genetic genius

Brother Bill rose through the retail ranks to a very respectable position as a store manager. This is no small task as he is responsible for everything related to keeping a store functioning. Even more impressive is that his store is one of the more profitable in his district. While I have troubles keeping ahead of my 3 graduate assistants, Bill is doing hiring and firing, running security, and even coordinating responses to the flooding in Cedar Rapids this summer. There is nothing in our family tree that would predict such business acumen. I suspect he takes some heat for not putting his college degree (not in business) to good use. To me he is just amazing. On top of all this he's a great dad for his four kids -- who personify the best part of what it means to be a Settlage.

While my profession sends me to conferences, Bill gets to go to regional meetings with all the other store managers. I think the purposes of the two gatherings are similar: only superficially related to the work and, for those who are bold, a chance to have fun with colleagues. In essence, they and we do the same basic work as our conference peers -- we just inhabit buildings that are located at different nodes. Apparently they do some goofy stuff: spirit building, lip synch contests, and that sort of thing. At their upcoming meeting in Milwaukee or Chicago will be a time when different districts teams will compete dressed as gangsters. Bill was not the originator of this idea but he's more than happy to go along.

I learned about all of this during a midday phone call. I was making copies for my Tuesday night class and the cell phone rings. He owes me phone calls but I was puzzled by the timing. After sharing the above circumstances, he explained that he and his buddy Vern had been unsuccessful in their search for costumes. I thought it was strange that they couldn't find something mobster-like at a thrift store in the Midwest. Turns out, he and Vern want to stand out from the others at the district party. That was where I came in: I have shipped my lobster costume to him and it should arrive a day before he leaves for the meeting. Imagine the photograph of a crowd of pseudo-mobsters — dark suits, jaunty hats, plastic machine guns — surrounding a dejected giant lobster: the guy dressed in red misinterpreted the voice mail. Apparently comic genius can cross institutional borders. Aside from my curiosity about how it will be received the other enduring question is whether Bill's outlook is due to nature or nurture.