A beach conversation earlier this week caught Cam's attention. And he asks if we've ever had so many known solutions to a common problem and ignored them?

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At a family event earlier this week I asked eight members of my extended family who liked their work. Six people did not their work. Some hated their jobs. Some were just ready for something new. And some were actively looking for new jobs but only something they’d enjoy and were struggling to find anything that they thought they’d enjoy. One had weeks to go before retiring at age sixty. Rather than go to sixty-five, he decided to get out early. His young-ish retirement added risk to whether his savings would last but he was willing to accept that risk - he couldn’t take his work anymore. The youngest participant in the conversation was thirty, so it wasn’t workplace veterans vs workplace newbies. It was across the ages.

I wondered: Is this typical? Does seventy five percent of the workforce dislike their work? And some so much that they will accept more risk in their retirement to bug out early?

These questions led me back to some notes I took while listening to a podcast a while ago. Ezra Klein interviewed the author, whose name I didn’t write down, and the author said some fascinating things:

First – Our society continues to create conditions that are at odds with human flourishing. And, per this guy, we know this! Yet we continue to do it. So, I thought, are jobs that are being offered and created today at odds with flourishing? What would a job that facilitated human flourishing look like? Is it even possible? Do I know anyone that has one?

Second – Few people know what they want. Only that they don’t want “this”, whatever this is. The don’t want the work they have, only that there must be something better. But what? Most people have no idea.

Third – We have a good idea of what a good life should look like and be BUT we seldom pursue it. And, he said, we train our kids to not pursue it.

Third – Our desires today DON’T lead to flourishing. They lead to loneliness. Ask yourself - what are your desires? And be honest – will getting them help you flourish or make you lonely? Or lonelier?

Finally, the author said there are three things that lead to flourishing: Education, Religion and Art. Not spirituality. Religion. And there are less of all these things today. Less practice of them. Less study of them. Less pursuit of them. Less pushing our kids toward them. And yet, per the author, they are, and always have been, the keys to happiness.

What does it mean that we know the solutions to our unhappiness problems and ignore them. What does it mean that those in influencer positions in our workplace could create elements of jobs that would make others be happier? But we instead follow – and participate in and help create and push our kids into - a culture that ignores the answers? Has a society ever had known solutions to known problems and simply ignored them?

I’m wresting with this. It tough. How do we get off this wheel?

I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston seems to think writers are a good bit like Labrador retrievers - they can't not chase the stick. And writer can't not tell a story.

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I stepped into the Mobile Literary Festival back in April not knowing what to expect. What I found surprised me and, ultimately, inspired me. Here’s what happened.

But first - I used to own labrador retrievers. I learned they could never not chase the stick. Or the socks. Or the pinecone. Whenever I tossed something, they had to go after it. They couldn’t control themselves. It was who they were. It was in their bones.

What I found at the Mobile Literary Festival was kind of the same – these people could not NOT tell a story. They had to write the stories that they witnessed or that were forming in their heads. They had to write. Few of the people made any real money from their writing. Maybe enough for a meal once a month or a load of groceries. Most of them did it for the joy of the hobby and the joy of commiserating with their fellow writers about the challenges of writing and telling their stories. I loved these people. I got the same feeling sitting with these writers as I do when I stand at the finish line of a long road race and watch people who have no God-given running talent push themselves over the finish line. They do it out of desire, deep perseverance, and guts. They just want to do it. And I loved ‘em. They inspired me.

To celebrate these writers, I pitched an idea to Alabama Public Radio. “Let’s create a space,” I said, “where Alabama based writers can have their voices heard. And I want to feature the ones that aren’t famous. The ones who, like a labrador retriever, can’t not tell their stories.” They agreed to give it a try. So on Wednesday, July 9th at 7:30pm, we’re launching this thing. It will be a thirty-minute segment of one writer reading his or her work. Maybe it’s original for the broadcast, maybe it’s a chapter of a book they’ve written or are working on. Who knows. It’ll be writers reading their own stuff.

John Nielsen. Remember his name. He’ll be one of the first ones. His story is called Angels of Fire in the Kudzu Realm. It’s awesome. Jodie Cain Smith will read from her newest book. She uses her theater training to really really read her story well. Rob Herndon has been working on a book for years and will read Chapter Two. You’re going to love his characters. And Lynn Oldshue has been telling people’s stories for years. She met a bunch of folks who were roaming around the docks getting a peek at the US United States which is tied up here in Mobile. She tells their stories. And the writers inspired me so much that I give fiction a shot for the first time since my creative writing class back in college. I loved it but it was harder than I remember. But I loved it.

Put it on your calendar – July 9th at 7:30pm. We’re calling it the Alabama Writer’s Wednesday Night Showcase. It’s new. It’s different. And I don’t think there’s anything like it anywhere out there. This will be fun.

I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, is Cam talking to his plants? Talking to himself. Both? And what's the message?

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I use this commentary quite a bit as therapy. If I’m trying to work something out, I’ve learned that writing about it then speaking it helps in some way or another. One of the most recent themes that regular listeners may recognize is this transition into whatever the next chapter of my life will be. Every morning, the mirror reflects the changes taking place on the outside and I wonder when the change will impact the inner parts of me.

My mother used to get up in the mornings, get her coffee, and in her robe go out onto her back patio and check on her plants. I remember her bending over them and touching some of them and then talking to them a bit. Maybe she’d clip a flower whose bloom had faded and offer some encouragement to the plant to send her another flower. I thought it was ridiculous up until a few weeks ago when I realized I was now doing it, too. A coffee, a step onto the patio, a visit to my orchids that, people tell me, should be inside but sure appear happier outside. My one-year-old potted lemon tree that is putting on so much growth but, as yet, no lemons. I give it a short motivational speech – you can do it lemon tree. I see your potential. You have what it takes. You’re a good-looking tree and I can tell your lemons will be great. Focus. Stay the course. I’ll take care of you.

Then on to the staghorn fern that hangs at the corner of the patio that’s doing so well. I gently touch the fronds and compliment the fern on such strong and green shoots.

My last visit every morning is to my oncidium orchid, better known as a dancing lady orchid. That orchid and I have been together a long time. It grows well. It appears happy. I changed its soil earlier in the spring and put it back in the same pot and gave it a good bit of orchid food. It quickly put on big new leaves and it continues to show, from all I can see on the outside, that it’s happy. But it hasn’t bloomed in a long while. I check every day for a tiny bloom spike to show me that it’s truly happy and wants to express its joy, but nothing.

And I say to it, “You have everything I know how to give you for you to thrive. But it’s like you’re waiting for something more, some big out side force to identify that there’s something inside of you that you need to take that next big leap forward to express your joy. You’re waiting for something to excite you and tease you into blooming again, for you to give the world what you know is in there, aching to come out and share. But you’re not sure what’s in there and how to get it out. When you were younger and smaller, getting you to bloom wasn’t hard. Today, though, I can see that inside you, something missing.” And I take my coffee back inside, and sit quietly for a while, realizing what I’ve just said.

I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.

Saturday afternoon, Cam was on the eastern shore of Mobile Bay. On this week's Keepin' It Real, he tells us how he got there.

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I was reminded about fear on Saturday. And, strangely, it was exactly what I had hoped for.

Last July, I decided it was time to test myself. I had been comfortable for too long. It was time to be afraid again. Not the fear that comes danger and helplessness or the fear of someone saying Boo, but the fear that comes from gathering the wits and the strength to get yourself out of a tough situation. In my experience, that’s the fear the makes you feel alive.

So I decided to attempt paddling on a stand up paddleboard the full way across Mobile Bay. Just me, all by myself, on the open water. I have a sort of phobia about being in the open water. It’s not a crippling phobia but it’s there. At night in bed when I thought about the paddling alone across the bay, that fear of being alone, in the middle of the water on my board kept me from getting to sleep. I’d have to face this fear head on to meet my goal.

I calculated that the crossing should take me about four hours. The bay is just shy of eleven miles wide where I wanted to cross. I set about training with the goal of being able to paddle a solid three hours, hoping that adrenaline during the crossing would give me the additional hour I needed to complete it.

What started last July came to fruition this past Saturday. The weather was good but not great. When I pushed away from the shore just north of the mouth of Dog River, the wind was blowing out of the north about 11 mph. To head east toward my target, I had to paddle hard northeast and get blown south. Two hours after starting I was in the middle of the bay struggling to keep my mind from ambushing me. I was in the open water, there was no one anywhere near me, and if I needed help I’d have to call on my cell phone for someone to launch their boat and come find me. Fear was percolating. I was no longer facing it, I was in it.

My estimate of four hours was badly off, perhaps due to not factoring the cross wind into my training. My arms ached, my legs were trembling with fatigue, and my right lat was seizing into cramps. The eastern shore of Mobile Bay didn’t seem to be getting any closer. I was focusing on keeping my thoughts from getting out of control and finding energy for another stroke. Then another. Then another.

Five hours and twenty minutes after launching I touched the eastern shore of Mobile Bay. I was exhausted and could only sit for twenty minutes before attempting to stand. I made it, though. I did it.

Every so often it’s important to remind yourself that you can do hard things. That you can face fear and get through it. And to know you have completed something that you will never ever, ever, try to do again.

I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston stands at the register at a coffee shop and what comes out of his mouth is a complete surprise to him.

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Last week I bought a coffee and a T-Shirt at a coffee shop. And at that awkward moment when the person at the register spins the pad around for me to sign and enter a tip amount, I asked the guy “How much should I tip you for this?” I’ve never asked that question before. The moment I thought about asking it was after I had said it.

Tipping has gotten out of hand. A few weeks back at a hotel in Colorado, every transaction at the hotel automatically included a 25% tip and then space on the bill to add more. At the hotel coffee shop, I’d buy a coffee, they’d hand me an empty cup and point me to the coffee pots across the way, and then ask for a tip. Then ask me to “round up” for some sort of something, adding more money to the transaction. You and I are paying a lot more for what we used to get and then doing the work ourselves. More and more people want you and me to add money to our transactions for doing their job. I know I sound old and curmudgeonly but, dang it, it’s getting out of hand.

That’s why this transaction at the coffee shop stood out. “How much should I tip you for this?” I asked. The guy said, “Nothing. I’ve done my job. I poured you a coffee and rung you up in the register. You don’t even want a bag for your T Shirt. There is no tip necessary.”

I wept.

I tell people that if I order food or drink standing up I don’t tip. You shouldn’t tip for service if you’re standing. That’s what I say. That’s my rule. However, follow me around you’d see that I seldom obey my own rule. That awkward moment when the person at the register is waiting for you to add your tip so they can complete the transaction. They’re watching and I give in nearly every time. I’m weak.

Similarly, my wife and I recently changed homeowners insurance. I then got an email to download their contractor’s app and a page of instructions about how to use their app to take photos and videos of my house so they can confirm the insurance quote. In addition to downloading the app, it would require complex passwords, two-step authentications, and, likely headaches and time on the phone with their service team. Though branding it as a simple tool that wouldn’t take much time, they were asking me to do their job. I simply replied to the email that I’m not going to do it. That’s their job, that’s what I’m paying them for. I could sense the eye-rolls on the other side and they said they’d send out a representative to collect the information. A small win.

If you agree with me, if you’re frustrated about paying more and more for what you’re getting and doing their job along the way, let me hear from you. Send me a donation and I’ll continue to beat this drum on our behalf. And don’t forget to round up.

I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.

This week Cam offers some insight to new college graduates on some basic workplace skills that will make them effective in their workplace. He’s advised his clients for over twenty years on these things, maybe he should have something worthwhile to say.

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My daughter graduated from college in May. After 20+ years advising companies and 7+ years interviewing workplace leaders on my What’s Working with Cam Marston radio show and podcast, I realized I should have some useful advice for her—and others—stepping into the next chapter. This is lesson number one called Wisdom is more important than Smarts. You can follow the upcoming lesson on my Linkedin page.

Last week, after giving a speech in Atlanta, a young man approached me with a familiar question: “How do I deal with my Gen Z employee who’s been here a year and now wants a leadership role—or else he’s leaving?”

I’ve heard this one for about ten years. First, it was Millennials asking this of Gen X leaders. Now, it’s Gen Z asking it of Millennials.

So, what’s changed?

We raised our kids in a culture of constant praise and reward. We applauded nearly everything. They didn’t ask for it—we gave it to them, believing it was the right thing to do. But it created expectations: follow the rules, don’t mess up, and a reward will come.

And while that may work in classrooms and sports, the workplace plays by different rules. Competence may get you in the game, but leadership requires wisdom.

Wisdom isn’t knowing how to do the job. It’s knowing when, where, why, and with whom. It’s built over time—by watching people, seeing how decisions ripple through teams, and understanding the bigger picture.

Can wisdom be accelerated? Maybe—but only through pain and loss. A job falling apart. A serious illness. Hard-earned experience. And nobody wants that path.

Wisdom teaches restraint:

• What not to say
• What not to email
• What not to escalate
• What attention not to attract

Wisdom also teaches self-awareness:

• What do I do well?
• What energizes me?
• Where am I weak?
• What kind of feedback helps me improve?

Even the smartest new hire with the highest GPA won’t have those answers yet. Because wisdom requires time. There is no shortcut. No cheat code.

In fact, the moment someone says, “I’ve been here a year; I’m ready to lead,” they reveal the very lack of wisdom that disqualifies them.

So, for my daughter—and others in her shoes—here’s what I’d say:

1. Focus on what you’re learning. Beyond task lists, study people and power dynamics.

• What makes leaders effective and likable?
• Who persuades without authority—and how?
• Who’s trusted? Who’s not? Why?
• What subtle behaviors win or lose influence?

2. Build relationships. Meet people inside and outside your org. Listen deeply. Ask “why” a lot. And speak less—questions build more respect than fast answers.

And finally: stop counting the days.

Keep your head up. Watch closely. Learn quickly. Adjust often. Wisdom sneaks in when you least expect it—and that’s what turns a worker into a leader.

I’m Cam Marston an I’m just trying to keep it real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, lots of people celebrated last week. Cam was one of them. It was a case of determination unwavering belief that was finally rewarded.

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So, after six years, Blaine finally got the call.

I remember during the pandemic my wife and I rode our children’s bikes down the center of the street late one evening to our friend’s house for a cocktail. It was strange to have no traffic at that hour. At their house we sat outside and chatted for a while. Blaine was home and he and his sister stood in the back yard playing an improvised game hitting ping pong balls with a dowel across the yard. They’d toss it and smack it. I marveled at how hard it must be to hit such a tiny ball with a tinier bat but they both did, repeatedly. Having fun with each other while they were sent home from school, waiting for the pandemic to ease so they could return to their worlds. I hoped they wouldn’t ask me to take a swing. I would never have made contact.

Blaine was a solid player in high school. Then an even better player in college. Then he stood out in single a, then double a, and now in triple a. At each level, he figured out how to succeed, winning awards along the way. And whenever he was at home visiting his parents and friends, he was a nice guy. We like him. Everyone does. That was clear at his wedding. He has a deep support system. And Blaine finally got the call.

Along the way, Blaine had developed an army of supporters. Coaches, teachers, parents, pastors, friends, neighbors, church congregations. We’d each invested a small piece of our hearts along the way, and each of us harbored a silent hope that that this young man’s determination would pay off. He never wavered. We saw something enviable in him. It wasn’t only his remarkable baseball talent. It was his belief in himself.

Thursday, a cancelled flight stranded my wife and me in Colorado. We tried to make the best of it. Today is a great day, my wife said, because the experts say that just saying that can change your attitude. So, we sat with a drink, determined that it was a great day. I heard her gasp as she looked into her phone. Blaine’s mom and dad had checked out of their beach hotel in Florida after just a few hours and were driving home to catch a flight. Blaine was playing that night in Arlington and then on Tuesday in Boston. They would be there. No questions, because Blaine finally got the call.

My wife and Blaine’s mom spoke. Her eyes got wet. Blaine’s mom and dad were busting it down I-10, vacation abandoned. After hundreds and hundreds of games and countless more practices and dues paying, Blaine finally got the call. He had never wavered. He was headed to the majors. My wife and I toasted Blaine and his family, now both of our eyes wet, on this great day. Because Blaine finally got the call. And in a way, we all did.

Good luck, Blaine. Win or lose, we got your back. All of us. Count on it.

I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam wonders if we have what it takes any more. If the thumbs up button is as far as we'll go or as much as we'll do.

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David Brooks wrote a column in the New York Times last week calling for a, quote “comprehensive national civic uprising.” There are well over four thousand comments with most being something along the lines of “Yes. It’s about time. Someone should do something.” Brooks’ says the Trump administration has gone too far, that we are indeed in a constitutional crisis, and it’s time to act.

But, I wonder, do we have what it takes to act? Or have we gotten used to saying “yeah, that’s a problem but it’s someone else’s problem, not mine” and maybe hit the thumbs up button.

I’m going to change the subject. I’ve had some tense conversations with my Christian friends when I tell them that it’s much easier to worship than to be a practitioner of their faith. Worshipping Jesus is easy. We go to church. We pray before meals. We ask for blessings in his name. Maybe wear a crucifix. That’s worshipping. It’s public. Visible. And, frankly, easy compared to what he actually asked us to do. “Don’t bother with worshiping me,” he essentially said. “Follow me.” Do what I do. Behave the way I behave. Luke, Chapter Six, “Why do you call me Lord, Lord and not do what I tell you?” There many similar versus throughout the New Testament. 

But do any of us have what it takes to do what he told us? Few. Very few. Because that’s hard and, today, puts us at odds with what’s happening in our nation. “I’m good with the Lord. I went to Church on Easter.” Well how about that guy who was sent mistakenly to prison in El Salvador?  We say, “Yea. That’s awful. He shouldn’t have been caught up in whatever he was caught up with. I’ll pray for him.” And that’s it.

But if we were truly practitioners, not simply worshippers, what would we do to help he imprisoned, he poor, the neglected?  We’d do something active with our feet, not simply bring our hands together and mention the poor guy over grace before dinner. Does this nation today, supposedly packed with Christians, have what it takes to act Christ-like anymore? Or are we all so fat and content that we let abuses fly and we’ll simply click the thumbs-up and offer our BS thoughts and prayers?

I’m disgusted by what’s happening out there. I’m disgusted by the way so many of the Universities and law firms, supposedly bastions established to spread open thinking and to uphold democracy, are rolling over like puppies on the teat. There are protesters, but I’m disgusted by how many of us – me included – are watching and not practicing our faith.

We were once a proud nation who pitied the banana republics run by bullies with no character and integrity. We would act to protect the weak, the poor, the vulnerable. Whether you agreed with or not, we knew this country would act. Now, we don’t even act on it inside our own borders.

We are a nation supposedly full of Christians who, despite what our Christ asked of us, feel contented to only worship and not practice our faith. Prove me wrong. Please!

I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.

On this week's Keepin' It Real, Cam tells us that based on a series of recent events, he has two people he'd like offer up as potentially superb spies.

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My twins are high school juniors, and prom was last Saturday night. The event went something like this:

For my son: He brought his Joseph Banks suit downstairs about noon. It looked like it had been in a pile on the floor since he last wore it in March. There was a button-down shirt with it. My wife took the clothes and began steaming the wrinkles out. She asked “What flowers did you get your date.” A blank look. “Go to Publix and get some flowers. We’ll make something.” He returned with one hydrangea. My wife quietly returned to Publix and came home with an assortment of flowers and began making a bouquet. My son borrowed my dress shoes.

For my daughter: She called her older sister earlier in the week and asked if she could return from college and help her with her hair for prom. Saturday, early afternoon, for about an hour, the two sat in front of a mirror and pre-prepped her hair. My prom-bound daughter left the house, hair in giant rollers, for the next stop in her pre-prom prep tour at someone’s house. There she would follow her sister’s instructions on getting the hair to the next step. Her dress was hermetically sealed in a bag to be opened only when put on. Walking to her car she carried an assortment of bags including make-up, clothes, hair dryers, and miscellaneous things I couldn’t ID. And a Stanley cup in her hand, of course.

My son and his buddies stood together for pictures in a yard where they collected before prom. Parents quickly snapped photos before the boys wandered off. They looked disinterested and annoyed by the photos.

My daughter and her friends, now fully primped, posed in front of a fountain downtown, while one of their friend’s mothers, a photographer, posed the girls individually, then in pairs, then as a group. Per the photos, the girls appeared happy to comply. The next day, parents were sent a link to a website where we could review and download the photos we liked.

At prom the boys sat on the stage, from what we heard, looking over the sight and largely talking amongst themselves. The girls stood in front of the DJ and danced. There may have been some co-mingled dancing toward the 10pm hour, but those details remain shrouded. The DJ, they said, was good.

From there, my son went to a friend’s house for a late meal cooked by parents, and they slept on sofas and mattresses in a den. He arrived home about noon the next day.

My daughter was treated to a night in a hotel for a friend’s birthday where she shared a room with three friends. They gabbed until late, discussing the particulars of the evening. She arrived home about the same time as my son. Both looked tired.

Dinner Sunday night, my wife and I asked, “How was prom?”

“Good,” they both replied.

“Tell us about it. What happened?”

“Nothin’.”

“Nothing? Really?”

“Nope. Nothin’. Just prom.”

After all that, we get “Nothin. Just prom.” Tight lipped, no details, close to the vest, tell us nothing. They should work for the CIA. Maybe they do.

I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.

On today's Keepin' it Real, Cam reports on a writer's conference he attended last weekend where a good part of the conversation was about using AI. All the writers, Cam reports, choose to not use it, preferring to remain "pure."

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I attended a writers' conference last Saturday. Writers are a curious breed, convinced their unique perspective on describing something as mundane as a sunset is groundbreaking and essential. I love them. But they’re weird.

This year, though, a frequent topic was artificial intelligence – how do writers use it, if at all. Speaker after speaker claimed they don’t use the stuff, choosing instead to remain “pure.”

Huh, I thought. I wonder if mathematicians once dismissed calculators because they weren’t pure. Or cooks refused kitchen blenders because electrified blending wasn’t pure. Or the ancient Chinese dismissed matches because fire made from flint and steel was somehow more pure.

"AI just doesn't have a soul," the authors seemed to be saying "It can't experience love, loss, or regret." True enough, but then again, neither does my toaster, and it still reliably performs its job every morning without any existential angst. Plus, it doesn't complain when I burn the toast.

Truth be told, I wanted to agree with the speakers wholeheartedly. Part of me wanted to stand triumphantly on my chair, fist raised high, shouting, "Yes! AI can’t possibly write the way we can! Its unpure." But as I sat listening, I couldn’t help remembering countless times when I've stared helplessly at a blinking cursor on an empty screen, desperately begging for inspiration to appear. More often than not, what I ended up writing was about was mindless junk that I needed to fill a page and make a deadline. Maybe a dash of AI could have given my writer's block exactly the jump-start it needed.

Yet could an AI authentically capture the awkward silence after a joke falls embarrassingly flat—something I've personally experienced far too often—or perfectly describe the unique blend of ego and insecurity that simmered quietly throughout the conference room? Could it mimic the quiet desperation of writers jockeying for the attention and the validation of their peers?

The honest truth is, I don't know. And frankly, I'm not sure these writers at the conference really knew either. Perhaps they're right, and artificial intelligence will always lack that elusive "human touch." But who can say for sure? Maybe someday, an AI will pen a poem so profoundly moving that we'll all toss our beloved notebooks aside and question every choice we've ever made.

STOP. FULL STOP.

Everything you’ve just heard was written this morning by ChatGPT using the following prompt:

Write a 450-word commentary based on my Keepin' it Real commentaries for Alabama Public Radio, written in my voice. In it, discuss a writer's conference I attended last week and how many writers felt that AI could never replace the sound of the true creative's voice. Make it humorous and poke a bit of fun at the writers who said this.

And folks, I can promise you this is the first time I’ve used AI in any of my 300+ commentaries. And I pledge to you going forward, I intend to Keep It Real.