Last night I found myself in a bar, actually my choice, as it is a place frequented by mostly men, with young-girls servers, barely clad and barely out of high school.
There may be over 200 big screen TV’s, sports on every one of them. I go there mostly for the 26 to 31 degree beer. I love beer, favorite by far with the best kick is Paulaner Oktoberfest, but to find that on draft/tap is mostly impossible.
So, 29 degree beer is about as good as it gets. This establishment has two coolers, refrigerated areas on opposite sides of the bar, and there are two neon signs above those coolers that change moment-by-moment, indicating the exact temperature of the beer…and it will waver from 26 to 31 degrees.
And when you are asked if you want a man-size or a girl-size beer, go for the gusto, or else you look very silly in front of the waitress, a teenage, smiling girl who has been trained to a T, as this is a franchise and the systems are amazing.
I diverge. So I was in this bar visiting with a younger, 29 year old friend of mine. He used to work with me in my company, and the breaking news is that he has a girlfriend, and the real news is that she is seven weeks pregnant.
So I go on my inspired rant and rave about the how this surely is his greatest gift every, and how this will be so incredible and fun—and that the real adventure has begun.
His eyes light up as you can see how intensely excited he is…so we begin putting together a plan, a passion plan, an obsessive-desire plan for him to create greatness, based on the 17 principles of success left behind by Andrew Carnegie.
As we talk and sketch out ideas on the back of a piece of paper, the enthusiastic waitress comes back and buys him a shot to celebrate this new child to come.
I notice she has a tattoo on her wrist that says, “I love you.”
I ask if that was for someone…and she says for her boyfriend who died when he was 18, and briefly explains that she can never have children as she got pregnant at 14 and had complications.
But none of it is like a badge of honor, as she is filled with energy and light.
I talk to her about creating anything in life she wants. Before I leave I hand her a CD on creating any reality she wants, and she comments, no one ever comes in here like us, and then twirls away.
Is there a point here? Doesn’t there always have to be a moral to the story? Is telling a story a lot easier than living one?
Ok, a point: There are youths all around you filled with dreams and hopes…ready and willing to take the torch that is being passed by the old guard. They are filled with passion and dreams and excitement; so when you meet them on the streets, in the taverns, on the boulevards, fuel that passion, inspire them to greatness, for they truly are the next stewards of this world.
My goal is to inspire. What is yours?