The Parable of the Carafe

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“Every organization in the world today should be teaching employees how to be extraordinary.” – Mark Sanborn

(Much of this was shared in an earlier social media post; I consider the lesson worthy of a full article)

Last month, I facilitated a training event in Kansas City, Missouri. It was a very busy week, as we simultaneously held a board meeting and strategic planning session that coincided with the first two days of the course. But with all that going on, with all the different information shared and discussed between all three events, perhaps the most important lesson of the week came neither from the classroom nor the boardroom, but rather in a most unexpected way.

Experience has taught me that classes the size of this one, with its audience type, require a near-steady flow of coffee with plenty in reserve. However, during Sunday evening setup, I noted that while there were plenty of supplies, the class would be limited to a standard three-burner Bunn with its respective pots; I had overlooked the need for carafes or an insulated beverage container.

It may seem like a small thing, but it bothered me. You know from my series on little things that they can mean a lot. And they often become big things. When nearly 100 people go on break simultaneously, particularly those conditioned or accustomed to caffeine dependence on the job, three pots run dry pretty quickly. And training directors are apt to get their brake lines cut.

Ok, that’s a little extreme. Perhaps just a few surly attendees and a critical review or two about having more coffee next time.

“Worry is a down payment on a problem you may never have.” – Joyce Meyer

My down payment increased greatly after striking out late Sunday evening in my attempts to find a street vendor selling insulated beverage containers. Not one to give-up quite so easily, I turned in with the thought that perhaps the hotel where I was lodged might have a stray carafe lying around. Conversely, thoughts of NOT finding a solution kept me up much of the night. In all honesty, I seldom sleep well the first couple nights in a new place, anyway. So I arose early Monday and headed downstairs.

Note: It’s important to mention before going any further that my hotel was not the training site, nor connected in any way to the other business mentioned above. In fact, it wasn’t even the contracted hotel for the course attendees!

Enter Imelda.

After lurking…I mean looking around a few common areas, poking my head into vacant meeting rooms, and asking the front desk yielded nada, I thought one last option might be the breakfast buffet area. Situated behind stately glass-panel French doors at the top of an impressive staircase, it was a beautiful dining space laid out opposite the glass-paneled arc of the building; overlooking adjacent buildings, the street below, and what’s known as the plaza area in the distance further down the hill.

Unfortunately, it was closed, wouldn’t open for a while yet, and I was crunched for time. Noticing a staff member through the glass on the other side of the locked door, I approached with a sheepish smile and tentative wave. I felt like a kitten scratching at the door to be let in, but probably looked more like some creep in a suit expecting not to wait for breakfast.

Clearly dressed as the host who would soon welcome actual customers in for a nice, hot breakfast, the woman on the other side could have easily gestured at the clock and turned away like many others would have done in that moment. Instead, Ms. Imelda kindly unlocked the door and allowed me to explain my dilemma…to which I did.

I asked if it would be at all possible to temporarily borrow some sort of beverage carafe until I could pick one up later in the day? She could have simply and understandably declined. Yet she didn’t. Instead, Imelda asked me to wait there before disappearing around the corner toward the kitchen. She returned shortly after with an insulated, vacuum-pump coffee carafe. There was no hesitation nor hint of pretension. Imelda simply smiled, said she was happy to help, and asked me to ‘just bring it back at the end of the week.’

Imelda saved the day. The week, in fact. Thank you Marriott Hotels and Kansas City Marriott Country Club Plaza for hiring wonderful people like Imelda. As a person of faith, I believe what David Jeremiah relates in his devotional The Upward Call that as God blesses us, we are “sent out into the world in order to be a blessing to others.”

I don’t know whether she holds the same beliefs I do, but Imelda certainly understands how to pay it forward and about being a blessing to others. I’m grateful and blessed to have met this wonderful human being.

“Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.” – Albert Einstein

The world needs more Imeldas.

Get Strong. Be Strong. Stay Strong.

Jeremiah, David (2015). The upward call. San Diego, CA: Turning Point.

Sanborn, Mark (2004). The Fred factor. New York, NY: Currency Doubleday. 

Even the Donkey Knows

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“Behold, your king is coming to you…humble and mounted on a donkey.” – Zech. 9.9

As the commemoration of Holy Week concluded (representing the span between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday), I reflected on a sermon I once heard wherein the preacher used details of the triumphal entry that first Palm Sunday to illustrate his lesson on humility: despite all the cheering and hullabaloo, the gentle and lowly king Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a simple and humble beast of burden. (Matt 21.1-11, Mark 11.1-11, Luke 19.28-40, John 12.12-19)

As humans, we desire affirmation and often envy the kind of attention given to Jesus that day. Yet sometimes it’s not about us. The preacher joked that even the donkey understood the fanfare wasn’t for him, but for the one on his back.

Animals are remarkably perceptive, so it’s not a stretch to believe that.

Humans are also perceptive. But we’re likewise careless, impetuous, fickle, and consumed with our own self-interests. You probably know well what happened in the week following that donkey ride. By week’s end, many of those celebrating Jesus’ arrival were silent, hiding, or even among those calling for his death.

Not much has changed in 2000 years. Animals, despite having no capacity for reason, remain extraordinarily perceptive. Humans, despite having great capacity to reason, remain extraordinarily self-absorbed and persist in a perpetual rebellion-repentance-restoration relationship with God. And all those points were on full display during a recent monthlong decampment blending business with pleasure, highlighted by a week in Costa Rica with friends.

Surely everyone traveling to Costa Rica has heard about the wildlife. Even the least amount of research into the area we stayed confirms the prevalence of monkeys (and other exotic animals) running amok around the property; including the possibility these little safe-cracking simians might help themselves to your belongings if the doors aren’t secured. We couldn’t wait to see for ourselves if the stories were true!

There are likewise ample warnings directing guests NOT to feed the animals. You see where this is going?

Many reasons exist not to feed wild animals, including much of what we eat is bad for them. Not to mention doing so only entices them to return for more. More often, and more aggressively.

Consider these firsthand examples.

While I certainly don’t care to snuggle with any, my experience is that iguanas typically mind their own business. In fact, they usually just ignore people or scurry away when we clumsily try to get as close as possible to take their photo. I don’t blame people for wanting to take photos…iguanas are beautiful, fascinating creatures. But sometimes it’s like watching a search warrant execution, except everyone’s wearing sunscreen and flip-flops. Just use the zoom feature, already!

Worse yet, occasionally there’s that one dude to whom the rules don’t apply and common sense persistently eludes. It happened this time to be the same dude who foolishly thought perhaps the friendly poolside iguana, just trying to mind his own business, would instead like a French fry. In pure poetic irony, everyone nearby was treated to several minutes of lively entertainment as Captain Ketchup scrambled off his palapa, squealing like a teenage girl, while the iguana quite aggressively came back for seconds. And thirds. You’ll be happy to know the iguana was fine, and that good old Crinkle Fry there was later heard to say “I guess that’s why we’re not supposed to feed the animals.”

Don’t be that guy.

Then there’s what Alfred Hitchcock tried to warn us about. Loud, obnoxious, and known to suddenly perch on heads of unsuspecting diners or snatch food right off their plate, the birds were perhaps most annoying. Yet giggling guests continue feeding them.

And of course, the monkeys.

It wasn’t uncommon to encounter them in trees throughout the resort. But the sight of dozens scampering across railings on every level of main lodge balconies each morning was like something straight out of Jungle Book. King Louie had nothing on these primates.

In fact, one morning from the sidewalk below, several of us were caught between curiosity and incredulousness as we watched a young lady precariously suspended from her balcony. Holding on with one hand, she dangled part of her breakfast in the other as she stretched toward a monkey on an adjacent railing.

At least two thoughts crossed my mind in that moment: 1) she’s probably someone to whom things like using turn signals, returning shopping carts to the corral, not texting and driving, waiting their turn to exit the aircraft, or not feeding the animals are merely suggestions not to be taken seriously; and 2) I wonder which one of us is going to call the ambulance?

Fortunately, the girl didn’t plummet to her death, wasn’t bitten, and the monkey didn’t eat from her hand.

But our proclivity toward stupidity and the problem of feeding animals persists.

We hadn’t seen monkeys on our own balcony until our last morning, so it was as if they’d read the daily departures log and came to bid us farewell. It was fun watching them drink from the jacuzzi spout and search the veranda for scraps we may have left behind. We personally confirmed they do, in fact, know how to operate the sliding doors. While ours was latched making for an unsuccessful break-in, one did slip in through our neighbor’s door long enough to swipe some sugar packets off their table. Shortly thereafter, I saw his buddy grasping a bag of peanut M&Ms lifted from another room.

Amusing as it was to watch their antics, I was irritated and grew even more concerned for their wellbeing as I watched one on the patio tentatively, yet persistently, trying to eat something unrecognizable, disgusting, and probably not from nature. The impact of careless, self-absorbed humans consumed only with their own amusement continues contributing to the problem. We should instead be part of the solution.

There is hope.

The monkeys there are skittish and reluctant to accept food from people; and the iguanas just want to be left alone. Like the donkey knew the fanfare wasn’t his, these animals know our food isn’t theirs.

Unlike wild animals, humans should know better; we have the capacity to think and reason. Perhaps over time, if we stop feeding them, they’ll be reconditioned (and stop telling their friends where all the loot is). The least we can do is leave them alone and just appreciate their beauty and unique place in nature.

Not everything needs to be about us.

Get Strong. Be Strong. Stay Strong.

Special thanks to Cupine Farm and the McCarthys for the cover photo of Jarvis setting the horses straight, and for another memorable trip.

“Please Don’t Feed the Animals” – The Management

*If you’d like to know more about Jesus or the meaning of Palm Sunday and Easter, please contact me. Or consider reading the New Testament Gospel According to John.