Email of Fire Ignites Gratitude

Have you ever gotten an email that included a one line zinger that was intended to burn through your firewall? I got one two weeks ago that left me scorched and smoking. I read the little hellion at least four times wondering what I had done before or after I was born to get something with words underlined to make sure I did not miss the point.

After reading the email one final time, I sent a polite response back saying “thank you”. I did not bother to point out the fact that I did not initiate the email or dispel the insinuation that I was trying to crash a private party. Prior to Hurricane Alexis, I would have hit the reply button and fired back an email that would have set the internet ablaze. After replying, I would have thrown gasoline on the fire for good measure and felt justified because I would have sent a message that you might not like me but let’s get things twisted.

Instead, I went to a meeting to discuss my friend Kurt Nichols’ latest project, www.ripxx.com. I met with his marketing director who has a roster of who’s who clients. Kurt has developed a product that will be the next big thing in the athletics and my input was asked about a few marketing ideas. The meeting was scheduled for thirty minutes but lasted over an hour. I left knowing that I made a friend. We laughed and talked about Nashville’s politics and working together on future projects.

When I returned to my office, I had another email with a one liner in response to my polite reply waiting for me. I stared at my screen as if it was a child in need of discipline. I physically pushed myself away from my desk to keep from typing out a few choice words. My inbox was beginning to stalk me. The temptation to respond was so great that I left my office to get away from my keyboard. My second appointment of the day was in two hours but I was suddenly afraid of my ghoulish desire to reply. I did not want to repay ugly with evil. In my other life, I did evil emails well.

Arriving early, I decided to read for an hour. As I was quietly sitting in the lobby trying not to think unpleasant thoughts, I heard a voice calling my name. Correctly. I turned to see a friend that I had not seen in a few years. With time to kill, we decided to grab a cup of coffee. We exchange apologies and cried for allowing life to get in the way of our friendship. Questions about our children were endless and photos were shown as if we were moms with nursery age babies instead of young adults. We laughed about past crazy ventures and for the second time before noon, I was reminded of the power of staying positive. As our meeting came to an end, we planned our next outing. With appointments pending, we entered the elevator together and reached for the same floor. She inquired about my meeting. Coincidentally, my meeting was with her colleague and the giggling continued. An hour later, I left with a new client and a renewed friendship. My attention turned to a late lunch with another friend, Renee’, at a roach free restaurant.

During lunch, we sparred over all things political for ninety minutes. Renee’ is a dead ringer for Marsha Blackburn, so our political peppered conversation naturally drew glances in our direction. We debated Obama care, the Nashville convention center, the birth certificates of blue dogs, 2010 elections, kids, men, divorces, church folks, conservatives and liberals, upcoming balls and galas, donors and the elusive sponsors of anything non-profit. Our outbursts of laughter were followed by our pitiful attempts to whisper which only made our conversation even more comical. We took our determination to solve the world problems outside and talked for another fifteen minutes. After three attempted good-byes, we finally departed. The smoldering email was put out of my head.

Last week, I attended a luncheon with my daughter. She was seated at the head table. As I sat in the audience, watching my kid engage a banker as if she was forty instead of seventeen, the sender of the flaming email entered the room. For a split second, we paused before saying a cordial hello. At that moment, I realized I never want to become a professional sender of emails of fire.

I know if I had sent a rebuttal, an ugly email would have sparked a chain of nastiness that would have block any good that was intended for me or my love ones. Watching my daughter (who I have affectionately dubbed Hurricane Alexis in my posts) sitting confidently with manners and poise, helped me to realized that emails of fire should never extinguish your joy. After the luncheon, the banker came over and said he was a father of three sons and if he had a daughter he would want his daughter to be like my Hurricane Alexis. Tears came immediately to my eyes. The banker had no idea how much that meant to me or my trials with my precious category 5 child.

An email sent to belittle and put me in my place actually made me a more grateful person. Being refined by fire took on a new meaning that day. To my dear email sender, I must say “Thank you”; you have no idea how much good will and gratitude your email ignited.

Churchfolks and Roaches

When we started Holmes Pest Control, my kids were practically babies and a handful. Now that they are older, nothing has changed. This time of year reminds me of all the big goals I had for the company initially. I believed starting a company and being patronized by all the people I knew would be a walk in the park. Pick a person and I can do three degrees of separation. The pest control business has been very good to my family. I thank God everyday for every critter he created for HPC to kill and I am thankful for every customer that has been given to us. A customer is more than a customer, they are family and friends. However, it has not been a walk in the park but I am grateful for choosing the road less traveled.

Many moons ago, I naturally assumed the customers on the Goodlettsville - Tennessee State University route we serviced while working for another company would naturally want to become our customers once we started our own business. As the foundation was being laid to start HPC, I volunteered to set appointments for the national known company that employed my husband. Everything about the commercial pest control was at our finger tips, but we had no clue about the residential side of the industry. Calling customers nightly and talking about everything to everybody helped me to understand, firsthand, the likes and dislikes of homeowners. Several large churches were on the 400-plus monthly customer route. After a year of learning names and numbers, I began to share my dream of business ownership with others.

Each time I would express my desire to become a business owner, I was always reassured that when the time was right they would want to be our customer as well. “We would never leave you guys”, we heard over and over. Since the pastors on the route had the most influence, we met with many to discuss our plans. The ministers gave us hugs and reassurances to fight the good fight and to do well. After two years of working for someone, we struck out on our own. Holmes Pest Control was in business and we were officially a “minority-owned" pest control service ready to do business in Nashville! With the excitement of a kindergartner starting school, I went door to door selling Holmes Pest Control.

On a crisp fall day, armed with 400 names, freshly printed pamphlets in hand, and a good pair of shoes; determined and driven, I knocked on doors from morning to night. But there was a slight problem, the customers were firmly planted. My business plan was surmised around customers who were brand loyal to another company not the service that was given to them by us while working for that brand. I did not have a plan B when they did not become customer with Holmes Pest Control. A route that we had serviced for two years, predominantly minority and middle income were not feeling the love for a young start up company with three hollering kids. Out of 400 plus customers, only four came with us. A future vice-mayor, a future councilman, a pediatrician, and character I lovingly called Mr. Slick. All of them are still with us today and considered close friends. Each of them has stayed with us through the good and bad times, personally and professionally. Of our four customers, Mr. Slick’s persona was peculiar and his referrals were unique like him.

He called at odd times with to do lists that were endless. He had rental properties all over town which we did not have keys too; therefore he accompanied us on every trip. No matter how far the drive or how long the job took, he remained with us as we worked. He passed the timed complaining, criticizing, and dissecting us while we worked silently. We never responded to his tirades no matter how his words hurt. After a year of working with Mr. Slick, he called two days before Christmas to get his properties treated. We had packed the vehicle to visit my parents but we unpacked and reloaded it with chemicals for Mr. Slick. After following him around town for an entire day, he told us he wanted us to meet him back as his place. Dog-tired and thoroughly confused, we followed him home without speaking a word about our special customer with his eccentric demands. He came out with an envelope stuffed with cash. He always paid in cash but the envelope was much thicker than usual. “Get something for them babies,” he said in a gruff voice. He also told us his church needed pest control. I was floored. Not about the extra thousand dollars but that he mentioned church. “God provides,” was my comment for my ugly thoughts. Churches were a hard sell. Church folks love pest control service but if you are not on first names with a Bishop, a Reverend Doctor, and Saint Peter…keep walking. Christmas arrived two days earlier for the Holmes family.

After the holidays, we attended service with Mr. Slick. He wanted to introduce us to the pastor and church board. In my Sunday's best, I came prepared with brochures and a contract. Being raised in a multi-denominational family and a graduate of Catholic high school, visiting churches was always an adventure. His church took me back to the old days of fanning and fainting, long and lively, and pious preaching. As I was visually checking out the church folks, I could not miss the bugs. Yep, this church was open to everyone, including roaches. As the minister started delivering his message, I could see smaller roaches starting to scurry. About fifteen minutes into his sermon, the roaches were coming for an alter call. The more he banged on the podium, the more the roaches appeared. I knew this where I needed be. Since the roaches were coming into the light, I felt moved to be thankful. Kicking Roger, I pointed to the roaches and he started clapping as well. The more we clapped the more bugs we saw. Needless to say, we cut a shine right down the aisle. I was praying this church became our customer. Mr. Slick, Deacon Slick on Sundays, was sitting in corner wishing he never invited us. I could read his body language. He knew we saw the roaches and I knew he was going to have to explain his visitors’ “happiness” at the next board meeting.

We got the contract but it was not given right away. We sat out in the hallway while churchfolks with roaches looked for every reason under God’s blue sky not to do business with us. They hid nothing and every suspicion about dealing with a young company was discussed openly with us listening. Humility has many levels and remembering I had three kids to feed kept me from walking out the door. I refused to allow pride to hinder a blessing in disguise.

Years later, Mr. Slick is still a customer. His health has deteriorated over time and he does not call as often but he still gives his commentary. I send highlights of “them babies” often. He gave me the “skinny boy's” gift for graduation this year; cash in an envelope as usual. He finds it hard to believe they are young adults. For Father’s Day this summer, I took him a pie, sweet potato of course, and a card with their signatures on it. He smiled quietly and I could see the humility that comes with aging. As I was leaving his home that we have served over the last decade, I reminded him of our church visit and the lessons we learned that fateful day.

I told Mr. Slick he taught us to be faithful, we learned that four customers that believe in your mission is better than 400 who do not, drop the label minority-owned and just be Holmes Pest Control and don’t be afraid to shout when you are happy. Giving him a big hug as I said good-bye, I was reminded how many interesting churchfolks one meets on the road less traveled.

Have I said Thank You?

After my fright with hurricane Alexis four years ago, my focus has been her. She can distracted me easily since that time, but I mean well. We are better, but my life changed a lot and for that I am grateful. That trying moment is a constant reminder that no one said parenting was going to be easy and never be embarrassed to ask for help. My parents had a coalition of aunts, uncles and grandparents to help raise me. I remind myself of that often.

In my day to day business world, I have recruited individuals with the heart to help. While raising my kids, my coalition of friends help me keep my business on the right track. One of those friends is Jennifer Milele. Jennifer is a servant leader with a heart of gold. She works over time to be the best she can be in her business, JLyn Dsignz. She is also responsible for graphics for the column I write for Mrs. Perry and The Tennessee Tribune.

Last week, she shared her day was going to be a hectic one. The kind of day we have all experienced being a mother, business owner, civic leader, and net-worker. Her to-do list was longer than her body and she was short on time. As she was sharing her endless list with me, I heard myself talking. How many times have I had more tasks than time? I did not ask if she needed help, I chimed in and took a few errands off her plate. She would have done the same thing for me.

Have I said thank you, Jennifer?

Jennifer, thank you for working long hours making me look my best. I forgot to say thank you when she made last minute changes at 2:00 in the morning for me to make an 8:00 a.m. presentation. I have forgotten to say thank you in my rush to get your work to press more times than I care to mention. You are the best and no one is as patience as you. Thank you for all you. No one can talk politics(smack), graphics, and motherhood like you.

For those of us that have gems like Jennifer in our lives, stop and say thank you. With our lives being as busy as we make them, I am sure there is someone we may have forgotten to say two enduring words that can brightens some one's day.

Jennifer, dinner for two is on me this week! Thank you.

photo: taken at Belk's for community awareness of Homebased businesses
www.jlyndsignz.com

It Takes a Village

I am the perfect imperfect mom. My kids are everything I want to be in life and everything I want to change about me. I try to celebrate their uniqueness by keeping them engaged and involved in our community.

Raising my oldest, Franz, was as taxing as my youngest. I actually earned my stripes with him. He was too smart for his own good and no matter where we put him, his inquisitive nature got him trouble. He was not a bad kid and never did anything to hurt others; he just got into trouble…often.

When he attended school at MLK, Dr. Saffell-Smith was the principal. I introduced myself to her at the first parent-teacher conference and told her he was going to be a handful. Any advice she had to give, I was willing to listen. I am not a parent to complain about a teacher’s authority and I have always supported anyone who cultivates leadership and growth in my children. Dr. Saffell-Smith’s patience was put to test within the first month of school. A call about his rambunctious behavior was the beginning of my relationship with Dr. Saffell-Smith.

Dr. Saffell-Smith and I talked weekly. She never let him get away with anything. She was the first to bring up the word mentor with me. While I was frustrated and yelling, she remained calm and encouraging. She never gave up even when I wanted too. She introduced David Bullock to our family. At that time, David worked for FANUC Robotics. They had similar spirits and complimented each other well. Under David's watchful eye, my son started networking and working for himself. David gave him small projects to complete that would earn him income. Earning his own money at an early age was the key to helping him value being independent later.

My kid, who gave me migraines and sleepless nights, graduated with honors from MLK in 2004. He chose his college (TSU), he worked out his scholarship offers and took the lessons he learned from his schools, his principles, his mentor and family with him. The good, the bad and the ugly were all part of building his character. He navigated his college education by building a support network among his professors and peers. His sophomore year, he joined the track team and promised me he would not allow track to distract him from his studies.

The decision to run track while studying sports medicine was not my choice for him but he was “grown” and what could I say. The conversations about school and post graduate studies were peppered with track meets. I was afraid he was being diverted from his education. We came to an impasse his senior year when I was informed he was not going to march in May. He said he had a track meet. The words I uttered that day can never be taken back. He told me later, he had already hung up his cell and never heard me. Thank God.

He marched August 8, 2008. He was number one in his school and carried the flag. My tears flowed freely as I shouted his name. I acknowledge, his four years of college was around the time of his sibling’s crazy phase. Franz graduation’s helped me to realize that a mother never stops wanting the best for her children. He started grad school the following month. He was also hired as the assistant strength coach. Looking at his schedule, I mentioned school/ work balance. He hurriedly told me he can manage both. Not only was he independent but he was determined.

This summer, I turned my attention to my youngest son and his laid back attitude about life. He was feeling my wrath. While I was dealing with his younger brother, Franz went to Colorado with Coach for three weeks. He mentioned a training event but no other details were given.

When he returned home, he looked as if he found his calling in life. He was a trainer and guide for the Paralympics for Team USA. He worked with blind runners for two weeks at the U.S. Olympics facilities in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Did I ask about school and work? No. I have learned; he knows what he is doing. It truly takes a village…two more to go. Now don’t go anywhere, I need you.

Engaging the Community's Involvment with Young People and the Oasis Center

I spent Monday morning sharing with the Willis Group about the importance of their contributions to the United Way. The donations made to the United Way help the youth of Middle Tennessee and the Oasis Center. My daughter, Hurricane Alexis, is gearing up for her fourth year of baking pies for the Oasis Center. Alexis became apart of the Oasis' family in Aug of 2005. As a mom of a teen that has benefited from the generosity of others, I am compelled to share my gratitude and my story with others.

Since that time, I have spent many hours sharing locally, regionally, and nationally about the good deeds of the Oasis Center. For more information about the Oasis Center go to www.oasiscenter.org.

To schedule a speaker (or me) from the Oasis Center for the your church or civic group contact, Kay Haygood (Faith and Religious Groups) or Hal Cato (corporations or civic groups) you may reach them at 615-327-4455.

Fridays with CEO Fellowship

Every Friday morning, I am out the door to my 6:45 appointment with CEO Fellowship. CEO Fellowhip is a networking group that is focused on your daily walk and not your daily deposits. It is an appointment that I have only missed once in eight months. It is my power hour for me, my family, and my business. I got to get there! Sunny or thundering and lightning, the forty five minute drive to Brentwood is the only drive that I do not complain about the mileage or gas. I come with my note book and pen ready to get my fill of the Word that not only motivates me to be the best I can be, but cuts through the garbage in my head and heart that can not be detective with a smile and hand shake.

Some memorable moments for me in the last few weeks have been Ruby Kalis, Steve Robinson and Nancy Reece. Mr. Kalis made such an impact on my Hurricane Alexis and Baby Boy Corn, that I am still trying to make sense of the effect his presentation had on them. Rudy Kalis is sports director with WSMV. With a house full of athletes, his words from that week have been repeated over and over by kids. "Mom, did you hear him say" is how many conversations with my son and daughter start since they heard him speak in September. I had them as my guests that week hoping something would be said that would make an impact on them. Boy, did I underestimate that one. They have talked about Rudy every week and I find the tv on WSMV instead of ESPN more and more.

Steve Robinson, a director of FCA, made an impact on the kids at several athletic camps over the summer. I realized why the kids respect him so highly after hearing him share his story last week. Steve gave insight about the challenges a CEO faces at home. The room was silent and reflective as Steve shared his life story. His vulnerability before a room full of men and women was courageous and gut wrenching.

Nancy Reece, a sought after speaker, gave me pages and pages of notes from her lesson on leadership. The power of her message left me thinking deeply long after the I left the building. Nancy is with The Human Capital Group and I can see why the company is successful. Nancy's emphasis on integrity was the foundation of her message. There is no way she could have spoken with such authority if that was not her life.

CEO Fellowship has that affect on me since my joining the group. The hugs and smiles are genuine and the honest dialogue is refreshing and renews your spirit after a week of being beat down by the day to day business of doing business. The room is diverse in backgrounds each week but is be unified on the mission of equipping business owners to be better leaders at home and in the marketplace.

We start each meeting with song and praise with Alex Harvey. Lenoard Isaccs turn up the volume making sure each visitor get a dose of laughter and a warm welcome. Carla Ritz keeps us organized and greets everyone with a smile. Jerry Moll brings order and reminds us of the purpose of the group. Joe Green, Chairman, teaches with many examples from his life. Speakers from all spectrum of God's kingdom walk through the doors leaving a piece of themselves behind. There are a host of other volunteers that give of themselves to make sure the meetings are well planned. All done with love and admiration for God's word and to help business owners, executives, and those in career transitions to be better and to do better.

If you are in the Nashville area, we meet every Friday morning at 6:45 rain or shine.
For more information about the group: www.ceofellowship.com

Photos by: Stephen Kiern

"Mom, I was picked for the team!"

"Mom, I was picked for the team!" My daughter, Hurricane Alexis, jumped in the truck with the biggest smile on her face. She had the look of 'I did it all by myself' of years gone by. Alexis is my youngest and has a drama streak. Putting her in basketball was a decision to help with leadership and character development. Her skills in the game were not my first priority but if she was going to be on the team and she had to learn the game. She comes from a household of great athletes and I was not letting my expectations down with her.

This summer she stepped up her training after a few stern conversations from me and attended several basketball camps. The school hired a new coach to take over the team after Coach Ronnie decided she needed to spend more time with her family. In a tutorial, parents are involved in many aspects of educating their kids including coaching the team. Last year, the Lady Royals went to the state championships and won. But it was hard fought and there were a few problems with unity on the team. Coach Ronnie said girls can be that way.

The new coach is not a parent of the school and he has no ties to the area. He is quite and does not talk much to the parents. He is an introvert and thinks analytical. He spent all summer teaching plays and drills. The team had strength and power but they needed to think strategically. He told each young lady that they would have to earn their spot on the team. This was different. In the last two years, the girls would go out for the team and everyone made it. It was not viewed as competition to see who had the best skills or potential. Their qualifications for being on the team were they had to be a girl, attend practice and be in good standing with the school.

But after winning the championships, the Lady Royals were seen in a new light and the stakes were raised. The girls became more competitive with each other and there was a spirit of being the best in the air. The new coach was the right choice. They wanted to be the best and they wanted only the best on their team. This was a different team. This was the Lady Royals.

Something else happened. Alexis started to take the game more seriously. She went to the basketball court on her own, twice a day and would practice dribbling the ball more and more. In August, she practiced daily. A week ago, one of my neighbors knocked at the door and said he wanted to help her with her drills. I eyed him like a pervert from jail but she explained that she asked him to help her. She initiated the call and ask Mr. Mike, a retired airline pilot and exercise enthusiast, to help her win her spot on the team. I was surprise. She was taking her game to the next level.

That week of practice with Mr. Mike, along with her skills and determination helped her win her spot on the team. She earned it. And she knows it. I was proud of her. I was proud that she wanted to be on the team and she wanted to be viewed as one of the best on her team. Not just a player on the girls' team. On the way home yesterday, she talked about her opponents that she will play against this season and for the first time I heard her mention visiting UT. She was talking about college and sports.

Living here in Tennessee, the Lady Vols basketball program is one of the state's treasures. The crown jewel of women's sports. Recognized nationally and internationally for their dominance in the game of basketball. My Alexis is a junior this year and something special is happening with her. I sent Pat Summit, the Lady Vols head coach, an email and told her that I have a diamond that is being buffed and polished. Pat responded and said she will be in town soon for a conference.

As I started to journal last night, my mind drifted to the current political season. I love seeing women be the best they can be. I want women to shatter as many glass ceilings as often as we can. Being a woman in the pest control industry, I know that the ceiling can be shattered. But let us be the best at what we do and be strategic in the process. Not just a woman on the team. I am not another pest control operator. I am a leader in my industry and beyond. Known nationally and internationally for my work in the industry. I am proud to be a woman, God made me that way.

My daughter is being polished for the next generation of leadership in this country. No matter what she does, she will be a leader. She comes from a long line of leaders. I will not let my expectations be any less than what I demanded from her older brothers. Hopefully, it will not be because she will be a woman but because she will one of the best at whatever she does. After all, she is a diamond and she will be polished and buffed.