What the (Bleep) is Happening?

I suppose every decade or so since Caesar strode through the Roman Forum some wagging head (whether in a toga or on CNN) has complained about the imminent demise of civilization as we know it.

Well, it’s time to start listening, folks. Pretty soon you may see me walking down Broadway with a sandwich board reading, “The End Is Near.”

Item: A fourth term South Carolina Congressman named Joe Wilson heckles the President of the United States during a speech, shouting “You Lie!” The President had just said that his proposed health care would not apply to illegal immigrants, a claim that the non-partisan Factcheck.org later said was accurate. Mr. Wilson later said “I’m sorry,” although I suspect he probably whispered under his breath “But I’m not.” Personally I’d prefer to see Wilson apologize for his vote in the South Carolina State Senate in 2000 to keep the Confederate flag flying over the capital.

Item: A tennis sensation, Serena Williams, is unfairly penalized for a foot-fault in her semi-final match against Kim Clijsters at the U.S. Open and turns to vent her rage at the hapless line judge who made the incorrect call, threatening to stuff the ball down her throat and uttering a river of obscenities that would make a sailor blush.

Item: A 34-year old father named Jason Chighizola is found guilty of battery after he punches out the coach of the opposing team at a Little League game for eight year olds in Louisiana.

Item: A 19-year old wunderkind, Taylor Swift, steps up to the microphone to receive her Best Female Video award when a a rapper named Kanye West grabs the microphone and says, in essence, “Beyonce’s video was better!”

Item: President Obama appears at a town hall meeting in Portsmouth, NH, and a man named William Kostric shows up with a gun strapped to his leg and a sign in his hand reading: "It Is Time To Water The Tree Of Liberty.”

The term “civilization” has a few meanings. The term can refer to a high level of cultural and technological development. By that measure, North Korea would probably rate a high score on the Civilimeter: Think of the sublime cultural achievement of synchronized thousands doing calisthenics, not to mention nuclear capped missiles. Mr. Kostric would also get a high rating: After all, his sign in New Hampshire quoted Thomas Jefferson and his weapon was a 9mm Smith & Wesson, a manufacturer that according to its web site prides itself on “combining old-world hand-craftsmanship with modern technology.” Sounds civilized to me.

There’s another meaning for the term “civilization.” According to Merriam-Webster, it can refer to a “refinement of thought, manners or taste.”

Well, I trust Joe Wilson eats with a fork and Kanye West is polite to his elders. Surely Serena does not eat her peas with a knife and Jason Chighizola opens the door for his wife. I suppose that makes them all civilized.

But do these examples of boorish, tasteless, irreverent, insipid behavior reflect the refinement that we are capable of? I don’t think so.

I don’t expect a Boy Scout to swoop down on every old lady who approaches a street crossing. Or male drivers to rush around to the passenger side to open the door for their lady friends. Or guys at the Sports Bar to hold their pinkies daintily in the air as they tip one back during the Super Bowl.

But wouldn’t it be nice to see a return to some modest level of manners and good taste? Are concepts like decency, honesty, fair play history? Or have they taken a brief holiday?

When I think of the rules of civility I am reminded of my favorite golf player, one of the all time greats, Bobby Jones. At the 1925 US Open, Jones stepped into the grass with his iron and set up to hit a ball. The club touched the grass and the ball moved. Nobody saw it. Jones looked up and called a two-stroke penalty on himself. When someone praised Jones for his honesty, he replied, “You may as well praise a man for not robbing a bank.”

More recently, Ian Woosnam, a Welsh golfer, did something similar. Playing in the last round of the British Open in 2001, Woosnam called a two-stroke penalty on himself when his inexperienced caddy announced to him that he was carrying an extra driver in his bag. The rules of Golf are clear: A player may carry a maximum of 14 clubs in his bag. Woosnam’s caddy was carrying 15. The gaffe – which nobody would have known about it if Woonam hadn’t raised his hand -- cost him $300,000 in prize money.

Mahatma Gandhi wrote that “Civility and humility are expressions of the spirit of non-violence while incivility and insolence indicates the spirit of violence…[P]oliteness disarms anger and hatred, incivility increases hostility.”

In other words, civility is not only the right thing to do, it is in our own best interests. It sets a tone, keeps the peace, disarms the angry, quells the rage, calms the mind.

Think about it.

 

10.2%

10.2%.

That is the amount of the increase in the price of October natural gas today on the NYMEX.

10.2%.

If the stock market moved that much in a single day there would be giant headlines in the morning newspaper. In the spring the market moved 10% in over 40 days and it was news.

10.2%.

Enough to put a dent in a business’ profits, a dent in a paycheck.

10.2%.

Find me another non-energy commodity, currency, or non-IPO stock that has moved 10.2% in a single day over the past year and I’ll buy you a beer. Find me two and I’ll buy you a case of beer.

10.2%.

It’s why MXenergy exists. It’s why we offer customers protection from higher prices. It’s why we are working on ways to help our customers conserve.

10.2%.

Sometimes a lot can be summed up in a single number.

 

"...Gratefully yours…”

Hard to believe, but the summer is almost over, unofficially at least. The astronomers and soothsayers and keepers of the Julian calendar will tell you that it officially ends on September 21, on the Autumnal Equinox, when day and night are approximately equal in duration. But we know better. Summer ends when the kids appear at the curb with their new backpacks and the humidity drops and the nights cool down and the mailbox gets flooded with invitations.

It’s been a heck of a summer. While our MXenergy business has continued to be strong, the international credit markets have continued to be tight. Jobs are still being lost. Those ubiquitous “For Sale” signs are still in every window and on every street. This affects our customers and our mood. It’s hard to be upbeat when friends and family members are stressed and insecure.

We’ve also lost a number of family members from the MXenergy team, more than I can recall in any previous year. Our hearts go out to our colleagues and we remember those who have passed. After all, we work to live, not live to work, and our personal lives deserve our priority attention.

This summer has also given us wonderful examples of character, grit, hope and redemption. Think of Tom Watson at 59, fighting it out to the last put at the British Open. That’s character. Or Derek Jeter batting .500 the past couple weeks and the Yankees 7.5 games ahead of the Red Sox. That’s grit. Jaycee Dugard, kidnapped in 1991, found after 18 years and reunited with her family. That’s hope. Ted Kennedy, whether you loved him or hated him, buried with universal praise and admiration. That’s redemption.

And who does not continue to feel inspired by Scottish cook Susan Boyle’s meteoric singing career after being discovered on Britain’s Got Talent?

OK, so Congress continues to have food fights in Washington. Maybe now that kindergarten has started again they’ll follow our kids’ example and learn to play nice again and share their toys. Iran continues to flout civilized norms with show trials of peaceful election protesters. Our soldiers continue to be in harm’s way (although I’m pleased to report that Baghdad is sunny and 110 F. today, down from 125 F. a couple months ago).

At the same time, the recession of 09 looks like it may be history, notwithstanding continued but slowing job losses. Energy prices are at 8 year lows. In fact, new customers are flooding in to lock in these low prices. Our company continues to deliver value to customers…with a smile.

This morning I received a note from one of our customers that I want to share with you.

“Dear Mr. Mayer: Recently a customer service representative called to offer us a lower rate. This lower rate is to reward us for being faithful and loyal customers. In addition, we pay our bill on time. Thank you for being so considerate and compassionate. It is so hard to find companies that look out for such loyal customers. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Gratefully yours…”

Customers often track me down when they have problems. It is rare for a customer to take the time to let us know we did a good job. What a way to end the summer!

Enjoy your Labor Day weekend, everyone. We’ve earned it!

 

Morality of the Winners

As a student of the American Civil War, I am fond of drawing analogies to the colorful personalities and events of that terrible period of our history.

Talk about taking initiative? I’ll tell you about Ulysses S. Grant improvising for nine months as he tried to capture Vicksburg on the Mississippi. Talk about analysis paralysis? I’ll tell you about Grant’s predecessor William McClellan dawdling in his Peninsula campaign and then retreating when his troops numbered twice as many as the enemy.

Generosity of spirit? Union troops standing in silence as surrendering Confederates stacked their arms at Appomattox Court House. Not thinking ahead? Pennsylvania coal miners successfully tunneled under the Confederate position at Petersburg, but they neglected to plan for the aftermath of the explosion, resulting in massive casualties as Union soldiers flooded into the Crater.

History is filled with stories that provide examples to live by. Recently I’ve been struggling with the meaning of one story, however. I was reminded of it recently with the death of former US Defense Secretary Robert McNamara.

McNamara played a decisive role in two of the Twentieth Century’s most significant events. In World War II he worked on the staff of General Curtis LeMay and helped plan the firebombing of Tokyo and other Japanese cities, resulting in hundreds of thousands of civilian deaths. After the war he observed that if the Japanese had won he would probably have been prosecuted as a war criminal.

Later, under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, McNamara helped conceive of the strategy of America’s war in Vietnam. There continues to be disagreement about whether the war was justified as an important front in the long-running Cold War against the Soviet Union or whether it was a futile fight that cost over 50,000 American lives and may have weakened American leadership in the world.

Whatever the truth – and history provides few clear answers – McNamara himself later admitted to reservations. In a memoir published in 1995 he called the Vietman war “wrong, terribly wrong” and went on to admit that he supported the war even as he came to believe it was hopeless.

Many critics of the Vietnam War called McNamara’s confession too little too late. Others felt McNamara himself was to blame for the War’s failure because of a defeatist attitude and a reluctance to commit sufficient troops.

For me, the lesson of McNamara is not whether he was right or wrong, but that he was prepared to accept responsibility at all. Too often leaders seem to believe that admitting a mistake will lead to a loss of authority. “Never apologize,” is the mantra. “Stay the course. Stick to your guns.”

McNamara, ironically, is an example of both the steadfast CEO and the humble executive willing to admit he was wrong. McNamara’s first reservations about the war surfaced in 1966, when he questioned whether the war could be won. Perhaps unwilling to say publicly what he counseled privately, for fear of losing the sheen on his leadership, he kept quiet. Years later, when his opinion could have little impact or credibility, he spoke up.

Did he lose face in the process? I don’t think so. The ability to admit a mistake is a key attribute to leadership. Mistakes are human, and organizations can progress only if they are willing to confront their flaws and learn from them. If leaders are unwilling to admit mistakes, what example will others learn?

Of course, being wrong can have dire consequences. As a friend recently pointed out, Bernie Madoff was wrong and stuck to his guns in much the same way that McNamara was wrong and stuck to his. One destroyed fortunes, the other lives. Flaws may make us human, but they do not make us divine!

Indeed, McNamara teaches that there are times when we may be wrong even when we are right. Perhaps thinking about his World War II experience, he once asked, What makes it immoral if you lose and not immoral if you win?”

In other words, some flaws may be hidden behind a thin veil of success, in politics, war, business, and personal life. But just because the flaws are not “caught” does not mean they do not exist.

 

The Search Generation

It will come as no surprise to say that we are in the midst of the graduation season.

Whether or not you have a graduate in the family, the signs are hard to miss: Well-dressed teenagers exiting limos in formal dress, or cheerfully taking pictures on their way to Prom; front page pictures of the President and other notables in cap and gown; uniform white caps flying into the air at the Naval Academy; station wagons driving by with flapping balloons and “Seniors” spray painted on the windshield.

At a certain age one begins to stare at these freshly minted adults and think, “What now?”

Where are they going? Where will they be twenty years from now? Will they still have those exuberant expressions? Or will their brows be furrowed with worry, their teeth clenched with anxiety?

And after a passing memory or two of how painful those high heels must be for the girls in dresses, or how sweltering it is under those gowns, the thoughts will continue: “How does this generation think? How will they act? If faced with the threat of war or economic misery, what will they do?”

Since Tom Brokaw dubbed the generation that fought World War II “The Greatest Generation” it has become fashionable to question whether today’s young people are capable of the same dedication and civic mindedness. It is common to hear people refer to an entire generation – the Millennial generation, or Generation Y, born in the 1980s or early 90s – as selfish, self-absorbed, spoiled and insincere.

Raised in a world of rapid internet communications, it is said that instant gratification is a necessity. Raised in a politically correct world where everybody has an equal opportunity to get the trophy and there “are no losers,” it is claimed that they have no drive, no competitive instinct, no initiative. Everything will come to them eventually, so why sweat it?

In his book A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway recalls a conversation with Gertrude Stein in which she referred to the generation that returned home from the killing fields of northern France in World War I as the “Lost Generation.” Would she have said the same today? Are these a “Lost Generation.”

Recently I watched as a group of young people sat on stage patiently, waiting for their names to be called to receive academic honors. I watched the pride of their teachers as they called their names to present them with the awards they had earned. I watched the students’ poise as they walked to the podium, politely accepted their prizes and returned to their seats.

And then I thought about last year’s graduates. The tens of thousands of young Americans who walked down to the recruiting office – we have no draft, mind you – to enlist in our volunteer armed forces. The 35,000 applicants for positions in Teach for America, the program that sends young college graduates into inner city schools to share their passion for education. The hundreds of thousands of young men and women who have taken jobs, many in family owned businesses, some far from home, beginning responsible lives as citizens, setting down roots, starting families.

These are not a “Lost Generation.” They may not be the ”Greatest Generation,” as Mr. Brokaw dubbed WWII veterans. But don’t tell me they are selfish or self-absorbed. They are their own people: Independent, creative, and motivated. They are smarter by far than their forebears, they have a greater grasp of the world than we ever did and they are acutely aware of the challenges and threats they face.

And if, and when, the day comes that they are put to the test and called upon to defend our freedoms and our way of life, they will rise to the occasion because they appreciate what they have. Look into their eyes. Watch them walk across the stage. Hear their voices. Share their pride.

They may be innocent of what lays ahead, but they are not naïve. They may be inexperienced, but they are not unprepared. They may not know everything, but they know they have the skills to learn. They may not have seen the world, but they are intent on exploring farther into space and deeper into the atom.

They are, if anything, the Search Generation. The generation ceaselessly gathering knowledge, whether through Google, Facebook, Blogs or Twitter. Their goal, as with Tennyson’s Ulysses, is “To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.” They will find new and non-polluting sources of energy because they must; they will find ways to feed the world’s hungry because they can; they will spread the values of liberty and freedom because they will want to share them.

Undoubtedly, when these graduates are older they will look at their children’s generation with the same quizzical expressions as we do today. And around the same time, those of us lucky enough to be around will take them aside, put our arms on their shoulders, and chastise them for entertaining such foolish doubts about their kids.

As the Search Generation marches to the podium to accept their diplomas I, for one, am standing and applauding.

 

Move Over, Mr. Newton

Isaac Newton is remembered for his brilliant insight while sitting under an apple tree. The blow from the falling fruit must not have been so bad. After all, Newton followed up his discovery of the laws of gravity with his Three Laws of Motion.

I was thinking about Newton’s Three Laws of Motion the other day as I pondered energy prices over the past year. It was then that I had my own flash of inspiration: Newton was wrong!

For one thing, this absurd law of gravity is preposterous. As anybody in the world of energy knows -- as any driver pulling up to a gas station experiences weekly -- what goes down must come up! Anybody remember $.79 cent gas in 2002?

As for Newton’s Three Laws, the ones that scientists say define the universe? The ones that make Newton more influential among scientists than Einstein? Balderdash! Let’s consider them, one by one.

Silly Law No. 1
Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.

Hello? Has anybody looked at a chart of energy prices lately? They make the Rocky Mountains look like Kansas. Millions of people use energy daily for everything from heating soup to watching television. Their use is constant, persistent, and insatiable. Even Al Gore can’t do without air conditioning. Try to eat a hamburger that hasn’t been cooked. Ugh.

So with all this constant demand for energy, why aren’t prices constant? Because Newton was wrong, of course! Prices bounce around like a Karaoke ball singing the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction.”

Energy prices will continue to change whether we like it or not. They will go up or down for no reason. And there ain’t nothing we or any external force can do about it.

Silly Law No. 2
The relationship between an object's mass m, its acceleration a, and the applied force F is F = ma. Acceleration and force are vectors; in this law the direction of the force vector is the same as the direction of the acceleration vector.

Look, I wasn’t born yesterday. Last year when crude oil was trading at $147/barrel and natural gas was over $13 per thousand cubic feet, the vector (i.e., direction) of energy prices was up, up and away! Practically every analyst on Wall Street was predicting $200/barrel crude oil prices (and $5 gasoline) by the end of the year.

Where are we today? Crude oil below $70/barrel (it got as low as $32.40), natural gas to $3.155. Demand was constant, shortages were pervasive, prices were going one way: Up! Today prices are down and the bears are out in full force, predicting the end of the world as we know it.

Of course, Newton’s Second Law is as true as it was before. Not! Prices are going right back where they went before, into the stratosphere (where, incidentally, Newton spent some of his free time contemplating the laws of celestial motion).

Silly Law No. 3
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

This one really takes the cake. This may work on the playground -- push the kid and you get punched -- but in the energy world it’s loony. Ever watch the sparks fly from a sparkler on the Fourth of July?

Actually, a better example would be a two year old after losing a balloon. There’s an action (lost balloon rising into sky) and a reaction (red face, stomping feet, shrieks of uncontrollable frustration and anger). Equal and opposite? Hardly.

Like a toddler, energy prices are highly emotional. Sure they respond to supply and demand factors: Hurricanes in the Gulf of Mexico that threaten offshore production or steamy summers and frigid winters. But they also respond to perceptions and fear: A faltering economy, the prospects of war in the Mideast, weather forecasts and speculative trading binges.

Now that we’ve demolished Newton’s Three Laws of Motion, I present you with the True, Sublime, Incontrovertible Laws of Energy:

1. Energy prices a year from now will be either higher or lower than they are today, but not both at the same time.
2. Energy prices will go up or down when nothing happens.
3. Most people will not turn down their thermostats when it’s cold outside or turn them up when it’s warm.
4. Politicians will continue to talk about energy supply and nothing will be done about it.

There you have it, folks. The universe in a nutshell.

And by the way, be sure to look down or you might get hit by that apple on the ground!

 

Winston Churchill and Me

Sometimes one has an experience that is so novel and extraordinary that you can’t wait to share it with all who will listen. When I experience such a moment, I find myself blurting out: “Now, that’s one for the memoirs!”

Not that I plan to write my memoirs. Don’t get me wrong: I love reading memoirs and biographies. But the idea of writing my own strikes me as just a bit presumptuous and, well, old. Unless one has the kind of dramatic life story that takes you to the White House or perhaps an Academy Award by the age of 20, the memoir thing is likely to be a dry read. Even a Medal of Honor winner like Audie Murphy and a World War I flying ace like Eddie Rickenbacker needed to put a few more notches in their belts – say 44 movies in the former’s case or a racing car career in the latter’s – before the story had enough pizzazz to merit a good beach read.

But that doesn’t mean that I can’t dream. And last week I had one of those “one for the memoirs” moments that I need to share with you.

A good friend invited me to join him to hear one of my heroes speak at a club in Houston. Actually, the speaker was the grandson of one of my heroes, but who’s going to quibble? Winston Churchill left us in 1965 but his grandson Winston S. Churchill is still with us and when the grandson speaks it is with the compelling force of personality that people must have felt listening to his grandfather in 1938 when he warned of imminent storm clouds over Europe.

So I sat in an ornate room of a venerable club, the kind of club where one can retire to the smoking lounge and sip a Gibson and imagine that the rest of the evening will consist of seeing a new double feature starring some hot new stars like Lana Turner or Humphrey Bogart.

Lunch consisted of pheasant and Yorkshire pudding. This was a nice change of pace for the audience, perhaps, although I suspect our speaker would have preferred a hamburger and fries. I’m not sure what was served for dessert; our speaker was so mesmerizing I don’t think I touched it.

Mr. Churchill is a former journalist and Conservative member of Parliament whose most interesting claim to fame in my view was his circumnavigation of the African continent in a single engine plane the year he graduated from Oxford. He recounted that despite his frequent exposure to wartime danger the only time he was ever roughed up was at the 1968 Democratic Party Convention in Chicago. Evidently the police challenged him as he tried to enter the Blackstone hotel on Michigan Avenue. “Who are you?!,” they demanded. “Winston Churchill!” he replied. “A likely story!” they replied and beat him over the head with a nightstick until the abashed hotel desk clerk confirmed that he was, indeed, Mr. Churchill.

Churchill spoke eloquently about his concern for western security, in particular the threat faced by terrorist cells, demographic changes in Europe, and nuclear weapons in Pakistan. He expressed fervent hope that the new administration in Washington would succeed in its foreign policy, but said he did have one serious reservation: That President Obama returned to England the bust of his grandfather that apparently has sat in the Oval office for decades.

Now for the “memoir” moment. At the end of Churchill’s talk I remained standing in a small group listening to him answer some questions. A gentleman walked up to him and reached out his hand.

“Mr. Churchill,” the man said. “I’m Paul Clemenceau, great-grandson of Georges Clemenceau.” Georges Clemenceau was prime minister of France at the end of the First World War and later one of the principle negotiators of the Treaty of Versailles, along with England’s Prime Minister David Lloyd George.

Churchill looked at the man and smiled. “How nice to meet a Clemenceau,” he said. “What a small world.”

Now that’s one for the memoirs!, I said to myself. I was witnessing the grand arc of history. In 1918, as the German army unleashed one of the fiercest attacks of the war, Lloyd George sent Churchill to France to find out what was happening. There Churchill met the French Prime Minister and Clemenceau fearlessly took him to the battle front. Churchill, a tested battlefield veteran, protested that Clemenceau was putting himself in danger. “C’est mon grand plaisir,” Clemenceau responded. “It’s my great pleasure.”

To think: Could Clemenceau have guessed, at that moment, that 90 years hence his own great grandson would meet his companion’s grandson, in a private club halfway around the world?