Playground Supervisor

In college, my summer job was "Playground Supervisor".

For eight weeks, from 9:00am to 11:30am, 1:00pm to 4:30pm, and 6:00pm to 8:30pm, four days a week (closing down at 5:00pm on Friday), I was partnered with a young lady. It was our job to corral anywhere between ten and forty youngsters, ages five to maybe sixteen. We had to plan activities that weren't too advanced for the five year olds, weren't too childish for the sixteen year olds.

There wasn't a better management lab than playground supervision. Some kids were needy, some were mean, some were sick, some were shy, some were outgoing. We earned $4.00 per hour, considered a good summer wage at the time, trying to balance the needs of three dozen kids.

We had maybe eight or nine playgrounds across the city of Manitowoc. Attendance at each park was directly tied to the environment created by the playground leadership team. Some parks had a half dozen or dozen kids during each session. Other parks had between thirty-five and fifty kids attending each session. All it took was effort, activities and kindness to bring the kids in.

I recall there being a sixteen year old who liked to stir up trouble. Overall, this kid had a good soul. But from time to time, he liked to pick on various people. Each Friday morning, we spent several hours at the municipal pool. His job was to drown me. My job was to let him drown me. Our management team thought it was good for the kids to try to torment us in the pool. At times, I'd have six or seven teenage boys trying to drown me. Those were heady times. Imagine what a lawyer would think of that in the year 2007?

After a few weeks of incessant horseplay, I became frustrated. It became my mission to find a way to "get even" with this kid.

My opportunity came during a game of dodgeball. This young man was standing all by himself, no more than fifteen yards away from me. I had a perfectly-sized playground ball in my right hand. Seeing the opportunity to toss this ball at a high velocity toward the teen's belly, I reached back, and with all the strength I could muster, catapulted the ball toward the bully.

The young man was quite agile. Realizing this whistling weapon would cause undue damage to his abdomen, he dove to the ground, his face full of fear.

As the teen hit the ground, I saw a young boy, five years old, standing maybe ten yards behind the teen. This young boy was not watching the epic struggle between sixteen and twenty-one year old. No, this boy was probably daydreaming about strawberries or frogs or Max Headroom.

No sooner than I could yell "Watch Out Harold!", the projectile struck the innocent youth flush in the left cheek, pushing Harold's head back at the velocity of the playground ball. The force of the impact lifted Harold's tiny little feet airborne, much like a teeter-totter. The back of Harold's wee-little head hit the pavement first, followed by his hands, buttocks, and finally, his previously airborne feet.

Lord knows how Harold felt. I know how I felt. I realized that I may have killed Harold!

Five seconds later, air returned to Harold's lungs, and he began to cry at decibel levels reserved for jet airliners. At that moment, forty children, a mortified playground leader, and a laughing sixteen year old bully stared at me like I was the anti-Christ.

No amount of apology solves a problem of this magnitude. I remember Harold wiping the tears off of his little face, a face that was half pale, half bright red, swollen slightly out of proportion. He quietly sobbed as he walked to his bike, mounted the vehicle, and peddled home.

Harold never came back to the playground.


As leaders, how often do we inadvertently do harm to the employees placed in our care? How often do our petty battles and problems with various leaders cause situations that spill over and impact folks like Harold? Worse, how often do we not notice the damage we do?

Business 141 And The ACMA

I grew up in Manitowoc, Wisconsin. This picturesque town of 33,000 folks rests on the west side of Lake Michigan, about forty minutes southeast of Green Bay.

In the first half of the 1900s, Manitowoc was served by US-141, a two-lane highway that ran from Milwaukee, through Green Bay, to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (a place that we called the "U.P."). US-141 cut right through Manitowoc, down Calumet Avenue, eastbound on Washington St., across the Manitowoc River on 8th Street, then westbound on Waldo Boulevard, exiting on the northwest side of town. At least that is how it is pictured on my 1953 map of the State of Wisconsin.

Somewhere between 1953 and the 1970s, a bypass was built around Manitowoc. US-141 was re-routed to the west side of town. An interchange diverted traffic from the old route. New signs were posted --- the old route was re-named "Business 141".

Of course, businesses didn't benefit from "Business 141". Traffic flew around the west side of Manitowoc. Time-pressured travelers saved ten minutes on their trip to Green Bay by taking the new US-141, avoiding "Business 141". Like in so many towns across America, downtown businesses began to fail. The core of the city began to die.

America is all about progress. In 1980, a new highway was built, maybe a football field west of US-141. This was called "Interstate 43", or "I-43". This new freeway had a handful of on-ramps and off-ramps. US-141 was eliminated, renamed as a county highway. "Business 141" was renamed "Business 42", in honor of the state highway that also bypassed the city.

Naturally, businesses didn't benefit from "Business 42". Well, that's not entirely true. Any business built close to the interchange between I-43 and "Business 42" did well. Wal-Mart, Applebees, Holiday Inn, and a veritable plethora of "brands" were very successful. Mom & Pop stores struggled, as the core of the city transitioned from a commerce hub to a tourist destination.

Today, Manitowoc is the city you stop at for a potty break at on the way from Milwaukee to Green Bay, or the city you bypass on your way to Door County for a much-needed vacation. Fifty years from now, when we replace the automobile with bio-fuel air transportation, will we lament the death of the "brands" along I-43?


You might wonder what Manitowoc and "Business 141" have to do with this blog? Today, I read this post on F. Curtis Berry's Blog, about the ACMA, the "American Catalog Mailers Association".

Of course, I know almost nothing about this organization, but I find the concept refreshing. To me, this isn't about "rebranding" US-141 as "Business 141", when we all know that I-43 is coming. Instead, I perceive it as a group of industry leaders and catalogers, taking a stand against everything that is conspiring against it. These folks are not "rebranding" themselves as "multichannel merchants". These folks are "catalogers", fighting for the very survival of the craft they love.

These folks may succeed, they may fail. They should be applauded for defending themselves during a time of palpable industry crisis.

I'm not part of this club. I spent the past twelve years honing catalog, online and database marketing skills on the West Coast, where things are done very differently than they are in the Midwest and New-England based catalog world. But I am rooting for them. Where was this group when the State of Wisconsin rebranded US-141 as "Business 141"?