Ethan Holmes and The Age of Digitally Rude

The other day I was sitting at the bar in an Olive Garden. It was lunchtime and I didn’t want to wait “fifteen to twenty minutes” for a table. I took a seat at the bar and ordered soup despite the fact that it was over ninety degrees outside. As I waited, I looked to my right and just three seats down from me there was a stunningly beautiful woman sitting next to a guy.

After I got over the fact that she was so stunning, I smiled to myself as I watched her physically turn her body away from her ‘companion’ and play with her phone for a good five minutes until the food arrived. Occasionally, the guy would try to say something to her and would end up speaking into her right shoulder. (Hey, maybe there was a microphone in there I couldn’t see from my vantage point.)

I thought, “What a sad way to have lunch.” Here I am, eating by myself, which I do a lot of, but this guy had it worse than me. He didn’t rate above her beloved cell phone. I’m hopeful that I would have the wherewithal and spine to simply get up and leave. She was being what I call digitally rude and it’s spreading rapidly.

ethan holmes rude blog3No, this isn’t her but it looked eerily similar.

We live in a society that is completely and utterly addicted to electronic devices and digital forms of so-called communication. So-called ‘smartphones’ now exhibit more base intelligence than the humans carrying them. That’s why you see signs like this everywhere.

ethan holmes cell-phone-rude-counter-business-cafe-80904970711blog 3The post office, grocery stores, gift shops, doctor’s offices, your local MVD, banks, and many other businesses now typically display a similar sign because humans won’t put their phones down. It seems as though humans are incapable of going anywhere or doing anything without their phones attached to their heads or under frantically moving fingertips.

Personally, I can’t type on those things. (Notice that in honor of my first grade teacher I refused to use ‘text’ as a verb.) I’m a fairly big dude and my thumbs are, well, let’s just say proportional. If I try to type on a cell phone I get words even I don’t recognize and I speak four languages. I’m constantly hitting backspace or wondering how the phone inserted the word ‘panties’ into a sentence when I was only trying to say I had blueberry pancakes for breakfast. (Who cares, anyway?)

I haven’t been to a movie in ages because I find myself fighting the urge to bring a fly swatter with me and smack anyone who turns on their phone or does anything with it once the coming attractions begin.

ethan holmes rude blog 4(Gee Mr. Manager, they looked liked lightning bugs to me.”)

A visit to Walmart isn’t bad enough; now you get to walk down the aisles privy to all kinds of phone conversations that would be better kept between the two parties on the phone. People have become inured to words like privacy. In the cereal aisle you’ll hear about Aunt Sarah’s liver operation. In the meat aisle you’ll hear someone arguing about the “ribs you said were on sale but ain’t”. In the dairy aisle you’ll hear an elderly woman explaining in sordid detail why she can’t drink ‘regular milk’ and what happened when she tried the almond milk. (You don’t want to know.) It’s digitally rude.

You’ll hear kids saying ‘like’ every third word, parent’s screaming at their kids, people lying about where they are instead of at work and spouses arguing. I think Walmart should enact the same guidelines as the library; you have to shut up, turn your phone off and just go get your damn stuff.

ethan holmes rude blog1It’s not just cellphones that are a main tool of the digitally rude.

Email is just as bad as phones. The other day I decided to do a quick survey of my own personal email accounts. I was not surprised to find out that over eighty five percent of my outgoing messages were not responded to in any fashion. This included general business contact, response to ads, inquiries, and just general communication. In addition, many of the messages that were responded to generated an answer an average of FOUR DAYS later.

Being digitally rude did not start just recently. I actually wrote about it ten years ago when I wrote a short series of articles about the explosion of internet dating sites. One of the first things I noticed was that women quickly figured out how to be digitally rude. Did you know that the number one complaint men have about internet dating sites is the failure of the vast majority of women to respond in any fashion to any sort of inquiry, dirty, clean or otherwise? (Apparently most women don’t have ten seconds to type “no thank you” so I wonder where they’re going to squeeze in an entire relationship.)

The internet gave people buttons that would get you a punch in the face in the real world. You have buttons like ‘delete, ignore, block, filter, don’t reply, spam, trash’ and many others that enable humans to simply push a button and be rude. The worst part is, there is no moral responsibility, no accountability since the internet allows people to hide just as do most electronic devices.

If I asked a girl at the grocery store on a date, she would inherently have to say something like, I don’t know, “get lost, bite me, take a hike, no way” or at least yell for security. She’d have to do something! But behind the phone, on the computer, they can simply be digitally rude and walk away. And they do, in great numbers.

I believe so-called modern technology is doing three things which will continue to profoundly affect the human race; 1- It makes many people very sedentary and quite unhealthy. 2- It creates cowards who will do and say things on a computer or phone that they would never have the fortitude to pull off in a face to face. 3- It creates digitally rude people who are rapidly losing the ability to communicate on an intelligent level with anyone, person to person.

When was the last time you had a really good, memorable, meaningful conversation with someone? (For me, it was the last time I talked to myself, which I do a lot when I forget to take my medication.)

Being digitally rude now includes all kinds of things that people can do with their devices. They can ignore voice mails, emails and text messages. They can send out nasty, rude messages while hiding behind the monitor. They can have loud, intrusive and obnoxious conversations in normally quiet, peaceful environments. They can send photos of parts of themselves their mother shouldn’t see. And last but certainly not least, they can cut off, bang into, force off the road or kill someone because whatever they were playing with on their phone was way more important than taking someone’s life.

I’m all for declaring a new national holiday that will probably have only nine participants, including me. I’m thinking a holiday where everyone has to leave their phones off and in a locked drawer and no computer use whatever for twenty four hours.

WHATEVER WILL YOU DO!?  Good grief, you might actually have to speak to someone. Heaven forbid; they might have to respond, maybe have an actual CONVERSATION! And maybe, just maybe, we might remember how to be polite to each other again. We might remember what the words etiquette and consideration mean. It’s possible we would find that the personal connection we have when we TALK to each other is so much more meaningful than being digitally rude.

(In closing; I recently abandoned a novel I was writing because I didn’t feel like getting an unwanted visit from some overly zealous and illegally intrusive agency. It was a novel about how easy it is to cause chaos, panic and confusion. It was too easy to write but I smelled trouble. Nevertheless, an amazing chapter came out of that which I converted to a short story that has relevance to this blog. It is relevant because I often wonder what people will do, what chaos and panic will descend on people who currently find themselves bound by blood to their cell phones and the internet. If you’d like to read this story, CLICK HERE.)

Ethan Holmes is the author of Earth’s Blood, The Keystone, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone, Shorts and Other Laundry and A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes.

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Playing With Marbles; A Writer’s Imagination

I still have all my marbles. I know, because they’re in two jars sitting in a box somewhere in what I refer to as my storage room. (Read; a room I should be sleeping in that, instead, houses my ‘stuff’.)

ethan holmes marbles

These marbles of mine have so much more than sentimental value to me. I’ve had them for way too many years, although, if you asked my mother when I was a kid, she would have argued the point.

“Have you lost your marbles?”

She would ask me that every time I did something she thought was strange or unusual. (That happened a lot.)

The marbles are important to me because they were, in part, a tremendous stimulation for an already wild and vivid imagination.

We were dirt poor. In fact, we often couldn’t afford dirt and when we could, we had to add it to government-issue spam and cheese just to make the whole thing palatable.

Because of this, I did not have many toys; at least not what most kids call toys. I had a small pink handball and a piece of a broomstick from a broom my mother broke over my head. ( I think she figured if she hit me with the broom it would somehow bring my marbles back.) Playing stick-ball in the alley with those made me the hitter I am today.

I had an old board game missing half the pieces. It’s really hard to play Monopoly when you have to buy marbles instead of houses and hotels to put on your property. They keep rolling away. (Perhaps that was the precursor to mobile homes.)

I had baseball cards too. I used to play a game with my friends at school. We flipped a single card against a wall eight to ten feet away. Whoever topped that card with another flipped card won the whole pot, no matter how few or many. Sometimes you ended up with three cards, sometimes you won a hundred or more. Leaners were worth double. I ended up with a lot of baseball cards, many of which would have been worth a fortune today if I hadn’t been so busy banging them against walls. (Collectors don’t like banged up cards.)

And then there were my beloved marbles. I could do anything with those things. I would spill them out on the floor and the next thing you know, I would be fully immersed in some battle with Napoleon, complete with drawn up regiments and divisions of fighting men. Sometimes I would hand pick twenty two of my absolute favorites and re-play a recent football game and make it end the way I wanted. Other times I would play soccer, baseball or construct my own galaxy complete with visiting aliens. (Somehow I would always have beer and coffee on hand despite the fact that I was seven.)

My marbles were the stimulus for an imagination that stirs and feeds the writer within. Playing with those things made me think, causing me to create whole, detailed scenarios in my head. I made up characters or used what I soaked up in my sharp hunger and fascination for history. (Although, I could still slap my teachers upside the head for teaching me that some lost Italian guy ‘discovered’ America.) I also fed my imagination with voracious reading of authors like Ray Bradbury, Edgar Rice Burroughs and Arthur Conan Doyle.

Often it is the simplest things in our lives that have the most meaning. For me, it was those marbles. I played with them well into my teens which made some of my friends and family firmly believe I would never grow up. (Hopefully, I didn’t.) I think at least some of them thought I needed some deep psychological analysis, which is sometimes the reaction I get from my writing.

Today, kids have ‘smartphones’ which are often ‘smarter’ than the kids using them. They have Playstation, Xbox, Gameboy and a whole bunch of other stuff that does absolutely nothing to stimulate their own imagination. Let the phone do all the work while they play Angry Birds.

I am grateful that I had my marbles. I am grateful that I still have them. Hopefully I can hang on to them for a long time. After I’m gone, they probably won’t mean a thing to anyone else. They’ll probably sell the two jars to someone at a garage sale for fifty cents. They were, and are, worth so much more to me.

Ethan Holmes’ marbles have produced five books so far; Earth’s Blood, The Keystone, Shorts and Other Laundry, A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes and his latest release, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone.

You can follow Ethan Holmes on the right side of this post, visit the author at his website, or check out his Facebook page here.

 

 

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Ethan Holmes; Life in Sedona

I live in a town that is one of the world’s most popular tourist destinations. It’s not uncommon for people to spend thousands of dollars, (um…, I mean max out their credit cards,) and travel thousands of miles, often trapped in a car or plane with cranky, ill-tempered relatives, (um…, I mean loving family), to get here.

The Line Into Sedona

line into sedona

Sedona is a physically beautiful place, usually blessed with a deep blue and relatively clear sky, gorgeously peaceful Oak Creek, (unless the campers upstream are peeing in it and throwing trash,)  plenty of red rocks that the tourists haven’t stolen as souvenirs yet and at least twenty to thirty illegal immigrants, er…, I mean ‘local labor force’, standing on the main drag two blocks from city hall and the cop station.

You can mountain bike here, play golf or just hang out at any number of ‘resorts’ that will be happy to charge three hundred dollars a night, sometimes for a room no larger than the master bedroom closet back at your house. (By the way, don’t forget to get your hot-rock, aroma therapy, crystal vortex, chakra-aligning massage just before your complimentary breakfast of stale croissants and instant coffee. We’ll throw in a free ‘aura reading’ to tell you which trail you should be on today.)

You can hike here too. Everybody here does it. You know how I know that? Because you hear it everywhere you go. Just the other day I was sitting in my vehicle at one of the pedestrian crossings in uptown. Three women in flip-flops, cargo shorts and carrying at least two shopping bags apiece were crossing in front of me. All three of them were on their cell phones. The middle one was busy texting and was apparently being herded, seeing-eye dog style, across the street by the other two. The one closest to me spoke to her phone. “Oh, we’re hiking Sedona!

One of my favorite places to visit was always Slide Rock State Park. It used to look like this.

slide rock2

Now it looks like this on a slow day.

Slide-Rock-State-Park crowd

The tourism honchos here would not like me telling you that access to Slide Rock State Park is now very similar to getting on a ride at Disney World. (Bring provisions and make sure your car’s AC is in tip-top shape. We have found entire families mummified in their cars at the back of the line.) It’s not uncommon to see a long line of cars stretching a mile or more in both directions on 89A waiting just to get in the park. The hotter the day, the longer the line. And don’t forget, you cannot leave your vehicle anywhere on US Forestry land, including all the trailheads, without your vaunted Red Rock Pass, otherwise known as Sedona’s Parking Permit. If you do, the local meter maids, um…, I mean US Forestry rangers, will actually give you a parking ticket. (And to think they could be doing something useless like, I don’t know, stopping local contractors from dumping on Forest Land.)

Meanwhile, if you’re looking for the cops because the dingbat behind you slammed into you because he “thought you were moving”, this is where you’ll find them.

sedona copsWaiting for the old ladies who live in Sedona to wake up and make them some pie.

You may be fortunate enough to ‘run into’ one of the many locals here who like to drive,

Pick one of the following;

A: While talking/texting on their phone

B: Under the influence of alcohol, prescription meds or both

C: While trying to unwrap and eat their organic, gluten-free, dairy-free, meat-free, grain-free, bean sprout, baby spinach, no dressing, low fat, soy based, vegetarian taco.

D: All of the above.

This could easily happen on one of Sedona’s thoroughly antiquated side streets like this one.

sedona streetIf that happens, fourteen of ‘Sedona’s finest’ will suddenly appear out of nowhere, two of whom will ‘know the other driver’ and promptly collaborate with him/her to write up a report blaming you.

I like it here so much that I finally broke down and bought a house. My local real estate agent, who also works as a postal carrier, a part-time cashier at Basha’s and has a home-grown Ebay business, had been urging me for years to “buy something” while the market was hot. “You’re buyin’ the red dirt, not the house! That’s where the money is!” (That’s an actual quote.)

So here’s a shot of my new house.

ruins 1

It only cost me a half million and it’s a bit of a fixer-upper. All I have to do is get four more part-time jobs at eight bucks an hour and I can start throwing some money at this baby.

Why, in two or three centuries I’ll bet this sweet little place will double in value. And if it crumbles, well, just remember, it’s all about the ‘red dirt’.

I hope you all come visit sometime.

Ethan Holmes is the author of five books including his latest release, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone.

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Ethan Holmes Declares a Day of No Fear

I believe that fear is the single most influential factor in the choices we make in life. As a dyed-in-the-wool, true blue romantic, I want to say it’s love; but it’s not. It’s fear; fear that we will fail, fear that there are too many obstacles, fear that others won’t like or approve of our choices.

Ethan Holmes choices 1

What if we started out taking one single day, like today for example, and declaring that we will live the next twenty four hours with no fear? It’s not an easy thing considering the fact that nearly everything we deal with on a daily basis, including our entire environment, is saturated in fear.

Think about it for a moment. We often wake up and instantly choose to sit in a tub of fear. “Oh no, I’m going to be late for work!” “The kids forgot their homework.” “I’m out of coffee! I can’t live without my morning coffee!” I have a meeting at work today and I’m not prepared!” “There’s nothing in the freezer for dinner tonight!”

As we travel through our day fear continues to follow us around. “I’m not going to get all this work done by five, dammit.” “The boss wants to see me tomorrow morning.” “If I eat that cinnamon roll it’s going straight to my waistline right behind that cappuccino.” “I forgot my cell phone at home!” “The car was making a clunking noise on the way to work.”

Later when we get home the fear follows us right in the front door and we choose to let it. “How am I going to pay all these bills I just got?” “My twelve-year old has a toothache. How much is that going to cost?” “The A/C isn’t working again and it’s ninety five degrees in here!” “My back feels like it’s going out again.” “I don’t have time to take my child to practice!” “I forgot to pick up my prescription!”

Finally, many of us end the day with the single most detrimental thing we can do before we lie down at night and attempt to put the day, and ourselves, to rest. We choose to watch the evening news to end our day. Talk about fear; here’s thirty solid minutes of it. Media even manages to put fear into the weather; a natural process that humans have absolutely no control over! The funny thing is; they start warning you about the contents of the ten o’clock news during the six o’clock news; just in case you mistakenly thought something good was coming.

“Why you should be scared of escalators at the mall!” “Shootout downtown results in three deaths!” “Find out why you should be concerned about your Facebook account!” “Sinkholes, will they swallow your neighborhood next?!” “Five things you should know before you go to a gun show!”

And if that’s not enough, they have to vividly SHOW IT TO YOU to make sure you’re good and scared as you try to go to sleep; “FILM AT TEN! DON’T MISS IT! WE HAVE THE EXCLUSIVE!”

Ethan Holmes stormAnyone have a nice umbrella?

What if you chose to think only about things you had control over? You can’t do anything about the rest of it, therefore it’s useless to waste thought energy on it. What if you chose to think only about things you can do; not things you can’t do?

Ethan Holmes No Fear 2 Thomas-Edison-Quotes

Give it twenty four hours and see what happens. Spend the next day making choices that you wouldn’t normally make based on a complete lack of fear and the knowing that you can only act on this very moment. What happened sixty seconds ago is past, what will happen sixty seconds from now is future. What will you do RIGHT NOW without fear?

Ethan Holmes is the author of Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone; a witty, humorous look at everyday, real life and the countless choices we make.

Follow Ethan Holmes’ Blog on the right side of this page.

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Ethan Holmes, Familiar Sayings

My name is Ethan Holmes and if you’ve ever read anything I wrote you already know I don’t have an ordinary or ‘normal’ viewpoint about many things. Personally I think ‘normal’ is overrated. I’d like to have a talk with whomever is responsible for the definition of ‘normal’.

Here are a few familiar sayings and my take on them.

outside-the-box

Think outside the box? What if there is no box?

box1

I don’t want a bucket list. If I had one, do you know what the first item on it would be?

Get rid of the damn bucket.

imagesMy theory is, if it isn’t there, I can’t kick it.

“We have nothing to fear but fear itself!” Roosevelt

facing-fear“Fear is the basis for every poor choice we ever made in our life.”

From, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone, by Ethan Holmes.

He’s a square peg in a round hole.

Square-Peg-Round-Hole I don’t want to be a perfect fit for any hole, square, round, triangle. I’d rather be malleable.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

h-armstrong-roberts-silhouette-back-view-of-three-upland-bird-huntersReally? Ask the bird about that.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

filepicker_nwxcvhmfqksovuayhbod_pills-3734b1Unless you’re on prescription medications. “Sometimes the remedy is worse than the disease.” Francis Bacon

Let sleeping dogs lie.

pitbullEspecially if it’s this one.

Don’t cry over spilled milk.

spilled_milk_thumbUnless you paid $5.99 a gallon for it.

Don’t burn your bridges behind you.

burningbridgeIt means you would consider returning to a place you shouldn’t have been in the first place. That’s why you moved on.

Ethan Holmes is the author of five books. If you like what you read please follow his blog on the right side of this page.

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Ethan Holmes, Rambling Man

I was thinking the other day. I do that on occasion. Then I seem to take a few days off.

Does an onion cry when you cut it?

Does broccoli scream when you put it in the steamer?

Are you torturing apples when you put them in the blender and make applesauce?

What would happen if you just got in a roundabout and just kept going around and around?

I live life on the edge. Just the other day I deliberately crossed the double yellow line.

My toothbrush has the same size motor in it as my motorcycle but uses less gas.

I recently dyed my hair red and it turned my teeth pink.

I played tennis this morning but it only lasted five minutes. Repeatedly jumping over the net is exhausting.

I looked in the mirror this morning and there was someone staring at me.

I was going to do laundry today but my rock broke.

I’m looking for the girl of my dreams and keep getting nightmares.

I’m addicted to self-help books. I just can’t help myself.

You may be a hoarder if the only way out of your house is the bathroom window.

I can remember getting a camera when I was ten but I can’t remember where I set the car keys ten minutes ago.

A few weeks ago I hurt both feet and couldn’t figure out which one to limp on.

My left hand is stronger than my right eye. Does that make me ambidextrous?

What would happen if you snatched someone’s cell phone at the mall, threw it in the fountain and yelled, “It’s an emergency!”?

With the planet’s sea levels rising, it won’t be long before I’ll finally get to use my snorkeling equipment here in Arizona.

If it’s all about global warming, why was my last heating bill $156.00?

Searching for the girl of my dreams is like looking through the window at my car keys sitting on the seat of my locked car.

Dating is like eating Jelly Belly’s; they’re expensive and you have no idea what flavor you’re going to get.

If I look at you through the bottom of my wine glass it looks like you lost twenty pounds.

Sometimes you just have to stop and listen to the voices in your head.

Ethan Holmes is the author of Earth’s Blood, The Keystone, Shorts and Other Laundry, A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes and his latest release,

crap amazon

Ethan Holmes takes a humorous look at the many choices presented to us in life and the paths those choices set us upon. (Available in Paperback!)

Become a follower of Ethan Holmes’ blog and win a chance at a FREE PDF copy of Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. Use the follow widget on the right side menu. (Followers only.)

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Social Networking and Ethan Holmes

Social Networking means you should ‘like’ me, ‘friend’ me, ‘pin’ me, ‘connect’ with me, ‘follow’ me and then let’s ‘twitter’ about it.

I want you to go to my Facebook page right now and ‘Like’ me dammit! Or better yet, ‘Friend’ me. Do this in spite of the fact that we don’t know each other, we’ve never met, probably will never meet and the second you do it, you’ll forget all about me.

Two weeks later you’ll be scratching your head and saying, “Ethan who?”

After you’re finished doing that I want you to go to my Twitter, (I don’t twitter), and ‘Follow’ me. Just keep your distance when I go to the restroom or I’m out on a date. (Yeah, that’s going to happen.)

I’m not sure why you’re supposed to ‘follow’ me or how closely; I just know that the more people there are ‘following’ me, the better off I am and the more successful I am. Hey, at least I won’t be lonely anymore if I have 356, 945 stalkers…, I mean, followers.

Exactly why are you supposed to ‘follow’ me? Are you supposed to hang on my every word, (read Twitter)? Are you supposed to be really that interested in my rather mundane existence? I mean, sure, I’m an author with five books out there and working on a sixth but how often can, (or should), I ‘twitter’ about them without annoying the crap out of my stalkers, er, I mean ‘followers’? Will you care that I stepped in dog poop today or that something fell on my foot and I’ve been limping for three weeks?

What’s with the ‘liking’ and ‘friending’ bit on Facebook? Right now my first grade teacher, Mrs. Peiri, is frantically attempting to dig her way out of the grave with her 12 inch wooden ruler. When she gets out, and she will, she is going to rap everyone on the head who uses the words text, texting, friend and friending as verbs. Then she is going to hunt down everyone who uses Twitter, one by one.

13068025-aged-woman-teacher-in-rage-holding-two-halves-of-broken-rulerFor the record, as I remember it, Mrs. Peiri was much larger than this.

“Twittering is for birds, you knucklehead. Humans converse, face to face if possible.”

This will be accompanied by a sharp bonk on your forehead and then she will throw your cellphone into the top drawer of her desk. This drawer can only be opened by correctly reciting multiple incantations of Shakespeare and writing an essay explaining why learning four other languages besides English will someday be beneficial.

All that aside, I cannot help wondering if anyone else feels the same way I do about social networking. I wonder what good it does and whether it’s a waste of my time. It hasn’t done a thing to change my status as an author and I’m not sure it’s supposed to do that.

Personally, I often feel uneasy about getting a message from my pages on Facebook or LinkedIn that contain a request to go ‘like’ or ‘friend’ a complete stranger. Maybe I’m just old fashioned; maybe I’m just old. How am I supposed to ‘like’ you if I don’t even know your name, what you do, or who you really are? And what am I supposed to do if I go to your page and I, (god forbid,) don’t ‘like’ you? (I will say that I have never solicited ‘likes’ from anyone. Can’t bring myself to ask people to go ‘like me on Facebook’.)

Recently I received a message on my LinkedIn page from a ‘fellow author’. He wanted to ‘connect’ with me, as they say on that site. So I clicked on his profile and scanned the page. His writing was horrendous, even in his profile. His writing samples and excerpts were worse. I had no idea why this fellow wanted to connect with me and, truth be told, I did not want to hit the ‘connect’ button. (I did anyway to avoid being rude.)

Are we morally and socially obligated to ‘like’ you or ‘friend’ you if request it? Actually, now that I think of it, most businesses and individuals don’t ask; they tell, they demand. Many commercials and printed ads now end with, “Go Like Us On Facebook!” Individual people virtually scream at you, “Go ‘like’ me on Facebook and I’ll ‘like’ you back!” What, are we all in third grade?

I’ve been arguing about social networking with myself lately. (You do that a lot when you’re as lonely as I am and you can’t find your medication.) I finally caved in and did the Facebook thing last year. Then I signed up with LinkedIn. Now everyone and every media outlet says I have to Twitter. I don’t want to Twitter. I’m with Mrs. Peiri; twittering is for the birds who are currently fighting it out over the four pounds of bird seed in the feeder outside. (Apparently four pounds isn’t enough for them.)

Twitter-funny-cartoon-birds-image

I actually read an article recently that insisted if I don’t twitter, I cannot possibly hope to be successful as an author. Huh?! Really? That’s all I have to do is accumulate thousands of followers on Twitter? So, rather than working on writing and being a writer who writes well, I should sharpen my social networking skills? I think I’d rather wait for that call from Oprah.

I really don’t think there are thousands of people out there who would be all that interested in the innocuous and often meaningless things going on in my life. Is that what you’re supposed to twitter about? How often are you supposed to twitter? How loudly should you twitter? Are there different types of twittering?

Social networking can cause you to entertain feelings of insecurity too. What if no one ‘follows’ me? What if no one ‘likes’ me? I spent a long time just existing on Facebook without seeking to do anything about ‘likes’ or ‘friends’. It didn’t seem to matter one bit. It still doesn’t. I used to joke that I had three friends on Facebook and two of them didn’t even ‘like’ me. I don’t want to be twittering and blogging to no one.

Why does society in general judge us by how many friends, followers and ‘likes’ we have? Why is social networking directly connected to our success or failure?

Questions, questions. I have more but right now I have to go ‘like’ myself.

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Ethan Holmes is the author of five books. Feel free to visit and learn more about author Ethan Holmes.  ‘Follow’ his blog/podcast at https://blog.ethanholmes.com

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Ethan Holmes and The Death of Customer Service

Please press one if you’d like to continue reading this blog.

Please press two if you’d like someone to read it to you.

Please press three if you forgot why you’re here.

Please press four if you are never going to buy our product again.

Please press five if you have nothing better to do with your time.

Please press six if you’d like to order an anti-depressant.

Please press seven if you’d like to talk to a representative from Thailand.

Please press eight if you’d like to hear these same inane, useless menu items again.

Please press nine if you now understand that we are never, ever going to pick up the phone and help you!

We’ve all been there, done that; encountered those nightmare customer service menus from hell that seem to be particularly designed to surreptitiously cause you to become so frustrated with the process that you actually, willingly hang up. It’s my theory that these torturous, merry-go-round menus are deliberately and ingeniously designed to make you GO AWAY!

Why else would you often end up right back where you started from when you first called?

Better yet, raise your hand if you’ve ever spent ten minutes on this merry-go-round and never spoke to a real human!

Did you ever take note of the fact that, despite having accessed this magic menu which has been known to contain as many as a dozen options, for some mysterious reason, none of them has anything to do with whatever you are calling about? Mark my words; it’s designed that way.

In this so-called modern age of everything converting to digital, customer service has died a slow and painful death. Today, millions of people actually believe that email, texting and instant messaging are viable and valid forms of communication. (Don’t believe me? Take a look out your car window the next time you’re in traffic.) Unfortunately this includes the vast majority of businesses out there, large and small.

When was the last time you can recall walking into a business and getting a warm greeting from an employee or the owner? When was the last time somebody said, “How may I help you?”, and meant it?

More often than not I get one of the following; a blank stare, a grunt, an employee walking right by me without a word or two employees too busy hitting on each other to notice you.

My favorite development in the new digital world of “we don’t have customer service; we just want your money,” is the fact that many businesses now hide behind email. (An interesting fact I will insert here; I recently had a business owner EMAIL ME BACK saying he didn’t know what that meant! SAY WHAT?)

I am a fairly intelligent guy, self-taught, self-educated and no paper hanging on the wall; nevertheless pretty damn smart…, at least most of time when I’m not making life-changing decisions. (But that’s another story or two.) When I need customer service, it’s usually because I have already taken care of what I fondly call “the stupid stuff”. In other words, if there is something, anything that can be done on my end to solve the problem, it’s usually been done before I reach for the phone or sit down to write an email.

Usually something is broken, the object is defective or the instructions appear to have been written by a rhesus monkey who got hold of a meth pipe. For instance, recently, a piece of writing software I had been trying out wiped out an entire work-in-progress novel. (Thank the great author gods I had sent a Word copy to a friend.)

Now when something like that happens, or any similar scenario comes up that obviously requires immediate attention, (like perhaps you stick your brand new, motorized toothbrush in your mouth and it shorts out, causing your teeth to turn charcoal black and smoke to come out of your ears,) you don’t want to run over to your computer and write an email. You need help now; well, right after you call for an ambulance.

See, that’s my problem with supposed ’email customer service’. By the time I need help, I need it now, not ‘within forty eight hours’, not next week. In addition, I surely do not need to receive a message that tells me you’ve received my message. I need answers, solutions!

I’ve worked in jobs where customer service is a vital and integral part of the job. I used to sell computers and software for a major retail chain. I could write a book about that alone. Good customer service required that I tell the little, old lady that the CD tray is NOT a “cute, little cup holder”. It also required telling Dad that he didn’t need to return the $1800 computer he just bought his daughter “because it won’t come on”. (Yes, you really do need to plug it in sir, and no, there are not three gerbils, a conveyor belt with peanuts and a generator in the machine.)

I could go on and on. There was a customer who thought their brand new machine would simply “jump on the Internet all by itself” without the need to procure INTERNET SERVICE. Then there was the guy who bought a computer and then brought four of his buddies into the store to do the same so they “could all email each other” despite the fact that they all lived on the same block. I digress.

The point is, when people need customer service, they usually need it NOW. Not tomorrow, not next week, not next month. Email does not provide that and I wonder what went through that business owner’s mind when they implemented that. (Well, what am I saying? Of course, I know darn well what went through their mind; cost-cutting, money-savings, fewer employees, fewer customer problems you have to directly and promptly deal with.)

Email, because it is inherently automated and highly impersonal, often has the same disease as those merry-go-round menus; an inability to address the specific problem you have. How many times have you gone to the email menu that asks you to “select a problem” and none of them is your problem? It gets even funnier when you select a problem and it simply directs you to their “HELP” forum. There you can join  1,435 other beleaguered, frustrated ‘customers’ all floating around this cyber room desperately seeking answers to questions the business won’t answer. Now you get to ask each other if anyone has come up with a solution. HUH?

I miss the days when the word customer meant something; when businesses understood that we, the customer, are the lifeblood of your business.

I once made the mistake of telling a prospective employer that the saying, “the customer is always right” was completely wrong. “The customer,” I said, “is usually wrong and completely uneducated. But that is why we are here; to educate them. An educated customer is a buying customer and a happy customer.”

No, I didn’t get that job. What a surprise! The point is I know what the customer wants, I know what they need and I know how to take care of them, before and after the sale. I wonder why most businesses today either don’t get that or they don’t care.

My partial solution to all of this is really quite simple; own less crap. Take a moment to look around and think for a moment. How much crap do you own? How much time do you spend in your life taking care of some issue regarding that crap. You’ve got maintenance, warranties, gas and time to return the item to the store, shipping charges to return the item to the vendor, hundreds of dollars in batteries of all sizes and shapes, serial and registration numbers to be kept, receipts to be filed, updates to be performed and, of course, customer service to dance with.

Good grief, it’s a wonder we have time to do anything else except, in some way, take care of our crap. My partial solution for the moment; less crap, less need for customer service. I’m still working on a whole solution.

Ethan Holmes is the author of Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. Ethan Holmes is also the author of Earth’s Blood, The Keystone, Shorts and Other Laundry and A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes

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Scared is Scared of Things You Like

It is amazing to me how things come into my life every once in a while if I just ‘allow’ them.  Remember the old saying; “out of the mouths of babes”?

I finished and published my latest book recently, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. While I wrote the book with a humorous and witty twist, there’s a whole chapter in it about fear; an emotion and thought process which I believe has the single most profound influence on our lives and the decisions we make.

About a week ago I came across an amazing video by Bianca Gaiever. In it she ‘interviews’ a six-year old boy and the child, perhaps unknowingly, imparts some wisdom we would all do well to listen to and use.

Fear stops people from doing a lot of things in life; everything from entering into a new and perhaps life-changing relationship with an awesome guy like me, to never ‘being‘ what you were supposed to ‘be’ in life. Fear is so pervasive in our lives that people, as I said in my book, are even more than willing to express it in countless forms every day.

“I’m afraid we can’t help you with that.”

“I’m afraid if I do that I’ll get hurt.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

“I’m afraid if I go out with you I might really like you.”

“I’m afraid if I try to do ‘this’, (insert life-long dream), I might lose my job.”

“Be careful out there; it’s snowing.”

“Have a safe trip.”

You get the picture. How many of us have heard phrases like these all our lives? Fear will stop us in our tracks. Fear will make us back away. Fear will cause us to choose anything but what we really want.

I have a whole chapter about Advertising and Media in Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. Ironically, they prey on fear too; fear of what you don’t have, fear of not having the latest and greatest, fear of not keeping up, fear of inadequacy and lack.

It’s amazing how pervasive it is and what an influence this single word has on our lives. Yet here is a six-year old boy telling you how to get over that.

“Scared is scared of things you like.” He tells her this and it is a great response to her expression of fear that “it feels like her school is closing” because she is about to graduate. (Fear of change.)

Think of things you like, “pizza and cookies”, and fear goes away. Fear cannot live in an atmosphere deprived of fear. If you eliminate the fear in your life you would be amazed at what you can do and the different choices you can make. That is why I wrote Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. It’s a humorous, witty look at real life and choices.

Ethan Holmes is the author of five books; Earth’s Blood, The Keystone, A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes, Shorts and Other Laundry and Live Your Life In  A Crap Free Zone.

Follow Ethan Holmes Blog Podcast and for a chance to get a free book.

fear and pizza.Watch Scared is Scared here! Scared is Scared by Bianca Gaievers

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Ethan Holmes, The Paperman and Valentine’s Day

Paperman

Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. I’ve always had a problem with a holiday that, thanks to media and advertising, contains strong implications that my love for a person is directly proportional to how much of the following I will buy them; chocolate, flowers and jewelry. (It should be noted that may not be the proper order of importance depending on whom you’re with.)

Did you know that the deepest origins of Valentine’s Day are tied to an ancient Roman three-day festival that involved killing animals, flailing celestial virgins with the stripped hides and hooking them up, lottery-style, with a group of men, both hoping that the flailing made the women fertile? Kind of puts a damper on that box of chocolates; doesn’t it?

But I digress. I found a video on openculture.com, (see the Paperman link above or click here), that reminded me that I have always been and always will be a full-blooded, dyed-in-the-wool romantic. Never mind that, by the time I find the girl, I am going to be ninety-six years old and too old to do anything about it except invite her to Wednesday Rice Pudding Night at the nursing home.

Unlike the video, I have no paper airplanes to help me. In fact, where I live, there is very little help of any kind. The tourists who make up the vast majority of people walking the streets and inhabiting the coffee shops, grocery stores, Main Street gift shops and hiking trails are necessarily short-term transient; here today, gone next week.

The rest of the population, according to all recent census records, is overwhelmingly senior citizens and gay people. There’s nothing wrong with that; we all have to live somewhere. I just don’t date either one of those two groups; not yet anyway. Give me another few years in what I call single man’s hell.

Somewhere in my mind, years ago while I was evidently still lucent and hopeful, I was sure I was going to marry the girl of my dreams and live happily ever after. Let’s just say that I have only run into the women of my nightmares and through various and many poor choices I find myself, years later, pondering Wednesday Rice Pudding Night at the nursing home which suddenly seems like it’s not too far off in the distant future. It would be really great and save me some money if that would just happen to fall on Valentine’s Day.

I can see it now. My glassy, red-rimmed eyes meet hers, cloudy, glaucoma-stricken, peering at me from six feet away over a pair of the largest, most cumbersome set of bifocals I’ve ever seen. Her eighteen remaining blue hairs glisten in the soft, dust-filled sunlight filtering in past the yellowed lace curtains on the nursing home windows. I note a sexy bit of unidentifiable drool slowly making its way down the corner of her thin, pale lips and the way she playfully picks the broccoli off her plate and throws it at the nurse. She turns to me again and says something. I can’t hear her so I anxiously turn up my hearing aid, all the while eagerly anticipating hearing her say how handsome I look in my flannel pajamas complete with a pocket protector full of pens and pencils. I lean forward, eager to hear the first words I’ll remember for the rest of my short life. Ah, I have found her at last!

She points a bony, um, I mean, soft, slender finger at me and says, “Where the hell is the god-damn bathroom in this place?!”

Ethan Holmes is the author of Earth’s Blood (now available in paperback), The Keystone, A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes, Shorts and Other Laundry, and his latest release now available in both paperback and Ebook, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone.\

Visit Ethan Holmes at his website to learn more about the author.

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