Blowing Up the Messenger

It happens every semester - you would think I would be used to it by now.

Students irate when I do my job. Specifically, when I inform them via a grade and comments that their assignment wasn’t actually amazing.

“I always get A’s on my papers.” “Your instructions were not good.” “I am an A student.” “My other professors give me A’s on my papers.” Repeat.

It is hard to hear Unflattering Truth.

I so get it. Truly I do.

If “I am a 4.0 student” understands unflattering feedback as truth, how can he maintain his personal narrative — his very identity — about himself as a student?

He can’t.

And that leaves two options:

1. It is the professor’s fault (WTH does she know?!); OR,

2. I have things to learn.

One might say that presence at a university assumes one knows there are things to learn, but apparently not.

Therefore, Option #1 is the logical choice (!).

Huh.

Humans are so interesting.

And now, Dear Reader, please make a slight substitution — after all, this is a blog about Life — with Dogs.

When a dog does not provide the feedback that we are an amazingly awesome trainer/handler/person/everything by turning in an A+ performance, we have two options:

1. It is the dog’s fault; OR,

2. I have things to learn.

Yep.

The dog’s performance is your grade as a trainer/handler.

Blame the dog and you never get better.

(Important and Relevant Note: Consider bad grades and other human misadventures as evidence that you have not yet died and therefore are still an imperfect human being living on earth with similarly imperfect human beings [and really amazing dogs]. Given that it was just the 36th Anniversary of my mom’s untimely death at age 45 — allow me to say this about that: Lucky Imperfect You!).

There are, of course, other ways to get a desired grade.

A few years back one student decided the way to get a good grade was to buy a paper from an internet site and submit it as her own — in my ETHICS CLASS.

That did not go well.

Sometimes cheating does result in a good grade on an assignment or canine performance. But then you have to live with the knowledge that you are a fraud, an imposter — and basically just a lousy human being.

But change is possible!

Don’t despair!

You — the collective you including me — CAN be a real A+ student or trainer or human (or preferably — all of those).

How?

Just take the C- this time and embrace Option #2.

You will be transformed.

I promise.

Excuse Talk

My new part-time job is managing all things reconstruction. I imagine this is like herding really slow cats — who need frequent naps.

Last Thursday I marched into two different offices because a week had gone by and I did not hear back as expected. Time was up — I needed some answers!

I got two very different responses.

Response #1: A phone call. Overly friendly voice, stated he had left a message last week — but did not remember which number — and quickly moved to setting up a time to come out.

I am a professor and have been for a long time. I know Excuse Talk when I hear it.

I went home and pulled up phone records on the computer. I checked my phone and Dear Husband checked his.

Nada. Nothing. No message from that person, the voice mail boxes were not full, and no phone call from his number.

I called the Regional Manager of the company and invited him to investigate since perhaps there was a logical explanation — but under the present circumstances, I told him, I was not comfortable working with their company any more.

Response #2: Receptionist grabbed the human involved — and he simply apologized for not getting back to me.

I will continue working with that company — they are trustworthy.

We see Excuse Talk in Life with Dogs. In fact, Berner-Garde will include Excuse Talk in individual dog records. You can spot it because it is listed as anecdotal and it usually strains credibility.

For example…

• A pattern of anecdotal entries from breeder along the lines of “puppy played rough…” to explain known-to-be-inherited orthopedic problems.

• Anecdotal entry that explains dog was frightened by fireworks (bitten by ant, had this or that drug, ate the wrong food under the wrong phase of the moon, etc.) and that caused her to develop XXX condition.

Excuse Talk is easy to do and it is understandable — we so want there to be an explanation that does not require us to face hard truths. I get it.

And we so want to believe the Excuse Talk of others — because recognizing that someone we care about (or need!) is a complicated and maybe not-all-that-honest human being is rough. And so we just let the Excuse Talk slide. It is just easier that way.

But Excuse Talk is more than an innocent tall tale. It can be a reflection of something central and core about a human being — a sort of Integrity Test.

How can I trust a Project Manager who lies?

I can’t — or more to the point, I won’t. Because in my world, integrity matters. A lot.

And if I give Excuse Talk a pass — in a Construction Project Manager, a student, or a breeder — I have allowed myself to join the dishonesty. Even more, when we give a pass it means we have not cared enough to invite change.

I have found that exposure of Excuse Talk can and often does result in positive — and sometimes even appreciated — changes, even though it is both hard to do and hard to hear.

And I am not just talking about other people — all of us can so easily slip into Excuse Talk mode. Sometime the one who needs us to call an Excuse Talk Alert is ourself.

There is no shame in being an imperfect human being — only in pretending the truth is something different than it is, and asking others to go along with the lie.

Hence my current lack of a Project Manager — and this blog.

Confession

Sparkle’s nose is healing up — I hope it returns to black at some point.

You might wonder what happened to her nose.

Sigh.

It went like this.

After Zoey’s death, Sparkle and Harper B for Boss started to grumble at each other. In spite of our best efforts, it escalated.

The strange thing is that each dog is 100% fine with every other dog and every person — they just no longer like each other.

Fair enough — there are a few people I do not like.

Very few — like maybe four.

And the very few people I do not like at this time — in dogs, for example — got on my Dislike List because: 1) they cheat; and/or, 2) they are mean to dogs.

Those are — in my mind — good reasons to not like someone.

Apparently, Harper has her own List and Sparkle got on it somehow.

And then Harper got on Sparkle’s List.

There you go — we now have our own version of Fight Club. And while we are not supposed to talk about Fight Club, it happened in the kitchen a few weeks back.

All I can say in my defense is that I panicked — and Dear Husband aided and abetted my stupidity.

I yelled for bear spray, he handed it over, and I blasted the combatants.

In the kitchen.

Let me assure you that should you ever need to prevent a mother grizzly bear from attacking as you attempt to sneak off with one of her cubs, go ahead and use that bear spray with 100% confidence.

I will spare you from graphic descriptions of the misery that ensued but I promise the humans were well-punished for their poor choices — for days and days.

The dogs, completely uninjured from their kitchen brawl, were quickly escorted to separate yards where they frantically rolled in an effort to try and rid themselves of the oily orange stuff. Sparkle either rubbed her nose raw doing that and/or the bear spray irritated her nose — maybe both. But that is what happened to her nose: bear spray.

FYI — giving a bath to a bear sprayed dog (use Dawn dishwashing soap or better yet — don’t bear spray your dog) is like getting the bear spray in your face all over again. More punishment for the human’s stupid decision.

It has taken me some time to share this misadventure as I confess to considerable shame and embarrassment over the incident — but there you go.

Humans make mistakes.

And dogs teach us valuable lesson about forgiveness.

Harper B for You B Forgiven.