I’ve always considered New England to be an exceptionally tolerant place, so this is probably cause for concern. After all, as annoying as “those people” can be, I don’t think we need to return to America’s shameful segregationist past. Must we keep them out of our country clubs and boarding schools? Require them to ride in the back of the 5:31 to Greenwich? Deny them employment as hedge fund managers?

Anyway, I poked around a little more and, for the life of me, couldn’t find any “Keep Out Italian-Americans!!!!” signs, so, eh…no skin off my back, right?

Unfortunately, before the glory of the Internet, we had no way to access in an organized and helpful manner those brutally honest judgements, allowing us to live in a cozy cocoon of (mostly) blissful ignorance. 

Now there’s FaceStat.

FaceStat is like a focus group for your face, a way to understand the visceral impression the brand known as You ^TM makes on others. Marketers spend millions of dollars every day testing their products’ packaging and other visual attributes to determine what exactly attracts customers and drives purchasing decisions. Now you can do the very same thing for free!

Simply upload a photo of yourself, choose from a number of attributes that you would like people’s opinions on, such as age, intelligence, attractiveness and approachability, and within a few hours — viola! — your self-esteem is curled up in the fetal position on the floor, gasping for breath!

Allow me to demonstrate:

Just for giggles — because, you know, I really, really don’t care about this sort of thing — I uploaded this photo, which I use on this site’s About Me page:

Tell me, wise and just denizens of the Internet, what you think of this fellow. How old is he? What level of intelligence does he possess? Describe him in one word, if you would be so kind.

Here’s what the world (sigh…) thinks of me. Let’s start with a few of the one word descriptions:

“Goofy,” “poseur,” “slow,” and “gray.” Pretty darn accurate, I must admit, but the cruelest cut of all? “Clintonesque.” Ouch — I think…

How about intelligence? A small number chose “bright,” but three times as many clicked on either “dull” or “doofus.” Is it the hair? Or the heavy-lidded eyebrows? Hmmm…

As for age, most people accurately guessed somewhere in the range of 40 to 49 years (I’m 44); but there were enough guesses in the 50 to 59 range to give me pause, and enough in the 30 to 39 to give me hope — although I’m pretty sure those came from a nursing home somewhere.

Encouraging, yes?

Of course, I went back for more — this time with a secret weapon. 

As tempting as it was to find a photo from, say, 1987, I uploaded this one, taken just a few days after the first picture (that’s me on the right, by the way). Again, I asked:

Describe this guy in one word.

“Cool.” “Happy.” “Honest.” “Smart.” “Upstanding.” “Stallone.”

How intelligent, pray tell?

“Bright” and “Genius” outnumbered “Dull” by four-to-one.

Well, awright!

But, alas, it’s all too obvious, isn’t it? People see me standing next to that sweet and tasty eye candy and…well, just how idiotic and repulsive can he be, right? The dude has got it goin’ on.

The lovely woman in the picture is my wife, Christine, and she competes with a very hot blonde for my attention and adrenaline. I think I’ll ask her to be my vice presidential candidate. 

Hey, I ran it by the focus group.

Steve’s next book, due out in 2009, is Rizzo’s Heroes: Leadership Secrets from Around the World.

For some baffling, godforsaken reason, he decided he wanted to interview me for the book and an accompanying audio/CD project. Yeah, I know, go figure.

Anyhow, the audio interview is now available on Steve’s website. We chat about the role fun and passion play in success and happiness at work and life, and I attempt a lame joke or two. You may find my thoughts mildly interesting. Or incredibly annoying.

To listen, simply follow this link:

 Steve Rizzo Interview with Joe Fusco

Coincidentally, Steve was profiled and interviewed on CNBC last week (The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch) with Erin Brockovich and Paul Stanley of KISS fame; all three were voted “Least Likely to Succeed” in high school, but are now obviously enjoying successful careers.

Involving moi in your book project, however…c’mon, just how bright can he really be?

Each daily email features a word, ranging from those we use every day to, more often than not, those that only the biggest boobs among us work hard to slip into normal conversation — say, like deipnosophist. Along with a definition, or definitions, and some examples of usage, you can learn the origin of the word.

It is this latter feature that interests me the most. First, it is fascinating to see that no language is an island, and English in particular has been pollinated with ideas, concepts and words from Greek to Old Norse.

Second, every language has its own DNA visible through its origins, and is itself a form of DNA woven through our culture and history — in many ways, forming the building blocks of who we are and how we think. Sometimes the origin of a word, which often exposes the thought processes of the ancients who developed it, is more enlightening and meaningful than the word we are left with today.

Pusillanimous, which flitted into my inbox a few days ago, is one of those words.

It means “cowardly” or “lacking in courage or conviction.” But, as you can see, it is not a word most of us trot out on a daily basis.

Instead, the origin of the word is a more beautiful, elegantly simple definition of the concept of cowardice. It comes from two Latin words — pusillus, meaning “very small, or tiny;” and animus, meaning “soul.”

“Tiny soul.” Doesn’t that perfectly illuminate what a lack of courage truly is?

I braced for the worst.

The verdict? Turns out the right rear tire was just a few pounds of pressure less than the left rear tire. Apparently, in high-torque, high-revving (and, apparently high-strung and temperamental) rear-wheel drive autos, this minor pressure difference affects performance significantly. In Formula One and NASCAR vehicles, it often sends them into the wall.

Well, at least I was out only thirty bucks. Good girl…

We did get a little bit of a surprise, however.

When shipped from the factory, temporary spacers are installed in the springs of the car’s suspension to avoid wear-and-tear during transit. Babycakes never had her’s removed by the original dealer!

The car was always exceptionally stiff, which I always ascribed to the intentional design and engineering of her species as a torsionally rigid street racer built to hold fast turns and curves tight. But she was always particularly teeth-rattling on rough roads and railroad crossings, and just a few hours in the cockpit left you exhausted with the beginnings of a headache.

Now we know why.

Anyway, she rides like a different car — softer, sweeter and more liquid — yet still aggressively edgy and stiff where it counts, which is in the frame, not the suspension.

In return, last night she gave me one of those happy-to-be-alive-aren’t-I-lucky-to-live-in-Vermont evenings. Clear and crisp, where every color seems more vivid, the air more nourishing, and your fellow humans less annoying than usual. We made a loop around Lake Dunmore and then straight home.

Tonight, she gets a bath.

About three months ago, I was asked to serve as a fellow of the Bell Leadership Institute in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. For me this is the equivalent, if I were ten years old, of being asked to join the New York Yankees. I am the first person to be asked to serve the Institute in this capacity.

I was given this honor directly by Dr. Gerald Bell, a world-class thinker, writer and teacher on the subject of individual and organizational leadership mastery. He has helped hundreds of thousands of business and organizational leaders around the world become not only better, more effective human beings, but to make the lives of those around them better and more productive as well. Meeting and learning from him has been one of the greatest blessings of my personal and professional life.

For me, the great thrill is the opportunity to work simultaneously in two capacities — first, in my current position as an executive engaged in the daily lives and challenges of working managers. And second, being able to work and learn from Dr. Bell, developing both a deeper understanding of great leadership, and the ability to teach, coach, encourage and build great leaders.

Being friends with Brian was, and is, effortless. He was a good kid, and is a good man. Optimistic, steadfast, easy-going and unflappable, he was the perfect complement to the overly serious, moody introvert I was always in danger of becoming.

One of the best, most uplifting days of my recent roadtrip was being able to visit Brian and his family in northern Maryland for the better part of an afternoon and evening. We hadn’t seen each other in a few years but, within minutes, it was as if only a few days had passed.

We sat in his family room, and reconstructed the beginnings of our friendship, why we’ve been able to sustain it, and what we’d do differently if we were seventeen years old again (um…not quite as pathetic as it sounds. Really).

The conversation, below, is in .mp3 format.

In other words, how can I cover the most ground in the shortest distance and time possible. Of course, this leaves no time for collecting the experiences of travel. There is a starting point and an ending point. There is nothing in the middle — no lingering, no exploring, no surprises. In fact, half the fun is getting there sooner than the GPS predicted.

So when I set off from Vermont en route to Chapel Hill, N.C. with the idea that the blonde and I would “meander” I had my doubts that I would be able to resist the “beeline” impulse and, instead, actually relax and enjoy a trip planned around “whatever,” “wherever,” and “whenever.”

Surprisingly, it’s worked. Instead of looking for the straightest line, I’ve found some great roads and breathtaking scenery. And a confused wrong turn taken in a downpour becomes simply another enjoyable route to the same destination. The contrast is stark. When I joined an interstate for a brief 70-mile leg, it was like landing on another planet, its inhabitants obsessed with speed, seemingly panicking at their lack of margin. It was unnerving.

I’m enjoying myself. I’ve reconnected with an old friend and reminisced about the origins and sustainability of our friendship over three decades. I’ve been reminded that this is still a very rural, untouched country. I’ve spent an afternoon on a college campus chatting with students and faculty, feeling every one of my forty-four years. I’ve given myself margin, and not just in time, but in spirit and experience as well.

I also realized that my car is not the delicate flower I tell myself she is, and that she’ll be okay in all kinds of weather.

And, even though it rained all day yesterday, it wasn’t so bad — I came this close to Intercourse…Pennsylvania.

But first, some background:

There are two major reasons I’m driving 1,200 miles round trip instead of flying. First, as an experiment — does someone actually have to be bolted in their office to be productive, particularly if the work they are doing is mainly (a) thinking and advising; and (b) connecting and networking? We have great tools where I work: national broadband access, a virtual private network, VoIP phones. These tools, used intelligently, can be liberating; that is, since virtually none of my work is physical, the traditional “sit-at-your-desk-answer-your-phone” requirements don’t necessarily apply. I could make the argument that, although I am travelling on business, I am nearly as productive and “present” sitting in this hotel room as I am in my office for any given period of time.

Second — and here’s where I’ve packed the mixed feelings — I need to spend more time with my mistress.

Yes, it’s just a car. Owning it has made me a little neurotic, however, taking pride in silly little things like using it sparingly, never driving it in the rain, obsessing over its condition and cleanliness, and bragging about how few miles I put on it each season. In three years, I’ve put only 4,000 miles on it which, when you think about how much fun and joy the thing gives me, is a crying shame.

Yeah, right. So I need to get over that. This trip is the prescription.

I left Vermont yesterday afternoon a little later than expected (my wife had food poisoning, and the kids needed to be shuttled to various activities and obligations around town. Plus, I was procrastinating and still unsure I even wanted to go). It had been raining and overcast in the morning, but the weather broke and it was an absolutely stunning day for a drive.

Less than five miles out of town, I received an omen. A carload of teenage girls pulls alongside, squealing and giggling. One of them scrawls a note in lipstick on the passenger window of their Honda Civic; “I love your car” (only the word “love” was a heart. Awww…)

I think it’s going to be a good trip.

I did a fair amount of work for Buddy Cianci in the early 1990s, specifically as a consultant on two of his mayoral campaigns (including his 1990 comeback election). As a starry-eyed twenty-six year-old, I overlooked most, if not all, of the man’s flaws because, quite frankly, he was charming and witty and personable and magnetic and razor smart. And I was having a lot of fun.

As he did when first forced from office in 1984, Buddy has returned to Providence as a talk radio personality. This gives him a natural platform to stay relevant, engaged and visible. It is also a devastatingly effective outlet for his natural gifts.

I just hope he resists his worst impulses, stays out of politics, and just tries to be the best Buddy he can be.

Where does it draw its “order” and “control” from?

Does it rely primarily on processes, policies and procedures, and systems — in other words, does it rely on “the rules” to get the results it wants?

Or is it a place where a high degree of trust, communication, shared purpose, clarity of expectations, and a weave of abundant information sharing and connection exist? In other words, does it draw its order, functionality and efficiency from “relationships”?

What motivates people in that organization to act — “have to,” or “want to?” The difference is very, very significant.

Rules, or relationships — where would you rather work, play and live?

We also use the opportunity to explore Manhattan and, in a little bit of a switch, he gets to look up to me. To a fifteen year-old growing up in a small town in Vermont, New York City is a stimulating, strange planet of sophistication, temptations and…well, life. My own career has given me an education in the more interesting delights of the island, and the fact that I know where to get a great milkshake in Hell’s Kitchen makes me in his eyes, well…less of a dweeb. At least temporarily.

Some observations from an afternoon of people watching and walking about:

One. The vast, vast majority of consumers don’t seem to be the least bit interested in an automobile’s performance. People are less attracted by good engineering, instead perferring to be exclusively mesmerized by a vehicle’s creature comforts. Not surprisingly, manufacturers have picked up on this, and the auto show was consistently characterized (in my view) by an odd emphasis on marketing cars as mobile living rooms or entertainment centers. I saw flat panel televisions that drop out of the roof and pivot in all directions; center-stack audio, video and environment controls that rival in sophistication many primary flight displays in modern jets; and, in a concept vehicle from Nissan, a rear seat that was essentially a plush, curved sofa. Is anybody planning on paying attention to the road? And do we really need minivans a fourteenth century baron would consider an outstanding home for his wife and their fourteen children?

Two. This is an impressive vehicle, both aesthetically and in promised performance. Boy, Hyundai has come a long way. My wife’s first car was a Hyundai she paid $4,995 for brand new; if you held it up to the light, you could almost see through it.

Three. Honda had a blonde at the show. Don’t worry, honey; she looked like a slut.

Four. The environmental and “green” movements have jumped the shark — or are about to. “Green” has become almost a parody of marketing hype — an “industry of cool.” One manufacturer’s presentation included an almost carnival barker-like description of how the interior burled wood trim came from old furniture scraps and the carpet is made entirely from banana silk fibers rather than — gasp! — petroleum. No word on how these vehicles can be produced economically (and without depleting the earth’s banana reserves) so the slack-jawed dude from New Jersey standing there in his shiny track suit and his gold chains can afford one, but this company has a soul, man, and, hey, now you can buy one too.

A Tale of Two Cathedrals

So we walked up to the Apple store on Fifth Avenue. There was a line to approach the clear glass cube that serves as the above-ground entry to the smoky plexiglass stairway where you descend to join a mob of worshippers, all reverently seeking the hope, peace and a better life where a trinity of design, information and entertainment all converge in a stunning facsimile of perfection.

A few blocks south sits St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It, too, is a “retail” presence of a movement that offers hope, peace and a better life. There was no line outside.

First, does anybody anywhere actually visit (and read) this silly, self-indulgent stuff I write?

Second, does anybody anywhere actually want to be my friend?

Here’s the deal — in late-April, early-May, the blonde and I will be travelling from our home in Vermont to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and back again. I’ll be in no particular hurry; instead, we’ll be meandering over the back roads and scenic by-ways of the several states that comprise a general, though not perfect, straight line between Point A (Vermont) and Point B (Chapel Hill).

If you live along this general route, let’s connect. I’ll buy you lunch, or whatever, and, as an added bonus, interview you as part of this site’s occasional “Conversations” series.

Drop me a note, or leave me a comment.

And yet, we learn something new every day, don’t we?

This enticing subject line dropped into my spam filter the other day:

“Teenage hotties at their liberal best”

I just might click on that one. I’m actually quite curious about the complex and thoughtful arguments the younger generation is making in favor of universal health care.

What…aren’t you?

”Techo”

Techo — a hybrid of “technology” and “echo” — describes the increasingly maddening habit of resending, or “echoing,” the same usually mundane or useless message by different technologies in everyday interpersonal communications.

Here’s an illustration: several managers I know report receiving phone calls from people asking them, “did you get my email?” almost instantaneous with the receipt of the email. Slightly different example: one manager has even received an email with the request, “Call me.”

My guess is there are two kinds of people who create “techoes:” (1) folks who just can’t seem to trust all them invisible tubes and wires that make up the Network, or (2) self-absorbed people who’ve been cutting into lines their whole lives.