Eventually something will sound good, but after a few minutes of introspection — it starts to feel too contrived, or too cute, or too pie in the sky.

It’s as if our lives are flashing before our collective eyes, and if we say the wrong words, we will be stuck fulfilling an unfulfilling purpose for 60+ hours a week.

As a result, oftentimes we put it off or don’t make one at all.

Consider this your virtual Chill Pill:

1. It’s not that serious.
2. Nobody will think about it this hard again.
3. If it ends up truly being terrible you CAN change it.

Our purpose at King of Pops is to Create Unexpected Moments of Happiness. When we first landed on this, I was terrified.

Almost three years in, it is now mentioned in the majority of our external meetings and quite a few internal ones as well. We still haven’t figured out how to track it, who it’s for, or really what it means.

Shit, sometimes we talk about whether the moment of happiness was unexpected or expected. “Does that count?!”

Even so, landing on THIS purpose was perhaps the best decision our company has ever made.

It’ll never feel 100% right, it will create more questions than answers, and it’ll never be done.

Headaches aside, I think that’s the point.

Finding your Company’s Purpose: Complicating the Uncomplicated was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

For many (like myself) planning and hosting a great event does not come naturally. I’ve learned three tips that will drastically increase the chances of your team (and you) feeling warm and fuzzy when the cleanup is over and everything is said and done.

1. Plan Ahead. Create a Facebook event, send out an Evite, or go old school with a paper invitation. Give it a snazzy name (my personal favorite is Earthworm Day). Spend more time than you should on the poster, and then make sure to hype it a more than a few times. People have a lot going on, so your first goal should be to convince them they want to be there.
2. Have a one-track mind. It’s easy to use valuable time with the team together to work on the next big thing. RESIST! Try to avoid being productive with work “stuff,” and focus on the thing that brought you all together. It’s significantly more valuable to recognize someone that is doing an amazing job than to squeeze in 15 more minutes of work on the next project.
3. Sincerity Above All Else. It’s easy to rush through the event once the big day comes around. Build in time & encourage leaders to take time to tell their team how much they care. It’s contagious, and a well thought out note, slideshow or speech will go further than even the best game of laser tag.

3 tips — How to become the (work) Host with the Most was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Each Holiday season our pop slingers magically turn into Elves.

Okay, maybe it’s not “real” magic, but they do change their names and wardrobe, and the cumulative feeling of a group of outgoing folks donning elf gear and gleefully introducing each other by their elf names (Taco the Elf is my personal favorite) does feel pretty magical.

We started Tree Elves, our Christmas Tree delivery & removal business, five years ago when the seasonality of our quickly growing core business King of Pops was becoming a bigger and bigger strain.

We needed to figure out a way to generate some revenue when pop sales slow to a crawl in the winter, and we needed to provide an opportunity for our part-time staff to have more consistent work.

This year we operated Tree Elves in 5 cities (Atlanta, Greenville, Nashville, Charlotte and Richmond), delivering thousands of Christmas Trees and receiving a ton of positive feedback. But it wasn’t all candy canes and merriment.

Just after Thanksgiving, one of our younger managers was feeling particularly dejected and disrespected by his company directed elfhood. It was our first year trying Tree Elves in his market, and he didn’t like the wool uniform, the suggested overly gleeful disposition, or even his humorous elf name. He felt like he was being made a fool.

This didn’t sit well with me as a youngish CEO that remembers all to well being instructed to do things that seemed demeaning and thoughtless.

Around that time, I was talking to a friend with a Type-A personality and a young toddler. He was telling me a story about the struggles of potty training their 3-year-old. How he and his wife had tried so many methods, read so many books, displayed such discipline as parents. However, they felt nothing they were doing was working.

Their child simply didn’t get it.

And then, luckily, magically, when they sent the young boy to preschool things changed. The teacher instructed the class to form a line, and one by one his new classmates went into the bathroom and took care of business. When the young boy had his turn he nonchalantly followed the lead of his classmates.

And just like that he was potty trained.

Their son had been schooled in the art of potty training several times over. He had the know-how and tools, but he didn’t see the point or understand why it mattered.

I guess it’s a bit like peer pressure, but in the very best way. And once you’re a part of it, it just makes sense. You’re a part of a new club.

The elf club we’ve built in Atlanta (where we started Tree Elves) is strong. We have so much fun. There are dozens of us, and there are years of elves that have come before. It’s a silly escape, where we look at each other for inspiration, encouragement and laughs.

That said, it’s a delicate balance. I know that if a few of us became “too cool” for elfdom, the entire group would suffer. If a few people “forgot” to wear their elf outfit, everyone else would look sideways at themselves in the mirror a little longer before they left each morning.

Our unhappy manager was struggling because there was no elf group for him to be a part of. He hadn’t seen first hand how much fun it could be. All he had was a couple used elf uniforms and a hastily written out instruction process. There wasn’t a club or a culture, and there certainly wasn’t any fun, just un-Jolly people patronizing him as they drove by the tree lot.

The difference between having a ton of fun at work, and it being embarrassing and horrible is oftentimes very little. We were doing the same tasks in each of our cities, but it was a lot of fun for some, and miserable for others.

It takes a lot of work to keep a strong culture going. It’s not a set it and forget it type of thing. It takes work every day. And just because you say something is a certain way, that doesn’t mean it is. Just because we say Tree Elves is going to be fun, that doesn’t make it fun.

It starts with one person, and it builds. If you do it right, eventually everyone shows up with a positive attitude ready to have fun, but it’s something you have to constantly monitor and do your best not to leave anyone out.

I truly believe it’s possible to make just about any task or job enjoyable with the right attitude.

Hauling bulky Christmas Trees up and down stairs on a blustery cold December day, with a wool, one-size-fits-all, elf uniform in a pickup truck with blown speakers … ya that too.

Potty Training — Tree Elf style was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It was by far the most people I’ve ever spoken in front of, and I was incredibly nervous. After fretting over it for the weeks leading up — I’m glad I had the experience.

There was a lot of rambling, but a few people told me they got something out of it. Anyway, I wanted to share with you all.

Public Speaking — Creative Mornings — RISK was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Entrepreneurs value new ideas, and if you’re putting new ideas out into the world, you will most certainly run into roadblocks (err failures).

About a month ago I spoke at an event called Failure:Lab. I chose to speak on a business that we started several years ago called Tree Elves. It was one of the most intense experiences I’ve had in my life, and while I framed it as a failure the business has made some pivots and is now something we’re pretty proud of.

Anyway, here it is. Would love to know what you think.

Failure is so hot right now. was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’m easily impressed with new landscapes, like to explore, and believe that learning about different cultures first hand is one of the best ways to grow.

However, the last few years I’ve gone on trips with a different intention. The distance little more than a roadblock preventing me from my normal day-to-day, and the surroundings a pleasant backdrop.

I’m there to take care of myself. It’s a time to rest, but I’ve also had some of my most important personal and business revelations during these breaks (these are often the same).

In mid-January of this year, as the winter months started to run out, I scrambled to figure out a time to get away. I knew everyone close to me would benefit if I was able to take a break. There was a two-week period with little on my calendar and I started to look for cheap flights during those dates. Hawaii was about the same price as the other warm weather alternatives, and I decided a trip with less communication anxiety might be nice.

With zero additional planning I found myself in the Honolulu airport.

I rented a car and booked a hotel for the first few nights, let the relaxation begin.

I started in Waikiki, but had to get out because the pace was too much. I left for a much more laid back North Shore, let the self-reflection begin.

I was feeling too much pressure to surf the world-class waves instead of relaxing so I took a flight to Kona, let the stillness begin.

Still no. I figured it must be the touristy nature of Hawaii so I drove as far down a dark road as I could and slept in my car, I’m alone only with my thoughts and still nothing is happening.

So here I am now, I have one more day on my trip and I feel like I’ve failed myself. Not a day without checking email. No life changing realizations. Thinking about my life at home instead of the present.

I wanted to select my feelings. I guess it doesn’t work that way.

A Scheduled Escape was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Yesterday, I found myself in Hawaii Volcanos National Park.

I drove around, did the gentle sight seeing options (it was amazing), and when it got to be late afternoon I started to look for a place to sleep. There are only about a dozen options nearby and they all were fully booked (I’ve learned Hawaii is for planners).

In part to justify my absurd rental car rate ($120 per day), I decided I would just sleep in my car. No big deal. I did more sight seeing, and a few hours later with a couple of Cliff Bars and a bottle of water I began to search for the perfect car camping spot. My search criteria included my preference not to be awoken by a Park Ranger, safety, and some good old fashion peace and quiet.

Pretty quickly I found a sign I hadn’t noticed before. It said, “ROAD ENDS 20 MILES AHEAD NO SERVICES.” Bingo. In 20 miles I would have a place that was plenty out of the way.

At this point it was complete darkness. With high beams on, I was aware only of the couple hundred feet they presented in front of me.

I had no idea where I was — no idea where I was going. The darkness was terrifying.

A couple times it felt like I should stop. This was taking forever, and more than likely the road was just going to end uneventfully. But that felt like quitting, so with blood pressure increasing I kept going.

Again, I had no reason to be scared. I was in a U.S. National Park, but I’d lost all logic. I drove for about an hour without seeing another car the entire time.

When I reached the end, I turned around and went back a bit to find what seemed like an appropriate spot to park. When I got out of the car I heard waves crashing. That was exciting. It was a moment where I would have liked to pull out a harmonica and enjoy a glass of whiskey. Instead I was frozen with fear. I carefully walked toward the water. Each step I took felt like something terribly wrong could happen. I was going to fall off a cliff, the Hawaiian Mafia was going to kidnap me, or some unknown animal would attack me. (Ironically I had no fear of volcanoes at this point as I’d tried for the previous eight hours to get as close as possible to a lava flow.)

After feeling like I’d fulfilled my duty of appreciating my solitude I returned to the car. I tried to read, but my eyes started to close and I climbed into the back seat to give sleeping a try. I woke up some time later to a wind so strong that the car was rocking. Weird, scary, where am I? I felt like I was in a different world.

The next time I woke up the sun was starting to rise. I looked out the window to see cliffs of black rock with blue waves crashing against them, and the sun coming over the horizon. It was the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen.

I wasn’t scared anymore.

Afraid of the Dark was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

True, it is only 183 square feet and only has two walls, but we couldn’t be prouder.

It feels like a big deal, and along with that feeling comes the paranoia of failure. We have infinite questions, and no real way to answer them. Only time.

After only being open a handful of days, we’ve already seen some success. We are making sales, and people are excited to talk to us.

That said, it’s not enough. I enjoy doing the work. I want to do the work. And I also want to snap my fingers and have it be the best 183 square foot pop bar that dips pops in chocolate and sells amazing grilled cheese sandwiches, salads with produce from our farm, and cocktails inspired by our pop flavors, with a full bar, not to mention canned wine, and low priced beer and liquor options to attract the industry crowd, plus a few craft options and just a couple non-alcoholic punches that we make from scratch, that ever existed.
If you know anyone working on one of these send em my way.

big things was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I enjoy being a part of these panels, partially, I’m sure, because of my ego, but also because I always learn something.

There was one message that has been resonating in my mind since — so I decided I should share.

“Choose to do something difficult.”

When I first heard Scott Voigt, Founder and CEO at FullStory, talk about this idea I felt my face starting to turn red. We sell popsicles from a pushcart. For about $50 anyone could do the same (buy a cooler and some popsicles from your grocery store). It’s an idea that is pulled off by children in Suburban neighborhoods and next to pools throughout the country.

(our “candy stand” included Fla-Vor-Ice, Laffy Taffy and Red Hots. The youngest of three brothers, my split of the profits came in the way of candy)

As the panel continued, my mind strayed as I reflected on King of Pops. We’ve struggled to come up with a good Mission Statement (just re-added this to my todo list), but it would be something like this.

To build community through the production and sales of the best frozen pops in the world, AND have fun doing it.

To me that means a lot:

• Meticulously sourcing ingredients.
• Finding the best spots to sell.
• Pushing ourselves to forever improve our product.
• Making payroll when 90% of our product is sold in eight months of the year.
• Doing our best to build a team that feels empowered and happy at work.

The list goes on. What’s more, we’re trying to do all of this $3 at a time.

Our business is simple. There is no patented technology or secret sauce. We can’t elongate Summer and most of us wouldn’t want to.

But at the end of the day, I couldn’t agree with Scott more. Just remember, difficult doesn’t have to mean complicated.

Simply difficult was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Today I’m feeling good. No significant pain. Not sick. No major emotional drama to report.

I’m happy.

When I’m sick or injured or just feeling down, it’s often my singular focus.

When things are good, it’s rarely realized.

Here’s to realizing.

Reminder was originally published in tales from the popsicle stand on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.