Scott Christopher - People People

PEOPLE PEOPLE

WHO they are. WHY they win. HOW to be one.

Scott Christopher

PEOPLE PEOPLE

WHO they are. WHY they win. HOW to be one.

Digital Edition 1.0

Text 2013 Scott Christopher

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except brief portions quoted for purpose of review.

Gibbs Smith

P.O. Box 667

Layton, Utah 84041

Orders: 1.800.835.4993

www.gibbs-smith.com

ISBN: 978-1-4236-3304-4

Leonardo da Vinci once said, Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. Albert Einstein said that if you cant explain something to a six-year-old, then you dont understand it yourself. Occams razor states that the simplest answer is usually the right one. Still, a simpleton like me worries that its oversimplifying to say, and it pains me to write this, that this book is about being nice.

You may have just cringed a little. I know I did.

Other very successful authors and researchers have published seminal works on nice, and it is not my intention either to add to or subtract (but definitely steal) from the body of work theyve contributed to the topic. For one thing, I am neither a successful author nor a very good researcher.

I wanted to write a true self-help bookone that would help me. Because something you must understand first and foremost is that I am not a People Person. Sure, I possess certain characteristics that are traditional to People People like affability and a firm handshake, and Im a bit fun loving (as evidenced by the cover photo), but as youll discover in the following pages, theres a lot more to it than just being a bit extroverted.

Ive approached this topic from a more personal perspective than other books Ive written, sharing truths that Ive discovered in my various career iterations. Or maybe theyre not altogether truths. Perhaps theyre just my opinions and what I personally consider to be truths. Either way, youre stuck with the book now, so you may as well accept them as truths. (Trust me, itll make the reading seem less tedious.) Rest assured, this is not entirely an autobiographical, whimsical collection of anecdotes and experience. I have mingled some data and relevant business examples into the argument as well.

People People are nice people, truly nice people. Not temporary, how will it benefit me to be nice? people. But people who care ... about businesssure; about pleasing clientsabsolutely; about doing excellent workof course. But more to the point: people who genuinely care about other people.

I hope youll indulge me the following reminiscences here; my intent is to provide some context, frame the argument, set the stage, lay the table and fill the tub.

I was born in Michigan and my parents divorced when I was still a baby. Without a father in the home, life was difficult for the four of us kids (two boys, two girls) and our mother, Lillian. She was committed to being an at-home, traditional mother to the greatest possible extent, often sacrificing well-paying work so she could be there for us in the mornings and after school. She chose to forgo the luxuries that pursuing a full-time career might provide, rather than raise us in absentia, even if that sometimes meant living in government housing projects, small apartments or other humble quarters. But we were happy enough, and I have fond memories of those simple, hand-to-mouth days. I had some interesting friends growing up, to say the least, and the neighborhood games and goofing off lasted late into the night.

But as with all kids, especially boys it seems, I needed the role model, love, security and balance that a father in the home can provide. Many good men from our neighborhood and church would invite me to join them and their kids on campouts and fishing and hunting outings. Usually two men from the church would visit our home at least monthly to assess how we were doing and provide material help when times were tight, which wasnt infrequently. Christmases were always highlighted by sweet acts of service and charity, as caring people would often anonymously leave foods, treats or gifts at our doorstep. They would help get me involved in Boy Scouts and other youth activities to provide discipline, direction and preparation for adult life.

As Mom tried to find a suitable man for both her and us, the occasional nutjob would surface. One such was a college professor that rubbed all four of us kids the wrong way. He was a bit stern, quite creepy, a neat freak and stereotypically nerdy. Though we didnt really mind that some guy would take our dads place at home, we certainly didnt want it to be this guy. Mom wasnt too crazy about him either, and one spring evening in a park as they sat and talked on a picnic blanket she told him it was over. This didnt sit well with him. He began to curse her and, filled with rage, held her down and began choking her. He was strong and fit but somehow my spunky little mother was able to get him off her and run. She ran scream-praying ( Hellllllp me, sweet Jesusstrengthen my legs! God above, save me now!) through the park to the main road and, miraculously, he was never able to catch up to her.

She hailed a passing car and without waiting yanked a door open and jumped in. A shocked but understanding couple drove her straight home. She woke us up and told us we were moving the next day. She wasnt sure where, but it was time to go and the good Lord would provide. She called the men from the church for help.

That next morning one of them rented a U-Haul and helped us load everything up. His parents lived out in Utah, and he suggested that out West would be a good place to start over: a clean and friendly environment where we could distance ourselves from the kooks Mom had been dating. Another kind man showed up with his comfortable new Ford LTD. We left our 1971 Volkswagen Beetle behind, knowing full well that it stood no chance of crossing the Great Plains, as it could barely make it to the A&P without suffering seizures and spasms befitting a poisoning victim. We piled into the spacious Ford and the cab of the U-Haul. Both men took time off from their jobs and, leaving their families for a week, drove us 1,900 miles west.

I dont recall either of those two saintly men being charming or having bigger-than-life personalities. Neither was terribly flashy or slick. In fact, both of them seemed a little on the quiet, humble side. But their selfless actions reflected their genuine concern for us. They cared.

In Utah there was no lack of people reaching out to offer assistance or service to a single mom with a full load. Once again other men became role models for me, mostly my friends dads, who were patient and accepting. Most were hard-working, honest men who cared for their own and extended kindnesses to others. Still, I never felt entirely comfortable with kids who had both a mom and dad at home, especially if the dad made a decent living. Somehow I felt inferior to these kids and unworthy of their friendship, feelings my sweet mother exorcised with positive and uplifting words of encouragement. And she mostly succeeded.