Janet was the epitome of a “Southern Woman”. We all heard about the legend or mystique of southern women. I didn’t understand it in the beginning, but I was curious. I learned “southern woman” was more aptly defined as ANY woman, who lives in ANY region of the world, from ANY walk of life/color/culture, but a woman who is confident and comfortable in her own skin, can laugh and learn from mistakes, takes pride in her home, blindly defends her children or friends, and most of all, LOVES her man. So, it could really be any woman, describing what most thought were ideal virtues of a woman, it’s just that people in the south were describing such a woman. Ahhh, I get it, now. Sooooo, my girlfriend in upstate NY, or my girlfriend in Idaho, are both…. perfect examples of “southern women”. Got it?
Being a friend to Janet was a joy. I looked up to her, she was about 10 years older than me. I wanted to be like her, and she taught me everything…. about southern womanhood…. she could tell a dirty joke better than a sailor, smoke a cigar, but laugh like a little girl with a contagious lilt in her voice.  Janet was about 5’2″, a size 6, fine looking woman, with short blond hair and and blue eyes. She wore dark blue contacts to make her eyes pop. She collected great estate quality jewelry and was a terrific cook. After going through a brutal divorce, with her kids grown and now in college, Janet became a pharmaceutical rep. She started her life over again and had nothing left to prove. This time, she meant to have fun.
Janet lived at least 100 miles south of us but her sales territory included our B&B. Janet started as a guest. She arrived for the first time, in August. With temps in the upper 90’s and humidity to match, she was desperate for air conditioning and a crowbar to peel off her pantyhose. I showed her to her room and returned to the kitchen.
Mother-in-law arrived, as usual, carrying a clear plastic insulated mug, filled with a triple gin martini with a dozen olives swirling in the ice like alien eyeballs. Cocktail hour had begun. I was making dinner, not drinking, because I still had guests to check-in. Mother-in-law prattled on but I wasn’t paying attention to her questions when Janet breezed through the kitchen door with a question about where to go for dinner. Mother-in-law rounded the corner, fresh from the bar, after making her second (triple) martini. “Would that be a fine gin you might need help carrying?”, said Janet to MIL. Sensing a drinking buddy, MIL and Janet went back to the bar. Janet emerged with a scant single martini and parked herself on the kitchen stool. She was “in”.
Like “death and taxes” there are unwritten rules at our house. Once a guest wanders into the kitchen and parks themselves on the stool…….. they never really leave. They become part of the house….., part of the family….., fall under the protection of the house…., and unconditionally loved…. despite warts or frailties. The kitchen stool was stolen from Grandma Della’s house. Della was only 4’11” and had to have a stool to reach anything. The steps were black plastic and the seat pad was covered in orange/avocado daisy-print, straight out of the early 70’s. I used the stool because our ceilings were so tall. Over the next hour, I checked other guests in, and finally, poured myself a glass of Zinfandel. Janet also switched to Zin. Mother-in-law left, but Janet remained and helped me make dinner, completely comfortable in my kitchen. With dinner in the oven and a luscious antipasto platter in hand, Janet and I retired to the side porch to wait on my husband to come home for dinner. Of course, Janet stayed for dinner.
Over the next year or so, Janet became a regular; our side porch was our perfect perch to people watch and swap stories. The side porch was unusual but represented exceptional architectural planning. The house is surrounded by large oak trees and the side porch is on the southeast corner, protected from strong sun and the heat of Mississippi summers. Husband rigged up some heavy chains from the beams and I hung enormous Boston Ferns. We outfitted the side porch with loads of interesting plants and tidbits. I bought a cheap little fountain and a side fan. The side porch was a mini-oasis and because of all the greenery, no one on the street could tell anyone was sitting there.
Janet often stopped to say hello, even when she wasn’t staying. As we became closer, we often catered lunches and presentation style dinners for her pharma. One year, MIL made 26 scratch coconut cakes for Janet to deliver to her doctor clients.
Janet stopped one day, after making rounds in town, to change clothes before going home. We were on the side porch, sharing a glass of wine, when Ron (another guest) “came home” (to the B&B) from work. Janet spotted him rounding the corner and watched him walk. She narrowed her eyes and said, “If that man was a beach towel, I would get sand all over him.” and then, “He’d have to shake me off.”
I put down my wine, and took a long look at my girlfriend. She had never spoken about a man in such a way. He definitely had her attention. Of course, I had to find a way to get the two of them together. “Who was that?”, she asked. I explained……
……. Ron and his daughter were living with us, for about three months, on and off while he closed up his other house. He was “transferring” to our town. We helped him with realtors, furniture, and his Gothic, pink-haired, 16yr old daughter. Ron fought for and won custody of his daughter. The ex-wife was a mess. I continued……..
…… Ron was the new division President of a local plant and looked like a walking advertisement for Brooks Brothers. He was shy and private. Yes, he was handsome, had a razor sharp wit, and at odd times, could be unbelievably charming. Grandma Della was here, knew Ron, and opened the door for him one day. He hugged her, and she commented about how good he smelled. Ron slid his arm around her again, grabbed her close, looked deep into her eyes, and said, “Are you kidding? If I was 75yrs old, I would be chasing you.” Grandma Della’s knees buckled a little bit. Ron made my grandmother blush. From that moment on, Ron could do no wrong according to Grandma Della. And Janet could do no wrong with Mother-In-Law.
They were a match made in heaven. It was meant to be.
Janet grinned like a Cheshire Cat. A man who was kind to Grandma Della, and needed help raising a daughter, was exactly the kind of man for her. Janet made her decision. She wanted him. We needed a plan and a little bit of help from above.
Because Ron and his daughter went back and forth and Janet was not always here, getting them together took a few weeks. One week, Ron came back by himself, I called Janet, and she was close by. The two met, briefly. Instant fireworks. The next morning, Ron asked about her. I said, “Oh, I don’t know Ron. You’re going to have to chase that one. She’s a thoroughbred.” I let my voice trail off and slinked back to the kitchen. Naturally, that just peaked his interest.
Couple weeks later, someone sent Ron a 25lb box of giant Alaskan Crab Claws. Ron had it shipped to our house, and called me to tell me it was coming. He invited husband and I to partake, if I would cook. He suggested we had “Soooo much” it might be nice to share…., and maybe I should call Janet. Oh, you betcha, I called Janet.
We ate on the side porch, on newspapers, with our hands, with fresh asparagus and scratch Hollandaise, crusty bread with a pound of melted butter. What a meal! There was obviously a LOT going on between the two of them, but Janet did not stay that night… too awkward and a good call.
Week or so later, Janet came in, super-late and had to leave super-early. I was making breakfast and she slipped down the back stairs to see me. She was having problems with a back zipper and needed “girl” help. I gave her a “hang on” sign. Same time, Ron barged into the kitchen, looking for early coffee. Ron didn’t know Janet was here and Janet didn’t know Ron was here. It wasn’t even 6:30am, yet. I winked at Janet….
…. I looked at Ron, shrugged my shoulders, and asked him to do me a favor, please. “My hands are all dirty, and she’s all clean and pretty, would you please….. ZIP HER UP.”
He froze. Three-four steps across the kitchen floor, Janet turned around and presented her back to Ron. I watched him. He held his breath. He zipped her up, then, he hooked the eye at the top. She turned, said, “Thank you very much.”, and out the back door she went. I watched him exhale. His hands were shaking a little. That poor boy hadn’t touched a woman in at least five years. He was smitten.
A few weeks later, the DA in the next county was having his annual house party. His wife was young and spectacularly beautiful, ……which meant other women in town didn’t like her……, which made me stick up for her. She was a wonderful woman. I told Ron about the party and said it might be good for him to go, get familiar with the locals. He asked me if we could invite Janet. We did and it was their first date. My husband teased Ron that he needed a chaperone. The two men got along beautifully.
In the game room at the DA’s house, Janet picked up a pool cue, “I always wanted to learn to play pool.” What????? Janet and I played pool; she was a shark. Of course, Ron offered to help her learn to hold the cue, etc. It was sweet. She sank the ball and let out a 12 syllable long, “Daaaahhhhaammmmnnnn, how did I do that?” Ron’s knees gave way and he whimpered a little. He was a strong and commanding man at the peak of his career. When it came to Janet, he was cooked. Put a fork in him.
The two spent the night but Janet left before breakfast. What I don’t know won’t hurt me. None of my business. BUT – all afternoon, Ron sat at the head of the dining room table, writing Christmas cards. He was staring out the windows. Distracted. Thinking. Finally, I walked into the other end of the dining room and asked him if he was okay. He looked at me and set his jaw, “I’m going to marry that woman. I can’t imagine my life without her.”…. and she adored him.
As a bonus, Ron asked for my help to pick out Janet’s ring, which was perfect for Janet because our tastes were so similar. I called our diamond broker and he came to the house. We picked out the perfect ring. They were married in front of our fireplace. Husband and I stood up for them and they’ve been married 20yrs.
End.
 
 
 
 
 

We’re going to have to build up to the punchline of this story. Can’t give away the goods right away. Ya’ know? So, grab a cup of covfefe and settle in for a few moments.
We opened for business in 1994 as a B&B. The same year, Tunica, MS, opened the first casino, other than Atlantic City or Vegas. The place was a dive and looked like a blown up version of a cheap mobile home but it didn’t matter. The place was a CASH COW. In fact, the Casino made so much money in the beginning days, they had to close down, to bring in more people, so they had enough time to count all the money.
The people who ran “The Splash Casino” came to see me, as there was no hotel space anywhere close by. They offered to take all my rooms for year, and pay me quite well. Yet, they wanted all the rooms. If I was a contractor and they “owned me”, we would have no independence. Husband had visions of wild gamblers, tearing apart the home we worked so hard to restore. Not what a biz owner wants. We would rather have 100 companies than solely contracted to one. “What are you going to do if they bring in a bunch of hookers?”, he said, “How are you going to tell them, NO?” The realization washed over me. “Hookers….?”, I thought. My eyebrows twitched like the tail of a squirrel. “Grandma Della would disown me……”, of course, I turned them down.
By ’95, we were open about a year and in full swing, but as most small biz owners can relate, I was worried about the NEXT month. The house was pristine, renovated from top to bottom by my new husband, the best historical renovation contractor within 100 miles – and it was his own home. Our banker REALLY wanted me to fail. His wife loved my house. At that point, there was no business I turned down. Pressure was on, I had to be successful, failure was not an option.
Outside of our little town, we had a local printing plant which printed monthly periodicals and magazines for clients all over the world. Their clients would come to visit to negotiate large contracts, or their editors would visit for press-checks. Many of them stayed with us, and the printing company was a terrific client. As we started decorating for Christmas, one local exec asked me if he could host a private luncheon, for new clients they were trying to impress. I took the job. It was lunch, I thought…… easy peasy.
With help from a few overeducated-housewife-girlfriends as my makeshift staff, and Grandma Della washing dishes, the first luncheon was a rousing success. One luncheon melded into 10, then 20. Before long, I was raking in $1500 a day, for high end luncheons, as hundreds of millions of dollars traded hands over my dining room table. Then, the company decided to do long, private dinners, with several courses. Fine entertaining, and the big southern white house. We had to “take it up a notch”. No problem. As the staff said, “Martha Stewart ain’t got shit on us.”
All the activity at our house began to attract attention. I thought, “Hey, if the townspeople were talking about me, maybe they would leave someone else alone.” I brushed it off. Everyone wanted to know what was happening, who was coming, what I was cooking. People began to stop me in the grocery store, picking through items in the basket,  and asking me about recipes. It was a little weird. Yet, I was quiet and secretive about our guests, respecting their privacy.
Pam was a 6th grade teacher at the school next door to the house. Her classroom looked out into our driveway. She was also the spinster sister of my husband’s first wife, and a horrible gossip. At one point, she was convinced she saw a naked man, through lace-covered windows, upstairs in our house (which would have been impossible to discern from her vantage point). Then, she saw the man run out of the house, quickly (executive late for work). He left, ……..then returned, ……with a black bag, “big enough for a weapon” (his briefcase – he forgot the receipt for his expense account), as she would later describe to police. Yes, she called the police, as she explained, because she was worried I had been murdered, “cuz I was alone with that foreign-looking man in a big house”. Four police cars responded, including the Chief, “cuz Miss Daughn was in trouble”.
That’s right, Pam called the police on the President of San Diego Home and Garden.
We were working so hard, we barely had time to breath. At the time, I didn’t even have a car. Everything we had went into the renovation. A buddy lent me his daughter’s car for a little while to run errands. Pam knew the car and wondered who was living at my house (a new rumor she could spread). Pam should have worked for CNN. She would have been wonderful speculating about the Russian Hoax. A few weeks later, I was sitting in the car, in the driveway, making out my bank deposit slip. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Pam, walking our wrought-iron fence line, staring at the windows of our home, straining to see any activity. As she came even with the car, I LAID on the horn and scared the heck out of her. I rolled down the window and said, “Will you PLEASE leave me alone? You’re embarrassing yourself.” As she scurried back to her classroom, the realization hit me, I needed to calm people down and be a little more public. Work within the system, the small town culture, and not cause such a ruckus. Who would have known luncheons and dinners could be so exciting?
My mother-in-law was a perfect press agent for the older ladies. I gave her copies of menus and various recipes and photos of tables. At McDonald’s afternoon covfefe, the ladies had much to discuss. Mother-in-law was happy ….. and the ladies gave me a LOT of handy tips. For the younger women, I relented and told the staff they could talk about what we served, and what we did, but NEVER who was here. For a few weeks, our new plan of information dissemination seemed to be working.
Of course, all that changed when the black limousines arrived and lined up in front of the house, four of them in a row.
It was a Thursday.
The town has cattle auctions on Thursday, and one of my best staff members handled the tickets for the auction. It put us down, one strong staff member, but our printing client really needed to schedule a big luncheon……. that Thursday. The lower-level exec customers spent the night with us. Therefore, by morning, we were all familiar with each other. One guy went for a jog before breakfast and noticed a large “wounded” German Shepard in a neighbor’s yard. I went out to check. No, it was a loose calf….. which is why it didn’t “come when he called it”. We straightened out that problem before 7:00am. The functionaries, who spent the night with me, went off to the plant after breakfast. The big bosses were flying in for lunch on the corporate jet. We would all meet back at our house at noon.
The girls arrived and we whipped into action.
About 11:40am, the sedans with execs from the plant arrived, and they tried to nose their way into the kitchen. Pretty soon, maybe ten minutes later, the limo’s arrived, four of them, one for each big boss, and lined up, the whole breadth of my wrought-iron fence. The bosses filed into the house. I was… you know…. being social and introducing everyone to each other. Hors d’oeuvres were ready, and the kitchen was humming. Everything was perfect, on schedule…… when the phone rang.
A girlfriend rushed out of the kitchen and told me the Mayor was on the phone, demanding to speak with me. I was confused, but okay, fine. I went to the phone, leaving my guests. I was annoyed, a little bit, because he was putting a kink in my schedule. He said, “You better tell me right now, is Donald Trump at your house?” I had no idea what he was talking about but very curious as to how he got the impression the billionaire from New York was at my house in Mississippi. Not willing to let on and sensing an opportunity, out loud, I said, “You know I cannot and will not tell you who is a guest of this house. It’s private.” I hung up on him.
I turned to go back to the guests, but before I left, the phone rang again. It was our good staff member at the cattle auction across town, “Is Donald Trump at your house?” 
“What was she talking about?”, I thought. Something was going on, but I still had no clue. Was Trump supposed to be here?, I wondered. Unwilling to relent, I replied, “Well……, not yet, but ya’ never know who will show up here.” Trying to close the conversation and get back to serving, I told her the big bosses were here and we had to go. She said, “I can’t BELIEVE I’m missing Donald Trump”, which I had neither confirmed nor denied.. at all.
8 minutes to serving time, two staff members filling iced tea and water glasses.
I was still on the phone with girlfriend at the cattle auction, when the Mayor burst through the back door. He had a full head of steam and he was pointing at me. He was 6’4″ and 100% alpha male, “You ARE going to tell me WHO is in that dining room, right now.” and “If Donald Trump is going to put a casino, here, in Tunica, I deserve to know, NOW!” I was blockading the dining room door. I started, “No, you cannot go in there.” We were friendly-arguing with the Mayor, in a too small kitchen, on top of other women who were trying to keep to the schedule – to serve my best client in less than 5 minutes. I noticed my girlfriends, who had all been in the kitchen prior to the big bosses arriving, were whispering to each other, suddenly curious about who was in the front of the house.
The buzzer for the bread went off, …..time, ……ticking away. 4 minutes to serving time, I really needed to be in the dining room. 3 minutes left, but before I could recover, husband burst through the back door. “SHhhhhhhhhhh!”, I insisted, silencing them all. Husband countered, “Is Donald Trump in our fu$king dining room?”
Everyone looked at me like it was 3 minutes to Christmas morning. “No, Donald Trump is not in the dining room.”, I said, disappointing them all…… Finally, “Why do you all think Donald Trump is here?”, as I had no idea how they got the impression in the first place. Lots of grumbles and shuffling of feet. “Stay here”, I said to husband and Mayor. We presented the bread and salads and went back to the kitchen for answers. I caught the Mayor peeking out of the dining room door, confirming Donald Trump was NOT in my dining room.
In the ten minutes between salad and soup, we figured out the mystery. Apparently, no limousine service in Memphis had 4 black Mercedes limousines available at the same time. Thus, they ‘borrowed’ four limousines from the current casino. The license plates all read, Trump 1, Trump 2, Trump 3, and Trump 4.
The rumor spread like a wildfire, “Donald Trump is at Daughn’s house.”
To compound the rumor, we were trying to be nice and fed the limo drivers a lovely lunch. One of the guys helping me that day was a big guy, former Navy. With all the black tuxedoed limo drivers and my big Navy guy – they turned into the “Security Detail” for Donald Trump.
No, it was really just lunch.
Gotta love a small town.

Not sure if we will have as many fireworks today. Appears the word has gone out – Dems won’t get anywhere with Barr. Nonetheless, here is the thread for comments.

We’ve talked quite a bit, this week, about how our President make decisions, how he adjusts policy, how he moves people around within his administration, or how he removes people altogether. We’ve also talked about bureaucrats, as well as people within our own families, who are resistant to making decisions and avoid confrontation, because they fear the pain, real or imagined, of the consequences of their decision.
Plain Jane said something which struck a memory chord. Jane’s father died when she was 10, and Plain Jane learned to make decisions early. She had to.
DISC was probably the forerunner to Myers Briggs Personality tests. If you want to take a sample Myers Briggs Test here is the link: HERE
DISC went further than Myers Briggs in that it not only taught us how to identify personality types, but also how to sell, or as Scott Adams would say, persuade, people…. helping them reach a decision. DISC also teaches empathy and patience for others who are not like-minded. I initially assumed DISC was a mandatory company class and would be boring. I had no idea it would save me countless hours of frustration, lower my stress level, and brighten my outlook on life for decades. DISC made me more money than any college degree, and I’ve shared it with all close friends and drilled it into my kids.
Back ground: I went to work for Merrill Lynch, at 22. I landed several large pensions, and was their rookie of the year. Because I was so young, a token female, and a good test taker, they threw me into every kind of training imaginable. As far as sales training, I did it all; Merrill’s in-house training, Equitable’s training, IBM’s PSS 1 & 2 & 3, Tom Hopkins, Dale Carnegie, besides all the financial training, designations, and licensing. At one point, I was licensed with over 300 insurance companies and had every possible NASD SEC license. Out of all of that, year after year, DISC was the best thing I ever did…. because it was so simple. I really like “simple”.
For example, how many of you are frustrated by someone driving slowly in the left lane? How many of you are the person who drives slowly in the left lane? How many of you are social butterflies and could put together a party with ease? Or, how many of you buy tires at the same place, year after year, because you know the guy? Are you the person who screams in panic when there is chaos, or when “chaos” becomes inevitable, does your voice change, do you get low, focused, and does your peripheral vision increase?
We all have people in our lives who represent the above personality types. Whether we are an executive who is responsible for building a team at work, or a volunteer who is putting together a bake sale for school, it’s enormously beneficial to identify personality types and put specific people into positions WHERE THEY THRIVE.

Elizabeth Carter, yesterday, illustrated she intuitively understands this dynamic. Elizabeth said: “Another time he was upset with a woman who worked for me because she had no ambition. I replied that she did accounts payable which is a boring, repetitive job. She did it perfectly and was very content doing it. I insisted that he let her work in peace and compliment her for her excellent work.” What Elizabeth did on gut instinct, by listening well and observing her employees, DISC explains as a strategy.

Here we go: DISC Method. Please know, we are all a varying percentage of each type of personality, and subconsciously, we all rely on different portions of our personality if we reach an impasse in one area.
“D” stands for Dominant. These are the CEO’s and the gang leaders. You can watch a group of children and immediately identify the “D’s”. They’re not the bullies on the playground. Rather, they’re the ones who decide what game to play, when to go back to class, and they swing into action when someone is hurt. “D’s” know everyone, vaguely, but more people know them, precisely. Yet, “D’s” can count on one hand their real friends. They are intensely loyal people and can smell BS a mile away. Easiest way to offend a “D” is to waste their time. Best way to sell to or persuade a “D” is to bottom line everything, and create a win-win scenario. Do it quickly, because they will move on, faster than a speeding jet.
If you ever betray a “D” or lie to them, they will never fully trust you again. You’re burned. They may strike back at you when betrayed, and heaven help you if they do because they are powerful people, but they may not….. because you are not worth their time. There is no one better in chaos than a “D”, and as the situation escalates, they develop other-worldly senses. Their voices change. They issue short declarative statements to which others instinctively respond. They also have weird ability with peripheral vision when threatened. They see the battlefield.
“I” stands for Intuitive. These are the social butterflies and the most creative of all types, either artistically or with big ideas. Loved by all. Pretty people who know everyone in town but have a hard time with close friendships. Their homes are beautiful and they dress well. They are extroverts, comfortable and confident at the center of attention. They have courage to do something daring, travel to unknown places, try new food, or a new company system. Worst thing in the world to do to an “I” is to tell them you are disappointed in them, because they want so much to please you. OR make them cry, hurt them, as they will feel unloved which hurts them almost in a physical way. Takes a long time for an “I” to recover from any emotional pain.
Best way to persuade or sell to an “I” is “because everyone else is doing it” or “all the best people have this item”. They long to be included, fit in, and they are happy people by their very nature. Another way to sell or persuade an “I” is to make them want to be part of your social circle but the situation might not be possible. An “I” is almost never at home on a Saturday night, because they are in such high demand. “I’s” are exceptional salespeople and spies and have odd chameleon-like ability to invent and reinvent themselves. Unless their heart has been broken, “I’s” are the most adaptable, spontaneous, and quickest to bounce back. They have a freakish ability to read people’s body language and subtle cues.
“S” stands for Safety. The “S’s” are the people who can do assembly line work in expert fashion. Repetitive things, over and over, with a high degree of accuracy. They take pride in their accuracy, which is good, because the world relies on their accuracy. An “S” is the person driving slowly in the left lane but has no points on their auto insurance….. and it’s the same auto insurance agent their dad used. They dress in the morning by following a routine. They go to bed with a routine. You can even watch their housepets, who have adapted to their routine. An “S” is a perfect airline maintenance guy, bomb maker, office administrator, government worker, assembly line, or quality control inspector.
There is way humanly possible to sell or persuade an “S”. They have to come to you, and the effort often takes years. Once they are your customer, or spouse, however, they will never leave you. They are fiercely loyal and protective of those they love. People who test off the chart in this category are extraordinary puzzle solvers. You can show them 10 copies of a page, with one word off on a single page, and they can pick it out. When they play “Where’s Waldo?”, they win. Perfect for intel analysts, QAnon, or moms, who can often tell when something is out of order.
“C’s” are the Checkers. Accountants, Engineers, research analysts…., and reporters. They’re smart, but they’re rigid as steel….. which is exactly what we want for this personality type. They don’t deal well with change or disruption. Not spontaneous because it doesn’t fit their schedule…. but by God, if you want something delivered on November 23rd at 8:00am – it will be there at 7:55am, a few minutes early. They will do a mountain of research to make a decision, and once the decision is made – that’s it. If your company is buying a million dollar piece of equipment, ask a “C” to research the difference between Brand A and Brand B and trust them. BUT make sure you give them a deadline on research, a finite due date.
If you want to sell to or persuade a “C”, then send them 3rd party articles, affirmation from outside sources, once a week for about 6 months to a year. Let them come to their own decision as they will resist outside pressure. They will never trust your research, which presents a problem with time for a boss. Also, for very high “C’s”, if their research says “NO”, then they physically stop, stutter, everything shuts down. They’re naturally cynical of “opinions” or anyone who brags or exaggerates. Everything must be precise. To a “C”, Pi is carried out at least 8 decimal places.
Okay Daughn, how does this help us?
Once we realize how people naturally settle into different personality types AND process information in different ways, making their decisions uniquely, everything else is easy. All we have to do is bend ourselves, a little bit, to do so much more as a country, as a company, group, or as a family. Give people info in a way that makes them comfortable – so they can hear you. We’re not all the same, thankfully. What DISC taught me, is that our world would become an untenable experiment without all 4 types of personalities, and I was no longer frustrated. For example:
People driving slowly in the left lane used to MAKE ME CRAZY. The commute to work was a battle, everyday. Once we realized these were the “S” types, we can look at the bigger picture and gain perspective. Of course, we need office admins, auto maintenance, and assembly line workers. It’s what makes the world go around. Who wants a cruise director type to fix a Boeing jet? No.
Therefore, if your auto mechanic is “Chatty Cathy”, and wants to come to your birthday party on Friday night, he’s not the guy who should be fixing your brakes. If you have a teenager who naturally gets along well with people, is curious and popular, the WORST thing you can do is give him/her a strict routine – cause it will bite into their social schedule – which is fundamentally more important to them. It’s NOT personal, it’s just the way they think. Most importantly, if you’re married, decide which of you is the “C” and that person pays the bills.
First husband was a high “S” and “C” and I drove him insane because our personalities naturally conflicted. One thing I did to ease his “S” was tell him what we were having for dinner, before he left for work in the morning. It eased his mind, he scheduled it, and I swear, it dropped his blood pressure by 15 points. When we had a big bid deadline for a job, his high “C” went into overdrive. He would endlessly check and recheck. He would sweat because he was so nervous about “making the decision”. To me, bid day was exciting, and decisions were easy.
Like Elizabeth Carter identified her accounts payable clerk above, I had a problem with customer service for the stone company. I’m not good with whiny people, but I had a girlfriend who was a customer service manager for Bellsouth for 27yrs. She dripped softness, genuine concern, and in endless hours wrapped my customers up in a cocoon of safety. They love her. I would have rather had a root canal.
Three kids are high “D’s” and could organize a Chinese Fire Drill. They get along beautifully — but the off the chart “I” artist one, drives them all nuts, because she has to be the center of attention.
I almost beheaded a staff member once (not really), who took an hour and 45 minutes to clean a flat of strawberries. She was a high “S” and high “C” = cleanest strawberries I’ve ever seen, but I was looking for a 10 minute rinse, denub, and pat dry. Reexamining the problem in the kitchen, for big events, I posted a countdown schedule, a tic-toc by the minute, of what needed to happen and when. Smooth and happy kitchen. Problem solved.
Let’s take a look at President Trump
Our guy, President Trump, is obviously a high “D”, and high “I”, 10-20% “S”, and about 25% of a “C”. This graphic in the corporate world is referred to as a corporate hook. It means, we have a great guy as a salesmen or CEO, but if he can’t do the paperwork, he’s useless.
Note how President Trump, when we hear stories of his past negotiations, often slays his opponents on the details of a contract. President Trump has the corporate hook. Yet, President Trump told his intel people who give him his Daily Brief, “Don’t tell me the same thing every day if it has not changed – tell me the new stuff”. In other words, don’t waste my time, bottom line it, classic “D” and lower “C”. Isn’t it interesting how it was soooooooo much different for Obama?
Notice also how President Trump relies on his “D” personality, short declarative statements, often dropping unnecessary words from a sentence. Yet, when he meets with resistance, he seamlessly switches to “I” and becomes phenomenally charming. His aides say, “there’s no one better in a room than Trump” = Pure charm = Very high “I”. President Trump is a “pretty person”, likes high quality goods, snazzy dresser. Is anyone better as the center of attention? All of these traits are high “I”. The “I” part of his personality wants to be loved or at least respected, and the “D” part of his personality will lash out at enemies when warranted.
Note how his “D” personality is fiercely loyal to certain family/friends/employees whom he has had for years. Trademark “D” personality. The only place President Trump exhibits an “S” is his love of specific kinds of food, and his and routine surrounding Mar-A-Lago. He loves the place.
Let’s take a look at the Media
NOW, pivot a little bit, and look at others surrounding Trump. Notice how the media, as opponents, respond. Recall how the reporters, high “C”, are overly focused on precise numbers? Remember how high “C’s” will carry Pi out to 8 decimals? Notice how they argue about how many Muslims were dancing on rooftops? Instead of the big problem of ANY Muslim celebrating 9/11? And the media calls it a lie from the President = typical “C” behavior, instead of focusing on the bigger problem of discord in the USA = typical “D” behavior. Notice how the media has compiled a list of 9K lies – this is textbook “C” behavior, as in, I’ve done my research, do not pass go – they have made their pronouncement and physically shut down, do not proceed.
But what about the Deep State problem?
Let’s look at the bureaucrats who ‘resist’ our President in classic “S” fashion. Remember, there is nothing that can be done to influence an “S”, they have to come to you, and it often takes years. Once loyal, they will stay with you forever —- or, they will stay with Obama forever — until years pass, and THEY decide to be loyal to President Trump. It’s a problem. They THRIVE in a routine and abhor disruption. Trump is a bomb thrower and a disrupter. Is there any wonder they resist him? Is there any wonder President Trump is frustrated by their lack of speed on ANY issue?
How do we adjust and get through to others? 
We’re going to have to bend a little bit. Note how Brandon Straka came to start the #WalkAway campaign. He had one friend, a female Christian, who never gave up on him. She sent him information all the time. Eventually, he saw the debunking video of how the media falsely portrayed Trump mocking the disabled reporter…. and then Straka did his OWN research….. and then Straka decided….., after months of research…., and made his pronouncement. Once ‘converted’ and sure of his analysis, he became an advocate for Trump. Gee whiz, does this sound like a high “C” or “S” from above? Ya’ think?
Speculating further, WHO OR WHAT entity has been hinting at a slow release of information, so the people could acclimate to the corruption of those in our government and “those we trust the most”? I’ll give you 17 guesses to get the answer correct.
Take the Canal Project which we talked about months ago:
D = If we were “selling the idea” to a President Trump, we would give it to him him bullet point format, five items, short description. He would immediately grasp the idea and probably make it better.
I = If selling to an “I” type, we would talk about the wealth created and gleaming new cities, beautiful farms, industry and commerce. An “I” type would find the project irresistible. They would crawl over broken glass to be part of the party and smack dab in the middle of it all.
S = If selling the Canal to an “S”, I would friend them on Facebook, first, cuz they still have an account. Every 2-3 days, I would send them a post about something I saw in the news, and how the canal would solve the problem. Two years later, it would be their idea.
C = If selling the Canal to a “C”, we would have to send them a chart, research, once a week, for about 6 months until the file was about 6″ high or bigger. Then, they would make their own evaluation, which would be positive, because we already did the research, but a “C” will NEVER trust your research, they have to do it themselves.
What’s the takeaway?
We can see the difference now. Again, it’s like understanding the power of gravity. We always knew it was there, and now we know how it works. The lights are on. I dare you to close your eyes and think about the personal disagreements you’ve had in the past year. How many of those disagreements, do you think, could be attributed to simple personality differences? Think about your spouse or best friend. Have you been able to peg their personality type yet? What could you do, to bend a little bit, so they would be more at ease and hear you?
If we understand HOW people naturally process info and make decisions based on their personality, AND DON’T TAKE IT PERSONALLY, we can accomplish so much more. More sales or more persuasion, or an INFINITELY HAPPIER HOME LIFE.
Think about trying to sell the Canal project in reverse. What do you suppose President Trump’s reaction would be if we came in with piles of charts to weed through? Do you think he would ever have the patience or time to see our Twitter message or Facebook post? I doubt it.
In summary, decide what you want to accomplish, and if you’re willing to bend a little bit so that others can HEAR you. Start small. Practice until you get used to using it. Think about it and experiment. Sky’s the limit!
End~
PS: Normally, it takes about 5-20 minutes to figure out a new person’s personality type. As many times as I’ve gauged people over the past 30+ years, to figure out how to get through to them, there is one person I am hesitant to call, Obama. I can’t tell who he really is. He’s wearing a mask. What do you guys think?

Thought you guys might like a thread for the testimony of Atty General Barr. Note: this is testimony about the DOJ budget, in an appropriations committee. Let’s see how many questions he gets about the budget of the DOJ.
Background found here: https://www.foxnews.com/politics/barr-to-face-grilling-on-mueller-report-summary-at-capitol-hill-hearing

Some people are decision makers and some are not. At one time or another, we’ve probably all taken a personality profile test in school, for a job, or career counseling. According to the Meyers Briggs tests, less than 3% of the population are decision makers. Obviously, the USA needs leadership which is comfortable, natural, effortless, in the decision process. Right? Then, why do we have so many leaders who are afraid to make a decision?
Why have the leaders of the USA avoided making a decision on illegal immigration for the past 35 years? Why do our leaders purposely avoid the decision, except for President Trump? I’ve come to a personal conclusion. President Trump is not afraid to make a mistake….. because he can fix a mistake….. and no rational person expects all decisions to be perfect. Note: Ann Coulter is irrational on the issue of illegal immigration and demands perfection. We’re trying to get there.
Name one person whose every decision has been correct? None of us are so perfect and it’s obvious we cannot be so perfect. Why all the fear about an incorrect choice? I recall begging my kids to live a little dangerously, take a chance, screw up, while I could still protect them. No, running drugs or guns would be frowned upon, but take a chance, explore. Do it! Make the decision to step out, step up. Go. Do. Conquer. Fail. Reassemble. Conquer again. On a larger scale, it’s exactly what the President is doing with North Korea…. or China…. or the Congress. He’s making decisions and not afraid of the repercussions. He comes back, again and again, in pursuit of his goal.
Why are 97% of the people in the world uncomfortable with making a decision? Easy answer, because when someone else makes the decision, THEY suffer the consequences. Non-decision makers can remain safely on the sidelines. Blame is a cop out. Blame is easy….. just ask Pelosi, Schumer, McConnell, and Ryan. Decisions take courage. We describe President Trump as bold and fearless……. because he’s not afraid to make a decision.
Which leads to another conclusion: The paralysis which comes from avoiding a decision is not actual pain, it’s anticipatory pain….. imagined pain which MIGHT come from making a bad choice or avoiding the reality of a situation.
Think of the lengths some are willing to go to in order to avoid confrontation, and making a decision. Parents afraid to confront their child’s drug habit. Spouses afraid to confront their husband/wife spending habits or infidelity. Or a FISA judge unwilling to make a decision to confront the FBI/DOJ. The fear of the bad choice or reality learned in the confrontation paralyzes us. BUT there is a difference in avoiding a real and known to be real issue and/or avoiding an issue which is imagined and built up in our own minds.
It’s why we have Generals, who can make life and death choices, when decision making is serious business. For the rest of us, simple decision making should be embraced and not feared. We WILL make millions of bad choices in our lives.
There are many people in our lives who avoid decision making and have turned it into something of an artform. People who physically recoil and run away from making a choice. Heck, I was married to one, a strongly-willed man in every other aspect, but could not make up his mind to save his life. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”, I might ask. The response, “Whatever you want is fine.” They can’t even decide where to go for lunch! And if I decide where to go, and it’s not their wish, they suffer in silence and harbor resentment….. about a lunch spot!
I’ve had clients who left their IRA investment in a money market account, because they “couldn’t decide” on which mutual fund to pick. Who does that? LOTS of people.
Indecision, avoidance of making a decision, maintaining the status quo, is a particular problem in our bureaucracy. Perhaps, the best thing we could do to improve our civil service is stream out the non-decision makers. Yet, bureaucrats are worried about rocking the boat, and the fear of repercussions. Making the wrong choice may cost a job assignment, a career, or lead to malicious inter-office targeting. The FEAR of decision making is probably what caused the Russian Hoax. No one stepped up to stop it, maintain the status quo. The lack of decision making, or courage to make an ethical  decision, still persists in the media. With the Obama holdovers in the DOJ/FBI, the fear was real and perpetuated the indecision and lack of courage, to the detriment of all Americans.
We could also make an argument the DNC and the media DID make a decision, a corrupt decision, to target an American President, their political enemy, which served their own interests. Yet, that’s the few in leadership roles. The overwhelming numbers of minions, thousands upon thousands, remained on the sideline…… silent.
Why do we have so many weak and indecisive people in our culture?
Did we rob our children of the ability to make decisions and thereby create MORE of a problem? As women joined the workforce and family income became a two income family, did we spoil an entire generation by making decisions on their behalf? Were helicopter moms created by guilt because we were not at home? Did we make up for lost personal time by spending more money on our kids? So they could do more? Were we afraid to let them fail? Look to the college admission scandal for an answer to that question.
When I was 10, my dad forced me to make my first big decision. I mistakenly invited two friends to spend the night and the rule was only one friend per night. I told dad my problem, and expected him to tell me what to do. He could have easily made an exception and allowed both girls to spend the night, but he took the opportunity to make it a lesson in decision making. He forced me to choose. It was the first time I recall my father was “mean to me”, as I “perceived” it. I remember whining, crying, being angry, upset he would not solve my problem, fearful of offending one friend. I could not understand why HE was causing me so much pain. I was physically recoiling from the responsibility of making a decision. He held fast. I was filled with dread and made lists of what to do = further avoidance. As the week wore on, I made a re-appeal for mercy. Nope. Not working. I called my one friend and told her she could not come. Fine, no big deal, and she understood the problem. Painless. Wow, was I surprised.
What was enormous in my mind, a problem which caused me days of angst, was solved in about two minutes. My problem was not a problem. It was imagined.
From that moment on, my father looked for creative ways to force my friends and me to make decisions. He was relentless. If we wanted to do something, anything, go anywhere, we had to present “our case” to him. Had we considered the danger, the risks, the good parts, the rewards, the cost versus potential gains. He was trying to make us responsible about our decisions, to plan as much as possible for risks ahead. I swear, on more than one occasion, he left my dates dumbfounded as they checked the tire pressure for their spare tire, before we were allowed to leave. It’s the way he was…., which changed everything about how my friends and I turned out. We all had cars in tip-top shape and any boyfriend I had…. learned to change the oil himself… with help from my dad. Heck, my first job was at a Jiffy Lube, I knew how to do the 14point top of engine inspection.
People in our age bracket, who grew up in the era of personal responsibility, understand problems presented in decision making. Military veterans have an acute understanding of the decision process. We analyze for risk, cost versus benefit, and we don’t expect someone to magically appear and save us. We make a choice, and if we are wrong, we adjust. Yet, we continue to pursue the goal……… just like President Trump is pursuing the problem of illegal immigration.
I submit, on this issue, many of those who are younger have made a false and political choice, based on bad information from media and other leaders who pursue their own agendas. Good decision making is not based on an age, exactly. For instance, if I could do it as a whiny 10yr old, of course, millennials can do it today. Will it be painful and will they react physically? Oh, yes, and maybe the reflex of those actions is what we are seeing today. We just need to get them the correct information and a steadfast Dad. They need a guy like my dad, pointing out all the things which could happen, which they never considered, to become responsible about their decision making. They need a guy who is objective, not afraid to force a decision, and has their best interests at heart.
That guy is President Trump.