Capacity issues

Wish I had a buck for everybody who tried to pass the buck by claiming to "lack capacity."

It may seem foolish to portray oneself as a can't-do person, but like any buzzphrase, I think this one has spread because it captures a complex truth. We all understand and have incorporated into our lives the notion that scarcity boosts value. Unfortunately many of us seem to have gone a bit overboard and concluded that if we, ourselves, are scarce, then our value will rise.

The truth in this is reflected in the way one feels one has won a lottery prize after managing to "get some time" with an overbooked executive or politician. The frequent observation that chief executives are godlike is apt: they spend a lot of time in the sky, walk among us only rarely, and use their power to reward or punish in unpredictable ways. Every organization is entitled to a small pantheon of these creatures.

It's fine to dress like the boss, but acting like the boss before actually becoming the boss might not be the sharpest thing to do. To say yes to everything is to invite abuse, but to say no to everything is to become reviled. Regardless of the business you're in, there has to be service involved.

Besides, to claim lack of capacity isn't the same as claiming lack of intelligence or ability; it's to cleverly suggest that one is a bit of a victim, that if only circumstances were a little different, one would be thriving and would be able to help with whatever the request was. As it is, well -- wish I could help, but it's just not possible. In this way it's possible to both claim and reject accountability at the same moment.

I would rather hear "I'll do my best" or even "hell, no" than "I lack capacity."

Bike-scaring

For years I've wished -- prayed might even be the right word -- for Denver to join the family of civilized cities and offer bike-sharing. Now that it's here, I've come down with a big ol' case of be-careful-what-you-wish-for-itis.

The problem isn't that people aren't using the shiny new B-cycle kiosks scattered around downtown, but that they are. The reality of widespread bicycle usage is shattering the myth of cycling as a force for good. Cyclists, it turns out, are only human, which is to say, selfish and dangerous.

Something about the design and placement of the kiosks -- perhaps that they're located on sidewalks -- seems to suggest to users that they are more akin to slow-moving personal mobility devices such as wheelchairs and Segways than to road machines. The breezy, retro, beach-combing styling of the bikes themselves may contribute to the feeling that they're being offered as an alternative not to driving, but to waking. As a result, great numbers of B-cycle customers are now cruising the sidewalks of Denver, quite illegally. If bicycles are supposed to make our streets safer, they have instead made our sidewalks chaotic.

And what's with renting bikes without helmets? Someone must have got a knock on the head before coming up with this genius plan.

Even if B-cycle gets an A, whether the project succeeds or fails is entirely up to riders.

Dear NPR

Dear Mr. Siegel,

Please stop pausing so long between saying "Welcome" and "to the program" that the guest starts to say "Thank you" and then you talk over him, causing confusion and embarrassment for all. Thank you.

--

Dear Ms. Aubrey,

Please force air through your throat even at the end of a sentence. Thank you.

--

Dear Ms. Joffe-Walt,

Your ancestors will still love you if you pronounce your name as if you are conversant in English. Thank you.

--

Dear Ms. Lim,

Weally? Weally twuly? Thank you.

--

Dear Ms. Beardsley,

Do a Southern accent or a French accent, but please God, not both at the same time. Thank you.

--

Dear Ms. Silberner,

You know you pronounce your name as if it were Joannsil Burner or perhaps Joe Ansilberner, right? Could you pronounce it properly? It's your name, for chrissake. Thank you.

--

Dear Mr. Goodwin,

Texas doesn't deserve you. Westervelt will get caught hiring Hamas hookers or something, and then you can write your ticket to Jerusalem. Thank you.

--

Dear Mr. Inskeep,

Whom do you think you're helping by making the guest repeat herself with such cheap verbal tricks as "So you're saying..." and "Let me be sure I understand this..."? You're smarter than that, and more importantly, I'm smarter than that. Thank you.

Creeping social-ish-ism

I attended a social-media forum the other day that answered a few questions but raised more. The guest speaker had forgotten her airline ticket in Chicago, and without enough time to retrieve it from home, returned to her house and took questions by Skype from her kitchen. Much of the event was dedicated to praising the committee members in Denver who made the linkup possible.

They did do an excellent job, and interviewing a social-media consultant via Skype is of course perfectly apt. I also admired the guest for responding to a question about the downsides of always-on connectedness by conceding that it was fatigue that led her to forget her ticket.

But the entire time I was wondering: she forgot her what at home? How is it even possible to forget an airline ticket at home anymore? It's years since I've even seen an airline ticket, let alone held one. When you get to the airport these days you swipe this or scan that or print the other thing, and off you go. The only way to be denied boarding is to be a suspected terrorist or fat, and unless Skype is incredibly flattering, this lady wasn't fat. If my parents can navigate an airline Web site or kiosk, so can a social-media guru.

I learned a lot about tactics (for example, how to begin using social media even in a heavily regulated industry like securities or health care, which is of interest to me in my current job) but came away with the same feeling I get after receiving an unintelligibly mis-punctuated message from a Blackberry: that there is no point using social media to "connect" and "engage" if we're simultaneously allowing them to make us dumb.

Washington needs a tune-up

Turns out politicians are perfectly believable about one thing: what a bad job they're doing.

More and more Americans believe the federal government is irreparably dysfunctional if not downright evil (Hitler had toll booths... is that what you're proposing?) and I think the main reason is not that the federal government is irreparably dysfunctional if not downright evil -- after all, when did Americans ever base their opinions upon the facts? -- but that politicians have, collectively, launched a massive media campaign to convince us so.

Claiming something's broken may seem like an obvious line of argument: just hire me, and it'll get fixed! But imagine taking that tone in a job interview or annual review:

"Eric, thanks for coming in. So tell me, why are you interested in Acme and what do you bring to the table that other candidates don't?"

"Thanks for bringing me in, Ms. McGillocutty. The truth is, your company is broken. Through years of fraud, mismanagement and waste, you've managed to cheat shareholders, workers and customers while making a terrible, terrible product. I'm shocked you've done as poorly as you have, but by God, you've managed. This place is broken and it can't be fixed. We need to start again."

"Thank you for sharing your perspective. Please show yourself out."

When will we break free of the "outsider" mentality in politics and start valuing experience and competence again? "Government is broken" is a self-defeating line of reasoning that truly needs fixing.

Smokin' break

I joined the gym at work. While I used to have access to the gym when I worked at a rec center, this is the first time I've done anything other than eat or check personal email at a place of business that wasn't directly related to the business of the place. It's a great little facility (not so little, really -- several cardio machines, full weight room and studio) on the ground floor of the Gates Building in LoDo. I enjoyed my workout and very much enjoyed the level of attention that the manager, Dave, gives to the place. By dint of comparison, I now know why people complain about the cleanliness and enthusiasm levels at the JCC.

I was amused by what I saw out the plate-glass windows. Yesterday, of course, being Opening Day, what we mainly saw was streams of people heading to Coors Field. But also, the gym happens to be separated only by those windows from where the building's smokers congregate. I guess using the gym is my smoke break, except instead of smoking cigarettes, I'm smokin' hot!

Getting over the sense that I'm shirking work while exercising is something I'll probably never quite get the hang of. But my employer didn't just let us know the gym existed and drop the subject; they solicited our membership over and over, signaling that participation is not just tolerated but encouraged. I think four of us have joined. I wonder if we'll bond like the smokers do. One thing is sure: we'll have access to fluffier towels.

Thank you for your e-mail

Thank you for your e-mail. Due to recent budget cuts, I am not fully staffed. Therefore it may take up to 20 business days for me to reply. Working harder in response to the budget cuts so that I may continue to fulfill my pledge of serving the public to the best of my ability is not an option. You actually thought I took such a pledge? Ha. Ha ha. Ha.

Due to self-mandated furloughs, I will not be able to answer your e-mail on odd-numbered days beginning with a T or ending with a y. Also our systems will be down for required maintenance on all Greek Orthodox holidays that in any way involve a lay or religious figure whose name ends in "opolous."

I value your loyalty, and demand your patience and understanding.

401 que?

My two years and change at a long-dead company back East did provide me with an enduring (one can hope) legacy: participation in 401(k)s. I find it odd, though, that despite being so deeply embedded in the national economy and psyche, these plans remain so little understood and, in some regards, so darn weird.

First of all, even at companies that claim to be committed to employee participation, get-out-the-participation drives rarely seem to go beyond a terse introduction upon hiring. I keep hearing that opt-out enrollment is becoming common, but I've never encountered it or encountered anyone who has encountered it.

Then there are the inexplicable (literally -- just try and find anyone to explain these things; you can't) variations among plans. My most-recent employer and my current employer both use Fidelity as a plan administrator, yet the plans couldn't be more different. My former employer offered a gargantuan range of funds, perhaps too many; the current one offers a peculiarly small list, and it is dominated by high-cost funds that aren't even managed by Fidelity. Each employer, I believe, gets to tell the plan administrator what funds to include. I can't imagine the conversation that led to either of these lists.

The fund that I embraced at my last job and hoped to continue contributing to at the new one, Fidelity Four-in-One Index Fund, is not on the current list. The next-closest thing in terms of diversification is one of those retirement target-date funds, which is fine, except that its administrative fee is eight hundred percent that of the index fund. (Eight-tenths of a percent as opposed to one-tenth of a percent.) What do I get for those extra seven-tenths of a percent? Absolutely nothing, if history is any judge: the side-by-side performance charts that Fidelity provides are, for the purposes of a retail investor, identical.

And yet there is one feature of the new plan that I adore, and that more than makes up for any of its faults: funds appear in my account mere hours after the market close on payday. My previous employer, by contrast, held onto money in accounts payable for up to several months, until the last possible day before breaking the law. I was evidently the only person to notice this, let alone point out to payroll that it didn't seem like a healthy practice.

Finally there is the peculiar influence that dollar-cost averaging has on my mental state: while participating in a 401 I can't decide whom to root for, Team Bull or Team Bear. I know that my wishing for things doesn't make them happen. Still, I ought to have my priorities straight!

A pro-BRANDING demonstration?

I saw something new today, at least for me: a march down Main Street (well in this case it was Broadway) in support of a brand.

Of all the things to march for or against -- a brand? The marchers carried balloons and signs demanding that the Frontier Airlines brand and cutesy-critters advertising campaign be retained. I wish I'd gotten a picture, but I swear, the signs actually used the word "brand."

If these were workers, what real (that is, financial) stake could they possibly have had in retaining the brand following Frontier's merger into Republic? Brands don't pay the bills. The whole point of a merger is to be able to save money by letting people go. It's not that I'm completely unmoved by the Frontier brand myself. Frontier is actually a small part of the reason we moved to Denver. When we boarded at LaGuardia, it was like entering a different world, one where common courtesy was, well, common. Frontier represented a flying slice of Colorado. Their coffee was good too.

Over the years, I admit, we didn't always fly Frontier; their pricing was sometimes so completely out of sync with the competition that it looked like a spreadsheet error. Then Southwest arrived, and their staff managed to out-nice Frontier's. But hey, every time we headed for a Southwest flight at DIA, we took a moment to comment on how cute the Frontier tails were.

Whether Republic maintains the Frontier brand or not couldn't matter less. Whatever was good about Frontier management will be gone; whatever was bad about Frontier management will be gone. Because Frontier management will be gone, and with it, much of Frontier's workforce. Maintaining the brand won't reverse the reality that a once-hopeful local company failed.

Frontier workers, don't let the bulkhead hit you on the tail on the way out. And don't be so sentimental. It's time to say buh-bye now.

Inging

Several months ago in this space I predicted the coming dominance of verbals and gerunds in branding. Well, lookee what arrived in the mail:

You hearinged it here first.

Excuse me but I couldn't help noticing...

Every time I go to the gym there's a guy there getting absolutely no benefit out of his exercises because, instead of isolating the muscles he wants to work on, he throws his whole body into every action, spreading the force around and thus strengthening nothing. I always want to say, "Hey, guy, you're getting absolutely no benefit out of your exercises because, instead of isolating the muscles you want to work on, you're throwing your whole body into every action, spreading the force around and thus strengthening nothing!"

I don't go to the gym that much so it's entirely possible that this guy is looking at me and thinking, "Hey, guy, etc. etc." but I do feel confident enough in my knowledge of exercise theory to know that I'm doing it better than he is. He gets too little benefit in exchange for too much cost. He's inefficient, and inefficiency is always the enemy.

Of course I say nothing. Am I being polite, or complicit in the fellow's early death from obesity and his family's grief? Or both? Deciding when to speak up and when to stifle is, of course, a major (if not THE major) skill each of us needs to learn in conducting our personal and professional lives. As a journalist I figured it was always my job to speak up, but now that I'm a corporate manager expressing myself carries unprecedented consequences.

The great risk, of course, is failing to cover my tooshy when commenting on a process or product that just may be the pet process or product of someone who participates in deciding whether I get to keep my job. Not a single boss in the world says s/he wants to be surrounded by yes wo/men, but they all do. (We all do, I should say, for I'm a boss now. An extremely middle-ranking boss, to be sure -- the NCO of the corporate world -- but a boss nonetheless.)

On the bright side, I'm enjoying having people in my life who have a tangible interest in taking my opinion seriously. As I told one of my reports, "I'm jealous of you because I've always wanted a boss like me!" After observing worker-manager relations up close in a large variety of settings these past 23 years, and paying decent money for a management degree, I do feel better qualified to manage people than many of the managers who have managed me. Since management's only genuine task is to facilitate production, I'll concentrate on the work, divide tasks according to my understanding of the team members' capabilities, and judge us all by what we produce. If anybody, report or superior, shows me I'm doing something that impedes production, I'll change it.

I probably won't tell the guy at the gym that he's wasting his time and his dues, but I definitely will tell my reports when I see a way for them to improve what they do, and thus improve what we do. Twenty-three years from now, I hope, they'll look back and remember having learned something together.

The dukes of moral hazard

I agree, to a degree, with the Republicans who say unemployment benefits keep people unemployed by removing an incentive to work (namely, money). Of course, the amount you get is so low nobody would choose to live that way on purpose. (And, in a bizarre effort to reduce the risk of this sort of moral hazard, unemployment gives even less to people who were making less -- who, of course, need money even more.)

From a recipient's perspective rather than the perspective of an out-of-touch Beltway insider in a baby-blue tie, unemployment insurance doesn't prevent us from taking work, but from taking the wrong work. Everybody has his/her personal threshold for how long s/he can last, financially and emotionally, before taking the first crappy job that comes along. I had several job opportunities before landing THE opportunity, but receiving UI helped give me the confidence to turn them down so I could keep looking.

Macro-economically, this makes no sense at all: I should have taken the first thing that came along because the really good job, the one that I hoped was out there somewhere, would still be out there somewhere, and someone else would get it. A machine doesn't care where its cogs come from. This is precisely how they used to do it in planned economies like Red China. (Take that, Representative Boenhaed.)

As a human being with aspirations other than taking the first paycheck that comes along, however, one wants to get what the HR folks call "the right fit." And that takes time.

Time, then -- more than groceries -- is what UI buys us. Like any other social benefit, it also buys us a level of counter-revolutionary stability. Think of UI as an alternative to hiring the Pinkertons. Not having an army of unemployed throwing rocks at your limousine seems like a decent return on investment.

Assert ownership over the podium

As an American of Canadian descent, I was amused by the Canadian Olympic team's "Own the Podium" campaign because it reminded me of a onetime editor of mine who used to state a subject area and then say, "We own it," and then state another subject area and say, "We own it," again and again. It occurred to me then and it recurs to me now that simply claiming mastery of a subject does not make one a master of that subject. Anyone who has watched "The Karate Kid" knows this. Work (and, for dramatic purposes, sublimation of competing priorities and character flaws) is involved.

Credit where it's due: the U.S. actually does own the podium, and I'm tired of watching other countries get credit for our medals simply because the athlete likes his grandmother's old-world cooking. I propose a change in the medal-awarding rules. From now on the medal goes to the U.S. if:

• The athlete trains in the U.S.
• The athlete went to college in the U.S.
• The athlete presently goes to college in the U.S.
• The athlete has applied to college in the U.S.
• The athlete's coach is American.
• The athlete has ever been approved for a multiple-entry visa to the U.S.
• The athlete comes from a country whose cuisine is served at at least two restaurants in the United States (exclusive of New York City and Washington, D.C.).
• The athlete comes from a country that adopted our way of life after we beat them in a war.
• The athlete can speak English with any accent other than British.

Better yet, let's do away with nationalities at the Olympics. We'll have to find some other taxonomic tactic (milk chocolate lovers vs dark chocolate? magic sorting hat, a la Hogwarts? great taste/less filling?) and we'll miss all those pretty flags, but at last the Games will be about human versus human, not country versus country, which is probably what they should have been about from the beginning.

Free to fail

It looks like offering free coffee helped Detours Coffee Shop avail itself of one of the fundamental freedoms of the free market: the freedom to fail.

I checked out Detours last fall because I'm always up for a non-corporate cuppa, and because the over-the-top enthusiasm of its young owners made it nearly impossible to stay away. I found the place sparsely, even uncomfortably furnished, but they had great comfort food such as breakfast burritos and burgers.

On my second visit, the coffee was free. The new business plan: having become profitable on the food, Detours would give coffee away in exchange for a promise to "pay it forward" and do something nice for somebody else. The owners were fond of saying that somebody tiled somebody else's bathroom after receiving a cup of their coffee.

My third visit was my last. Even if I fully intended to do something nice later, I felt too uncomfortable taking the freeby. They staunchly refused to accept money for the coffee. Actually paying, it turns out, is not an acceptable means of paying forward.

More disturbingly to my sense of liberalism, I was turned off by the clientele the free-coffee offer had, perhaps predictably, attracted: homeless men. H1N1 panic was in full force, and one of the consequences of living in a country that rations health care is having to keep oneself in a constant state of semi-quarantine. The men looked sick, and I didn't want to be in a room with them.

Detours clearly had fans -- here they are on Facebook -- but with fans like these, who needs enemies? Today the place is shuttered (actually not even shuttered -- trash bags line the picture windows), the shop's own Web site has gone dormant, and the phone is disconnected. The beaming owners have been beamed away. Confusing values with value seems to have doomed a hopeful Colfax Avenue business.

Toyoduh

Toyota's public-perception problem isn't what you think it is. It may not even be what Toyota thinks it is.

My heart leapt when I heard about the recall and production shutdown involving eight potentially fatally flawed models. Like the owners of runaway Toyotas, I, too, have yelled into the abyss trying to get Toyota to own up to a faulty gas pedal. (In our case the car would stop uncontrollably rather than go uncontrollably, a less scary but also dangerous phenomenon.) So the company's dramatic actions struck me as a blow for accountability over indecision.

My heart sank, however, when I saw that all the factories being shuttered are in North America. In other words, heads already have rolled, and they belong not to home-office executives but to host-country laborers.

I'm not quite cynical enough to suggest this is the point of the shutdown, but I think I know how it will be interpreted in Japan: Despite decades of tutelage, Americans still can't make a car; company leadership has been forced into this painful decision to prevent Americans from killing each other with their sloppiness.

In 1994 Tom Clancy published Debt of Honor, the plot of which involved a Japanese-American war sparked by popular outrage over exploding gas tanks in Japanese-made cars. Now that Japanese cars are American-made, laying blame across borders is harder to do -- which was precisely the p.r. brilliance of opening plants here.

But prejudices die hard, and I expect Toyota to come under fire not only here for making mistakes, but at home for allowing foreigners to make them.

All's swell that ends swell

Some things, you want them to be long and hard. Not a job hunt. After nearly eight months, mine came to a successful conclusion this evening when I received an offer to write and edit at DaVita, a provider of dialysis and, in my newly formed opinion, the world's best company. If I can pee in a cup, and if the pee meets quality control standards, I start Feb. 1.

I wouldn't go so far as to recommend unemployment as a character-building exercise, but I did find a few positives to temper the obvious negatives. The tagline of this blog -- communication, commerce, community -- betrays what I was longing for when I launched it, and I found all of them among the generous people who helped me with my search. Here's a roll call of some of them:

• Beth, for introducing me to Kathryn.
• Kathryn, for telling me about Brian.
• Brian, for interviewing me.
• Jason and Paula, for hiring me.
• Sandi, for unwavering encouragement.
• Mark, Danielle, my mom, and sometimes even a few people I don't personally know, for reading my blog.
• Becca, Shawna, Evan and Steve, for finding something positive to say about my time in their employ (say, there's a movie you might enjoy, "The Invention of Lying"...)
• Steve (other Steve), Evan (other Evan), Phoenix (only Phoenix) and Nikki for part-time gigs.
• The Public Relations Society of America, the Colorado Healthcare Communicators, and Andrew Hudson for world-class networking.
• Diane, for introducing me to Jacque.
• Jacque, for introducing me to Catherine.
• Catherine, for offering me the job I would have taken if I hadn't taken the job I've taken.
• Patricia, for the HR viewpoint.
• Ernie and Pat for trying their hardest to initiate me into guvmint work.
• Jewish Family Services, National Jewish Health, and Saving Antiquities for Everyone, for keeping me occupied with volunteer work.
• Carrie, for the eye-catching cards and Web site.
• Whoever at the Colorado Department of Labor and Employment had the idea to have the "hold" guy say, "We know you're frustrated."
• Noah and Maddie, for agreeing to drink water instead of soda when we go to Noodles & Co.
• And most of all Karen, for not losing her job -- or her cool!

Road worrier

The other day I met a fellow whose office went "virtual" to save money. My first thought was: What a blessing to have an employer that downsizes by shedding real estate instead of people! Upon reflection, though, I'm not sure I'd like to be one of those people.

The same technology that makes it possible for us to be mobile also happens to suck. I wish I had a euro for every time I had to listen to someone walk me through a painstakingly detailed account of why they weren't getting their e-mail and where they think the e-mail might be and when they think the e-mail might start arriving again and the succession of workarounds they've tried and abandoned. Talking on a cell phone requires yelling and repeating oneself. WiFi is just going to be replaced with something else, so why make the commitment?

Conducting business in coffee shops, which my acquaintance is now going to have to do, carries risks greater than having your laptop or your seat nicked when you get up to pee. Without an office door to close, you've got to assume that everything you say and everything you write will shortly be known to competitors -- yours and your client's.

"As long as the checks clear" is a perfectly valid rejoinder to any complaint about work short of harassment or violence. Maybe the office is an artifact of the 19th century that overstayed its welcome in the 20th, and good riddance. If Zappos can be productive letting call-takers take calls at home, jolly good for Zappos. But I predict the office is going to make a comeback, not merely as a status symbol but after some business review publishes an article showing a link between privacy and productivity. (Face it, business reviews will publish articles showing a link between anything and anything else.) Commercial real estate may prove to be a good investment yet.

Public elations

One of the happier aspects of my job hunt has been learning that public relations professionals aren't ogres, but -- a thought that would not have occurred to me while I was a reporter -- my kind of folk.

Networking my way from one informational interview to the next, many of them set up by impressively collegial competitors, I have been heartened to hear words like "writing" and "thought" uttered in all seriousness. As a reporter I had the impression that p.r. people spend all day, every day, phoning reporters and saying, "Did you get my fax?" Some do, but for most, the bulk of the work consists of arranging ideas. This actually is what I went to college for.

Gina Seamans of JohnstonWells, for one, told me that most of her day is dedicated to writing -- a task that, for me, is equivalent to thinking. Larry Holdren of Pure Brand Communications commented that publicity tactics should come easily after the real work -- deciding what the client wants to be famous for -- is done. Karen Morales of Communication Infrastructure Group told me about some of the nuances among subspecialties that would escape the uninitiated, such as the distinction between public relations and public affairs. Brad Bawmann of The Bawmann Group told me not to fret about being "midcareer" because I have abilities that new grads can't and don't have. Steven Shapiro of CSG recognized my interest in education and gave me some work with his education practice!

And I'm not done yet... people have been so generous with sharing contacts, I have meetings scheduled two weeks out.

Some firms have sleek offices meant to communicate a sense of style; others have no office at all, and instead "co-locate" staff at clients' locations or work out of home offices. Either way, I'm learning, it's what's upstairs that counts. And that is a place where I feel perfectly at home.

Lamentable

I've spent the morning mired in shame (or is it guilt? -- I never could keep those two straight). Now that Facebook is in my life, sometimes, when I think of something I consider clever, instead of annoying my family with it I'll annoy my Facebook friends with it. It happened this morning, and as usual I got a couple of replies showing that folks got the joke and basically supported my right to crack wise on the 'net.

This morning, however, is the morning we found out how awful the earthquake in Haiti was. My wisecrack sits on my home page surrounded by expressions of sorrow and support. Even to myself, I look like an insensitive fool.

I got to wondering about the etiquette of being jolly online while sad things happen around us. There's no time when sad things aren't happening, of course. If it isn't a soldier getting blown up it's a Sri Lankan journalist getting locked up or scam victims getting hit up or the atmosphere getting heated up. It's a sad, sad world. Should we feel obligated to comment upon each and every bad thing that comes to our attention? Should we refrain from silliness for a time? If so, how long? Does it depend on the scale of the disaster, or how close we are to somebody directly affected?

Serious organizations are using Facebook to build support for serious causes, as well they should, but I think it's appropriate to ask whether a medium originally meant for friends to share light moments together can also be the right place to get heavy.

Tight!

I've just been told I have one of the tightest houses in America.

GB3 Energy Solutions has been here for two days installing insulation and correcting random gaps left by our "green" (but evidently not totally observant) homebuilder seven years ago. While our house already was tighter than the vast majority of homes, it now has an air exchange of about 16%, according to GB3 -- better than 99% of our compatriots' residences.

Toward the end of the work day co-founder Bill Lucas, a former teacher, took a few moments to explain why our project, which cost less than $3,000, was a smarter idea than the $30,000 solar panels some of our neighbors have. All the energy produced by a roof-full of panels could instead be saved by replacing 10 lightbulbs, he said. But producing something will always be politically and psychologically more satisfying than saving.

By coincidence, my son is working on his science fair project, which involves finding out if solar panels could be used to power small household objects instead of AAA batteries. So far, the answer is no.

Remediation work will never have the sex appeal or curb appeal of panels, but with the temp forecast to be below zero tonight, I'll sleep better!

What I learned on my recently concluded trip to South America

• It was very clever to tilt the Earth's axis in relation to its orbit, ensuring a fair distribution of summer. Not all planets have this feature.
• Doesn't the fact that some countries have better ice cream than others, and that these discrepancies can endure for decades, disprove the efficient market theory?
• It's frustrating trying to find the bathroom light switch when you're someplace where they put the switches outside the bathroom instead of inside, but kind of funny to watch someone else go through it.
• Hot-bloodedness is a lifestyle choice and I think I could do it with enough practice.
• Breakfast is about the right time for a party to end.
• I wonder how many ball-point pens are in my house. (This has nothing to do with the trip, but it is something I wonder about.)
• While I'm not a convert to the Eagle Creek packing system, I respect the right of others to practice their packing faith.
• Yes, there are the Starbucks; the clean, quiet and efficient Metro; and the plentiful examples of forward-looking graphic design by public, private, and public-private entities. But what really distinguishes Santiago from other Latin cities is that it has sidewalks that can be walked on.
• Horseback riding in the Andes is very cool.
• Sometimes service is included, sometimes it isn't. It depends, but on what, I couldn't say.
• All buses should be first-class sleeper buses.
• Just because a person is from someplace doesn't mean they know what they are talking about. The laundress from Viña del Mar who told us that Valparaíso and Santiago are dumps to be avoided at all costs is really good at laundry and should stick to that.
• Dulce de leche: the condiment of now.
• My Spanish has improved to the point where I can discern when my wife, instead of saying "Excuse me, where is the bus station?" says, "Excuse me, I have a small question, would it be all right if I ask it? We're tourists from the United States, me, my husband, and the two children, who go to a special school for the arts in the state of Colorado, where we're generally pleased with the schools though we do wish there could be more funding for them, and we're visiting this place for the first time. Oh, how we love it! It's beautiful, my goodness, just beautiful, you must love living here. Did you grow up here? My parents were from Buenos Aires -- well, from Lomas de Zamorra -- well, my father was born in what was then the Free City of Danzig and is now the Polish city of -- yes, that's right, Gdansk! Do you have family from there too? They escaped when he was seven, first to Paraguay and Uruguay and finally Argentina after his grandmother, my great-grandmother, I was named for her, bribed the Nazis with a life insurance policy backed in gold. She rapped on the floor with her cane and said, 'In my day, when a lady was present, an officer offered her a chair!' and the Nazi got all embarrassed and got up for her. I guess that's where my daughter and I get our nerve from, huh? My parents spoke Spanish to my brother and sister and me, except when they didn't want us to understand, when they spoke German or Yiddish, which explains why I only know curses like 'Go crap in a lake' in those languages. We visited Argentina several times as kids but this is my first time back in, what is it? Goodness, 12 years. And as I mentioned it's our first time in this particular place, where the people are just so very nice. If you don't mind my asking, where is the bus station?" but not to the point where I can ask for the bus station myself.