On being ... duped?

By Ingrid Sapona

The title of this column is courtesy of my friend Barb (who I hope doesn’t mind me attributing it to her). She offered it up as we were leaving the opening night of a free, three-day grand finale of Luminato, an arts and culture festival. The finale featured Canada’s world-famous Cirque du Soleil in an event created exclusively for the festival. The media was abuzz about the event, but details were scant.

Festival organizers described the Cirque performance as involving two mythical communities of performers -- one representing the untamed, natural world and the other representing man-made urbanization. Members of the two communities would start at different ends of the waterfront and make their way toward the centre where they’d converge later in the weekend. Given this, I had the impression Cirque performers would be roaming around the waterfront, interacting with people. A newspaper article on Thursday, however, described two distinct points on the waterfront where the Cirque had set up stages of some sort.

Barb and I were curious about the event, but neither of us had any set expectations about the performance. If anything, we both were a bit skeptical, given all the hype. But, it was a lovely evening and we ventured down to the waterfront with open minds.

When we got to the first location the Cirque had set something up, we were surprised at how elaborate the stage was. The area, which is used for ice skating in the winter, had been transformed into a marsh, complete with whimsical trees and cattails and dreamy Cirque music was playing in the background. It was nearly 7 o’clock and quite a crowd had gathered. We understood the performance was from 7 – 9 p.m., so we joined the crowd.

After about 15 minutes of waiting with no sign of even a single performer, much less any performance beginning, we headed toward the other end of the waterfront to see what might be going on there. It was almost 8 o’clock by the time we made our way to the other whimsical Cirque stage. There too, Cirque music was playing and a large crowd had gathered. Once again, we joined the crowd and waited. After a few minutes I asked a couple folks whether they’d seen anything so far and they said no.

There was a garden nearby that I’d never walked through, so we decided to head there before it got dark. We figured that by the time we returned to the Cirque stage area, the performance would probably be underway. As we were making our way toward the garden we noticed a few Cirque performers headed toward us. Some were on stilts, one was dressed as a horseman, complete with an elaborate wooden-framed horse, and another was some sort of nymph. After that, we were on the look-out for other performers. We soon saw some that looked like a rag-tag street gang. Though it was fun watching them meander through the crowd, the interactions were pretty much what you get with normal street buskers.

We ended up back at the skating rink turned marsh (the first Cirque stage we saw that night) by about 8:45 p.m. The crowd had grown, but we still couldn’t see any performers there. I asked some people what we’d missed and the answer was: nothing. The performance, which was scheduled to end in just 15 minutes, hadn’t started -- or at least it hadn’t made its way there yet.

Barb and I loitered there for a few minutes – mainly to check out peoples’ reaction as they waited. To our surprise, most seemed un-phased by the wait. Maybe they were just happy to be by the lake on a beautiful evening, or maybe showing restlessness (much less irritation) just isn’t part of the Canadian temperament. I did see one couple briskly walking away and I heard the guy telling people who passed him that the performance was over. When I asked him if it had even begun, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Well, I guess that’s the question, isn’t it?”

Not interested in waiting around any longer, we left. Though we had had a nice evening (it was a pleasure to walk around the harbourfront), we agreed it was unbelievable, not to mention rude, that the Cirque kept the crowd waiting like that. We laughed at the thought that maybe the joke was on Toronto – and Torontonians. Perhaps the Cirque folks were using Luminato to bring to life PT Barnum’s famous comment about fooling people!

We also talked about the fact that even though neither of us went with any real expectations about the Cirque’s performance, somehow we felt disappointed. That’s when the idea of an On being… about expectations came to me.

Pleased that I had an idea for On being…, I reassured Barb that the evening wasn’t a total bust because it gave me an idea for the column. To this, Barb very drolly said, “Let me guess: On being … duped?” I had to laugh. I told her I was thinking of something a bit more philosophical, but she did have a point. In thinking about Barb’s title I realized that, in fact, we did have an expectation going into the evening: we expected not to end up feeling like fools for waiting around for a show that, as far as we could tell, never really materialized.

As a post script I should tell you that according to the Toronto Star, apparently there was some kind of performance that evening -- we just didn’t stay long enough to see it. I don’t feel too bad about missing it, however. According to the newspaper, because the show was so late getting started it was “cut short and seemed underwhelming”. Underwhelming indeed…

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... tricks of the trade

By Ingrid Sapona

As a kid, I was more inclined to spend time doing crafts than reading a book or playing sports. I don’t know if it’s because I liked working with my hands or not, but I also always liked learning about how things were made. So, I was more likely to watch shows like This Old House than the Brady Bunch.

This Old House made a lasting impression on me in a couple ways. First, I was amazed by the fact that there were specialized tools for all sorts of things. I mean, a miter box for cutting right angles – how clever is that! And then there’s the router. To this day, I think routers have to be one of the most fascinating tools. Hell, even the dictionary definition of router makes them sound cool: a machine with a revolving vertical spindle and cutter for milling out the surface of wood or metal (according to Merriam-Webster.com).

The other thing that left a big impression on me was the idea that every trade has its own tricks – those little extras the lay person simply doesn’t know to do, or doesn’t think would make a difference in the finished product. Tricks of the trade don’t necessarily make things easier. In fact, often they’re additional steps – things you can skip without causing any real problems. But, doing them always pays off because the finished product looks better and more professional.

Though I’ll never be converting an old farmhouse into a stylish inn (like the folks always seemed to be doing on This Old House), the show left me with an appreciation for the little tricks and techniques that elevate competent handiwork to the level of craftsmanship and gave me a thirst for learning about such tricks with regard to projects I undertake. For example, in high school I used to do a lot of needlepoint. I reached a level of skill that many admired and that I was pleased with, but I was always striving to make my work more professional looking.

One day I was showing a project I was working on to a woman who made a living selling her needlework. She commented on the fact that I used black to outline part of the design. She then suggested I try dark brown, explaining that black draws the eye in and therefore de-emphasizes the rest of the design. Dark brown, she said, offers the contrast necessary for the outline effect, but it doesn’t create a visual distraction. That afternoon I bought some dark brown wool and tried it. I was astounded by the difference. It was a simple trick, but one I’d never heard, or read, about and would never have come up with on my own.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done any projects with my hands, but this spring I needed to repair some gashes on my boat’s hull that happened last fall during haul out. I was nervous about doing the work because the last time I did such work was during the first season I had the boat. Back then, not knowing anything about fiberglass, much less about the “gel coat” finish, I asked around and learned as much as I could about how to do the repair. I did an ok job, especially when viewed from a distance, but every spring when I’m washing and waxing the hull, my handiwork mocks me. And, given the location of the gashes, I worried that if I didn’t refine my gel coating technique, the boat might end up looking like something only a mother could love.

So, over the winter I took a fiberglass repair course. It was great because it demystified the processes and helped me get over my fear of the chemicals involved. The hands-on work was also useful because it helped me get a good feel for using the materials. Of course, I was well aware that practicing on a horizontal flat surface in a temperature-controlled setting (the classroom) was very different from working on a vertical curved surface (the side of a boat sitting in a cradle) outside in early March.

Because the course was only four weeks, we didn’t have time for more than the basics in terms of practicing finishing techniques, but the instructor was enthusiastic and eagerly shared his knowledge and experience. As we were working away, he shared many tricks of the trade. We didn’t have time to try most of them in the classroom, but he suggested we try them on our own boats.

One trick he mentioned was to polish the finished surface with a particular brass polish. When he suggested it, many who were familiar with the product were skeptical because they thought doing so might leave a yellowish tint. Though I was familiar with the polish he mentioned, I didn’t have any at home. But, when I was out buying all the stuff I’d need to do my boat repairs, I also picked up a can of the polish, figuring I may as well give his suggestion a try.

Well, you probably know where I’m going with this. I diligently followed all the steps we learned and I applied every trick he mentioned – including using the brass polish – and I’m thrilled to report that the gel coat work turned out terrific. Besides being proud of my workmanship, I’m grateful for having had a tremendously skilled instructor who graciously shared so many tricks of the trade.

I know some may think that my fascination with learning tricks of the trade is a manifestation of a somewhat unhealthy striving toward perfection. Or perhaps it’s a reflection of an abnormal fear of remaining a jack of all trades, master of none. Could be… or maybe it’s just an appreciation for detail and for a job well done.

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... nickeled-and-dimed

By Ingrid Sapona

I use the same company for my phone, internet, and digital t.v. service I pay a flat fee and I save (if you can call paying about $150/month saving) because I get “bundling” discounts. When my March bill arrived I noticed it was a bit higher than normal. On closer examination, I saw that the internet service charge was $5 more than it had been. I phoned and, after numerous questions and being put on hold for quite awhile, the customer service rep said there was a billing error and somehow that month I didn’t get all the bundling discounts I should have. He told me they’d credit me $5 on my April bill but that I should pay the current bill in full.

When I got the April bill there was no $5 credit, so I phoned to complain. After 20+ minutes on the phone, the customer service rep once again assured me I’d be credited next month. After hanging up I was very irritated, in part because between last month and this month I spent at least an hour (time digging out previous bills and time on the phone to straighten it out) dealing with this $5 error.

Compounding my irritation was the thought that maybe I should have just paid the $5 and let it go because, clearly, my time’s worth more than $5. But, truth be told, I also knew that part of what was nagging at me was the thought that maybe my knee-jerk reaction to fight such overcharges comes from worrying I’m not as financially as secure as I’d like to be or, worse yet, that such disputes are a manifestation of being a penny pincher.

After calming down, I realized I’d be a happier person if I didn’t let things like this bother me, so I began thinking of techniques I might try to cultivate more of a sense of equanimity. One idea I came up with is to set a dollar amount below which I wouldn’t quibble. In other words, borrowing a concept from my accounting friends, I’d set a personal “materiality threshold” and I’d only spend time on issues involving amounts over that threshold. But what amount should I choose? I decided to ruminate on that question for a few days.

As it happens, the very next day I got a parking ticket. They’re doing repairs to my condominium’s garage and the management company arranged with the City for residents to park on the street overnight, so long as we displayed special permits. Despite the fact that I prominently displayed the permit on my dashboard, I got a $40 ticket! I was livid.

No sooner did I sit down to write a letter about the ticket than I thought of my materiality threshold question. Though I hadn’t yet settled on an amount, it took me less than three seconds to decide it certainly was something less than $40. Besides, I’m a fast typist and it wouldn’t take me long to write the condo management company telling them I expected them to deal with the ticket.

The following day’s mail brought yet another opportunity for me to either practice developing equanimity, or to narrow in on a personal materiality threshold. This opportunity came in the form of a $29 late fee applied to my April Chase Visa bill. In March, Chase had returned a $53 cheque I wrote on a U.S. dollar account I have with my Canadian bank. In the past, they’ve accepted payment from this account. I phoned Chase immediately to find out what the problem was.

It’s a long story but it has something to do with the fact that my Canadian bank recently issued me new cheques that apparently can no longer be cleared under the U.S.’s clearing system. The upshot of that 45+ minute conversation was that I had to get a U.S. money order to pay Chase. Getting the money order and mailing it with a letter explaining that the problem wasn’t my fault took two more hours.

Fast forward to the other day and my April bill with the $29 late fee. Naturally, I phoned Chase for an explanation. They said the fee was because the March payment was late. I couldn’t believe any late fee was charged, much less $29 on a $53 bill! I again explained it wasn’t my fault that they returned the cheque and I asked them to waive the fee because I’ve always paid in full and on time. After 55+ minutes on the phone, it was clear Chase wouldn’t budge. (I’ve already cut up the Chase card but I can’t afford to jeopardize my credit rating by simply ignoring the $29 fee, regardless of whether I think it’s fair or appropriate.) They suggested I ask my Canadian bank to reimburse me the $29 since it was their change to the cheques that caused the problem.

So, what to do? I’d already spent nearly an hour on the phone with Chase about this damned $29 (not to mention the time I spent on the phone with them in March). Do I take up the matter with my bank or do I bite the bullet and forget about it?

Well, I’m sorry to report that equanimity didn’t triumph, but I am getting closer to nailing down my materiality threshold. (Clearly it’s something under $29!) I took it up with my bank and, thankfully, it took less than an hour of my time and my bank reimbursed me the $29.

To be honest, I don’t know if setting a materiality threshold is the answer, but the way things are going lately, I worry that if I don’t, I may end up being nickeled-and-dimed to death.

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... August 8th

By Ingrid Sapona

Spring officially arrived over a month ago, but it’s barely begun showing here. The daffodils are at their peak this week, but 90% of the trees and bushes have only the smallest buds and lilac trees are at least a month from even thinking of blooming. So, from this perspective, August 8th, which will be mid-to-late summer, seems far, far away.

But, on the other hand, many yacht clubs launched boats this past weekend, racing starts in two weeks, and by the time I find the wire brush for the grill it’ll probably be the 4th of July (or at least Canada Day, which is July 1). So, from that perspective, I know the time will fly and it’ll be August 8th before I realize.

You’re probably wondering about the significance of August 8th. Well, it’s 100 days from today. If my Dad were around to read this, he’d say, “big whoop”. To be honest, I agree -- 100 days doesn’t seem particularly significant. Sure, it’s a nice round number, and especially appealing to those on the metric system (it certainly sounds more impressive than 14.28 weeks), but in the scheme of things -- I can’t think of too many reasons folks would normally take note of 100 days.

And yet, if you happened to catch any U.S. news yesterday, you’d have heard lots of folks clamoring about the 100th day of the Obama presidency. Apparently the press have been grading presidents’ first 100 days since FDR’s time. Some in Obama’s administration tried to downplay it by calling it a “Hallmark card” moment, which certainly sounds cleverer than what Dad would have said, but all the same, much fanfare was made of the event. (I like coincidence as much as the next person, but even I don’t think the fact that Obama held a prime-time press conference on his 100th day is a coincidence.)

I was thinking about what it would feel like to have my last 100 days graded by others and I have to say, I’m not sure I would appreciate it. In fact, if you’d have been on the receiving end of the reaction I got from a sail club member who asked me at launch what was new and whether I’d been anywhere of late, you’d probably be feeling a bit sensitive giving account too. This gentleman -- a well-off retiree who had spent a month in Florida, six weeks skiing in Colorado and some time in Spain or Portugal, I can’t remember which -- laughed in my face when I humbly said that I recently had a delightful long weekend in Cleveland. Honestly, he laughed in my face. On seeing my look of shock at his rudeness, he tried to backtrack by saying it just sounded funny, like a movie title or something. What can I say -- I guess I’ll just chalk it up to my deadpan delivery or something.

But seriously, this idea of grading what you’ve done over 100 days probably isn’t a bad idea. In fact, I’m sure life coaches are all for it, for example, as it really is just a logical extension of the much touted idea of setting goals with definite target dates and measurable objectives. And, the good thing is that -- unlike in school where someone else decides what you’re graded on AND assigns the grade -- in this case, you get to choose what you’re graded on and you’re the primary grader. (Friends and family may offer input, but your grade is what really counts.)

So, I think I’ll give this 100 day report card idea a go. I’ve always been a good student and what’s the worst that can happen? Sure, at the end of the 100 days someone might laugh in my face when I tell them what I’ve been up to, but who cares! What’s important is that I set an agenda and I do my best.

Of course, my agenda won’t be quite as ambitious as Obama’s -- for starters, the only auto industry folks I plan on being in touch with between now and August 8th are the guys who I take my car to for an oil change, and my interaction with banks is pretty much guaranteed to be to be limited to ATMs. But, like his, my agenda will have a mix of fiscal stimulus items and matters with a social impact. On the economic front I’ll be beating the bushes trying to find new clients and trying to get more work from existing clients, and on the social front I’ll be sailing, visiting with friends and family, maybe taking a long weekend here or there, and doing some volunteer work. So, with all that on my plate, I’m sure the next 100 days will fly by. But I’m up for it, and I plan on getting high marks on everything!

What about you? When grades come down on August 8th, what will you be marked on and how will you fare?

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... asked

By Ingrid Sapona

I have two sisters and we live far apart from each other and from my mother. Mom and I live the closest – she’s about 100 miles away. We all see each other pretty regularly, but because of schedules and what have you, our visits tend to be one-on-one rather than as a group.

When my sister Regina told me she was planning to visit Mom for a long weekend over Easter, Mom suggested they drive up to visit me. I loved the idea and suggested they stay over and that we celebrate Easter here. They agreed and it was set.

In the meanwhile, I thought it would be fun if all of us got together and I mentioned to Regina that I’d ask my other sister (Sonia) if she might be able to join us to surprise Mom. (Sonia, I hope you’ll forgive me for using your name. I know you live in fear of being written about in On being … but I can’t tell this story without mentioning you and using your name seems better than referring to you as Sister #2.)

Regina thought the idea was crazy because Sonia works for an airline and her schedule is anything but nine-to-five. When weather and mechanical problems are factored in, it’s easy to understand how difficult it is for Sonia to make plans. As well, she often picks up additional trips, so she has little free time for social visits, especially ones that come up on short notice.

Though I realized Sonia might not be able to get the time off, I saw no harm in asking her. Sonia’s initial response was non-committal. To be honest, that’s pretty much what I expected -- but it was clear to me that she’d at least think about it and would probably see what she could do.

A few days later Regina called me and was quite excited. Sonia had e-mailed her to let her know she managed to re-arrange her schedule to come for Easter dinner. Naturally, I was pleased, but also a bit surprised by Regina’s utter amazement that Sonia would join us. When I commented on her reaction, Regina admitted that she wouldn’t have even asked Sonia, given how unlikely it seemed she’d be able to come.

Regina’s reaction got me thinking about why I wasn’t as surprised that Sonia went out of her way to make our get-together happen. Besides the fact that I saw little down-side to asking her, I guess I subconsciously thought Sonia might try especially hard to rearrange her schedule because she would appreciate that we asked her to join us.

You see, the past few years I’ve found that when someone goes out of their way to specifically ask me to do something or to join them in doing something, chances are good I’ll say yes. (I suppose I might feel different if I was one of the many who have a hard time saying no, but that’s usually not a problem for me.) Since realizing this about myself, I’ve tried to figure out why I’m so much more inclined to say yes in such circumstances -- and I’ve noticed that the same is often true of others.

Here’s what I’ve come up with about what I call: “the power of being personally asked or invited”. When you think about all the social, family, work, and community things we all participate in, many of them we do either because we think we should or simply out of habit. For example, we go to a networking event because we feel we “should go”, or we go to our aunt’s Labour Day barbeque simply because we always have.

While there’s nothing particularly wrong with doing things that fall into those categories (and doing them can certainly be fulfilling), our participation in them is often pretty impersonal. Though everyone might be genuinely glad to see you at the event, your lack of attendance wouldn’t necessarily be noticed (unless they were expecting you and you stood them up or something). And, of course, when people start to simply expect you to participate, you can end up feeling taken for granted and therefore resentful, which in not healthy.

So, when someone personally asks me to join them or do something with them, I take notice. First off, their asking shows they thought of me individually, and the fact that they took the time out of their busy schedule to do so is also important to me. And, assuming an underlying genuineness on their part, the fact that they risked being rejected or disappointed also is significant to me.

Though it’s a bit of a stretch to say being personally asked has some kind of magic power over me – it definitely never hurts and, when choosing how to spend my time, I’d certainly rather spend it with someone who’s made me feel wanted and welcome. My guess is that Sonia feels the same, which is why she went out of her way to join us on Easter.

Who knows, maybe after reading this Regina and others will be more inclined to reach out and extend personal invitations, especially if they realize that -- for some -- being asked makes all the difference.

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... a useful analogy

By Ingrid Sapona

I generally like analogies and I often find them to be a handy tool for analyzing things. Indeed, a good analogy can be useful when trying to help someone understand something that they don’t seem to be getting.

Late last fall, when the Wall Street bailouts first started happening (or, more accurately, when the first Wall Street bailouts started happening), I was watching NBC’s Today Show and they had on Erin Burnett, a reporter with CNBC. As you now doubt know, CNBC is dedicated to reporting on Wall Street.

I don’t recall the exact event they were talking about that morning, but I think it must have related to some bonus or severance payment that some Wall Street mogul had been paid or had approved -- or maybe it was about John Thain’s (Merrill Lynch’s (then) CEO) $1.2 million office redecoration. In any event, the amount they were talking about was controversial at the time (the recent “fuss” over AIG bonuses is just the latest episode, after all). Ms. Burnett, trying to put the figure in perspective for the lowly viewer like me, commented that to Wall Street types, the amount was akin to a “rounding error”. Ah yes… a mere seven figure rounding error -- anyone who’s ever tried to balance their chequing account can no doubt relate to that!

Not only did I not find Ms. Burnett’s analogy to a rounding error helpful, I was absolutely incensed by it! Though I don’t believe it was just a case of a poor choice of words spoken in haste -- even if it was -- I think it betrays just how out of touch people who work on Wall Street, and those making big bucks at CNBC reporting on Wall Street, are with the economic reality of the vast majority of Americans (not to mention the rest of the world).

Had CNBC been around to report in pre-revolutionary France, I can’t help wonder if, to help the simple-minded peasants understand comments like “Let them eat cake”, Ms. Burnett would have done a remote broadcast from outside a bakery. Imagine all the trouble that could have been avoided if those darned peasants had just grasped the reality of the situation better…

More recently I’ve been angered and insulted by commentators who have said that the public outcry over the AIG bonuses is misplaced anxiety and that the bonuses are just something concrete that the public can grasp. It’s true, there’s more than enough anxiety to go around these days and the clamor about the bonuses is likely a symptom of that. But how dare commentators demean the public and try to gloss over payouts in the hundreds of millions when that’s more than what many people in America will make over the course of their lifetime. (And NO, it’s not that we object to bonuses being paid despite the fact that the companies have lost billions of dollars -- it’s the inequity of such amounts, period.)

Given the depth of the trouble we’re in, I imagine that for some time to come folks will be offering up many more analogies and maybe some good old fashioned sayings to help us come to grips with the economic mess. I’m not sure how many more platitudes I can take, but to prepare, I’ve thought of a few myself that might be helpful.

For example, maybe one way to explain how companies justify paying astronomical salaries to Wall Street managers and execs is simply to see them as having gotten caught up in a corporate version of “monkey see, monkey do”. Of course, boards wouldn’t dare use such a juvenile analogy -- but, as they bought into the compensation consultants’ arguments that such amounts are “the norm in the industry” and that they had to pony up if they hoped to attract the best and brightest -- the resemblance to monkey see, monkey do is striking. (Especially since -- like monkeys -- it’s clear no one questioned the moral scruples of the supposed best and brightest. Hell, no one ever even stopped to objectively assess whether those folks really were the best and the brightest! But why should they -- that’s not how the game is played, after all.)

Actually, it occurs to me that maybe folks like Ms. Burnett should consider switching their focus from trying to make the average person understand things, to trying to make Wall Street types understand how their behaviour got us into this mess. So, in the spirit of being helpful, to those who might find the public outcry over obscene bonuses -- or the idea of a 90% tax on such amounts -- hard to comprehend, perhaps a bit of reflection on one of my favourite sayings might help them understand: pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered.

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona

On being … my hero

By Ingrid Sapona

As a kid growing up, I never had a hero. Not having one didn’t bother me or anything -- I’m just saying, I never had one. During adolescence I became more aware of the fact that I didn’t have one -- but that’s just because I heard people express concern that girls, in general, were at a disadvantage because they didn’t have as many role models or heroes. As I made my way into adulthood, the topic came up occasionally, but pretty much only as a philosophical question over a second or third drink -- and it always seemed to be men that asked. Given all this, at some point, I guess I just figured heroes are a guy thing.

Well, I’ll be darned. After all these years -- I now have a hero. I’ll be honest -- before I sat down to right this, I did a bit of gut checking, soul searching and, of course, I looked up the word to make sure I’m not fooling myself about this. I’m not.

So, I say without hesitation or reservation: Jon Stewart is my hero. I know some women may feel I’m letting down the sisterhood by having a male as a hero -- but to them I say nonsense! As far as I’m concerned, Stewart should be the hero of all who believe no one is telling it like it is when it comes to the economy and who have felt, as I have, unheard in all of this.

You’ve no doubt heard about Stewart’s interview of CNBC’s Jim Cramer last week. The interview was the culmination of a week that started with Stewart’s show (The Daily Show on Comedy Central) ridiculing CNBC’s coverage of Wall Street. Jim Cramer took particular umbrage at the clips the Daily Show ran of his CNBC show “Mad Money” and so, over the course of the week, Cramer popped up on a number of other programs to talk about the economy and to defend himself. Finally, on the 12th, Cramer agreed to be on The Daily Show.

I had mixed feelings about the Stewart/Cramer interview. It had received a lot of hype and I thought it would end up playing out as a manufactured brouhaha -- the verbal equivalent of a World Wresting Federation match. From the moment the interview began, however, it was clear my concerns were unfounded. Stewart was friendly to Cramer, but he was clearly in a serious mood.

Stewart was tremendously well prepared and he proved to be masterful at cross-examination. Early on, after getting Cramer to blow is own horn about the fact that he was a hedge fund manager for many years, Stewart ran a clip of Cramer explaining how easy it is to make money short selling. When the clip was finished, Stewart asked him to explain what that means. Cramer then launched into an impressive sounding explanation that also included him claiming he didn’t short sell. Stewart interrupted and said it sounded like he did. Cramer then said that if it sounded that way, it’s because he was inarticulate. Well -- if you’re a fan of Perry Mason -- you know what’s coming next… Stewart says “roll 210” -- and you guessed it, 210 is a tape of Cramer saying that, in fact, he did short sell.

I’ll admit, I’m not a fan of Cramer -- he’s always struck me as more bluster than substance. That evening he was Mr. Humble, however, admitting again and again that he should have done better but that he tried. One of the most interesting things about Cramer’s performance was that he kept referring to “the shenanigans” that were “going on”. Shenanigans? Shenanigans? Referring to all the abuses and schemes that various companies have carried out the past few years and that have led us into this financial crisis as shenanigans is either incredibly condescending to us or betrays a lack of understanding of what really was going on, either of which is reprehensible.

Stewart then paraphrased one of my favorite concepts from law school, arguing that the financial news industry is not just guilty of a sin of omission -- it was guilty of the sin of commission and that the industry was in bed with Wall Street. Cramer argued they weren’t in bed together and whined that there was nothing he could do because people lied to him. Stewart wouldn’t hear of it, saying the idea CNBC could have on guys from Bear Sterns and Merrill who leveraged 35 to 1 and then blame mortgage holders is insane and he objected to Cramer trying to play the doe-eyed innocent.

Then came the part of the interview that made me want to sing out, “Thank you Mr. Stewart” for giving voice to what many of us feel. After yet another clip, Stewart said, “I gotta tell you -- I understand you want to make finance entertaining, but it’s not a f---ing game … When I watch that … I can’t tell you how angry that makes me because what it tells me is (at this point his voice goes from angry to quietly indignant): You all know. You all know what’s going on…”.

But what really nailed down for me Stewart’s title as my hero was something he said that, though difficult to admit, contains a lesson for us all: “… any time you sell people the idea you don’t have to do anything … that you can sit back and you’ll get 10 to 20% on your money… that’s a lie. Our wealth is work … we’re workers … and selling this idea of ‘hey man, I’ll teach you how to be rich’” is really just an infomercial. Hear, hear, Mr. Stewart.

So there you have it -- a hero is born.

P.S. If you haven’t seen the show and are interested, those in the U.S. can watch it on the Internet at: www.thedailyshow.com; those in Canada can watch it at on CTV's web site.

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... a good luck charm

By Ingrid Sapona

I’m a bit superstitious -- but in a positive way. In other words, I’m not inclined to think bad things will happen as a result of some random event (like seven years bad luck if you break a mirror). Instead, my brand of superstition is based on the idea that certain things can bring good luck.

A prime example of my positive superstitiousness (to coin a phrase) is my belief that I’m a parking good luck charm. I was reminded of it again just the other evening when a friend and I were headed to a bar we’d never been to before. We had a pretty good idea where it was on this popular, busy street, but we weren’t certain of the exact location.

Just after my friend pointed out the place, I spotted an easy-to-pull-into parking space directly across the street from the front door. It was a very cold evening, so we were especially grateful to have found such a close spot. As I pulled into it, my friend mumbled something about my being lucky. I couldn’t help myself -- I blurted out, “Well, I’m a parking good luck charm”. She didn’t say anything in response, but I’m pretty sure she shot me a “whatever” look.

I first began thinking of myself as a parking good luck charm in my 20s. This one friend and I used to go out at all hours and no matter where we went, we always ended up finding great parking. At some point he commented on the fact that whenever he was with me, he never had a problem finding parking. (Apparently he didn’t have such good fortune normally.)

Then I started noticing that I seem to find primo parking spots even when I’m driving and have someone with me. Eventually I concluded it was happening far too regularly to be a fluke, so since then, if I’m in a car with someone and we’re looking for parking, I confidently announce I’m sure we’ll find a spot because I’m a parking good luck charm.

When I say that, those who don’t know me too well usually react with a pretty cynical, “Yeah, well, I hope you’re right”. Often, just as they finish muttering that, I point out an open space and little more is said about the matter. And then there’s the reaction I get from inveterate disbelievers. One guy I went out with, for example, always used to mock me by saying, “Oh that’s right – a parking good luck charm -- not a bridge fairy.” (His comment was a reference to the Canada/U.S. border crossings at Niagara Falls. Depending on the economic and political climate, the wait to get through Customs on the bridges can be from minutes to hours.)

I’ve thought about why I seem endowed with this luck when it comes to parking. The answer, of course, simple: being a parking good luck charm is nothing more than being confident you’ll find a space and then focusing your attention on your surroundings as soon as you arrive where you’re looking to park. Really, you could call it “parking conscious”. You’d be surprised at how many people aren’t parking conscious.

My belief in my parking luck is very much like a good luck ritual that worked for me in law school. Right before I left for an exam I always played Kenny Loggins’ “This is It”. The title refers to the fact that the present moment is the time for action. I felt that if I left the house singing it, I’d do ok. Looking back, it seems clear the luck I ascribed to the song came from the fact that singing the phrase -- This is It! -- helped me focus on the reality that the moment of the exam was the time for action -- the time to call forth all I’d learned and crammed into my little brain! I guess you could say the song helped make me “exam conscious”.

The great thing about good luck charms is they help you feel lucky and that boosts your confidence, which is bound to make whatever it is you’re up to go more smoothly. The best thing about being a parking good luck charm isn’t that you find great parking -- that’s just an added bonus. The real benefit is that if you feel you’ve been lucky with parking, you end up in a more positive frame of mind, which can help carry you through whatever you’re doing next.

Regardless of whether you believe there’s any such thing as a good luck charm, I hope these examples convince you that you can create your own luck with a positive attitude and by focusing your awareness on the immediate task at hand. So, next time you’re in search of parking, try being your own parking good luck charm -- all it takes is belief and focus. Go on -- give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll bet you end up in some pretty sweet spots.

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona