This day comes with great sadness, but at the same time closure to a very long and pain filled week.  When we think of my brother Michael we cry, but we also laugh.  We are angry, but also relieved.  In Life, much like in death,  these are the emotions that come with loving my brother.  

  

Michael would often quote Dr. Seuss.  Upon searching for suitable quotes, to use for his eulogy,  I stumbled across this one.  

Adults are obsolete children.

My brother Michael was one of the last of the Peter Pan lost boys of the world...refusing to grow up, refusing to become obsolete.  His mind and ideas stayed young.  He knew something we didn't know about life and he made the best of whatever situation he was dealt.  

In your program, you will see the words to an old Charlie Chaplin song.  When you think of my brother, you can't help but smile.  My sister and I thought it was fitting.  Also, this song can serve as a message to his daughter, as she learns to live her life without her best friend...her daddy. 

Smile, though your heart is aching

Smile, even though it’s breaking

When there are clouds in the sky

you’ll get by

If you smile through your fear and sorrow

Smile and maybe tomorrow

You’ll see the sun come shining through

for you

Light up your face with gladness

Hide every trace of sadness Although a tear may be ever so near

That’s the time you must keep on trying

Smile what’s the use of crying

You’ll find that life is still worthwhile

If you’ll just

Smile

The night of his death, I started to write.  Mostly to keep myself busy.  I posted what I wrote on the Internet.  It obviously struck a chord with many, as the blog ended up going viral, garnering 1000s of reads from people who have never met Michael or any other member of our immediate family.  In true Michael Murphy style, he left this world famous. The most read thing I have ever written was about him...

I will read from it now....with a few detours along the way.  

Today I lost my brother Michael.  My children saw me cry in pain for the first time. 

This will be the second time in my life where my parents have had to bury a child.  Second time in my life where I have had to bury a brother.  The second time my sister has had to do the same.  Jimmy, 26 years ago.  Michael, we bury today. 

A whole form of communication in my life died today.  The only other person who could finish sentences, stories and punch lines to things that the two of us experienced.  Gone. The only other person that could remember the same stories, just as I remembered them, about my childhood and our little brother.  Gone. Dead.  I could tell people the stories, but there was only one other person in this world that could remember them, as a brother would, and he is dead.  Frankly, they wouldn't translate well to those who didn't live it.  Like how Michael  would selflessly change into a different person for the entire day, never straying from character, just so our little brother Jimmy would have a friend to play with.  

My beautiful, flawed, but oh so perfect brother Michael.  Dead set on making an impression on the room.  My sex ed teacher.  My partner in crime.  The reason I have a scar on my chin.  People who would think I am the funny one or the talented one or the handsome one...never met you.  By far, in so many ways, you will always be the superior brother.  

My niece lost her father today.  He loved that girl more than anything or anyone in this world.  His mark on the world.  My last direct connection to my brother.   I, in some ways, gained a daughter.  I have to make sure that she, like my kids, has every opportunity in this world.  That poor little girl.  Her 6th birthday is next month.   My children lost their Uncle Michael.  

I am hurt.  I am relieved. 

Every time I think about my mother and what she did for him and how much she loved him, my entire body hurts.  My poor mother.  My father.  The rock of the family.  He will be strong for my mother. Once she gets her bearings, my dad will most likely have his moment to break.  He will do it alone or perhaps just in front of my mother.  

Growing up, people always asked which kid I was in the order.   Before my little brother passed, I used to say I was the middle son.  My sister is the oldest, but I was still the middle son.  After Jimmy passed, just so I wouldn't have to explain his death, I told people that I was the youngest.  Hurts every time I have said it.  Today, I am the last son. The only son.  The oldest and the youngest son. This too will hurt when people ask.  Yes, I have a sister that I love, but as far as Murphy men are concerned, I am the last of my parents sons.  

What prompted me to start writing?  No clue.  I cant sit here and cry all night.  My emotions haven't settled down enough for me to fall asleep.  I am still shaking.   I already told the first group of people that would care to know about his passing.  Mostly family, his and my close friends and of course his old girlfriends.  The girlfriends part was a full time job!  Condolences will roll in.  People will try to relate, but they can't.  You are trying to find common ground and saying the phrases you think you should say just come out.  It's ok.  

My brother was so incredibly talented...

Michael possessed a passion for music and upon reviewing old pictures, it was rare to find him without a guitar in his hand.  An instrument he taught himself to play. 

My brother Michael was a great writer.  He really was.  His brain was a beautiful thing.  Only to be matched by his good looks a charm.  He marched to the beat of his own drum and seemed hell bent on never making things easy on himself.  

Henry David Thoreau once wrote-"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away".

That's was my brother. 

When we were kids, after he moved away to Chicago, he would critique my letters to him.  He started every letter by reminding me of all my punctuation and spelling mistakes.  He taught me a lot of bad things as a kid, so he had to balance them out with some good stuff I guess!  My brother was a grammar Nazi.  My brother writes better than me.  

I will try not to beat myself up about not picking up the phone every time he called.  My brother lacked the ability to tell a story in less than 20 minutes and God forbid you interrupt him-because he was known to start again from the top.  Where most stories didn't need every detail; my brother would tell you a story as if he had written a script and was reading you the lines, as well as setting, for every scene.  Acting out the lines of each character and altering his voice just enough to where you could follow along.  Most people needed a stage, a budget and camera crew to pull this off.  Michael could do it all on the phone.  He had a beautiful mind....but just lacked brevity.  Because of this, he made it hard to answer the phone-knowing you only had 5 min to talk.  Out of respect to his story telling abilities, sometimes it was better not to answer than to cut him off midway.  He called at 7am on Sunday to wish me a Happy St. Patrick's day....or also known as a "happy me day"...I didn't answer.  He left a message with his daughter.  A message that I wish I hadn't deleted.  I still have his text messages.  They will have to do.  

Michael Michael motorcycle. My last connection to brotherhood.  Passed away too soon.  I will think of you everyday.  I will see pictures, hear songs, remember a joke, etc.  and I will think of you.  Now that you are gone, it seems like there is more of "you" around me than I ever knew.  You were flawed and troubled, yet beautiful both inside and out.  Long winded and Irish in every God damn way.  I will never love anyone like I did you or curse anyone like I did you.  I would give anything to get hugged by you or punched by you just one last time.  

I love you Michael.  You are at peace and that brings me great comfort.  Hug Jimmy for me.  I promise you, your daughter will never need for anything in this world.  

Rest in peace.  Till we meet again.  

Today I lost my brother Michael.  My children saw me cry in pain for the first time. 

This will be the second time in my life where my parents have had to bury a child.  Second time in my life where I have had to bury a brother.  The second time my sister has had to do the same.  Jimmy, 26 years ago.  Michael, we will bury sometime in the next few days. 

A whole form of communication in my life died today.  The only other person who could finish sentences, stories and punch lines to things that the two of us experienced.  Gone. The only other person that could remember the same stories, just as I remembered them, about my childhood and my little brother.  Gone. Dead.  I could tell people the stories, but there was only one other person in this world that could remember them, as a brother would, and he is dead.  Frankly, they wouldn't translate well to those who didn't live it.  Like how Michael  would selflessly change into a different person for the entire day, never straying from character, just so Jimmy would have a friend to play with.  

My beautiful, flawed, but oh so perfect brother Michael.  Dead set on making an impression on the room.  My sex ed teacher.  My partner in crime.  The reason I have a scar on my chin.  People who would think I am the funny one or the talented one or the handsome one...never met you.  By far, in so many ways, you will always be the superior brother.  

My niece lost her father today.  He loved that girl more than anything or anyone in this world.  His mark on the world.  My last direct connection to my brother.   I, in some ways, gained a daughter.  I have to make sure that she, like my kids, has every opportunity in this world.  That poor little girl.  Her 6th birthday is next month.   My children lost their Uncle Michael.  

I am hurt.  I am relieved. 

Every time I think about my mother and what she did for him and how much she loved him, my entire body hurts.  My poor mother.  My father.  The rock of the family.  He will be strong for my mother. Once she gets her bearings, my dad will most likely have his moment to break.  He will do it alone or perhaps just in front of my mother.  

Growing up, people always asked which kid I was in the order.   Before my little brother passed, I used to say I was the middle son.  My sister is the oldest, but I was still the middle son.  After Jimmy passed, just so I wouldn't have to explain his death, I told people that I was the youngest.  Hurts every time I have said it.  Today, I am the last son. The only son.  The oldest and the youngest  son. This too will hurt when people ask.  Yes, I have a sister that I adore, but as far as Murphy men are concerned, I am the last of my parents sons.  

What prompted me to start writing?  No clue.  I can't sit here and cry all night.  My emotions haven't settled down enough for me to fall asleep.  I am still shaking.   I already told the first group of people that would care to know about his passing.  Mostly family, my close friends and his old girlfriends.  Condolences will roll in.  People will try to relate, but they can't.  You are trying to find common ground and saying the phrases you think you should say just come out.  It's ok.  

My brother Michael was a great writer.  He really was.  His brain was a beautiful thing.  Only to be matched by his good looks and charm.  He marched to the beat of his own drum and seemed hell bent on never making things easy on himself.  

When we were kids, after he moved away to Chicago, he would critique my letters to him.  He started every letter by reminding me of all my punctuation and spelling mistakes.  He taught me a lot of bad things as a kid, so he had to balance them out with some good stuff I guess!  My brother was a grammar Nazi.  My brother writes better than me.  

Do I use the past tense yet?  Screw it.  

I will try not to beat myself up about not picking up the phone every time he called.  My brother lacked the ability to tell a story in less than 20 minutes and God forbid you interrupt him-because he was known to start again from the top.  Where most stories didn't need every detail; my brother would tell you a story as if he had written a script and was reading you the lines as well as setting for every scene.  Acting out the lines of each character and altering his voice just enough to where you could follow along.  Most people needed a stage, a budget and camera crew to pull this off.  Michael could do it all on the phone.  He had a beautiful mind, but just lacked brevity.  Because of this, he made it hard to answer the phone-knowing you only had 5 min to talk.  Out of respect to his story telling abilities, sometimes it was better not to answer than to cut him off midway.  He called at 7am on Sunday to wish me a Happy St. Patrick's day....I didn't answer.  He left a message with his daughter.  A message that I wish I hadn't deleted.  I still have his text messages.  They will have to do.  

Michael Michael motorcycle. My last connection to brotherhood.  Passed away too soon.  I will think of you everyday.  I will see pictures, hear songs, remember a joke, etc.  now that you are gone, it seems like there is more of "you" around me than I ever knew.  You were flawed and troubled, yet beautiful both inside and out.  Long winded and Irish in every God damn way.  I will never love anyone like I did you or curse anyone like I did you.  I would give anything to get hugged by you or punched by you just one last time.  

I love you Michael.  You are at peace and that brings me great comfort.  Hug Jimmy for me.  I promise you, your daughter will never need for anything in this world.  

Rest in peace.  Till we meet again.  

Patty.  

Many of us feel underutilized.

We want to do more, get more credit, accomplish more goals and be more valuable than the others.  With unemployment being where it's at and everyone, who is employed, trying to prove their worth; we welcome the opportunity to wear additional hats. We think " if I do the job of 4 people they will never want to get rid of me".  At least that is what many of us are led to believe.  By doing the work of 4 people, are we really accomplishing tasks at that same level?  Probably not, but that's the world we live in.  

Many people want to do more because they hate what they are currently being asked to do.  As a manager, I cannot tell you the number of times I have had to put together a calculated response for an employee that has asked to do more, but was not great about doing what was being asked.  You don't want to lead them on.  You don't want to discourage.  You should want to use this moment as a teaching opportunity.  It isn't always easy and often managers fail when they are put into these situations.  

There are people who feel they have the free time to do more tasks or something different because they don't like what they are currently doing.  They treat their assignments as annoyances and never accept them as part of the definition of their title.  It's beneath them....even though it might be the core of their job.  (Half the reason we come up with fancy names for not so fancy jobs).  Like kids with toys-the best toy is the one in the OTHER kids hand.

If you are in a situation where you feel you should be doing more or something different-take a look at your current body of work. Are you giving your current position the amount of attention it needs? How many times have you, or your department, dropped the ball?  What's the perception of your position in your work environment?  People feel underutilized because they are not doing something they enjoy.  On the other hand, they are not proving to their manager that they are capable of doing more.  If the perception is that you are swimming in the amount of work you are currently being asked to do-then others will not be open to you taking on more or different tasks.  

"Hey boss, I know you have written me up twice this quarter and we are only at 80% of our goal, but I would be way more productive if I was doing this other job instead".  Right...  If you fall into this example, perhaps you need to spend a little more time evaluating your abilities. Time for a gut check.  Some people are great at another job and not great in their current position.  Good managers should be able to evaluate and cast people in the roles they are meant to play.  That is for another blog at another time....

Unfortunately, there are people who are so good at their current position that they will never get promoted.  They excel to the point that their employer is afraid to move them to something else.  If you are unable to grow based on the insecurities and comfort level of your employer, than It might be time for a change of scenery.  Yet, you need to make sure you are ACTUALLY one of these people and not the person who is blinded by their biased self evaluation.  Time for another gut check.  

We are all not doing the extract job we would prefer to do.  (Even the boss would prefer to do some of the aspects of your job over what they might have to do).  It could be based on level of enjoyment, environment, money, challenges or whatever.  All of us are motivated differently.  Almost all of us can do more and probably feel underutilized and unappreciated in some way.  You are not alone in any of this.  Before becoming a disgruntled employee, make sure you do an accurate and truthful assessment of your situation.  You would be surprised how many of your issues are self inflicted and not products of your environment. 

#blog #gutcheck #underutilized #unappreciated 

I had a client meeting yesterday and decided to grab lunch near the location of the meeting. The restaurant was busy at the time so I opted to sit in the bar area.  I was alone, so being able to watch, or should I say read, the tv should help to fill the 90 minutes I had before the meeting. I could also mess around on my phone before and after my order of fish tacos arrived.  

Instead, It gave me time to people watch.   Although watching people at a restaurant is not as plentiful as say the airport, it still provided entertainment for me.  First, I listened in on the wait staff.  It was a loud place, so you can't always pick up on what people are saying.  Fortunately, I am a student of body language, so there were still takeaways from just observing the physical gestures of a conversation.  I learned, without hearing all of the words that were being said, that the kitchen was slow and it was pissing off some of the waitresses, the bartender was into one of the blonde girls that worked there, 2 of the girls didn't get along and one of the waitresses seemed to never check on her tables. That was obvious because she spent more time talking to the bartender than she did working in her section.  She looked to be into him, but unfortunately for him she was a brunette and not the blonde.

At the bar and to the right of me was a group of 3 people.  Two men and one younger woman.  She was probably 15 years younger than the two men she was sitting next to. The woman was blonde, attractive and very well kept.  Hair was styled, clothing was name brand, nails done, huge rock on her hand.  A solid 8 on the scale of 1-10.  My assumption was that she was married to the guy next to her.  Obviously a trophy wife.  She might have said 10 words the entire time she was there and most of them were to the bartender.  The guy I assumed she was married to was stuffing his face and talking business to the man to his right.  

I don't know how he did it.  For every other sentence that came out of his mouth, he stuffed another bite or two of food right back in.  By the way he spoke and the posture he took, he fancied himself as a big deal.  Spoke with confidence and arrogance while chewing with his mouth open.  I haven't been in a fist fight in 15 years, but there was something about this guy that justified a left hook to the jaw.  I'm guessing he worked in the selling of something judging by the occasional buzz word that I picked up from the broken sentences I heard.  The trophy wife paid the bill...I thought that was interesting. 

The point?

How often do you stop to observe the world around you?  My intention was to burn time by eating, watching ESPN on the bar tv and flipping through my phone.  Instead, I turned everything off and just tried to pick up the messages around me. Do you ever do this?  Do you ever unplug in order to feel the tempo around you?  We are a world of people who need to always be "doing something".  Feeding our brains with twitter, Facebook and whatever stupid game app we have recently downloaded for free.  We bring music to the gym and zone out in our own little world-oblivious to sounds around us.  Sure, I was eavesdropping, but the free entertainment around me was better than looking at a picture of YOUR fish tacos on Instagram.  I took the opportunity to tune into my surroundings and get a read on what was happening around me.  You know, what we used to do before we became obsessed with making life harder on ourselves with all this technology.  

I often feel that we are loosing touch with the community around us.  We find comfort in our little technology based world of emailing and texting instead of talking.  Facebook instead of calling.  Playing games with apps instead of with real people, etc.  I am just as guilty of doing this myself.  Probably more than most due to my chosen field of work.  Sure, I didn't learn the cure for cancer by listening and watching a bar full of people at a Mexican restaurant, but I did find it to be pretty entertaining.  You don't need to check every 5 minutes to see who liked your latest Facebook post.  I don't need to check 3 times a day to see who all read my latest blog.  

Avoid the urge.  That lame comment from your not funny co-worker will be on your Facebook page all day...you don't have to read it right now. 

Life and things are happening all around you.  Look up from your iPhone before the bus hits you.  

#trophywife #fishtacos #facebook #unplug #picsoffood #billyjoel 

I got into my profession at 20 and became a manager at 24.  

Some people were still trying to find themselves or figure things out at that age.  I had  friends who were still going to college or switching jobs at 24, but I had a plan.  In order to accomplish what I felt I needed to accomplish-climbing the ladder was the only path for me.  

I know I am different, but I didn't realize what others saw till later in life.  About a year ago, I ran into a high school girlfriend.  I had not had a conversation with the girl in more than 15 years and we were discussing this and that, our lives, kids, careers, etc.  She said to me, "lets be honest, not all of us are like you....you had your life mapped out since the 6th grade".   She's known me since 6th grade, so she was qualified to make that statement.  

Maybe it's because I grew up a little different?  My mom and dad were both managers and there were some events in my childhood that might have pushed me to mature, in some ways, a little faster than others.  Maybe it was the money or the need to be in front of the line?  Maybe it's an insecurity?  Maybe I just wanted fewer people telling me what to do? Maybe it's just pure selfishness?  Perhaps the drivers in my life were not as pure as i would like them to be and  it was my stubbornness or foolish pride that got me here?  Maybe it's all those things wrapped into one?  In this aspect in my life, perhaps I am the one still finding himself....

Regardless of how collected I might have been...I was an idiot.  

I remember being a 20 hear old kid, fresh in the business and still in college, going back and forth with my boss about why we don't do certain things.  This man later became a great friend and mentor.  Yet, at the time, he was the guy that didn't realize how "brilliant" my ideas were.   He just didn't understand that, if he listened to me, our business would double!  Sure, he had all the experience, but I was a genius who knew everything and had learned it all in the first 6 month of a job that he had been doing for close to 20 years!  Fools!  Here I was about to lead him into the "promise land" and make him richer than he had ever been and he was blowing me off!?  The answers were coming out of my mouth, someone just grab a pen and paper start writing this brilliant stuff down!  Idiots!!!!

As you know, I was the idiot.  

When you become a manager, just know that everyone will do your job better than you.  No matter their level of experience or maturity, they will be smarter than you.  If you do not write down everything they say, you will be an idiot for not seeing their brilliance.  The day they put the name plate on that door or the stripe on your shoulder, everyone begins to question what you do and imagine themselves to be better at this than you.  Your customers will be smarter than you.  Everyone with an opinion will stand in line just to let you know how much smarter they are than you.  You are an idiot.  

Understand that you were probably one of these people at some point.  You, because its a natural thing to do, questioned authority and disagreed with authority.  You were the 20 year old kid who was giving the boss the cure for cancer and he was just too pigheaded to write the information down.  I still think it's healthy to be that kid.  You should question everything.  You should give your opinion and share your feelings.  You should challenge ideas and continue to be curious in your pursuit of knowledge.  Always look for ways to influence culture in your life and career.  And know, no matter how high up the ladder you climb, there will always be an idiot in your life.  

Just know that you're an idiot too.  

#idiots #management #yousuck