More than pipes and wires

If my postings have any sort of down-to-earth enjoyable reading style, it is due in large part to the influence of Ben Sherman, a local author, management and leadership trainer, speaker and self-described raconteur.

Back in the nineties I had the good fortune to attend his seminars on leadership. The attendees all received a copy of his first book, Restore Breathing, A Collection of Tales.  And over the intervening 20 years, I’ve read and reread the stories so many times I know them by heart.  Thought provoking allegories that can be applied to the reader’s own experiences, I recommend the book highly.

Here, in condensed form, is his story “That Isn’t Your Dog”.  The scene is a park bench:

“…A small boy walked by with a massive dog on a leash. The old man bent to offer the dog a hand and was obliged with a slobbery tongue.  Professor Delp asked the boy, “Whose dog is that, son?”

Mine!” the boy beamed. “Name’s Duke.”

The old man looked squarely at the boy and almost whispered, “That can’t be your dog.”

“Yes he IS!” insisted the boy. “I’ve had him since he was a puppy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. Of course I’m sure! Who feeds him? I do. Who brushes him? I do. Who plays with him and takes him for walks? I do all that!”

Professor Delp hummed a long thought, searching the boy and his dog, then made a staggering suggestion. “Why don’t you take off that leash, if you’re so sure he’s yours?”

The boy looked at the old man and cocked his head to one side. “Huh?”

“That isn’t your dog if you have to keep him all tied up like that.”  That was a question the boy had never considered. He looked at the dog.

“He’s mine, all right,” the boy repeated, more quietly.

“Then take off that leash!” the old man commanded.

“I don’t have to!” the kid snapped back.

“Then you’ll never know.” It was obvious the boy was considering the situation. Was this his dog or not? Would Duke stay or would he run? The small boy with dog slobber all over his shirt leaned down and removed the leash.

Duke took off like a shot. He ran straight across the park then through a small parking lot toward a major street. Cars sped by in both directions. The old man leaped up and gasped.

The boy hollered then put his two index fingers in the sides of his mouth and whistled two short blasts. It was undoubtedly the whistle he used every night to call Duke to dinner.  The dog stopped short, turned to look where the sound had come from, then trotted back to sit by the boy’s side.

“Good boy, Duke!” the boy said over and over, rubbing his head and back.

“I was wrong, son.” Professor Delp admitted slowly. “That indeed is your dog.”

Day in and day out, we’re the one that makes business relationships work; we’re the owner of the process; we create the opportunities, own the risks and maximize the profits; it’s our responsibility to represent our company.

It’s our dog.