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Leaders often use the word “now” in failed situations. For example,
1) “Now” is used when leaders haven’t prepared in advance. Commanding followers to do something “now” indicates the leaders did not plan for the present. Uttering “now” may be a full admission that their planning was faulty, and they need their followers to rectify the situation.
2) “Now” can be used when leaders don’t expect the unexpected. Issuing the command “now” can mean that leaders failed to prepare for unusual circumstances and rely on their followers to recover for poor planning.
3) “Now” can be used when leaders don’t understand the skills of their followers. “Now” suggests that any work or tasks can be completed quickly and without duress, which, albeit possible, remain unlikely scenarios in tense, tight-deadline situations. Such situations often involve highly-specialized and detailed work ill-suited for “now” scenarios.
4) “Now” may be used when employees fail to work in a timely manner. A leader’s only recourse may be to issue the command “now” to get a project rolling and a problem resolved. This would indicate a problem not with leadership, but with thee employees. However,
a. Leaders should assign tasks to able followers. If an able person is not available, teaching should correspond with the issuance of the task.
b. Leaders should be vigilant of their followers and gauge their progress.
c. Leaders are ultimately responsible for the failure of their followers.
However, these four situations exist purely in the theoretical world and are not universally defensible. And failure of leaders doesn’t mean universal futility, but a further proof that even the best of leaders are susceptible to humanity and the failure that so often encompasses it. That being said, consider the next time someone tells you “now” if one of these scenarios apply.

Imagine X and Y. Two different goals. Neither of which are bad. And neither one is universally better than the other.
Say, for example. I decide that I want X.
X is great. X is good and worth attaining.
I tell my friends I want X. I tell my family the same. I announce that I want X and I’m going to work to get there.
But I act like I want Y. I implicitly do things that lead to Y.
Does this mean I implicitly want Y? Does this mean I am hypocritical in announcing my desire for X? Does this mean that I’m confusing everyone with different words and actions?
What do you think?

Do you remember that time when you were so hungry? You were so hungry that you couldn’t wait to devour into whatever was sitting in front of you. Maybe it was a steak. Or a hamburger. Or perhaps a steaming, hot pizza straight from the oven. Your mouth was salivating and you could not wait to dig in.
The first bite was glorious. As was the second. You could likely say the same for the tenth, fiftieth, and two-hundredth. Dinner was amazing, and you were still hungry. Tearing through morsel after morsel, your appetite could not be sated. That is, until you stopped eating 20 minutes later. At this point you came to the conclusion that you had seriously over-eaten–over-eaten to the point that loosening your belt buckle wasn’t going to help. The only thing that would help was time, and lots of it. Puking was another option, although you hated for all of that good food to traverse that which it had already traveled. Food is intended to operate solely on a one-way street.
The next day you likely proclaimed, “I won’t do that again.” And you probably did well for a time. And a few months down the road, you doubtlessly fell into the same temptation, seeing all sorts of wonderful food as an answer to a seemingly empty stomach. We’ve all done this once or twice, to say the least.
Sometimes we see all sorts of great and satisfying things in front of us and can’t help but try to take it all. We do this with more than just food.
Have you ever considered your schedule? How often do we slow down to think, “Am I going to fast? Should I be doing this? Am I killing myself over something insignificant?”
Like eating too much, I think we involve ourselves in too much, generating a sense of artificial busyness, precluding ourselves from doing the best things in life. You see, we’ve become too busy to realize that we are missing out on so much. The only time we realize the need to slow down is after our tasks and chores are done, and our bodies ‘crash,’ simply asking for rest.
So for me, I think I’m going to eat more slowly. And I think I’m going to slow down in life as well. At least take a few pit-stops along the way and savor the experiences and reassess the things I do, contemplating whether they are the best things to be doing.

Flash Flash.
My left blinker churned on and off as I waited for the turn signal. Two lights cast shadows of my head against the ceiling of my car. I squinted to avoid the glare emanating from my rearview mirror.
The light turned green and I turned onto a two-laned country road. The lights behind me crept closer as I drove along. And in an instant, the lights jerked over the double-yellow line and soon screamed past me. As I saw the taillights, I realized a Camaro had left me in its dust.
Screeech. A sharp turn in the road led to an abrupt change in driving styles for the Camaro. I quickly caught up to it and tailed it as we crossed some railroad tracks.
Varooom. I watched as the red taillamps got smaller and smaller. They disappeared altogether as the road twisted to and fro.
What’s that I see? But one Camaro sitting at a red light. How ironic?
Squeal. And there goes the Camaro again. Over the hill and through the woods, to the next red light it went. And so I drove, and so I caught up once again.
We waited at the light for a moment, only for the light to turn green again. And once again, the Camaro flew down the road, feigned by darkness as I fell behind.
What is that I see again? Is that the same Camaro? Waiting at another red light? Why yes, yes it is. It’s the same Camaro waiting to gun it again.
Five miles later I had completely kept pace with a car that could destroy mine on the track. And we both arrived at the same time.
The Camaro was in a hurry to wait. And so they worked hard, drove fast, and took long, frustrating breaks at stoplights. I was slow and steady, and although I too had to wait at lights, my waiting wasn’t as severe as theirs.
How often do we work so hard and fast that we end up just waiting to use what we’ve worked so hard for? Do we waste our energy hurriedly doing things that could have waited?
So I ask you, “Are you in such a hurry to wait?”

I’m sitting here at my computer, waiting for an inordinately large photoshop file to finish saving. I’m watching the status bar slowly creep toward the right, hoping the process will go more quickly. I tap on the desk and wonder how long it will take. The file is huge, the data intense, and my computer is taking it’s time to store everything away.
We all realize the notion, “The bigger the file, the longer it takes to save.” But I wonder how that applies to life. Sometimes we go so quickly and move so fast that we neglect to “save” things that happen. Do we forget to store great memories because we go to fast and don’t allow everything to process?
What about valuable lessons in life? Do we read the story or hear the lesson, forgetting to acknowledge how the story applies to our life? Is yesterday but a blur because you never slowed down to store the memories?
Perhaps I should stop griping that my computer takes too long, but realize that I go too fast. Maybe the frailty and limited nature of technology should only reinforce my need to slow down and process the things of life.

Have you noticed how people become like each other when they spend a lot of time together? Do you see how the expressions, words, phrases and tendencies mesh into one. It’s fascinating to see people become more like each other. Unfortunately, that’s not always a positive.
I can pinpoint personal changes that exist because of the culture that I’m surrounded by. Some of these changes are good and some are bad. Most, if not all, of the changes are evolutionary, not revolutionary.
What if the pressures to conform cause revolutionary changes? Is this a positive or a negative event? You would have to ask more questions to determine the answer, but I wonder how often we go out of our way to become like everyone else so we can seem “normal.” It seems the no one wants to stick out, and perhaps these changes only indicate our need for groups to associate with.
Is it indeed inevitable that our group will change who we are, so I ask, “Is the group you are a part of the group you want to be like?” If the answer is yes…great; if not, well, you should question whether conformity is a valid option.

I love our visceral responses in life. It is the impulse behind that response that truly describes who you are.
Ever wonder who someone really is? Watch them when they’re upset. Watch them as they deal with something they don’t expect. Watch them as they live their lives.
Do you want to know who you are? Watch your reactions. See how you respond under duress. See what you say and do when you’re frustrated and upset. And see what you’re like when you experience the unexpected.
I think you will learn more in those instances than ever before…

After making dinner with some friends, we started to clean up the kitchen. Someone started cleaning the dishes in the sink and placing them in the dishwasher. My first response was, “Wow, this is awesome. They’re doing my dishes for me.” However, my second response wasn’t quite as receptive: “Dang, they’re putting everything in the wrong place!”
I started to exclaim, “That’s the wrong way,” but I stopped myself and considered my thoughts.
I was getting ready to tell someone that they were doing something wrong because it wasn’t how I would have done it.
I wonder how often I let my preferences interfere with my perceptions and ability to compliment people for the job they did. Maybe my way isn’t always the only way…

CRACK.
The player nailed the ball with the bat, sending it hurtling toward outer space. I knew it would be a home run from the sound of the hit and trajectory of the ball. I saw it all from my seat behind first base.
But wait, the center fielder is running toward second base. What’s going on?!? He’s running the wrong way! He also happened to make an easy catch a few dozen yards from second base. My perspective on the trajectory was wrong, and my celebration was premature.
For the future, I could choose a new seat….to gain a new vantage point to watch the game. Or I could adjust my response to accommodate the the inherit failure of my perspective.
So what did I do? I sat there because that was where my tickets were, and I continued to misjudge fly balls. This was only a baseball game, so who cares that much about a few fly balls, but I wonder how often we callously stay in the same position, subjecting ourselves to failed perspectives because we are unable or unwilling to change. In terms of the whole of life, it seems like a waste to continually place yourself in a place destined for failure.
But what happens when you are completely unable to change your perspective? What do you to cope?