A pain in the neck. Literally. That is what I deal with after flying in airplanes and sleeping in hotel rooms and trusting those fluffy pillows that look comfortable but somehow feel like sacks of mashed potatoes by morning.

As it turns out, I am not alone. During conversations with others, I keep hearing the same phrase: “I miss my own pillow.”

There it is, the adult version of a child clinging to a favorite teddy bear. We might pretend we are rugged travelers, but deep down, most of us just want our own pillow. Jolene and I have officially reached that stage of life. When we travel by car, we pack our own pillows. Years ago, I saw older people carrying pillows into hotels and thought, “I will never do that.” Well, here I am, marching through the lobby with a pillow tucked under my arm, looking like I am checking into a weeklong nap camp. The older I get, the less I care. Comfort beats cool every single time.

According to Sleep Junkie, nine out of 10 people say a comfortable pillow is an important part of getting a good night’s sleep. About 70% believe their pillow has a major impact on how well they sleep. Apparently, we have become a nation emotionally attached to stuffed rectangles.

Then there is the question of quantity. About 31% of people sleep with two pillows. More than 13% use three. Even more surprising, 27% pile up four pillows. Four? At that point, you are not sleeping. You are constructing a fort.

I fall into the two-pillow camp. I know the experts say one pillow is often better for neck alignment, but every time I try sleeping with just one, I spend the night rearranging it like I am solving a geometry problem.

Eventually, though, even the best pillow gives up. The Sleep Foundation recommends replacing pillows every one to two years to keep them supportive, clean and free of allergens. Polyester pillows may last only about a year, while latex pillows can survive closer to three years. Like so many purchases, quality usually costs more up front but lasts longer.

So perhaps my sore neck is not from the hotel bed after all. Maybe it is my pillow waving a little white flag. If that is the case, it may be time to go shopping. And if you happen to see me walking into a hotel carrying my own pillow, do not laugh. You will be doing the same thing soon enough.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

The key to keys. That is what I am trying to figure out as I stare in frustration at the dozens of mystery keys scattered across my desk. I have absolutely no idea what most of them open. As tempted as I am to throw them away, I am convinced that the moment I do, I will discover one was the only key to something critically important. Can you relate?

Keys have certainly changed over time, and they keep evolving. Historians trace the first lock-and-key systems back thousands of years to ancient Egypt, where the keys were made of wood. Wood. Imagine carrying a wooden key ring around. Forget losing your keys — termites could have stolen them.

Today, vehicle keys are not really keys at all. They are oversized electronic fobs packed with buttons and features. They unlock doors, start engines, flash lights and probably communicate with satellites. At least it seems that way. They are convenient, but they are also about as pocket-friendly as a baked potato. And whenever I stick one in my pocket, I somehow manage to activate the alarm. Nothing boosts your confidence like your car announcing your arrival to the entire parking lot.

A few years ago, I wrote about my solution: clipping my keys to a carabiner attached to my belt loop. Problem solved. Mostly.

The catch was the office-door fob. I could not reach the scanner without performing a maneuver that resembled a circus act. Then I remembered Schneider, the maintenance superintendent from the 1970s sitcom “One Day at a Time.” Inspired by his key collection, I bought one of those retractable pull-string key holders. Success. For a while.

Then the string snapped.

So it was back to the carabiner. Now I stretch up on my tiptoes like a ballerina, hoping I can reach the scanner before my calf cramps.

Business owners know another key-related headache. Employees leave, and suddenly you are playing detective, trying to recover keys. If they are not returned, locks need to be rekeyed. That gets expensive. Years ago, we switched to electronic fobs at our office. If someone does not return one, we simply deactivate it. Replacing a building fob is inexpensive. Replacing a vehicle fob, however, can require a small bank loan.

I still miss the simplicity of old-fashioned keys. When I was about 5 years old, I accompanied my father to an abandoned farmhouse he planned to tear down. Old iron skeleton keys remained in several locks. The property owners told me I could keep them, and I proudly collected every one.

I wish I knew where those keys are today.

Recently, I bought a hand engraver and started labeling new keys: house, garage, shed and so on. It helps, but it does nothing for the collection of unidentified relics already hanging around.

So for now, I will keep them. Because experience has taught me one universal truth: the most useless-looking key in the bunch is almost certainly the one that opens something important. The challenge, of course, is remembering what that something is before I need a locksmith, a therapist and a tetanus shot to find out.

Have a great week, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
President and Publisher
Big Green Umbrella Media
shane@dmcityview.com
515-953-4822, ext. 305
www.gctimesnews.com

As a young man, I never understood why anyone needed a belt. As a middle-aged man, I do not go a single day without one. What happened?

When I was a kid, belts were mostly for show. The real prize was having your name stamped across the back or sporting a giant belt buckle that looked as if it belonged to a rodeo champion. It was the 1970s. Subtlety was not exactly in style.

When I landed my first job out of college in 1990, belts became part of the uniform. I had to wear suits, and everyone knew the belt had to match the shoes. Apparently, civilization depended on it.

Then I discovered suspenders.

Back then, suspenders were actually fashionable and not just something worn by grandfathers who spent their afternoons discussing the weather and the price of coffee. My suit pants even had buttons sewn inside specifically for them. I owned at least a dozen pairs, mostly solid colors with a few loud enough to qualify as conversation starters. Amazingly, a few of those suspenders are still hanging in my closet, patiently waiting for a comeback that will probably never happen.

Somewhere along the way, suits disappeared from my daily wardrobe, and suspenders quietly retired with them. Belts took over again. I have bought plenty of them since. It is not because I have some strange belt collection hobby. I simply buy inexpensive belts, and inexpensive belts have a remarkable talent for wearing out at exactly the wrong time.

There may be another factor. As my waistline has expanded over the years, my belts have been asked to perform increasingly heroic acts of engineering. More pressure means more friction, and more friction means another trip to the store. Those of you who are younger, or those of you who have never had to deal with this particular male phenomenon, may not appreciate the challenge. As men get older, our pants seem to migrate south. Whether gravity is winning or our waistlines are negotiating surrender, belts stop being accessories and become essential safety equipment.

My dad understood this long before I did. After working outside all day, he would come home, shower and put on a pair of blue jeans for the evening. When bedtime arrived, he hung those jeans on a hook in his closet with the belt still threaded through every loop, ready for a few more hours the next evening. I used to think he was just too lazy to remove the belt. Then I remembered how mercilessly I teased him whenever he accidentally skipped a belt loop. Suddenly, leaving the belt in place seemed like a stroke of genius.

I have not reached that stage quite yet, but I can see it from here. And if my belts eventually wave the white flag, those old suspenders are still waiting in the closet, ready for one last tour of duty.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

“So, what do you do for a living?”

How many times have you been asked that question? Although I have technically held the same job for more than two decades, my answer changes depending on the day. Publisher. Editor. Salesperson. Problem-solver. Janitor. Amateur therapist. Professional coffee drinker.

But I recently realized that nearly every role I fill boils down to one responsibility: making sure deadlines are met. My own deadlines. Everyone else’s deadlines. Advertising deadlines. Editorial deadlines. Design deadlines. Printing deadlines. Delivery deadlines. Payroll deadlines. If someone could invent a deadline for remembering deadlines, I would probably have that on my calendar, too.

In our business, we juggle dozens of deadlines every day. We have so many that we review them every morning during our team huddle. I started that practice several years ago after hearing one question far too many times: “Is that deadline today?”

No. It was yesterday. We are just discussing it for nostalgia.

Over the years, I have noticed something interesting. Some people almost never miss a deadline. Others seem to treat deadlines more like friendly suggestions. There are surprisingly few people in between. Why?

According to leadership coach Dr. Audrey Reille, it usually comes down to time management, but not always in the way people think.

Some people practice what she calls “task avoidance.” They expect a job to be unpleasant, so they convince themselves it will somehow become easier tomorrow. Spoiler alert: It rarely does.

Others fail to see the purpose of the task. If they believe an assignment has little value, their motivation disappears faster than free doughnuts in a break room.

Then there is the “no stick, no carrot” crowd. They procrastinate because there are no meaningful consequences for waiting and no rewards for finishing early. Without either internal or external motivation, the deadline quietly drifts by.

Finally, there are those who simply cannot say no. They agree to every request, volunteer for every project and pile more onto an already overflowing schedule. Their intentions are admirable, but, eventually, the calendar wins.

Of course, life happens. Emergencies arise. Priorities shift. Most of us have missed a deadline at one time or another. The problem is when missing them becomes a habit instead of an exception.

Deadlines are not about calendars or clocks. They are about trust. Every missed deadline forces someone else to wait, adjust or scramble to pick up the pieces.

So the next time you are tempted to ask, “Is that deadline today?” try a different question instead: “What do I need to finish right now?” Your future self and everyone waiting on you will be grateful. And who knows? You might even beat the deadline for a change.

Have a timely Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

Motivation is one of those words we use all the time but rarely understand. If you have ever managed employees, coached a youth team, raised children or even tried convincing your spouse to help clean the garage, you have probably wondered what actually motivates people. I certainly have.

Over the years, I have read countless books and articles on the subject, hoping to figure out how to get the best from myself and those around me. Most theories boil motivation down to two simple ideas: pursuing pleasure or avoiding pain. Those are certainly part of the equation, but author Shawn Lim offers a broader perspective with six common motivators.

The first is money and rewards. An early boss once told me money is not the real motivator; it is what money can buy. Lim argues it goes even deeper. He says people are not really chasing the paycheck or the shiny new truck. They are chasing the feelings those things provide. Understanding that difference can shift the focus from the destination to enjoying the journey.

Second is the desire to be the best. Some people simply refuse to settle for second place. Elite athletes, successful entrepreneurs and top performers often share this trait. They sacrifice weekends, get up before sunrise and put in extra hours because they cannot stand the thought of being outworked. For them, winning is not just a goal. It is fuel.

Third is helping others. Thankfully, many people are motivated by making someone else’s life better. They volunteer, mentor and quietly work behind the scenes without expecting applause. Their reward comes from seeing others succeed.

Fourth is power and influence. That may sound selfish, but it is not necessarily a bad thing. Every organization needs leaders. Some people are naturally driven to guide teams, businesses or communities. When that desire is paired with integrity, everyone benefits.

Fifth is recognition. We all know someone who loves hearing, “Great job.” Others are motivated by proving critics wrong. On a related note, many people become even more motivated to accomplish goals when others tell them they can’t. As kids, my friends and I could usually persuade one buddy to do almost anything by calling him “chicken.” Looking back, it was not our finest leadership strategy, but it was surprisingly effective.

Finally, there is passion. People who are passionate about their work rarely need an alarm clock or a pep talk. They are energized by what they do. Unfortunately, many people never find that spark. A friend recently saw a T-shirt that read, “I don’t want a job. I just want money.” It was amusing yet annoying because it rang true.

The trick is realizing that no single motivator works for everyone. Some people chase purpose while others chase praise, competition or influence. The real challenge is discovering what gets each person — including ourselves — moving. Once we figure that out, motivation becomes less about pushing people and more about giving them a reason to push themselves.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707