If you happened to read my blog last week (Part 1 - which you can find right here), then you already know I received some phenomenal advice from a close friend about the best way to stop being “off” was to shut down and let things simply breathe at work. Taking her advice, my plan was not only to check something off my personal bucket list, but to truly go off the grid from a work perspective to get my mojo back. Well, like I mentioned, that was the idea.
As planned, I left work Thursday afternoon and drove down to Atlanta in preparation to attend The Masters over the weekend with a buddy of mine. Before picking him up at the airport Friday morning, I was going to enjoy a night to myself – something I celebrated by embracing the quiet and reading. As a frequent business traveler, I spend quite a few nights a year ensconced in hotel rooms, but I am usually pounding away on a keyboard responding to emails and doing other work. That Thursday night, however, it was just me, a beer, and a book; my weekend hadn’t even started yet and I could already feel the stress leaving my body.
On Friday morning, I received a text from my Masters mate that he woke up with a 102-degree fever and missed his flight trying to sleep it off. He immediately stated he was going to try and push through and catch the next flight to Georgia, but as quickly as he suggested this alternative plan, I talked him out of it. My friend had been on the road for the past 11 days, flown to at least four cities on both sides of the country, and he was flat out fried.What kind of friend would I be if I insisted he travel with a high fever just so I could go to a golf tournament? Well, that’s not the kind of friend I am so I wished him a speedy recovery, packed up my things, and began the disappointing drive back home to Nashville.
Listening to the angriest guitar-driven music I had on my phone, I navigated I-75 north to escape the foolishness that is Atlanta traffic when I remembered that advice from my friend again: breathe. I suddenly realized that the simple act of driving straight home wasn’t honoring the spirit of my goal to unplug from work. As a 49-year-old man who clutches his iPhone like front row tickets to a Van Halen concert in 1981, I knew I would be checking email and other work-related messages the moment I walked in the door. Again, I recalled the word, “breathe” and immediately knew what I needed to do and promptly reprogramed my GPS to a new destination: Lynchburg, Tennessee.
If you’re not familiar with this small hamlet in the middle of Tennessee, Lynchburg happens to be only place where the delightful elixir known as Jack Daniel’s Whiskey is made. As I live only 50 minutes from the distillery, I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that I’ve never made time to visit. To further my embarrassment, I was recently granted a membership into the Tennessee Squire Association which means I’m a "friend of the distillery" and own an unrecorded plot of land on Jack Daniel’s property. Clearly, this visit was long overdue.
I won’t bore you with details of my visit in this blog, but the experience was amazing. From the greeting where I was greeted as a Tennessee Squire with a hearty, “welcome home” by staff, to the tour itself and, finally, a visit to the Motlow House (sorry, Squires only), I was able to completely go off the grid. All in all, I spent about three hours in Lynchburg and was able to do what I had hoped to do all weekend: breathe.
I arrived back home in time to attend the sporting events of my 16-year-old twins: Soccer for Drew on Friday night and a track meet for Mitch on Saturday. On Sunday, I was planning to continue my unplugged weekend watching the Masters – and I did exactly that. It was thrilling to watch Tiger Woods win even though I’m not ashamed to admit I was jealous of many of my friends who were at the tournament in person. After the green jacket was awarded sometime around 2:15 PM CDT, I felt relaxed, rested, and content that I accomplished my goal to unplug. In other words, I was able to allow things to simply breathe in my absence making me eager to get back to the office on Monday.
This is the part where I’d love to tell you that’s exactly what happened Monday morning. However, as I’ve expressed in previous blogs, life isn’t always that neat and tidy.
Two hours after Tiger’s monumental victory, my wife, Sandy, received a frantic phone call from my son, Mitch. While it was very difficult to understand what he was saying, it was clear he was in pain and there was fire involved. We franticly drove the three miles from our house to a popular teen hangout near a rock quarry, which happens to be hard next to a Shell gas station. As I pulled into the parking lot, I could see Mitch was screaming in agony and a good portion of his hair on the right side of his head was gone – a horrific sight for any parent.
About 10 minutes earlier, Mitch and two of his friends were playing with fire and decided to toss in a half-empty aerosol can of sunscreen to see what would happen. Unfortunately, what happened was that the can exploded and set Mitch’s hair and face on fire resulting in second degree burns to his ear, face, and neck. He spent the night in the burn unit at Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville and, as I write this, he’s resting at home and healing. While it will take some time, the burn doctors feel he will have a full recovery with minimal, if any, scarring. He is truly one lucky young man.
By the way, if you are thinking that something like this could never happen to your son (yes, I’m singling out boys here), think again. Ask your father, brother, husband, or any male you know about some of the dangerous – and, frankly, dumb – things they did as kids and you’ll be amazed any of them are alive. The fact is boys are wired to think in only a “shoot, ready, aim” way and simply don’t consider the potential consequences of their actions. I feel very fortunate that Mitch’s self-inflicted wounds didn’t result in blindness, permanent incapacitation, or even death.
Candidly, I wrestled with sharing what happened publicly, so I consulted with Mitch. After all, it’s really his story to tell. He not only said it was “ok” to share what happened but encouraged me to do so in the hopes that someone would learn from his “dumbass” mistake (his word – which is appropriate – not mine). Last week I frequently worked from home to help take care of his wounds and, more importantly, his spirit. He’s down, angry at himself, worried that he will have permanent scars despite the assurances of the burn doctors, and is scared to go back to school. All things that are quite normal to feel given what happened.
What does all of this have to do with getting rid of that “off” feeling? I stand by the advice of my friend about the importance of getting away from things to allow them to breathe. Frankly, if I didn’t do that – even if it was for a much shorter period of time than originally intended – I don’t think I would’ve been able to be the father Mitch needed me to be on Sunday and the remainder of the week. Because the vast majority of work stress had been washed away, I was able to focus solely on him.
So, while I missed out on witnessing a historic Masters in person, I’m beyond thankful that I did. Because of the illness of my golf buddy, I was able to physically be there when my son needed me most. Even more importantly, because of the advice of a close friend, I was able to emotionally be there when Mitch needed me.
Sometimes, you’re right where you’re supposed to be – even when you don’t realize it.
Breathe.
Bill is president of PromoCorner, the leading digital marketing service provider to the promotional products industry, and has over 18 years working in executive leadership positions at leading promotional products distributorships. A featured speaker at numerous industry events, a serial creator of content marketing, president of the Regional Association Council (RAC) board, and PromoKitchen chef, Bill has extensive experience coaching sales teams, creating successful marketing campaigns, and developing branding that resonates with a target audience. He can be reached at bill@PromoCorner.com.