Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 20

Stupid dress codes

My friend’s golf club, which I may want to join one day, has a stupid rule:

You must wear a belt and tuck in your shirt while playing golf.

Can you imagine insisting that a grown-ass adult tuck in their shirt to play a game?

I hate this nonsense.

While playing golf in Florida last month, I was asked to remove my hat while eating breakfast in the dining room before our round.

Also so stupid.

I was about to play golf. I was wearing shorts, a shirt, and golf spikes.

But someone is going to tell me — a grown-ass man — to remove my hat because it’s what?

Offensive?

Distracting?

Ruining the atmosphere of the breakfast buffet?

Degrading the reputation of the establishment?

You’ll serve me alcohol at 8:00 in the morning, but I can’t wear the hat I’ll be wearing all day?

Stupid.

I’ve heard all the arguments favoring dress codes, and I’m not implying they are all wrongheaded. Some dress codes certainly serve a purpose.

But most are very stupid.

Yes, when I arrive at a golf course, I should be wearing a shirt — preferably one that does not contain an offensive or inflammatory message. If the club requires that shirt to have a collar, so be it. It’s a stupid and purposeless requirement, but it’s a small price to pay to prevent fussy little men from throwing their little tantrums.

I’m even willing to accept that I should wear a decent pair of pants or shorts. No ripped jeans or cut-offs, though I wouldn’t mind if they were allowed, too. I wouldn’t wear them to play golf, but I wouldn’t begrudge someone else from wearing them.

Also, no flip-flops, bathing suits, or sleeveless shirts. All are fine by me. Some rules are possibly stupid but not unreasonable.

And this hat rule and belt rule most definitely are.

These are the same golf courses that allow someone to drive their cart to the first tee with a dozen beers in a cooler but require me to keep my shirt tucked in while swinging my club.

You can get legally drunk for the next 18 holes but must conceal the bottom fringe of your shirt inside your pants, damn it!

So dumb.

People in favor of these arcane rules are losing, of course. Every year, these nonsense rules erode a little more. Standards are relaxed. Nprns are softened. Greater allowances are made. Some see this as an erosion of decency and decorum, but I see it as an erosion of illogical, unnecessary, and offensive rules designed to make people feel fancy and special for no earned reason.

They serve as barriers to the masses. Walls protecting the privileged from the plebians. Structures designed to make people in a certain income bracket feel a false sense of elitism, prestige, and nobility.

It’s all so dumb and elitist and illogical.

There is nothing inherently different, for example, between denim and khaki, except that denim was initially worn by people mining gold and silver, so it’s still perceived — more than 1o0 years later — as blue-collar.

Lower class.

Counter culture.

Unfit for fancy people in fancy places doing fancy things.

So stupid.

The day may come when I decide to join my friend’s golf club because I like playing golf and like playing golf with my friend. If and when that happens, I’ll be tucking my shirt into my pants and shorts when playing golf, and I will be very annoyed.

At least until I get the stupid rule changed.

It’s hard to imagine that many club members are married to this bit of stupidity. My friend is not. He hates the rule as much as me.

Most members probably hate it as much as I do and are simply unwilling to rock the boat by speaking up.

I never mind rocking the boat. I love rocking boats. Almost as much as I love playing golf.

Kindergarten dumbness

In exchanging emails recently with my former kindergarten teacher, she wrote:“I taught for 35 years, and towards the end, they made us do away with centers, and I was crushed. They were forcing too many academics on kindergarten children.”As someone who is married to a former kindergarten teacher and is a close friend to many kindergarten teachers, here is something I state without equivocation:The increased academic demands placed upon kindergarteners are stupid. Kindergarten is a critical component of a child’s development, but that development is best served when children are given a chance to socialize, play, explore, problem-solve, and learn to love learning and school. Increasing the academic demands on kindergarten undermines this process and does more harm than good.Most kindergarten teachers — including my former kindergarten teacher — agree.So why is this shift happening?You can probably guess.The increased academic demands placed upon kindergartners are almost always the brainchild of administrators and other school officials who have never taught a single day of kindergarten but presume to know what these children need best.Rather than investing in a professionally designed curriculum, reducing class sizes, and hiring additional support staff, administrators assume they can raise test scores and academic proficiency by shifting academic expectations down. In doing so, they believe that students will be better prepared for state testing, SATs, and other indicators of academic success in the future.Dumb.As a fifth-grade teacher, I’d much prefer a class of well-adjusted, socially adept, hard-working students than a group of children who know a little bit more by the time they get to me. I don’t need my students to possess greater math proficiency when they enter my classroom. I understand the value of early investments in the attitude, habits, and behaviors required for academic success.I believe in the long game.Let these young children learn to play, resolve conflict, collaborate, cooperate, and negotiate. Teach them to love books, adore school, and respect themselves and others.That is the purpose of kindergarten.Here’s a good rule of thumb:If you haven’t spent at least three years teaching kindergarten, or you haven’t been teaching kindergarten for more than a decade, then don’t make decisions related to kindergarten.Instead, open your mind, put aside your hubris, and ask a bunch of kindergarten teachers what they think.Anything else would be misguided, arrogant, and stupid.

First dates gone awry

Sometimes, data can show you how your life and the lives of most people differ in ways you did not expect.

Case in point:

A new YouGov study found:

89 percent of American adults have gone on a date at some point in their lives
62 percent have been on between 1 and 15 first dates
14 percent had been on at least 15 first dates in their life

These numbers surprised me.

First, 11 percent of Americans have never been on a date.

I’m not sure if this number includes teenagers who haven’t yet gone on a date or couples who started as friends and eventually fell in love —  thus no actual first date —  but I hope that most of that 11 percent have either:

Found love absent a first dateStill have a first date in the near futureFeel no need for romantic love and are perfectly happy without it

While I’m sure a specific segment of Americans would like to be dating but cannot for various reasons, I hope this segment is exceedingly small. It’s sad to think of folks wanting to fall in love but unable to even take that first step.

I was also surprised that most Americans have only been on 1-15 first dates.

That number seems low.

Perhaps this number includes people who found the love of their life early on (thus cutting off the need for additional first dates), but in the age of dating apps, I thought people would be going on more first dates.

The barrier to finding a first date seems exceedingly low today:

Swipe in agreement and bingo. You have a first date.

I guess not.

I wasn’t dating during the age of online dating or dating apps, nor was Elysha, but I still managed to go on more than 15 first dates in my life, and Elysha believes her number is likely over 15, too. But in my day, first dates meant approaching someone – a colleague, classmate, friend, and many times, a stranger — and asking them out. Rather than a simple swipe, dating required face-to-face interaction, the courage to ask the person on a date, and the risk of real-time rejection.

For some of my younger friends, just reading that sentence would cause them anxiety.

Yet Elysha and I seem to be in the minority when it comes to the number of first dates we’ve been on, even though we were dating in barbaric, technology-free times. I suspect many of my friends growing up have first date numbers exceeding 15, too.

Yet, we would apparently be in the minority.

I don’t get it.

Also some disturbing news:

Among people not in a relationship, 69 percent said they rarely or never date.
More than 40 percent of respondents are not going on dates but would like to.

An enormous number of Americans want to be dating more, yet seemingly cannot.

I’m not sure why. When supply and demand are both high, transactions should be plentiful, yet in the case of dating, it would seem that a large percentage of Americans are walking right past one another, seeking love but failing to connect despite the ways in which technology has lowered the barriers to entry.

What is happening?

I’d like to know.

My first date with Elysha began with a hike up Mount Carmel (also known as Sleeping Giant) in Hamden, Connecticut. We hiked up the mountain as friends, but on the way down, Elysha took my hand, thus signaling that this was more than just a hike between two longtime friends.

It was one of the most exciting moments of my life.

This was followed by a long conversation on an uncomfortable futon in my apartment, a Simpsons episode, and pizza.

The last and best first date of my life.

I told a story about it at The Moth years ago, and my friend, Kaia, animated it for our company.

Owl and Pussycat

The #1 song on the Billboard charts on the day I was born was a good one:

“One Bad Apple” by the Osmonds.

Fitting, it would seem, at least at times.

But the #1 movie at the box office on the day I was born?

“The Owl and the Pussycat.”

I had never heard of this film, which sounds boring and dumb, but Elysha knew it immediately because it stars Barbara Streisand.

Just what I wanted.

A romantic comedy about “a somewhat uneducated actress, model, and part-time prostitute who moves in temporarily with her neighbor Felix, an intellectual aspiring writer. Despite their many obvious differences, the two begin to admire each other over time.”

That’s the movie? Two people from differing backgrounds share a home and find unexpected love for each other.

What the hell were people thinking in February of 1971?

Admittedly, it’s 80% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, and Streisand was nominated for a Golden Globe, but I watched the trailer.

It’s weird.

I’ll get around to watching it to confirm my uninformed, possibly unfair judgment of the film, but it’s not exactly “One Bad Apple.”

Not the movie I wanted associated with my grand entrance into this world.

The #1 movie at the box office when Elysha was born?

“The Godfather Part II”

I’m so jealous.

How we spend our time

Frightening numbers:

6 months spent at stoplights over an average lifetime
8 months spent opening junk mail
1.5 years spent looking for lost items
5 years spent standing in various lines
25 years spent sleeping
9 years spent on the phone
2 years spent in the bathroom
2.3 years spent in meetings over the average career

Though some of these are unavoidable, we should try like hell to mitigate as many of them as possible.

For example:

Don’t open junk mail. Ever. Why would you? Throw it away immediately.Avoid lines whenever possible by organizing your shopping to limit the number of times you must enter a store. Also, order online whenever possible.Avoid losing items as much as possible by adopting Ben Franklin’s adage, “A place for everything and everything in its place.” If you become relentless in this pursuit, you really will know where almost everything is at all times.If you’re going to be on the phone, try to be productive by completing an essential but mindless task while speaking, such as folding laundry, cooking, or throwing away junk mail.Always bring something to a meeting that will allow you to be productive when it becomes (or starts out) meaningless and irrelevant. I wrote the first draft of an entire novel—based entirely on lists—during a year of useless meetings.Sleep well. This means doing all the things recommended by experts to fall asleep quickly, remain asleep throughout the night, and wake refreshed in the morning. So many people spend so much time in bed, unable to fall asleep or remain asleep, and they so often awaken in a way that starts the day off poorly in terms of mood and cognition. When you learn to sleep well and commit to treating sleep as precious, you often don’t need to sleep as much because the time you spend in bed is spent sleeping

Chapter 3 in my book “Someday Is Today” explains everything you need to know to sleep more efficiently and perhaps reduce the amount of time spent in bed.

Time is too precious not to try to limit its wasteful use whenever possible.

Ted was right and wrong

I took a short Uber ride from the airport in Boise, Idaho, to my hotel in downtown Boise. The driver, a man named Ted, and I started chatting. When I revealed that I am an elementary school teacher, he mentioned the gutting of the Education Department in Washington.

I lamented the stupidity of embracing stupidity, and Ted said, “I don’t usually talk politics, but I think you and I might think alike.”

Ted was correct.

For the next 15 minutes, we discussed the state of politics in our country, debating the best way to counter an authoritarian, unlawful executive branch and win the mid-term elections.

It was a good conversation, filled with facts and reality.

I liked Ted a lot.

As we pulled up to my hotel and I gathered my things, Ted said, “Don’t forget, brother. This is deep red country. Be careful. Watch what you say.”

Ted was not wrong. Trump overwhelmingly won Idaho, taking 66.9% of the vote to Kamala Harris’ 30.4%. Idaho was Trump’s third strongest state nationwide, only behind West Virginia and neighboring Wyoming.

I understand Ted’s concern, but I also believe that most people—regardless of their political affiliation and underlying belief structure—are good, decent human beings. They may think differently than me, and some of their beliefs may even be abhorrent to me, but that does not preclude us from also having much in common.

This turned out to be true, at least in the 36 hours I spent in Idaho. During that time, I spoke to a large audience of business owners and entrepreneurs (oddly enough, in a comedy club) and chatted with many of them after my speech.

Later, I ate dinner with the executive committee of the Entrepreneur’s Organization (EO)—the group that brought me to Boise.

I also enjoyed an excellent slice of pizza at The Pie Hole, ate breakfast with a woman from Bonner’s Ferry who was staying in the hotel, and chatted with two other Uber drivers and a front desk clerk.

Some of these people I spent time with undoubtedly voted for Donald Trump. Some may also approve of the way Trump is surrendering to Putin in Ukraine, gutting our federal government in careless and dangerous ways, threatening the sovereignty of Canada, Greenland, and Panama, and attacking long-term allies in what the conservative Wall Street Journal has called “the stupid trade war in history.”

Still, every person I met was kind, decent, and friendly. We found many things to talk about. I found people excited to work with me. I enjoyed many enlightening, hilarious, and inspiring conversations.

I ate a fantastic slice of pizza.

The only way we will get through this age of political divide is to connect with those who disagree with us. Find common ground. Make our fellow Americans understand that despite the media and the algorithms that seek to divide us for profit, we have more in common than we think. When we listen to one another, seek to avoid the demonization of one another, and attempt to find common ground, opinions can shift, compromise can be found, and unity can be restored.

Statistically speaking, about two-thirds of the people I met in Idaho voted for and supported a President who I see as loathsome, ignorant, cruel, and criminal.

That is a shame, but it does not mean I can’t reach across the aisle, find some common ground, share a meal, and find some joy in the company of one another.

Ted was right that I was in deep, red country this weekend. Perhaps it’s true that politics should not be the default topic of conversation, but I certainly didn’t need to be careful.

Good people are everywhere, even if their politics don’t seem especially good to me.

Delay made good

My connecting flight from Chicago to Boise is delayed by about 25 minutes. The plane arrived late, so the cleaning and safety crew needed time to prepare it.

I sit near the podium, pecking away at my keyboard, when I hear a man become irritated with the gate agent.

“How long does it take to clean a plane?” he asks.
“People are waiting. Can’t they work any faster?”
“This is ridiculous.”

He’s not nice. He’s loud. His tone is aggressive and rude.

He’s also being ridiculous. We’re landing in Boise around midnight. He’s not trying to make a connection. Boise is his destination, so this short delay won’t cause him to miss a plane. Also, it’s likely the pilots will make up most of this time in flight, as they often do.

A second later, he sits beside me. I wait for a moment, and then I look in his direction, hoping against hope that he will notice my gaze and say something to me.

Allow me to engage.

Then he makes eye contact with me. He says, “Can you believe this nonsense?”

“Are you okay?” I ask. I try to sound as sincere as possible.

“What?”

I repeat myself. “Are you okay?”

It’s one of my favorite lines in situations like this:

Accusation wrapped in sincerity.

“I’m fine,” he says, already sounding defensive. “Just annoyed about the stupid delay.”

“Oh,” I say, trying to sound incredulous. “Okay…”

“Why?” he asks. He’s mad now.

“I fly a lot,” I say. “And I don’t often hear people speak to gate agents like that, especially when there is absolutely nothing they can do. So I thought maybe something was wrong. Maybe you’re having a bad day? Got some bad news?”

He stands up and walks away. Finds another seat.

A young woman sitting opposite me taps my foot to get my attention and smiles.

She enjoyed it, too.

About half an hour later, I’m boarding the plane. I have a row to myself because I switched to an empty row while standing in line to scan my ticket.

I fly a lot. I know some tricks.

It turns out I have also switched to the seat across the aisle from the man.

Of course.

I smile at him as I sit down.

He does not smile back.

As I type these words, we have about an hour to go on the flight. There is still silence from the other side of the aisle.

The pilot has announced that we’ll be landing in Boise 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

I don’t like delays either, but I made the best of this one.

Smart twin mom

I am teaching the better half of four sets of twins in my class this year.

“The better half” because I always like my students best.

As a teacher who has taught many twins in my career, I am keenly aware of how often they mention birth order:

The oldest, sometimes by just a minute or two, often lords their age over the younger twin.

Enter one of the cleverest mothers on the planet.

I met this mother of twins years ago who refused to reveal the birth order of the twins to them or anyone else, thus eliminating the mindless, droning, incessant nonsense surrounding which twin is older.

This also eliminated any possible influence birth order might have on the child’s development.

She told her twin children that she would reveal their birth order when the twins turned 18, adding the joy of suspense and surprise to the mix.

They had something to look forward to, nearly two decades in the making.

I love this idea so much.

Elysha and I don’t have twins. At one point, we hoped for them, but a day spent with our friends Charles and Justone, who had newborn twins, convinced us otherwise.

Those boys turned out to be delightful young men, but those first couple of years looked like hell.

But had Elysha given birth to twins, I would’ve employed this undisclosed birth order strategy and loved every minute of it.

Keeping children in suspense is always fun.

Eighteen years of suspense would be amazing.

The right way

I wrote something a little bit ago that included the words “sexual preference.” A reader sent me a message in response that I wanted to highlight.

They wrote:
___________________________

Great post. Would you consider changing the word “preference” to “orientation”, please?

Sexuality is not a favorite flavor, car model, or vacation destination. It’s what you’re dealt with at birth. It’s the privileged or the brave who are fortunate enough to embrace, celebrate, and share that gift of their true self openly.

___________________________

I was annoyed, of course.

Not because of what the reader said but because I’ve been told this before.

I agree. “Sexual preference” is a stupid way to describe sexuality, but after decades of hearing “sexual preference” used to describe a person’s sexuality, that vestigial nomenclature still sometimes finds its way from my brain to my fingertips while I type.

I’ll try to do better in the future.

But I think the way this reader approached me is instructive.

Not angry or outraged. Not incendiary or mean. Instead, the reader was kind, polite, and instructive. Their message was born from the desire to educate rather than repudiate.

As someone who has written a blog post every day for nearly two decades, I’ve received many angry, outraged, and incendiary responses over the years. A few may even have been justified, but most were simply attempts by readers to change how I think or act by scolding, shouting, bullying, or calling me names.

Thankfully, I don’t care. I find these responses amusing, ephemeral, and often ridiculous.

But when I receive a message like this, I always appreciate it. I want to learn, I want to be better, I enjoy hearing differing perspectives, and I don’t mind being asked to reconsider my position.

But that almost never happens when someone behaves like a jerk.

Screw it.

My daughter, Clara, likes to stay under the radar at school. She’s a high school sophomore with many great friends, but she likes to keep a low profile.

School isn’t always easy for her. She has autism, so although most people are kind, accepting, and lovely, some are not. So she tends to stick with her friends, look to make new friends whenever possible (including the one she made this week) and keep her head down.

I’ve been asked to speak at her school many times, but she’s asked me to pass, not wanting my presence to shine a light on her.

I shone that light on her in middle school when I came to speak at her school. That, combined with the fact her school uses one of my novels in her curriculum, cast a light a little too bright for her liking.

So I stay away. I understand.

Yesterday, Clara found herself in the auditorium with her entire sophomore class—hundreds of teenagers—listening to a speaker talk about, among other things, bullying. It turns out Elysha and I know this speaker. He’s told a story for Speak Up, the storytelling organization Elysha and I run.

At one point in his talk, he invited students to step forward and tell a story about a time they were bullied, the person doing the bullying, or a bystander.

He waited.

No one moved.

He waited some more.

Still, no one volunteered.

Then, as Clara described it to me, she said to herself, “Screw it,” and stood up, made her way to the front of the auditorium. Standing before her class, she told a story about being bullied in middle school.

I couldn’t believe it. The girl who tries to keep a low profile had placed herself directly before her peers to tell a story.

“How did it go?” I asked.

“Great,” she said with a smile. “After I told my story, other kids started getting up to tell theirs.”

Not only did she stand in front of hundreds of her classmates and tell a story, but she also made it possible for others to do the same.

I was so proud of her.

Later that night, I told her how much I loved the way she decided to stand up and the words she used:

“Screw it.”

“Why?” she asked.

I told her that I see people miss opportunities all the time because of excuses like:

“It’s too hard.”
“It’s too scary.”
“It’s a Tuesday night.”
“It’s too far away.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“It doesn’t sound all that fun.”
“I don’t know anyone who will be there.”
“I have too much work to do.”
“I have to get up early the next morning.”
“I don’t like to drive at night.”
“No one will like it.”
“The weather looks iffy.”
“I’m just too tired.”
“She’ll probably say no.”
“It might not work.”
“I’ve never done that before.”
“I think I’ll just stay home tonight.”

So many people miss out on so much because doing otherwise would mean overcoming hurdles they seemingly love to set out for themselves. Excuses abound. As a result, people’s lives are so much smaller than they often need to be.

A reason to avoid doing something is always easy to find, so people do just that. They find justifiable, reasonable, and rational reasons to stay home, cease the expansion of their perceived boundaries, and avoid taking chances. They remain inside their comfort zone, keeping their lives predictable, repetitive, and manageable.

Wouldn’t it be great if more people said, “Screw it,” and did something few others seem willing to do?

Wouldn’t it be great if more people said, “Screw it,” and did something they never thought they could do?

Wouldn’t it be great if more people said, “Screw it,” and stopped allowing fear, inconvenience, uncertainty, and the unknown to keep their lives small, limited,  and expected?

I told Clara I loved what she did yesterday because she purposefully pushed against a boundary she had set for herself and took a risk. She did something no one else was willing to do. She found the courage to overcome fear and the strength to make her life a little more interesting by rising up while everyone else remained seated.

“You did what others would not,” I told her. “You did what you could not, except then you could.”

I explained to her that this is the formula for a bigger, better, brighter, more interesting, more impactful, more connected, and more meaningful life.

Thoreau was right when he said. “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

It’s a damn tragedy.

Want to avoid such a tragedy for yourself?

Perhaps take a lesson from Clara and say, “Screw it.” Toss caution and your multitude of excuses to the wind and do the good, hard, sometimes scary thing. Step out of your comfort zone. Do something new. Meet new people. Say yes instead of no.

Say, “Screw it,” and give it a try.

Two simple words that might just open the world up a little bit more for you, and that is always a glorious thing.