How much do you give?

It’s Christmas Eve and I’m at the computer. I’m working hard to use this downtime as peace and quiet to accomplish a lot without the bombardment of status updates, tweets, emails, client requests or any other bing, bong, or beep on the computer. Some people said I was crazy and I should shut it down. I almost did, but I stopped myself and I’m glad.

Not only have I used this time productively (mostly), but I realized what it meant to shut down and relax. On the surface it seemed like a breather, but it wouldn’t have been.

I’m conditioned to give 100% all the time. There are moments where I should recharge my batteries and I don’t and I’m clearly drained. Sometimes it’s like after a good workout where it’s a good drain. Other times it’s a brutal assault on every part of me. Lately, I’ve been through the negative spiral and clinging for dear life as I spin ‘round and ‘round, g-forces trying to fling me into abysmal darkness; and nearly succeeding.

Thanks to my friends at Grasshopper.com, who offered to feature JayVig Media on their website, I had to come up with motivational quotes. I had a hard time coming up with the same ones that are usually ready to roll off the tongue. One finally came to me. It was said by ex-Prime Minister of Great Britain, Benjamin Disraeli and told to me by my father. “The secret of success is constancy of purpose.” Don’t lose sight of the end goal — ever.

Today I was given an out on a particular task. I could have given 99% and saved 15 minutes. I didn’t. I thought about what the 1% meant. It meant absolute and certain death.

I once knew a man. A great man. He was an engineer, professor, Colonel in the United States Air Force, and father to one of the best friends I’ve ever known. He was hard on me. When my own father gave me a pass and said “better luck next time,” he’d allow no wiggle room and tell me to get it together. Every mistake I made was highlighted by him, but he never ridiculed me. Weeks before he died he told me how proud he was of me.

Once he asked me if I thought 99% was good enough. I, exuberantly, said it was. He asked me what would happen if my heart stopped for 1% of a day and told me, before I answer, to do the math (pre-cell phones and calculators at the ready, mind you). The answer is 14 minutes and 24 seconds. When I gave the answer he asked me if I was comfortable with that. Of course I wasn’t.

He told me I won’t always hit 100%, but I better not ever dare to strive for less on purpose.

He left us in September of 2012. I haven’t thought about his 100% theory in almost as long. I won’t forget it again.