When people express an interest in my services, tell me about a challenge they face, or ask me to call them, I follow up. I totally understand if they change their minds later or decide the concern we discussed is a lower priority than others and put our conversation on hold. I also understand that an email sent is not an email received and that things can get buried pretty quickly in the daily rush. I am patient, probably too patient. Nonetheless, I do not understand when someone repeatedly ignores my email or doesn't call back. How hard is it to say you've changed your mind? Why do you want to leave me trying to guess whether you are disorganized, busy, uninterested, or unable to express yourself constructively?

I never signed up for auto-rewal, at least not intentionally. Were I one of those people who barely glances at a credit card statement, I still wouldn't realize I was on the auto-renewal plan. At some point, I might wonder why this magazine keeps landing in my mailbox. Or not. Life is pretty busy.

In "Grouping Students by Ability Regains Favor in Classroom," the New York Times, June 10, 2013, reports that the pendulum is swinging back. In the 80s and 90s, many felt that separating children by ability would trap underprivileged or underperforming children permanently. Thus, we started treating everyone the same. Age became the sole qualification and children of all types took the same classes. 

When Brad Marchand was interviewed before the Bruins' Stanley Cup Play-off game last night, he talked about getting his confidence back with a couple of recent goals. Getting his confidence back?!?!?! I don't doubt him, but consider for a moment that this is one of the best players in the best hockey league in the world and he struggles with confidence? If he struggles with confidence, who doesn't? The answer, of course, is no one. 

I met more people on the hotel stairway during last week's stay in Philly than ever before. Was it because the elevator was slow or the crowd was young and fit? Either way, here we were clanking up and down, surrounded by metal, concrete, harsh light, and dismal paint.

"I am sure we can do that. We are here to help."

It takes a lot to get smoke pouring from my ears but a senior executive at my father's bank pulled it off last week by confusing compliance with stupidity, er, I mean, an inability to serve.

My mission was simple: get money into my father's account before the IRS withdraws money for taxes. As we all know, death and grief are no excuse for missing IRS deadlines.

Had the bank's mission been to ensure compliance with privacy policies and good service, this executive would have told me that while he was unable to tell me anything about my father's account, he could easily have acknowledged that yes, my money had arrived at his bank on time. That would have taken about 30 seconds and wasted none of my little gray cells.

Because he confused compliance with the inability to serve, he:

• Insisted that his customer service representative, who was also of no help, was correct
• Insisted that he stood behind her 100%
• Insisted that he could not give me any information
• Insisted that I needed to fax power of attorney papers, which is wrong - there is no such thing for the deceased
• Ignored the paper I sent showing the government knew I was the personal representative
• Could not seem to understand that I was trying to make life easier for the bank, the IRS, and me
• Didn't seem to care that my appointment as my father's personal representative by the probate court is a matter of public record, which has apparently given everyone and his brother permission to send me sales pitches addressed accordingly
• Ignored my suggestion that if the money hadn't arrived, perhaps he could call my bank to confirm that it was on its way so the IRS could be paid
• Wasted my morning, as well as my good humor
• Sent a good chunk of my brain cells up in smoke

For this executive, saying no was clearly more important than trying to solve a customer's problem. Why think when you can hide behind the rules?

If there is any chance your employees confuse compliance with the ability to serve, you've got a problem. There are always ways to help customers without breaking important rules. However, to be successful, your employees must:

• Know that helping customers with problems is critical
• Be able to distinguish between unbreakable rules and standard practices 
• Listen to the customer and challenge themselves to find a solution that meets the customer's needs and complies with unbreakable rules

That a senior executive fell short on all three does not bode well for this bank.

It is time to tell the tale. I'm ready and I think the world deserves to hear it.

The snow was falling fast and furiously when my parents' email arrived from 1400 miles away. "Exit" was the subject line. It is not uncommon for parents to rail against old age homes and unnecessary medical care, but doing something about it is quite uncommon. Were they? Did "exit" mean what I thought it did?

My mother never thought they would get anywhere near old age but would meet their demise on one of their many wild adventures to every remote corner of the world. Once old age tamed their excursions, my father decided a bottle of scotch and a snowbank would do the trick. I used to chuckle. More recently I asked, "What if it is summer?"

My parents always said they wanted to live together in their big, old farm house until they could do so no longer, and then they didn't want to live. They made it abundantly clear they had no intentions of being hauled off somewhere or letting some caregiver invade their privacy. None of those sentiments prevented my siblings and me from worrying about what could happen. Despite being mentally sharp and managing day to day, the writing was on the wall. The likelihood of a fall or other debilitating change, which would end life as they knew it, was increasing dramatically. What would we or could we do to help that would not incur their wrath?

Those who knew my parents well were not surprised by their decision. It fit. Even the short and cryptic email message fit: "We are checking out." It reminded me of the "letters" my father sent me in college written on both sides of a prescription blank. And the way they went about it was equally perfect. The waste baskets had all been emptied. Every dish was clean and in its place. The newspaper had been stopped. The bills were paid ahead. The wills were right on top in the most likely drawer.

Before you assume they were just neat and tidy, let me tell you how I know they were only thinking of us. When my daughters were in middle school, my endlessly traveling parents took them exploring all over Greece, Italy, and Paris. When my niece graduated from high school, my parents funded her trip to Europe. The last checks they wrote were to the three younger granddaughters. Each memo line read "for foreign travel." They were thoughtful, generous, fair, and committed to their values right to the end.

I wish you had known my parents and felt how deeply consistent and, almost, predictable their actions. It is a story of love and integrity that holds lessons for all of us about values, authenticity, courage, devotion, and personal responsibility. I am sad for me, but happy they were so clear about what they wanted, able to make such a decision together, successful in execution, not tempted to wait one day too long, never separated, and never too far gone to live life as they wished it to be. Regardless of the choices any of us might make, I can only admire their clarity and constancy. Anything less would have been a painful disappointment even though I didn't know it until they checked out for the last time.

Scientists at Stanford have made an entire mouse brain transparent so they can view the neurons in stunning color and explore the structure without using a knife. They call this process Clarity.