Measuring Up

When do acquaintances become friends? Friends become good friends? Good friends become best friends? New friends become old friends? And so on.

I'm not exactly sure of that answer, but I am happy to write a post about our good pals Jon and Dana Shank, and seeing that gradual motion over the past 2 or so years. He was a classmate of C's at Stanford and she is his wife, who I became close with through our gang of SO's (significant others, in Stanford-speak). On paper, I don't know if we would have matched up well. They both went to Stanford for undergrad, he was BMOC (big-man-on-campus) with his baseball scholarship and fraternity membership, she was in a popular sorority, etc, and they already had a full docket of friends coming into business school. We were the gay couple from the east coast who didn't know anyone.

Thankfully, Jon and Christian met early on in first quarter and hit it off. We went skiing together in Tahoe for C's birthday their first year in school and they rode with us on the way to and from, where we really got to know each other (and disoverd a common love of Chipotle, which we waited 100+ miles to eat at). GSB events were always more fun when they were around. We were in the ski house in Tahoe last year, and went to Costa Rica for spring break. In short, lots of really really fun common events where we would always enjoy each other's company in the midst of a cool backdrop. (well, mostly cool-- I don't know if you could really call the GSB Auction "cool"....) We affectionately called each other our GSB "best-ies", or slang for best friends in the world of Mrs. Shank.

But it's really been since Jon and Christian graduated last year that I have seen our friendship evolve to the next step. They still live in Palo Alto as Dana finishes her last year in law school, so we're not as physically close as we used to be, but we've still managed to make time at least once a month or so to get together. It can be as casual as a dinner over at their place, or as it was this morning, a brunch in Burlingame, which is about half way between SF and Palo Alto. We sat down this morning and quickly began catching up on all of the latest stuff happening in our lives; C's new job, our hunt for a house, Jon's job, Dana's final stretch in school, etc etc. After brunch, we bummed around the shops in the neighborhood, hanging out, etc. In short, nothing particularly special.

But it is in that very "non-specialness" that I realized how, in fact, it is. When you are with other people in a fairly mundane setting of a brunch and feel like you can talk about anything and the understanding that they will listen, that's pretty powerful. And there we were, doing just that, not really talking about anything special per se, but as I think back over, it was really fantastic.

They are an extremely positive couple to be around. I'm sure they have their differences, but pretty much every interaction we've had been with them shows that the chemistry that they share between them is infectious; they are very much in love with each other and seem eager to share that with the other people in their lives. They have a very wonderful trait of not only being able to share richly about what is happening in their lives, but also of listening to and richly caring what is happening in ours.

I think about that a lot after we see them; there's no question that I'm able to talk about what's going on in my life. But am I also interested to hear about however I am talking to has to say? Do I really care about what they are talking about? Mostly yes, but sometimes, honestly, no. And am I fully investing in relationships that return this kind of warmth and value, and frankly, not investing in ones that don't? Again, mostly yes, but not always.

Making time to see each other? Learning good lessons from each other? Thoroughly enjoying time together and looking forward to the next? Feeling like I can trust them? I know there's no "official" measuring stick from friends to good friends and so on. But with amazing people like Jon & Dana in my life, it doesn't seem to matter much.

You Gotta Have a Plan (Part 2)

I've written about planning before and well, about my difficulties in this area. I mean, I haven't done so bad this far-- got a great man, a good job, like where I am living, etc. and that all couldn't have just happened by accident, right? But if you ask me where I am going to be in 10 years and what I want to be doing, do I know the answer? Does anyone?

Thankfully, there are people out there who do. One of them is my Dad, and today is a really happy day in the Baker family. He's been someone to look up to all my life for a lot of reasons, but today I get the amazing honor of saying I'm proud of him. You see, about ten years ago, after 25+ years in the construction business, he decided to switch career paths and move to the lighting industry. He became president of a company that an old friend of his had founded but needed a seasoned executive to come in and take to the "next level". I remember when he called me to tell me about it; after serving as VP at his then company for many years, this was his opportunity to actually run a company and the long-term goal would be to grow it large enough so that it would be acquired. I nodded as I listened, even though I didn't really know what he was talking about. Acquired? What does that mean? Why is that a good thing? But it did always stick with me.

One of the most amazing things about my Dad is that although he is one of the funniest people I know, when it comes to work and business, no one takes it more serious. As I have come to learn more about business and Christian was going through his MBA, we would get involved in some pretty hefty discussions about Hanover Lantern. He would proudly tell us about how well the company was doing and talk about the future and his vision for what it would hold. Although we didn't directly talk about it much after that first conversation, he was working his butt off to grow the company and ultimately position it for an acquisition.

And so it has come. The company was acquired yesterday by one of the largest lighting manufacturers in the country. Even better, they are going to keep the company as a separate division so everyone gets to keep their jobs in the same place. That is, except for Dad. He decided that after being his own boss for so long, he just didn't want to work for someone else again. When we spoke this morning after the happy congrats and all, he told me he realized you come to a point in your life where time becomes more important than money, and he wants to spend time with my stepmom, etc. Amazing-- he's teaching me about life even through all of this business stuff.

The first thing I thought this morning when I read the press release (!) about the acquisition was that discussion we had way back when he first told me about the move. Everything he has done with the company has been moving towards this point and he achieved it. He laid out a plan and accomplished it, pure and simple. There's been many before and I'm sure many to come, but what better lesson to get from your Dad?

So while I'm certainly not at his level of planning yet, I'm trying. And I have a brilliant role model to show me how it's done.

Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!

Moments of delight are something we talk about a lot at Yahoo! in terms of product design. When a product takes care of something for you, like say, remembering your personal information from last time you visited a website, that's nice. But when something comes along that anticipates a need you didn't even know you had, that's the true delight.

Christmas came in January this past week when my new Nintendo Wii arrived fresh from a shipment from Ebay. Christian had originally meant it to be a Christmas present and even waited in line over 2 hours (!) at J&R Computer World in NYC when they first came out back then. It wasn't meant to be since they were out by the time he got inside the store and they were all over $600 on Ebay. The one I bough ended up half that price, less than a month later, a good lesson in Christmas buying hysteria.

So the set-up for this system in case you don't know is that it comes with a controller that is a bit different than most video game systems. This controller is actually used as an instrument in the games. The system came with a sports disc that includes seemingly hum-drum games like tennis, golf and boxing. Except this time, rather than pressing buttons to serve and volley, you actually swing the controller to hit the ball. It's most impressive in tennis, where you actually have to stand in front of the TV and dart back and forth to get the ball. I got a second controller and Christian and I actually played tennis in our living room last night and worked up a bit of a sweat doing it!! What fun, and for any of you in SF who want to come over and give it a try, let me know! Playing the game, you can really feel like the designers of the system decided to just make it, well, plain fun, and were looking to delight the users of it.

I had a similar experience with the nifty Nike/iPod connector that my brother and sister-in-law sent me for Christmas. Its a small piece you can plug into your iPod to keep track of how long and far you go when running. I've used it a few times so far and think its a great invention. But I had an extra delight when I went for a run earlier this week-- when I completed the run, the normal female voice-over came on the headphones and said the time of the distance of the run, as it usually does.

But then a man's voice comes on and says "This is Lance Armstrong. That was your longest run so far! Congrats and keep up the good work." My first reaction was "are you kidding me?!!" and then I thought "Thanks, Lance!" and I can't wait to hear that again. How incredibly motivating and a small but thoughtful touch the designers added.

So I didn't really ever think that I wanted to play tennis in my living room or have a doo-hickey that connects to my music player to keep track of when I exercise. But I wouldn't want to live without them now. And to that, I'm sure the owners of the products are delighted themselves.