If I ONLY think of money, I am lost....

Nicholas has a simple philosophy that is encapsulated in the one sentence that he repeats multiple times during the course of the meeting:


"If I ONLY think of money I am lost..."


It's the first time I'm hearing this from someone in his position, as the entire objective of any company is to make money.


Money = happy bankers
Money = big salaries for CEOs and CFOs
Money = dividends and happy shareholders


He knows all this. He also knows about EBITDA and bottom lines and the never-ending need for 'growth'


He just doesn't choose to think of these things first.


"If you come to work on a morning and you had a bad night, because your kid was up all night sick. Can you work well? If you are sad or unhappy - can you give your best?"


We shake our heads.


"No! Exactly. People are not machines. Sometimes they need time to re-set themselves. So we have a recharge room."


We later go to see the recharge room. It is silent and dark, with a line of comfy lounges where you can take a nap. Employees can go there to listen to some music, take a nap, text in privacy. Just next to it is a mini-gym, for those who want to get their blood pumping a bit during the day.


"People cannot give anything, when they have nothing to give. If I think of money alone, I would be lost. I think of the happiness of others first."


His philosophy is more than giving people space to recharge. If an employee has a family event (like a kid's ball-game or school event, a partner's or parent's need to be met) and don't go/deal with it - and he gets to find out, there's immediate reactions. He insists they go. Family is important to the employee so he makes it important to him.


The energy level of employees is high and the smiles are real. So are the sales. Proof that his philosophy also has the bonus of getting the company to where his bosses tell him it should be.


"I went to Cuba recently," he says, "the hotel was very nice. But the service was terrible. So I spoke to the manager to ask what was going on. In speaking to him, I get to understand more. If you are unhappy with your life, if you are unhappy with your country - how can you give good service? You have nothing to give."


His words are simple. His message profound.


"One of the ways we do this is in considered everyone here to be equal. We don't think of the roles we are assigned or our job positions. Everyone has a say. Everyone has a voice."


I felt goosebumps while he spoke, because of his passion and conviction and the truth of what he was saying.


But also because it was a message I had allowed myself to forget. I remember telling one of my bosses when I had just started working, "This life, it's all about people and relationships. That's what we're here for. We chose to leave whatever spiritual or astral plane there was to interact with other souls and to learn. So questioning what we learn from each interaction is really important..."
He believed me naïve and that I would grow out of such thoughts.


Sadly, he was right.


In the last few years, there are a chosen few whom I've allowed myself to be close to at work. In general, however, I don't spend each day and each interaction thinking:
"How are you feeling?"
"What can I learn from you? / What can you learn from me?"
"We are equals in this game of life. I have been here longer, but there are still things you can teach me..."
"You are human and a soul and have a story all your own...."


That would be too hard. Too exhausting.


Yet, if I did so, the fundamentals of my existence would shift. The quality of my life would be entirely different.


I want to be different.
I want to be naïve - if being naïve means that I can see the humanity first and the role second.


I want the fundamentals of my existence to shift and the quality of my life to be different....

What if....

I got up from a strange dream that I don't fully recall. The question on my mind:


What if Writers all go to an Afterlife peopled only by their creations?


Too many thoughts tumbled through after that question. Obviously, a part of my mind scanned through all of my own creations as I desperately wondered whether I would be happy. Scared? Running for my life? Alone, watching others live a life of love? Would it be days of Adventure of would it quickly get Boring?


Another part of my mind seized on Tolkein - speculating on whether he would choose a singular society to dwell with or if he would be another Gandalf, welcome anywhere he went.


A small piece of me sadistically laughed at George R. R. Martin and the cruel world he created, knowing he wouldn't survive his creations. (Sorry GOT fans, I really don't get it or want to get it - one of his books was enough for me).


Stephen King? Wow! There's one I wouldn't want to be...but then he does know all his creation's weaknesses, so he just might be fine.


Hmmmm...Julie Garwood/Nora Roberts/Judith McNaught/Diana Gabaldon - love and adventure? Yes, please.


If you're a writer - what do you think? Would you be okay?


If you're a reader - is there a writer whose world you'd like to share?


Please feel free to share your thoughts, I'm very interested in what you have to say.

Super short scary stories for Halloween - Part 2

Below is a story I've heard so many times (each with slight variations). Sometimes it happened to someone they knew only distantly - but sometimes there were claims of it being an old relation.




It's a dark night. Dark as only those who live in the country can truly understand. This is in a time when street lamps are only now catching on in the very populous first world and aren't even dreamed of in a land which has just gained its independence. All he has to see by is the silver of the moon, which isn't quite full.


Ramroop is riding his bicycle slowly home. It was a long day working in the coal pit, stacking wood and filling bags of the completed black stuff.


He rides slowly because it's the one time of day when he isn't required to be in a hurry to be somewhere. Not like mornings when he has to rush to get to work. Dinner will probably be ready but his mother and sisters would never dream of being upset with him if he is late.


He's also tired. When he was a little boy he had dreamed of going to the city and getting an exciting job. Now this is all he has to look forward to.


A glimmer of white up ahead catches his eyes and he peers at it. As he gets closer, he can't believe what he thinks he's seeing.


She is absolutely beautiful in a long, flowing white gown, her head tilted forward under the broad sweep of a hat. Her hair is pale and silvered by the moonlight where it flows over her shoulders. The hat hides her eyes but he can see the perfect curve of her cheeks, the small nose and the sultry smile of her lips. It's enough to know that he has never seen anything so captivating.


"Hello Ram," her voice is music to his ears, "I've been waiting for you. Walk with me awhile?"


Not even conscious of what he's doing, he gets off the bike and starts to walk. He curses his stupidity when he realizes that he dismounted in a way that put the bike between him and her. She doesn't seem to have noticed and has started walking so it would be too awkward to change things now.


She walks in the grass on the side of the road, even though he has given her more than enough space to walk on the road itself.


"How did you know my name?" he eventually asks.


"Oh, I've been watching you for a while now," her voice puts him into a daze. He wants only to hear more of it. "You work very hard Ram...I think you may work too hard..."


He thinks of possible answers but it's as if he's under a spell. "Maybe you should come with me..." she says. "I'll take very good care of you..."


The craving for a cigarette is sudden and more than unexpected. It's been months since he smoked, even though he carries the matches and a couple cigs at all times. Just in case.


They walk for a bit further and get closer to the silk-cotton tree. Everyone fears the silk-cotton trees. They are supposed to be used by evil spirits for all kinds of evil things.


Somewhere inside him a voice of caution is screaming. Then, as clearly as if he were still alive and walking beside him, his father's voice says, "Light the match son. You have a chance if you light the match."


 He looks around him in fear but there's no one there except the beautiful woman beside him. The voice of caution wins and he reaches into his pocket with one hand. As soon as his hand closes on the match he lets go of the bike with the other.


Whenever he replayed that moment after, he wondered what would have happened if the bike hadn't fallen towards her. She leapt out of the way to avoid it falling on top of her and turned to look at him accusingly.


"What are you doing?!" There is nothing attractive about the shriek of her voice now. But it's too late. The match has flared and he lights the cigarette as added insurance.


The light of a bare flame strips the illusions away and the remaining haze from his mind. The first thing he notices is that when she leapt away it exposed her legs for a minute and they are those of a goat. He looks up and into the face of a corpse. The beautiful wide-brimmed hat no longer tilts forward and he can see her eyes are like burning coals.


"La Diablesse!" He exclaims. All the horror stories his father told coming back to him. A La Diablesse was the soul of evil, one would lure the unwary traveler off the path and they would never be seen again. She did unspeakable things to anyone stupid enough to be captured by her wiles.


Her laughter is horrible as she disappears. A disembodied voice says, "Do you have enough matches to take you all the way home Ram?"


He gets on the bike and starts pedaling like his life depended on it. Because it does. He keeps one wary eye on the road but the other is on the cigarette. He stays away from the silk cotton tree and to the centre of the road.


It's a nightmare ride that he remembers for the rest of his life. Three times his cigarette was nearly down to a stub when he stopped to re-light it awkwardly. Each of those times he glimpsed the figure in white at the side of the road and heard her mocking laughter.


He almost can't believe it when he sees the light of home. He drops the bike at the end of the path and runs the rest of the way. His hand is on the door but he feels compelled to look back. The horrible apparition is there under the trees.


"I will see you again Ram!" her laughter chills him.

Super-short scary stories for Halloween - Part 1

He looked so sad standing there in the middle of the street. Long dark hair falling into a pretty face with eyes so soulful. The street itself was deserted.


"I need forgiveness," he said, "and I can never have it."


"What do you mean I asked? Everyone deserves forgiveness..." I didn't know him. I had no idea what I was even doing there. All memory of the steps that had brought me here seemed to have vanished.


He shook his head. "I don't. You don't know who I am. You have no idea of all the things I have done."


My eyes stung with unshed tears for the pain he was obviously going through.


"Everyone deserves forgiveness," I said again.


"Would you grant me absolution then?" he asked.


I was not a priest. Just a girl. A girl with no power to absolve. But if the notion that I could absolve him would give him some measure of peace?


"I do."


"Say the words," he said, with a strange intensity.


"I absolve you of all your sins," I said.


He laughed.


The wind howled and his true form was revealed.


"Your father in heaven was certain that a pure soul could not be tricked into doing what you just did," said Lucifer. He bowed. "I must thank you. You have no idea how much power you just gave me..."


I stood frozen as the wind howled around me. He disappeared, leaving only a trace of brimstone in the air to rebuke me for the stupidest mistake ever.

Devil's Cafe

Once upon a time, when I was much younger, I found poetry to be an excellent outlet for all sorts of feelings. There words could flow and rhythm could give me a sense of control over life that I didn't really have.


In this blog I will share a few of those - for your amusement and mine. I'll start with the one for which I decided to name this bog.


Again, these are the unvarnished and unsophisticated words of my teenage years - so be kind.


Devil's Café


Welcome to the Devil's Café
Here you'll find all evil they say
See that angel there in the red dress?
She's a damsel in distress...
Go save her, prince so fair
Go save her if you dare
Yes, the demons guarding her and fierce and strong
Oh, you're right. Something's wrong.
Why does she smile? you ask
Let me explain before you accept this task
Beauty is as beauty does
and there's nothing this beauty hasn't done
See her green eyes cold as ice,
her red hair and ruby gown
Yes isn't she nice?
This beauty has a tale of woe
Are you sure you want to know?
At the age of 13 the pretty bébé
Seduced a Lord and killed his Lady
As his mistress she was kept
until she left him and then he wept
Full six hundred and sixty six has she killed
and why? so her father would be thrilled
Who's her father? you ask, dear boy
He's the devil who loves to dispel joy
Yes, the one with the man's body and the goat's legs
The one who laughs while the tortured begs
Yes, of course, dear boy
Satan has a daughter; and she's pretty enough
to drag you to hell...