, family and society.

He just could not live with the injustice in the world.

Yes, there are idealists.

Jimmy is one.

He left one day.

I think, to join a girl in Canada.

An old friend from grade school.

He severed his ties with the family.

And is gone.

So tonight, I would like to say Happy Birthday, Jimmy.

I think about you.

I love you.

But I doubt if we will ever connect again.

After all, we all choose a road in life.

We had issues growing up.

Some of us forgive.

Some do not.

We never forget, but most of us move on.

I think you are one of those, Jimmy, who just can’t.

I hope you are happy.

I hope you are well.

I will always be here, if you need me, but I think you probably never will.

Good night, Jimmy.

God Bless.

Happy Birthday, Bro.



An observation on the work place, today, August 25, 2016

Amazing, today.

Yes, some days hold amazing stories.

Stories, never to reach beyond the moment.

Known only to those who experienced it.

Drama at its finest, known only to a few.

May I offer this brief, unadulterated version of an ordinary day, laced with the ridiculous, the sublime and the reality of the working world?

Work work work work work.

I am important.

Stress stress stress.

I race out to my car, to drive to the local Burger King for lunch, while talking to my client, in cursive words:  “Yeah, it’s me.  I have not received your confirmation yet.  (car engine starting). If I don’t hear from you soon, your job may be in jeopardy.”  Hello?  Welcome to Burger King:  Your order please?

I am important. I come in early. I stay late.  I don’t trust anyone else to do what I do.  What? You want to know if you can help me?  No, sorry.  No one can do what I do.  I am so tired, but hey, don’t worry about me.

It’s 445pm. 30 orders come in. Oh great.  Now what?  So sad. So sorry. Suck it up Buttercup. Do you really think anyone cares?

May I ask?  If someone is assigned to do a job, and that person just doesn’t seem to comprehend what is expected, am I at fault?

I am not a certified trainer.  I can not even begin to explain all the things I do within a day.  I have an account. The requests come in. I do the best I can.  There is seldom a request that is duplicated. Every request deserves my attention. I give it all I have.  Can I train on random requests?  What ever happened to taking the initiative, problem solving and partnering to do the best for a customer?  Sometimes there are no rule books.

I witness success, promotions, celebrations.

I observe those who are masters at delegating, and who still take credit for the results.

Oh yes, work life is not perfect.

We focus on what is most profitable.

It is, after all, our future.

I hope that is correct.

I have some doubts.

What if the high end customer suddenly decides to move on?

To find another home?

Or to downsize after another stock market crash?

In my humble opinion, long term valued customers should always come first.

They are, after all, the living and breathing success of continuing give and take, of partnership, and respect.

But what do I know?






All the lonely people: Where do they all come from?

Wanna rant?

I love having a few drinks and letting the rants flow.

A lonesome warehouse worker, miles from home, living in a hotel, to make a new start.

He plays the jukebox night after night, singing to himself, taking home a sandwich, to the hotel.

He tries to engage everyone he meets.


He just doesn’t fit in.

He tries too hard.

He sings to the music.

No one wants to hear him sing.

People go to a bar, to rant.

Not to sing.

Another lonesome guy.

Single, works every day on a garbage truck.

Has a few beers.

Sits with the locals.

Never says much.

Just smiles, listens, and goes home.

I wonder what his rant would be.

I doubt if that is something any of us will ever hear.

Another local.

Hard working, hard drinking, a man’s man.

You know, the macho type.

Rants his ass off.

We all know where he stands.

We all know what he is all about.

He is self righteous, outrageous, outgoing, loud and opinionated.

Yes, he could be considered obnoxious, but he is one of the local celebrities.

He includes anyone and everyone, acknowledging their presence, engaging their attention and finding a common bond.


I guess.

Somehow, we bar patrons feel better when he is around…. ranting.

He is the patron saint of the bar flies, of those who would like to rant, but have never allowed ourselves to be exposed, for the world to see.

When the walking and working wounded come together, somehow, we are afraid to express our feelings.

We need a hero, to do that for us.

And so the world turns:  made up of those who rant and those who wish they could.

Those who go through the motions every day, and never find the courage to seize an opportunity.

Those who prefer the  routine of the same job for 30 years, no matter how dissatisfied they are, and those who find happiness and satisfaction in those 30 years.

One of these nights, I am going to approach these silent members of the local scene and ask them how they feel about their lives, their dreams and aspirations.

I don’t expect them to answer honestly.

It would hurt too much.



What does it take? And is it worth it?

Somebody said:  “Hey, you idiot. It takes an obsession and a passion to get you to the top of the heap.”

You have to live, breathe, spend all the days of your life pursuing that passion.

If you falter, get up again and do it.

Let’s assume it is music.

After all, the Chicken Butt has seen it all.

First, her own obsession.

Symphony… First oboe. Music Major. Full scholarship.

Then, Husband Number 1.

Nothing better than orchestra, symphony, jazz, talent.

The King and I?

Shall we dance?

Smoky bars and cheap saloons:  Are we performing for you? or for ourselves?

Moving on to living a life with only the desire to perform, to give it up for the band.

Seeing the groupies crowding around.

What’ s your name, little girl?

Oh, no, I can’t compete, said the chicken butt.

However, I can move on to my life.

And that I did.
Good bye Mr. Bill.

Hello Mr. Bob.

What? You too?

Another partner who lived for the spot light?

Left in the middle of the night… in rural NJ.

Hello Mr Jim.

Oh God, why?

Why and how is it that I attract these musicians?

I think about the sacrifices the super stars have made.

They must live and breathe, obsessed with music.

Sorry, folks.

I have a passion for music., but it does not consume my life.

I have retired my oboe.

My music is the dance of life.

Bill, Bob and Jim: You no longer define my life.

Can we dance?


In the sun and in the rain?


Hello, my friends.

I don’t care if you can carry a tune, a tuba or a bassoon.

Let’s dance to the music of life.

It is, afterall, the greatest pleasure of our lives:

To live, to laugh, to sing and to dance.

And it doesn’t matter if we excel at any of it.

Life is just living it.





Thank goodness it’s Monday? What? Are you crazy?

Hey !


Have you ever said:  “Thank goodness it’s Monday?”

I thought not.

Well, lots of folks returned from vacation today.

Most went to a warm and sunny beach, or a fun filled week on a cruise.

The rest of us?

It was one of those hotsy totsy weeks.

90 + degrees.

Some of us worked in a warehouse without AC.

Others went home only to find their AC bombed out.

As they say, when you’re hot, you’re hot.

And that we were.

Unbelievably true, but the kids are returning to school already.

Oh how the days of summer seem to grow shorter every year.

Soon, unofficially, summer will come to a close.

Labor day!

The last wild weekend at the Jersey Shore.

The final holiday before the turkey and santa come sneaking around.

Had to stop at the pharmacy today and the aisles were filled with Halloween candy, decorations, and costumes.

What’s with our society?


The summer stuff is on sale.

75% off.

The department stores are showing fall trends.

Boots and coats and leggings.


It’s Monday.

August 22.

80 degrees.

Maybe we ought to rethink how we feel about Mondays.

Some are really are not so bad.

After all, it is still summer.

No blizzards to contend with.

No snow to plow.

So, in closing, I have to say:

“Thank goodness it’s Monday.”

Enjoy it while it lasts.

To every thing, there is a season.

Don’t wish it away.



And how was your weekend?

Things I learned this weekend:

A doughnut, unlike Italian food, is not better the next day.

Napping on a rainy afternoon is indulgent.

Bee stings are just one reason not to use a push mower.

When you have sweet ears of corn, fresh from the garden, you can’t eat just one.

Spending some time alone, every day, outside, is one of the best ways to clear your mind.

A good book and housework are true enemies.

The Little League World Series playoffs get better every year.

Money laundering can occur when you forget to check your jean’s pockets.

Is breakfast the most important meal of the day?  It is, when you share it with a group of friends.

Laughter can get you through just about anything.

And finally, pets rule.




So, did you get kicked out of another place tonight, you goof?

The Cx Butt took a much milder approach tonight.

Or did she?

She could not enter the forbidden establishment again tonight.

I mean, how dare she voice her opinions in a tavern?

She took the low road, to a friendly, familiar place, with outrageous patrons,

And laughed her fat old chicken butt off.

The 4 guys at the bar had worked all day, out in the elements.

Blue collar guys, none of whom was offended by anything the aging cx b had to say.

For an hour, they performed.

She laughed.

Why they feel they have to be on stage is beyond me.

But they always are.

And they are ridiculously funny.

Colleen was at her best, serving drinks, dinner and juggling the many requests and personalities that exist in a local bar.

Relaxed, refreshed and slightly tipsy, the CB drove home, listening to Led Z, claiming to have a bustle in their hedgerow.

What a nice surprise awaited.

Fresh sweet corn, potatoes and tomatoes were on the counter.

A gift from a friend’s garden.

Mater sandwiches tonight, with mayo, wheat bread, salt and pepper.

Can life get any better?

And the best part?

It is only Friday night.

The weekend beckons and looms.