(I’m listening “Wild Horses” by The Sundays)

When I was 12 years old, I had a paper route.  It taught me a lot of lessons about life.  It taught me how to budget.  It taught me about hard work.  It taught me about responsibility.  It taught me about meeting a deadline.  It taught me about punctuality, and most important, it taught me about priorities.  Those lessons weren’t always learned the easy way; in fact, a lot of them were learned the hard way, but they were definitely learned.

My parents would probably laugh at the last lesson because, well, let’s just say that as a 12-year-old kid, the paper route wasn’t necessarily priority number one on my list.  I had other things to do, like becoming the next Tony Hawk, or brushing up on my skills for my career with the Boston Celtics.  Yep, there weren’t many things I’d rather be doing than skateboarding or playing basketball, and that included my paper route.

The funny things was, I was a pretty good paperboy. I had about 50 customers.  On days where the papers were thin, I could do my route from start to finish in under a half an hour.  That included folding the papers, putting rubber bands around them, loading them up on my bike, and chucking them on my customer’s porches.  I’d actually time myself to see how fast I could ride my bike and throw those papers.  I’d be bombing them from everywhere; the more challenging the throw, the better.  I was the Greg Maddux or Tom Brady of paperboys.  Overhand, side arm, underhanded, it didn’t matter the throw, I could nail it, while at top speeds on my bike.  I’d even pretend I was in a race with other paperboys and had to start at the back of the pack.  With every throw I completed, I’d move up a couple of spots; kind of like a NASCAR race.  Depending on the day, I’d make unbelievable comebacks, or I’d lead start to finish, and I always finished in first place.  On those days, I was a model of efficiency.  My priorities were right in line.

Not all days were like that though.  Some days, the true prioritization skills of a 12-year-old would take over.  There were a couple of common scenarios.  The first one was; I wouldn’t even get out of the gates because of a pick up basketball game going on in my own driveway or skateboarding in our cul-de-sac.  I got so good at my paper route that I figured I’d always have enough time to do it.  If the papers had to be delivered by 5:30pm, I could wait until 5:15pm to start delivering because I could race through it in under 15 minutes.  The problem was, 5:15 would turn into 5:17 and then 5:21 and then 5:25.  Uh oh.

The other scenario was: I had some friends that lived on my route and I would take a “pit stop” to play a game of hoops.  The worst was that one of my friends lived about 8 customers away from the “finish line.”  Looking back, it was kind of dumb.  I could have delivered those last 8 papers in about a minute and a half, circled back and played some one on one to 100, but no, I would stop instead.  My parents would start wondering where I was, take the car on my route, and find me shooting buckets, 8 houses from the end.  They couldn’t understand it.  They’d tell me, “Put down the ball down and deliver your papers!”  I could have and I should have, but at 12 years old, my priorities were out of whack.

Twenty-five years later, my priorities can still be out of whack from time to time.  I was reminded of that on today’s day off with my girls.  I thought about my paper route and that valuable lesson of prioritization.

At my day job, I’m the boss.  People rely on me for the business to run smoothly.  Today was anything but smooth.  I had people calling out, people calling me for things, and some “fires” to put out.  None of the issues were major and I have partners who are perfectly capable of solving these issues, but I made a mistake.  Just like that 12-year-old that couldn’t resist picking up the ball or skateboard; this 38-year-old couldn’t resist picking up the phone.  I don’t even know why I checked it.  Usually, I just leave my phone in my room, unless I’m taking pictures of the kids or something, but today, I checked the notifications.  Big mistake.  One thing led to another and before I knew it, I was “shooting hoops”; only in this case, that wasn’t the more fun priority.

My kids noticed, not because of me being on the phone, but because of what I was reading and what was being said to me on the phone.  I was getting frustrated and because I was getting frustrated, they were getting frustrated.  My kids are smart.  They know when I’m not paying as much attention to them as I should.  Then, they start competing for that attention.  Then the wheels fall off.  The, “in a minute,” and “hang on a second” comments start coming out.  They start acting up even more.  Finally the, “Could you be quiet for just a minute” came out.  Feelings were hurt.  Guilt was felt.  I knew I was wrong.  My priorities got mixed up.  Instead of, “Put the ball down and do your route,” I heard, “Put the phone down and be a dad!”  Apologies were made.  Hugs were given.  The phone was put down.  My perfectly capable co-workers were on their own, and my girls wouldn’t be.  Whatever needed to be fixed at the day job would be there tomorrow, but my today’s with my girls won’t always be.

I didn’t look at my phone for the rest of the day.  We played, rode bikes, had hot chocolate, built forts, listened to music, danced, bounced, hugged, smiled, and laughed.  “Put the ball down and do your route!”  That’s good advice, at 12 or 38.  I’m sorry girls.