Last month, I attended "back-to-school night" at my four-year-old’s preschool, where the teacher spelled out my daughter’s curriculum for the school year. Not only did she inform me that my kid would be learning eight languages plus calculus by the time Christmas rolls around; she also told me that I should not pack her lunch box with cookies, chips, or sugary juice boxes, as that would be a major Montessori faux pas. (Personally, I’m surprised they don’t have an organic chef on staff, given how much I’m dishing out in tuition.)
It’s hard enough to get kids to eat healthfully at dinner or during school lunch. But try telling the little darlings that they’re going to get cucumbers and whole wheat bread instead of ice cream and cake at their birthday party and you’ll likely risk a rebellion that would put post-Stanley Cup Vancouver to shame.
After 22 weeks of dieting, I keep thinking back to a much-discussed article we published more than five years ago in Fast Company. Called "Change or Die." It was a bracing reminder of how hard it is for people to make deep-seated changes in their habits, even when they know the price of failure may be death.
First there was an iPhone app to track your happiness, and now there's one to let you carry the stats on your exact level of flabbiness everywhere you go--a misery tracker, perhaps. It's all thanks to a wi-fi-connected weighing scale, of all things.
In any career, a little effort goes a long way. And too little effort can leave a lasting, bad impression on your customers.
Yesterday I had the unfortunate task of visiting my father in the hospital. Memorial Hermann Southwest in Houston Texas to be specific, but something tells me what I found is more the norm than the exception.