Motivational Leadership Speaker, Bestselling Oprah Author

Archive for the ‘Favorites’ Category

2003 Video of a surprise visit to Dad’s pharmacy drive-thru.

I began my shoplifting career at age 3 —  on the very day my father opened his drugstore in Flint, Mich. It was Germer’s Drug Store, and since I was Fawn Germer, I figured everything there was mine. Dad nabbed me for stealing a piece of Bazooka bubble gum, and I got a stern lecture that I was never to take things without paying for them. He gave me a penny and had me go to the front register to pay up. I was so embarrassed, but that was the end of my shoplifting career and the beginning of my appreciation of my father, the businessman.

This is not the story of a man starting out with one store and turning it into an empire. It is the story of a man who loved being a pharmacist so much that he refused to quit — no matter what.

I thought about what I have learned from his example as I waited for him to get off work so I could take him to dinner to celebrate his 82nd birthday yesterday.  Think of it: At age 82, he is still working as  a pharmacist. He wants to work. Without that job, I think he would grow old.

I think back to the much younger Fred Germer who owned the drugstore, and there were so many people who tried to rip him off. There was a student who dad saw stuffing a bunch of ice cream sandwiches into the back of his sweat pants. Dad went over to the guy and started a very long conversation. The guy squirmed as the ice cream began to melt, but Dad kept talking until he finally confronted the guy. There was the seemingly-devoted, 60-something employee who was regularly sneaking merchandise out of the store when  his shift ended. When he walked out with about 20 pairs of sunglasses, Dad fired him. He subsequently got a job as a security guard. One woman customer came in daily — for years — until Dad caught her stealing a whole bag full of groceries. Then there was a person who staged a slip and fall.

As the neighborhood changed, the criminal behavior escalated. Dad was held up at gunpoint multiple times. The armed robberies grew more frequent and I started to fear for his safety. I’d always ask, “Are you okay?” when he called. He’d assure me that he was just fine. One time I asked if he was all right and he just said, “Let me speak to your mother.” He’d been shot in the arm in a holdup. He insisted on going back to work the next day, I guess proving that he wasn’t hurt. But, I was. That was pretty traumatic for a kid.

My mom had enough of that and said it was time to sell the store. Without my dad to be there for his regulars, the store went bankrupt in two years. Germer’s Drug Store was successful for one reason: Fred Germer. Without him, that little independent drug store lost its oomph. Here was a man who would drive in the middle of the night to get emergency prescriptions for his customers. He’d even deliver them to their homes. He’d tell his employees, “The customer is always right,” and he meant it.

After selling the store, Dad worked in a beautiful mall chain store. One day, a friend called to ask Mom if Dad was all right. A day earlier, two guys came into the drugstore with sawed-off shotguns, demanding Dilaudid and money from Dad. He made eye contact with a customer who slipped out of the store and into the mall, where her police officer husband was waiting. He called for backup and there was a chase and shootout that made the front page of the newspaper. Dad grabbed the front page of the newspaper before we could see what happened.

What would make anyone endure that kind of danger? I guess it is the same thing that drives my dad to keep working now, so long after his contemporaries packed it in and retired. He truly loves his work. He loves the science of his industry. He loves serving others. He loves his co-workers. He loves being in the middle of things after so many years.

Last night, he met me in my mother’s room at the nursing home and carried a gift box under his arm. I knew he had something he was dying to show me, and in the box was a shirt that had been embroidered, “FRED” and “Favorite Pharmacist.” His co-workers at Vanguard, a pharmaceutical distribution center, threw a surprise party for him and presented him with the shirt and a card with about 80 signatures on it. I know those are his favorite gifts — ever. At 82, he hasn’t lost it.

I bet there have been at least a thousand people who have told me how lucky I am to be his daughter. I know that. My dad is not a perfect father, but he is the best one I know and I am glad he is mine.

  Not even two minutes after my friends and I launched our kayaks into the Chassahowitzka River on Sunday, we were approached by a manatee mama and her baby. They swam right up to us and playfully poked their heads out of the water, wanting to socialize.  I tried hard to capture the moment with my camera.

What a mistake. When I write that ”Something’s wrong with this picture,” it’s that I stopped to take it at all.  I thought the manatees would hang around for a good while, but they didn’t. I lost most of that precious moment to taking a picture so I could show other people what happened to me. But, it didn’t happen to me fully — and that was my fault.

Just another reminder how most of us lose the wonder of the moment because we usually focus on something else. Instead of thinking of what is going on right here and right now, we’re thinking of the future or the past. About things that might not happen or things we can’t change. We forget that the moment we are living is spectacular and fleeting.

It’s hard to remember that when you are facing some of the hardships that exist today, but seriously, you don’t get a do-over with any of your time. If you are living and breathing, it is up to you to make sure you are finding joy in the experience.

My great friend, Vicki Smith, with two precious visitors.

The manatees didn’t come back, but I didn’t miss another gift of that gorgeous day. We paddled the first mile into the national wildlife refuge and were continually annoyed by the antics of two airboaters who seemed intent on polluting everyone’s solitude with noise. My friend Vicki spotted a creek that veered to the left and we headed that way in hopes of finding some solitude. Did we ever. We paddled up what we would later learn is called “Butt Crack Creek,”  a silent wilderness that was both stunning and intimidating. I’m game for just about anything, but this was a narrow creek where we could see the matted down areas on the banks where alligaters had been a few hours (or minutes?) earlier. At one point, the creek narrowed and the water’s surface clouded with an unfamiliar, foamy substance. It looked like we were going straight into the angriest part of the Everglades, where we’d be consumed by hungry alligators or bit by poisonous snakes. The others wanted to turn back, but I kept paddling, certain that weirdness in the water would open up into something really good, which it did about five minutes later.

Me gliding through the spring on an old rope swing.

As I kept paddling further into the wilderness, one of my cohorts kept insisting it was time we turn around. I ignored her, certain we were heading somewhere, where we’d find something that made it all worthwhile. Finally, the creek ended at a lush, tropical spring with deep, crystal-clear water. Our reward for braving the uncertain twists and turns of that creek was a secret piece of paradise where we could frolic like kids.

Afterwards, we paddled out to the main river and the airboat jerks were gone. It was peaceful and pristine and we headed to another spring where we free-dove to a limestone tunnel eight feet below the surface. We went down one side, swam through the tunnel, then out the other side. My first fear was that I’d get stuck in the tunnel and drown, but once I broke the surface on the other side, I felt exhilarated. The summer sun hit my face, and I was alive. What a great moment to breathe in.

I am just going to paste several messages here so you can read about what happened when I used Facebook to connect with a woman in Wisconsin who I determined had to be my special dog’s first mother.  

Fawn Germer

I am pretty sure you are the right Heather Purdy and, if your husband is named Kevin, this story should make you smile. I adopted a dog you once loved — Reggie — in 2002 from the Golden Retriever Rescue of Mid-Florida. The story I got was that you’d given Reggie to a relative who did not properly feed or care for him. Reggie is now pushing 14 and is still one of the greatest loves of my life. You have no idea how much happiness, love and security he has brought to my world. He still swims in the pool. I love him so much. I hope you are the right Heather because I want you to know that his story had the happiest ending — the best kind. I was going through some of his medical records today and saw the name and address of Heather and Kevin Purdy in them.

If you are the right person, let me thank you from the bottom of my heart for the gift of this wonderful, loving dog. He’s given me so much more than I have given him. He lives in Clearwater, Fl with his brother (a really gentle and precious pit bull mix!) and three cats. One of the cats joined our family when she was a kitten five years ago. Somehow, she thought Reggie was her mother. All these years later, she is still nursing on him every single night — and he lets her. He is so unbelievably gentle.

Fawn

Heather Purdy

Ah Fawn, You have brought tears of joy to my eyes. Yes, I am the right person. When I said we had 4 GR’s, it was Casey, Max, Reggie and Buck. Max and Reggie were litter mates (brothers). When Max and Reggie were about 3 months old, we took them to a hunting trainer (birds) for evaluation.

 

 Reggie had all the natural instinct; Max had heart. The trainer agreed to take them both BECAUSE of Reggie and because he knew us. They had to be 6 months old and have their hips xrayed before training would begin. ‘When we took our boys in for their xrays, Reggie had really bad dysplasia. So Max went to training and Reggie became our family pet (Hunting is too hard physically for a dog with bad hips). That first winter, Reggie suffered so bad when the weather got cold.

 

We asked a family member who lived if FL if they would provide him a home. So once it was warm enough to fly, she came and got him. This way we were still able to see him. We had told her what our vet said which was to keep his weight down because if he got heavy it would be harder on his hips. We think she overreacted to this. Anyway, when we came and visited them, we saw and tried to fix the situation. When she didn’t get him healthy, we told her he had to go into rescue and find a home where he would be properly cared for.

 

If we could have taken him back with us we would have in a minute but it would have been awful for Reggie. Max went on to become a great hunting partner for my husband and our family’s joy for years. He is in heaven now since last March so he will be there waiting for Reggie when his time comes to show him the ropes. We did get one picture shortly after you adopted him so we knew he was in a great home. I would love to see more pictures and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving Reggie a happy, safe home.

Fawn Germer

Now I know the story. Reggie hasn’t had much trouble with his hips because he swims so much and that keeps him limber. He used to (literally) swim laps for FOUR HOURS a day. Couldn’t get him out of the pool. Last year, it dropped to an hour. Now it’s 20-30 minutes, but still — if he’s almost 98 in human years, there aren’t many 98 year olds who can do that! And still go for walks!

I have a few steps in my house and he’s having a little trouble with them now — a reminder that I won’t have him forever. I can’t even imagine life without him. He hasn’t let me go to the bathroom by myself in the seven years he’s been with me. When I get out of the shower, there he is.

One of my favorite memories happened a few years ago when I took Vinny and Reggie to the Mardi Paws Parade. They drew names for the prince and princess of the parade and Reggie was called up. This was great because Vinny had a way of attracting all the attention. Anyhow, Reggie got to lead the parade and hundreds of people were calling out, “Prince Reggie! Prince Reggie!” He was so proud.

I am going to send some photos to the address on your profile page. If you don’t get them, let me know.

Fawn

 Reggie’s puppy photo. This is too cool for words!

My old friend Billie just moved in her mother’s home so she can keep her real house in pristine condition while she tries to sell it. The home is worth a fortune, and it must sell because she is a single parent who was laid off — another victim of the demise of daily newspapers.

I’ve known her for more than two decades, and I reminded her of the filthy apartment I helped her clean at the beach before she moved in. We were both in our 20s. She was my editor, mentor and friend. We made no money. But, we lived at the beach. We didn’t go to fancy restaurants or take expensive trips. But, we lived at the beach. We drove old cars and didn’t have any expendible income. But, we lived at the beach.

At the time, I was making $15,000 a year. I remember going out for payday dinner to Quincy’s steak house and ordering the hamburger because it was the cheapest thing on the menu that came with the salad bar. I remember countless camping trips to the barrier islands in North Florida and South Georgia. I remember walking over a beach dune on Cumberland Island one night as the wild horses ran through the water, silhouetted by the heat lightning. And boating on the Okefenokee Swamp, surrounded by a million alligators. And tubing on the Ichetucknee River. Plus so many nights of youthful revelry with our cohorts.

Those were truly happy and fun times. I had so little money and so few things, but I had so much fun. I know I laughed more in those years than any since. We were so young and carefree.

So, here we are. Years later, with nice houses and nice things, eating in fancy restaurants and enjoying the “best” of life. Looking at it now, I realize that we had the best of life when we didn’t have very much at all.  

Granted, Billie’s situation is challenging because she is so devoted to her daughter and wants the best for her. It’s so unfair — she’s truly brilliant. But, she’ll get through this. She just will. And, if she scales back, maybe she’ll remember how much fun it was when we didn’t have so many “things” to worry about.

Last night, she reminded me how I once “punked” her when I sent her a letter  that I’d forged on our publisher’s letterhead. The letter told her that he’d heard she was complaining about her low salary and, while he couldn’t give her any more money, he did want her to have a small token of his appreciation. Inside the envelope was a round button that had been wrapped in paper. Billie felt that package, figured it was a make-up compact, and the publisher’s allegedly sexist gesture infuriated her. But, when she unwrapped it, she discovered a button that said, “POVERTY SUCKS.”

She found the letter recently — and the button. About “POVERTY SUCKS,”  she wrote: “I’m beginning to get the msg. ”

Maybe the message is that the poverty of our early years didn’t suck all that bad. When did we get so grown up that we forgot how rich we already were? I don’t think I have ever been as rich as I was, way back when I was poor.

I spent last week on the legendary cycling adventure, the Bicycle Ride Across Georgia. I can’t tell you how much fun I had — but, I can show you.  The good was that I had seven days of hard cycling. The bad was eight nights of sleeping in a tent. That may have been easy in my early 30s, but in my 40s? I was ready for my bed about halfway through it. Anyhow, enjoy these photos. And, if you cycle, check out this great trip!

It’s been a week since the Rocky Mountain News published its final edition. Some of my old colleagues have forged on, using the Internet to keep the Rocky’s spirit alive at www.iwantmyrocky.com. This is pretty revolutionary stuff.

It reminds me of the time the IRS shut down a Popeye’s Chicken franchise in Denver. The next morning, the employees opened up and cooked and sold the remaining chicken so they would get paid for the week. Granted, they got in a lot of trouble, but I really loved that they banded together and carried on.

That is what these former Rocky staffers are doing. They can still do great journalism without the hard copy of the newspaper. Instead of surrendering, they are fighting back with their talent. I’ve always said, your job may not last but your talent does. This website is proof.  I hope it will become profitable and a template for other reporters who find themselves losing out in this economy.

Please visit their site and click on their ads to drive up revenues and support these swashbuckling reporters. And, pass on the word.

I felt so bad that the tradition of Rocky founder William Byers was dying with that last edition, but it’s not. This is exactly what Byers would have wanted.

Again: www.iwantmyrocky.com!

I have a friend who has been looking for work for awhile and will soon start her job at IKEA. She called to go over her success strategy and, out of pure self-interest, I asked when her discount would kick in. That brought up a whole bunch of other questions she said has for her first day. I am either slap-happy because I was up working until 4 a.m., or she really should abandon IKEA job and seek to replace Conan. Here’s what she wants to discuss with her manager: 

1. How many sick days do I get in my first month? If I use more, is that okay?
2. Can I take a cigarette break now? I require multiple cigarette breaks every hour. It is not my fault. If you have a problem, take it up with Big Tobacco.
3. When does the dental insurance kick in? I have a toothache. What kind of discount do I get on the Swedish meatballs in the cafeteria? Do employees get extra meatballs?
4. Sometimes, I will need to bring my cat to work with me.
5. What should I tell customers when they interrupt me while I am text messaging?
6. Which door is best when you’re trying to leave early?
7. Are the display beds available for employee naps?
8. When my probation officer comes to visit, can we use a conference room? Will he get extra Swedish meatballs in his order?
9. When is my first week of vacation?

 I think she’ll be a STAR!

Fawn Germer is the author of  four books, one of which was an Oprah favorite. Her fifth book, FINDING THE UP IN THE DOWNTURN will be released this spring. She is one of the nation’s most popular leadership keynote speakers.

Several years ago, I weighed my options. Stay in Denver at a job I hated and continue working for an absolute jerk, or move back to Florida for a better job and more money, but work as an editor for a less prestigious newspaper. I was ready to bolt, then froze.

What was I doing? I had a union-protected job where I couldn’t be fired. Five weeks of vacation, good money, great benefits and I got to live in Colorado, a state I loved that was filled with the best friends I’d ever had. I knew what I had where I was. I didn’t know what I would be trading for in Florida. What if my new boss was an even bigger jerk? What if I was even more miserable?

I weighed the options with my friend Jill Gould, who was and is one of my mentors and sisters in life. Finally, she said two things that changed my world.The first thing was, “Don’t let security be your dangerous anchor.” She said it three times, emphasizing the point. The second thing she said was, “If you ain’t doin’ something, you’re doin’ nothing.” I can’t imagine two more profound pieces of wisdom to guide us through turbulent times as we make the decisions that will determine where we go next.

I quit the job, moved to Florida, stayed in the new job in a year-and-a-half and found my way to this new, exciting, oh-so-fun life as an author and speaker. None of this would be mine if I’d clung to that union protected job. Instead, I would have been stuck in an archaic job in a dying industry. A position that would have left me with no security whatsoever.

I see so many people clinging to what little security their jobs offer, not recognizing that the security is not real at all. Look at the behemoth companies collapsing in front of our eyes. There is no security in trusting institutions that have to make a profit first and take care of employees second. It’s good to have faith in the companies you have loyally supported and buoyed with your talents, but don’t have blind faith.

A friend called last night and lamented how much she deplores the work she is doing for a government agency that is so demanding of her time, energy and spirit that she knows she has neglected her husband and herself. And, for what? The security of a paycheck. I remember when she and I were starting our own businesses at the same time. I worked so hard to run fast enough to make mine take off. She seemed stuck to the floor. Finally, she called to tell me she’d taken the job she is now so miserable in. I remember telling her that self-employment was a lot like a tightrope walk in the circus.

“Those tightrope walkers never look down because, if they do, they fall,” I said.

“My problem was, I couldn’t look up,” she said.

It was the most concise description of the difference between success and failure. To succeed, you have to have faith in yourself so you can move forward with absolute certainty that you are on the right path.

Don’t let security be your dangerous anchor.

Fawn Germer is the best-selling author of four books and speaks to corporations and organizatons about courage and creative leadership strategies.