October, 2013

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The Most Valuable Cargo

Monday, October 28th, 2013

Aloft again, this time in 27F between ATL and HSV, in what must be one of the few remaining DC-9s still in service in the US. Mercifully, Delta has maintained the interior of the tired old bird in a way that belies its years, though the 3+2 seating gives away the fact that the machine has been flying since Clinton was president.

Atlanta is one of the largest airports I’ve ever been to. Not the biggest airspace; that honor goes to New York, with three international airports in each other’s shadow, sharing the same piece of sky. But Atlanta has four runway of its own, well over 100 gates, and a railroad to get between them. There’s a saying in these parts that if you die and go to hell, you’ll have to change planes in Atlanta.

I arrive late AM on a Monday, a time during which the vast majority of my traveling companions are doing this for business reasons, not for vacation. And because of that, if they’re not paying top dollar for their tickets, they’re certainly paying more, on average, than they’d be paying if they were heading to Disney World.

I’m heading out this morning to visit a customer of a client; to investigate an elusive technical problem. The folks around me could well be on a variety of missions: sales people calling on prospects, executives making business presentations, experts resolving problems. How much of this might be done on the phone, or by FedEx? Presumably not much; after all, most people would rather go home after a day of work than check into an anonymous hotel. And surely most employers would prefer to avoid the expense of business travel.

It dawns on me that the most valuable cargo, the thing worth shipping thousands of miles, is talent: skills, abilities, instincts, or perhaps even an impossibly deft touch. What makes it special is that, whatever the talent might be, it’s not available anywhere closer than thousands of miles away. And so it makes sense to ship it, however far it needs to be shipped.

I reflect for a moment, in the pride that comes with realizing that someone thought enough of my skills to ship me down here. It almost makes up for the fact that I’ll be spending the next few nights away from my home and bride.

The perspective might also bear on my thoughts as I catch the train between terminals at ATL on the way home in a few days. Everyone around me will have proven themselves good enough at something that they were worth shipping all that distance. Viewed from that angle, my fellow road warriors seem just a bit more noble. And that’s something worthwhile.

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The End of Retail

Sunday, October 20th, 2013

Most of last weekend was spent installing an electric door opener in a rolling door intended for a golf cart, a task I’d put off for more than three years. Having finally acquired said golf cart, it was time to get the job done.

Like most projects of this nature, one generally has most, but not all, of the necessary materials in inventory. Missing from mine were a decent quality 15-foot extension cord, and a 3/16” Alan wrench with a shaft long enough to reach the back of a deep hole. Well, actually, the wrench wasn’t needed for the electric door project, but it was needed nonetheless.

With plans to head over to Hyannis on unrelated business, I added a trip to Home Depot to the agenda. With the Big Orange Box about half an hour away, going there is not a big deal, but its not a completely casual trip either.

The not-so-big day arrives. Quick trip over to electrical. There are plenty of extension cords to be had. But one with a round cross-section, single female non-right-angle connector, and fifteen feet long is not to be found. Skip parameter two, and a solution is available, but its sixteen bucks, plus sales tax. Seems a bit pricey for something that isn’t exactly what I want.

Next stop: tools. The kid behind the counter gratefully turns away from chatting up the sweet young thing across from him to tell me: “Allen wrenches? Try the middle of aisle 12.” I head over there. A few kits, but nothing with a shaft long enough to suit my needs.

That evening I head onto eBay, generally my first stop before Amazon. In less than five minutes, I find exactly the extension cord I want, and for only twelve bucks, including shipping. The Alan wrench took a bit longer to find, and at $8.99 (again including shipping) was a bit more than I was hoping to spend. But looked like a nice one, and turned out to be exactly that when it arrived a few days later.

So next time I need something and I’m not in a desperate hurry, where do you think I’ll shop?

Multiply that by however millions of customers are out there, and it would seem prudent to dump your Home Depot stock and buy United Parcel.

Now admittedly one sample point does not a trend make. And if I was buying sheetrock or landscaping supplies, eBay wouldn’t exactly be an option. But if I were a company specializing in small, light items or, worse yet, small, light, expensive items (can you say Best Buy?), I’d be quaking in my boots.

Either that or desperately trying to figure out how I can add some value so people will shop with me. It’s tough to compete on price, when the other guy is working out of his mother’s basement. But who wants to compete on price anyway? Make the shopping experience ideal: fast and convenient, with courteous, knowledgeable salespeople, and… well, maybe the world won’t beat a path to your door, but at least it will show up some frequency, perhaps even enough to keep you in business.

And maybe even enough to keep your shareholders happy. Sure would be nice if someone gave it a try.

 

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Reflections from 21B

Sunday, October 13th, 2013

I’m sitting in an only slightly uncomfortable leather seat, closing in on the end of Encounter With Tiber, sipping a cup of tea. To my left is a woman deeply engrossed in Of Human Bondage reading it on her iPad mini. To my right, another woman, with a map of Maine unfolded, is planning her camping itinerary.

Its hard to believe that we’re actually sitting in a pressurized aluminum can six miles over Lake Michigan, hurtling through the air at six hundred miles per hour while being tossed about by forces we can’t see or comprehend. From time to time I find myself reflecting on the enormity of it all, and take a moment to be grateful for having been born in this particular time and place. When Lewis and Clarke took a similar trip a couple of centuries ago, it took about eighteen months, and arrival wasn’t guaranteed. Neither was survival.

I think the thing that would most impress the early American colonists, if we could sent the message back, would be that in less than 250 years an average Joe would be able to make it back to England in about eight hours, for only a few days wages.

Miraculous times, if you stop to think about it. I can’t help but think of the G. K. Chesteron quote:

 “We are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders.”

 I wonder if it was always that way. Did folks in the age of the steam engine say “yeah, whatever” when months of backbreaking labor vanished? Did those who witnessed early airplane flights turn their back in indifference? When penicillin, the first real wonder drug was discovered, was the general public reaction apathy?

I can’t say with certainty why our view of the incredible world around us seems to be “…yeah, but what have you done for me lately?” But I’ll take a stab at it. Once we’ve experienced this level of prosperity for a few generations, I think we begin to view it as normal. But its not. And I think its healthy to remind ourselves of this on a regular basis. It may be far more fragile that it appears, and if its we’re going to try to preserve and improve it, the first think we need to do is stay aware of just how special it really is.

So when you’re cooped up in 21B, elbow-to-elbow with your seatmates, take a moment to reflect on the enormity of what’s actually going on.

 

 

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Why Fi?

Sunday, October 6th, 2013

The ubiquitousness of WiFi coverage these days never ceases to amaze me. When I sat down at our local pub last weekend, I felt a brief vibration from my belt; my phone telling me that the BritishBeerCompany free WiFi access point was available. I opted instead to access a bottle Wells Banana Bread beer. We’ll leave the discussion of whether that was an optimal choice for another time, but now that WiFi is nearly as common as running water, it would be worthwhile to consider whether it’s always a good idea to quench our thirst.

Tomorrow I’ll be spending several hours in a 737. In the past, I’ve considered this to be an opportunity to catch up on some combination of the three Rs: reading, (w)riting, and relaxing. The isolation was a Good Thing.

Now, I’ve got the opportunity to fork over ten bucks or so for some moderately wide-band coverage during that six or so hours aloft. I tried it once when, during the introduction, it was free. They block video, which is fine. I never tried Skype. For browsing the web and checking email, it did the job. I ssh’d into my web server just for the hell of it. Probably, I spent most of the flight catching up on my favorite blogs and my email – I don’t really remember.

Generally, if I want to get online while I’m on the road, I want the WiFi to be free. When it’s not, I’m moderately annoyed, especially if I’m in a top-dollar hotel. It’s been my experience that the fancier the hotel, the less is included in your room charge. At the Hampton Inn, WiFi is always included, but it never seems to be so at the Embassy Suites.

But when it comes to the airlines, I’m actually kind of glad that WiFi isn’t free. It’s new technology, so when it was introduced it wasn’t free, and given the sad state of the airline industry today, it’s unlikely that it will be free any time soon. Which is just fine for me. Tomorrow, I’ll get to work on a few short stories with one less distraction, and most likely the world will survive without receiving my emails for a few hours.

Generally, I’m not a fan of unplugging. While I’m too old to spend my every waking hour texting, I fully understand why today’s yoots don’t want to break that connection. I wouldn’t voluntarily give up any of my five senses, so why would they voluntarily give up their sixth.

But there’s another metaphor that comes to mind, too. My taste in music is diverse, I love conversation, I’m fascinated by the subtleties of sound as a telephone call is established1, and I could listen to Air Traffic Control for hours. Sound is very important to me.

But sometimes I just want quiet.

So tomorrow, I’ll skip the ten bucks and enjoy the quiet. There’s a time for everything, and some things are easier at 35,000 feet.

 

1 –  If you’re wondering how big a deal this could be, take a look at Exploding The Phone, a very worthwhile read

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