Primer Part 2

I have made a decision in my writing career...


Come to an almost certain conclusion...

And it most definitely involves current circumstances within my professional life



The decision is this: One day, I am going to write a book about how and why MRO management is pertinent from the low level line worker to the CEO.



The almost certain conclusion is that management books (at least ones that I have read) that involve an analogy of some kind (Ice Cream Maker, High 5, Leadership and Self-Deception for example) are (in my opinion) bland as a story.

Perhaps it is the preach-I-ness (I meant to spell it that way) of a fake business, with a fake problem implementing a proposed real solution that works in other businesses and will work in yours.



I am glad that Good to Great concepts work for your management team and that your business (if you have implemented the principles) has experienced a complete 180 in terms of communication and professional development, resulting increase sales, profit, employee retention, market share, product quality and every other metric we hold ourselves to, live and die by.



For the rest of us who may not experience the change in culture or financial direction from a 115 to 280 page booklet on management choices, perhaps the problem isn't knowledge, and perhaps the problem isn't what we think or believe it to be at all.



Perhaps this young buck see's another problem all together, and maybe, just maybe, it can't be solved with a clever proverb wrapped up in business principles and endorsed by Steven Covey. Perhaps 7 Habits works for you, perhaps it doesn’t.



Not all problems can be solved by business books on fake business and people. Perhaps, as a culture, we are unsure as to what true principles of leadership are or are too afraid to apply them. The point is this: to be successful, we have to look at the actual problem, the actual disease, not the symptoms.



Is your business not being successful because you have too much overhead? Are your products not being sold because the perceived quality in the market place is not where you would like it to be? Are you attacking travel and expense budget control, when the real problem is mudda and re-run on the production floor? Are you focusing on cutting cost, when your target market is way off of a profitable track? Do you have a profitable market base, but your not focusing on cutting costs?



We cannot leave root cause analysis up to the plants and production floors in order to be successful.



Back to my decision. I can write a short business book on management of MRO, preventative maintenance and how it will help an organization, wrap it up in a cute story about a made mega million company learning from a small auto-shop that a next door neighbor runs, and sell a few thousand companies. OR I can write an exceptional story about a real company whose name has been changed and how management of preventative maintenance and MRO contracts resulted in more up time, better quality, and all around better products and margins, leading an organization to greater levels of success...



More to come...

Primer Part 1

I am 26 years old and I know what I want to be when I grow up,


but I don’t know when to grow up

but I know what I should be

Spiritually, mentally, emotionally speaking



I understand my role and duty

Temporal considerations yields only ambiguity



Who I love is clear

What I love is transparent

Where I work is a Monster who is Really Out of control!



I can see where improvements can be made

The process akin to extracting the supernumerary molars without administration of an anesthetic ... while recovering with a glass of sodium chloride diluted in vinegar

and exchanging morphine for a placebo supplement



Hypothesis: man chooses path of least resistance.



To myself I must be just and attempt to fail to disprove the desires of following the path my feet will most likely trod…



God willing

Primer for Prose: Intro

I have learned, that my ability to write, and the way I write is like an old well pump. How deep is this well you ask?

That is irrevelant...

I just like the taste of the water.

For this ol' hand pump to work, it must be primed. Water must be pour down the spicket to allow the sweet fresh water to be drawn up.

Hence the title.

Each day, befor I write, I will put to paper a poem. These poems will be my primer, and will be placed on this blog under a section, or title of "Primer for Prose".

I do not intend for them to be of any value, or by any rate publishable by traditional means, but what I do intend to do is use this as a tool to make the most out of my treasured novels.

Let the priming begin:

Clan of the Broken Banner -- Pt. 4

The kingdom of the three brothers, Rinehart, Aodhan and Amon, ruled well. Their three armies defended their shores from the godless invaders of the east, and the heathen of the south. It was told in all foreign lands that their armies were given a fever and lust for blood as never before seen among any warrior or band. Their determination to serve their king and land, their loyalty to their families and soil, were traits only wished for and sung about.

A decade of peace followed the invasions, and many nations paid tribute to the kingdom and clan of the three brothers. Together, Rinehart and Aodhan journeyed out to conquer more lands, to expand their empire, to amass more wealth, and acquire more subjects under their power. Amon, on the other hand, stayed behind and handled the internal affairs of the kingdom. Here was their greatest fall.

While the two older brothers conquered, Amon was left to the castle to plot. He did not plot with councilors, or under a secret band with signs and passwords, but within the great library. Book after book was read, tome after tome was opened and shut, scroll after scroll unrolled and rolled, candle after candle was melted. He searched for the history of the kingdom, of other kingdoms, of ancient kingdoms, and of politics. His kingdom, the one shared among three brothers, was not the first to occur in its fashion, and the endings were all similar. Brother was pitted against brother, army against army, and not long after the victor slew his own flesh and blood, another kingdom, baited by weakness and fatigue, would lay waste to an inheritance.

There would be no hope to preserve his kingdom, or to save his people, unless he could change history and forge an early peace among the brothers. Ideas swam through his mind of separating the brothers through the power of their conquest, but in each scheme, Amon saw his brothers pitted against each other as to who ruled who. As long as there was power, there would be corruption.

Upon return from their three year conquest, Rinehart and Aodhan shared liberally their spoils with their younger brother. Amon accepted their gold, jewels, ornaments and other treasures and invited them to a feast. A spread of goose, stag, boar, and beef was laid upon the table with bread and the season’s freshest crops. An old keg of ale was tapped and the barley brew was divided among them.  

Towards the middle of the feast, when the brothers and their captains were at their second helping of meat, and on their fifth mug of ale, Amon stood and called for attention.

“To my brothers, these spoils be,” he cried. The group applauded and cheered in reply. “But to this end I ask you, are you yet equal in your conquest? Will you still look at each other as one, brother to brother, eye to eye? Or will you subvert this kingdom by allowing pride to take seed within your heart? I see it now within you Rinehart and Aodhan. There is a gleam within your eye that speaks the truth of your soul. The kingdom is already lost, for neither of you will yield to my words.” As he spoke, both brothers stayed focused on him, lowering their heads slightly to take an awkward drink as to not may eye contact with the other. “Let go your foolish pride my brothers. Is not your conquest enough? Is not this spoil enough? Is not the love and adoration of your people enough? Is not the fear and terror of other nations enough? Is not the word of your brother enough to stay your hand against one another? Be still, take heart, and reflect upon the words of our father. If you do not, it will not be before winter's end when this kingdom will fall and its people placed under the rule of another.”

When Amon finished speaking, he sat down. The rest of the feast was had in silence, though an unheard anger brewed against Amon for his words. Neither Rinehart nor Aodhan spoke to defend against what was said against them, for it was truth. They knew it, but did not fear it. 

Clan of the Broken Banner -- Pt. 3

Two weeks later, while I was half engaged in eating a bowl of cereal before I left for school, I had another “daydream”. I imagined myself in downtown Seattle, next to what the locals call, “The Jungle”. It is a public park next to the iconic Smith Tower on Second Street. I had a friend who worked there as a security guard. He shared with me some horrific stories of riots, drugs, rape, and other crimes that happened during the late hours of the night. It was those stories that convinced me to go to college, but I digress.

I imagined that I was a pedestrian, walking down the hill between the Smith Tower and the Jungle, heading towards the Starbucks to get my morning fix. I heard a scream as I walked by the alley behind the Tower and saw a woman on the ground. Her sweater was torn down the back. A huge man stood over her pointing a switchblade at her throat. I ran in to the alleyway.

“Hey, get away from her!” I yelled, sprinting towards the man. The man froze and pointed the knife at me. In my supposed daydream, the man slashed his knife at me. I stepped back and grabbed the man’s wrist, locked it, flipped the man onto his back and then kicked the knife away from him. The woman got up and ran, calling for help.

The man was winded, but reached into his coat and grabbed a gun. Before he could pull the trigger, a UPS driver came out of nowhere, kicked the gun out of the man’s hand. A shot was fired, but missed both of us completely. I stood still, shocked that another would be so kind to assist me in my daydream.

“Grab the gun!” the UPS driver yelled. I grabbed the gun, handed it to the UPS driver, who then pointed it at the man's head. “One bad move and your gone,” he said. The man nodded and put his hands on his head. The UPS Driver motioned for the man to stand, and the man did so. “Turn around,” the UPS driver said. The man turned and the UPS driver pistol whipped him in the back of the head. The man fell unconscious and the UPS driver dissembled the gun in an instant.

“How did you do that?” I asked in my daydream.

"Where are you from?”

“Lynnwood,” I said. 

“What’s your name?”

“Kevin Bargrey. Why?”

“You’re not one of us, are you?

Then the dream ended.

That wasn't how my dreams were supposed to go! This was my daydream. I was supposed to be the hero! I was supposed to be the one asking questions and playing out simple, non detailed plots in my head.

But it wasn't a daydream.

Clan of the Broken Banner -- Pt. 2

749 BC Northern England

A father sat, dying upon his throne, unprepared to name his successor and future king of the people. The eldest of the three, Rinehart Blackbane swore claim to the throne, he being the stronger, older and more experienced of the three in battle. His fighting arm was uncontested in the kingdom. The second brother,  Amon BarGrey,  understanding his elders strength, conceded his claim to the throne, knowing that single handedly he could not defeat his brother. It would take time and planning to take what by intelligence, he deemed his own.

The third brother, Aodhan Whitehand was like his elder in strength, and though not as experienced in battle, felt that the kingdom should be divided amongst them, and that together, with an alliance, they could defend their rightful kingdoms.

But power is not shared lightly…

Before the king died, he called his three sons to him. “My sons, my sons, I soon go to meet the gods, and you are left with my kingdom.” Aodhan and Rinehart smiled while Amon shrugged. “But this kingdom shall not be given to one of you, but to the three, to Rinehart, the north, to Amon, from western shore to eastern shore, to Aodhan, the south. These three kingdoms will be unified equally by all three and you will be known as the clan of the three brothers.” He motioned to a servant who stood vigil next to his throne. The servant held a red pennant with three knots. “These knots represent you and your kingdom. As long as you are unified, your success will be limitless, but if one of you falls, then does the kingdom. Rule wisely.”

The debate concerning the successor was decided and the three brothers accepted it graciously.

Two weeks after the kings funeral, the three brothers counseled in their great hall about what portions of the castle would belong to whom, what resources would be traded amongst the three new kingdoms and the division of military to each kingdom.

As they were debating, and old sorcerer walked into their hall. He was a short, scraggly man, with missing teeth and stiff tangled hair. Rinehart stood and approached the man.

“What do you want? You were not invited to this council.”

“I may not have been invited by you, but I was invited.” Rinehart looked at each of his brothers, who shook their heads, signaling that neither of them had invited the man. “By your father…”

“But he has been dead two weeks. How is it he invited you.” Both Amon and Aodhan shook their heads at each other smiled. Aodhan was the first to speak up.

“He was invited to this council prior to our father’s passing. He is meant to be here.”  

Rinehart pretended to understand, but it was clear by his blank expression that he failed to grasp his father’s foresight.

“Your father was blessed with a gift given to him from the gods, one that I am going to pass to you three, and it shall be the last gift that is ever given to this world.”

“And what is this gift sorcerer?” Amon asked skeptically.

“It is the power to control others. It was what gave your father his overwhelming success in battle, and if used wisely, will defend your kingdom from the many afflictions that are to come.  But there is a choice within this gift. You may choose to control another completely, or control a populous partially, driving their desires, passions, and motives, but not their actions. Imagine leading an entire army without fear.”

“I wish to control many,” Rinehart said.

“As do I,” Aodhan followed.

“And you Amon, what is your choice?” the sorcerer asked.

Amon smiled.

“I choose one.” 

Narnia is Southwest Minnesota : A Haiku about Spring

It’s always winter


Never Christmas in Marshall

April snowstorms stink