The Dithering Heights

 

I hired the services of a website designer last night.

 I took the night off from driving Uber to work on my page. I’ve been stuck for weeks on trying to build out a decent looking website. It doesn’t need to win awards for creativity or feature video montages. A simple design with the option to scale up later is all I need right now. My progress is painfully slow and I work two jobs already. But even without the extra work it’s a slog for me. So I added my name to a directory where website designers contact you. I didn’t want to spend too much since I already paid for the space and a host. The Wordpress builder was giving me fits and needed to do something. 

Enough with the delay already!

Once I entered in my phone number on the directory I started getting calls. I went with the first guy and the first offer. Maybe not an ideal situation but I’d had enough foot dragging and needed to get moving. I’ve had this webpage put together in some capacity since March and no business to show for it. Not because no one responds to my half assed site but because I won’t promote it yet. Not that I haven’t solicited business. I have, but through other channels like Craigslist. I’ve let friends in the area know what I’m doing as well, at least the ones connected to local business.

There is always someone cheaper who can build a site for less. But eventually you have to get the thing done and stop dithering over the process. No decision is perfect and mistakes are part of it, but making no decision is worse. I realize I struggle with this, the whole ‘to stay or to go’ double mindedness. It’s almost as if the fear of doing the wrong thing overwhelms the fear of stasis. But the decision is to stay by default. I’ve made the choice to do nothing, which is still a choice. And it’s safer because I didn’t move forward. I didn’t pass Go so I’m not responsible.

If pressed, most of us would admit to some weakness of character we’d change in an instant if we could. For me it’s a general indecisiveness on life’s big and small choices. The why isn’t important. It’s a stumbling block that demands consistent pounding with a sledge hammer in order to break it down. Identifying the block is the first step; planning to break it up is the second.

If you’ve ever seen a weak leader you’ll know what I mean. He suggests to one group he is on their side and to another he expresses different emotions. He’s never tied down by anything so vulgar as a firm opinion. Better to delay, Hamlet like, and pretend to search for best course of action while really just avoiding the consequence. 

Some of us want to be liked, or more accurately we don’t want to be hated.

Decisions require taking sides and once you take sides, you alienate the other. That means the side in the opposite camp has good reason to not like you. But life is about making choices and leading. You can’t always sit in the back row and hope the teacher doesn’t call on you for an answer.

 I see a lot of reluctant dads who got “volunteered” to be the little league coach of their son’s team. The team needed one and no one offered. A few clever dads said they’d help out, assistant coach they call it. But the 'assistant coach' line on the form was a ruse. They got snared into the spider’s web hoping to just squeak by as the alternate, the help, not the main guy. They ended up the main guy and had to figure out how to make it go.

Suddenly they’re buying equipment and uniforms and listening to the other parents complain about colors and designs. Colors and designs that they (the ones who didn’t volunteer) could well have been in charge of. They come in flustered in the first year. The other parents can’t agree on anything. The pants don’t fit, the yellows are too yellow, the hat logos aren’t centered and look cheap. Some want to use knicker style pants and high socks like the old throwback teams of the 1920s. Tyler's dad wants the kids to look like Shoeless Joe Jackson.

My advice to the new, frazzled coaches is always the same. Don’t give the other parents a choice. Tell them what colors and styles they’re going to wear. Tell them which kid plays first and who pitches. Tell them what Your Lineup will be on Your Team. Tell them and don’t ask them. Once you start asking for advice or trying to steer the choices you’ll invite conflict. You don’t need to be brusque or make a scene, but let them know that you run the team and the decisions are yours to make. They can run their own team if they like.

I need to start following my own advice. It’s pretty good right?