Greg's Right FIT #434

Quick notes to help you grow your business in less time with less effort. . . sometime next week. 

In this issue: 

- Thoughts on Attitude
- Being Human
- Random Stuff

Thoughts on Attitude

• Do we smile because we're happy, or are we happy because we smile? I heard this on a cassette tape, back in the days of such things, and it stuck with me. Research proves his claim is right. Smile at yourself in the mirror for a minute to test the claim yourself. 
• Sticky notes in your medicine cabinet are great for mental attitude. They can help you get in the right frame of mind. Especially if you read them out loud to yourself in the mirror. While smiling. "I'm alive! I'm awake! I feel great!" 
• Watch the tape running in your head is saying. The little robot in our head has a way of making what's in there come true. Research says to get rid of a bad thought, write it down on paper, crumple it, and throw it away. It works.
• Get good at reframing your inner thoughts to harness the power of your brain. For instance, don't downplay an accomplishment, it tells your brain it's not a big deal. Celebrate it, or at least say "thank you" when complimented. (brains aren't good at interpreting modesty)

Being Human - Efficiency

"The first secret to getting what you want is knowing what you want." – Anonymous

I read a review/story about Sam Altman's new book. As the CEO of Open AI, leader in a technology that will upend, well, everything, the book must be interesting. The article says Altman predicts "95% of what marketers use agencies, strategists and creative professionals for will be handled by AI at nearly no cost." Sounds ominous for marketers. (read it here)

When I first started traveling for work I was excited to learn a little about what life was like in all the big cities my sales team worked. I spent a lot of time in the suburbs. This is where my sales people lived and worked, and it made sense to stay in the area. In planning my trips we'd look for Marriott Courtyards, and it didn't take long before I had a little routine set up. An early Tuesday flight with just a carry-on out of Omaha to a connecting city, a short layover, arriving early to my first city, breakfast or lunch, work, dinner, out the next morning to the next city, repeat, then back on Friday morning. Very groundhog day. 

As I spent time in these suburbs, they all started to look the same to me. For the most part, they were the same. The developments our people lived in were newer houses, nicknamed "McMansions" since they seemed mass-produced. The development the hotel was in usually had four or five other hotels in the cluster, and were surrounded by a lot of the same upscale casual restaurants, big box stores, and office buildings.

In this sameness there was a certain efficiency. The areas were safe with good schools. The commutes were reasonable. Everything was newer and worked well. But for a traveler, it was easy to forget where I was. More than once I found myself, late at night, inserting and re-inserting my room key into some stranger's room that happened to be the previous night's room number. The efficiency forced my brain to work harder. Coming up with new processes and reminders to stay on track and at 100%. 

I'm thinking about this as I use AI LLMs. They have a particular efficiency to them, but a lot of what comes out requires me to think harder about what I want. Just like Marriott took the most common ideas from a business traveler's hotel and turned them into look-a-like Courtyard's, Chat GPT is taking the average of the content it learned from, and it's churning out results that look-a-like what we might expect. It makes some things easier, some harder, but either way, my brain is working harder. 

But 95%? Seems bold simply because most marketers spend a good chunk of their time trying to figure out what clients want. . .but I suppose it will sell a lot of books.

Random Stuff

We're finally past the threat of freezing in these parts. A little earlier this year, so we can think about moving some plants out into the garden. My lovely bride has been growing some plants inside to give them a head start on life. It's very exciting. 

For Christmas, my in-laws gave me a fancy weather gauge. It has a rain collection unit. I put the temperature/humidity sensor in the yard right away, but had to wait for the rain gauge until the threat of freezing passed. 

Like yesterday. 

The gauge is a clever contraption, tipping a little see-saw back and forth under a collection cup, sending the signal back to the control panel. There is rain in the forecast today. I'm excited. 

As I installed the rain collection unit I remembered my neighbor. He and his wife were old. I think I remember seeing a son stop by once or twice, but for the most part we didn't interact. 

His name was Woody Ore and the fence between our yards was either the backstop or home-run fence when we played ball. All summer long, the ball would end up in Woody's yard. He didn't appreciate it. We'd have to stop play, go to the front door, ring the doorbell, step into the vestibule, and ask permission to get the ball. They were teaching manners, but at the time I got stuck on old people smell, Mrs. Ore offering us old Mounds mini-candy bars, and Woody's hands. He was missing fingers on each hand. 

As my friends and I got bigger, we were able to jump the fence and retrieve the ball ourselves. We also got pretty good at arranging our fingers into Woody's shape and threatening each other with "Get out of my yard!" No way he didn't hear us. 

He had a rain gauge on the fence. A bright yellow one. He loved to check it against the official rainfall in the paper. We loved to break it. Accidentally, of course. It was right where we would jump the fence. As we grew and threw the ball harder and harder, the thing was like a magnet. I can still see a ball curving toward it, slow motion, breaking in two. Once I tried to put it back and deny I broke it, but invariably I would have to go to the door, apologize, hand over some money, maybe cry a little, and get back to the game. 

My sister, though . . . she was the one who tortured Woody. When she was just barely big enough to stand on the lower rung of the fence and reach the gauge, she'd put a little water in it. We lived in Denver, and it rained most afternoons, just a little. Well, with my sister's additions, his rain totals were consistently off what was in the paper. He complained to my Dad about it but no one knew what was happening. 

One day Mrs. Ore was on their back porch and saw a little hand reach over the fence and pour a little water into the gauge.

Busted. Finally, something for them to get mad at her about! 

Wasn't like that though. My sister was adorable. Messing with Woody's gauge? Adorable. Everyone had a good laugh.

She got away with a lot. 

My rain gauge doesn't have enough range for me to put it on the fence by my neighbors with the little kids. Too bad. I kind of look forward to a little highjinks/karmic retribution coming my way. That said, I promise if they happen to get a ball all the way over to the gauge and break it, they won't have to buy a replacement. However, they will have to sit and talk to me. Only seems fair.