显示标签为“Family”的博文。显示所有博文
显示标签为“Family”的博文。显示所有博文

2011年5月2日星期一

The Boss: Bearing the Family Torch

At the age of 12, I served an internship in the Riedel Crystal factory for two weeks. My father wanted to show me how work related to school. He was smart to do that because I wasn’t the best student, and the experience turned me around. ?


At 16, I went to boarding school in Salzburg, and at 18 ?enrolled in?a business management course in Kufstein, Austria.?I’d?attend it three days a week, and on the other two days I’d work in our factory, in sales and administration.?I rebelled for a time as a teenager, but watching my father as a businessman gave me perspective. It taught me a lot about family and work relationships.


At the time, Austrians were required to serve eight months in the military. I completed my service after business school. I was used to the regimentation and heavy athletic program from boarding school, so I enjoyed my time in the service. My group was involved in humanitarian work. There were avalanches that year, and we were ready to assist people.


In the late 1990s, my father sent me to Dubai to increase our customer base. We had only one customer there at the time. Out of respect for?the country’s general religious beliefs about? alcohol, we decided not to sell our wine glasses there. Instead we sold our other products — giftware, bowls and vases.


At 20, I went to work for one of our Paris distributors. It sounds glamorous, but it wasn’t that easy at first. I had left a girlfriend in Austria, and I wasn’t fluent in the language. Though I had learned French in school, I took a two-week crash course at Berlitz in Paris to speak it much better.


At 23, I moved to America to become executive vice president of our American business. We were doing about $10 million in sales. All the employees were older than me. I thought I could just jump in, be passionate and go from there, but no one trusted me. Even with my father’s training and with business school, I was unprepared. But I won the employees over and increased sales substantially in five years.


I became C.E.O. at 25. The most difficult part was analyzing some employees and realizing I had to let them go.


To develop a line of wine glasses for restaurants, I talked to chefs. They wanted glassware that was dishwasher-safe, among other things. It took me a year to determine what was needed. I designed a durable glass with a shorter stem called Riedel Restaurant.


Later, when I moved from Long Island to a small apartment in Hoboken, N.J., I learned what kind of glassware worked best for apartment dwellers. For example, when I returned from work in the evening, I wanted a wine glass that was beautiful and stackable but more casual than our others. I designed the wine glass that I needed for myself, our stemless “O” line. The glass was controversial in our family because my grandfather always said there’s a reason for a long stem — it allows you to swirl the wine in the glass for the best aroma. Americans, however, don’t adhere to that thinking.


I’ve belonged to the Young Presidents’ Organization for four years. It’s been helpful because I didn’t grow up here — I’ve learned how Americans conduct business. Once a month, I sit around a table with 10 other members. We talk about personal and business issues, and I can be myself.


I have only lately realized the importance of my heritage. It animates me because I don’t want to be the last of our line. I hold the torch now.?


 

The Boss: Bearing the Family Torch

At the age of 12, I served an internship in the Riedel Crystal factory for two weeks. My father wanted to show me how work related to school. He was smart to do that because I wasn’t the best student, and the experience turned me around. ?


At 16, I went to boarding school in Salzburg, and at 18 ?enrolled in?a business management course in Kufstein, Austria.?I’d?attend it three days a week, and on the other two days I’d work in our factory, in sales and administration.?I rebelled for a time as a teenager, but watching my father as a businessman gave me perspective. It taught me a lot about family and work relationships.


At the time, Austrians were required to serve eight months in the military. I completed my service after business school. I was used to the regimentation and heavy athletic program from boarding school, so I enjoyed my time in the service. My group was involved in humanitarian work. There were avalanches that year, and we were ready to assist people.


In the late 1990s, my father sent me to Dubai to increase our customer base. We had only one customer there at the time. Out of respect for?the country’s general religious beliefs about? alcohol, we decided not to sell our wine glasses there. Instead we sold our other products — giftware, bowls and vases.


At 20, I went to work for one of our Paris distributors. It sounds glamorous, but it wasn’t that easy at first. I had left a girlfriend in Austria, and I wasn’t fluent in the language. Though I had learned French in school, I took a two-week crash course at Berlitz in Paris to speak it much better.


At 23, I moved to America to become executive vice president of our American business. We were doing about $10 million in sales. All the employees were older than me. I thought I could just jump in, be passionate and go from there, but no one trusted me. Even with my father’s training and with business school, I was unprepared. But I won the employees over and increased sales substantially in five years.


I became C.E.O. at 25. The most difficult part was analyzing some employees and realizing I had to let them go.


To develop a line of wine glasses for restaurants, I talked to chefs. They wanted glassware that was dishwasher-safe, among other things. It took me a year to determine what was needed. I designed a durable glass with a shorter stem called Riedel Restaurant.


Later, when I moved from Long Island to a small apartment in Hoboken, N.J., I learned what kind of glassware worked best for apartment dwellers. For example, when I returned from work in the evening, I wanted a wine glass that was beautiful and stackable but more casual than our others. I designed the wine glass that I needed for myself, our stemless “O” line. The glass was controversial in our family because my grandfather always said there’s a reason for a long stem — it allows you to swirl the wine in the glass for the best aroma. Americans, however, don’t adhere to that thinking.


I’ve belonged to the Young Presidents’ Organization for four years. It’s been helpful because I didn’t grow up here — I’ve learned how Americans conduct business. Once a month, I sit around a table with 10 other members. We talk about personal and business issues, and I can be myself.


I have only lately realized the importance of my heritage. It animates me because I don’t want to be the last of our line. I hold the torch now.?


 

2011年4月23日星期六

Doctors INC.: Family Physician Can’t Give Away Solo Practice

Dr. Ronald Sroka held his hands about three feet apart, and John Mayer — fishing buddy and patient — smiled from the examination table. Dr. Sroka shook his head, glanced at a wall clock and quickly put his stethoscope to his ears.


“All right, deep breaths,” Dr. Sroka said. It was only 10 a.m., but Dr. Sroka was already behind schedule, with patients backed up in the waiting room like planes waiting to take off at La Guardia Airport. Too many stories; too little time.


“Talking too much is the kind of thing that gets me behind,” Dr. Sroka said with a shrug. “But it’s the only part of the job I like.”


A former president of the Maryland State Medical Society, Dr. Sroka has practiced family medicine for 32 years in a small, red-brick building just six miles from his childhood home, treating fishing buddies, neighbors and even his elementary school principal much the way doctors have practiced medicine for centuries. He likes to chat, but with costs going up and reimbursements down, that extra time has hurt his income. So Dr. Sroka, 62, thought about retiring.


He tried to sell his once highly profitable practice. No luck. He tried giving it away. No luck.


Dr. Sroka’s fate is emblematic of a transformation in American medicine. He once provided for nearly all of his patients’ medical needs — stitching up the injured, directing care for the hospitalized and keeping vigil for the dying. But doctors like him are increasingly being replaced by teams of rotating doctors and nurses who do not know their patients nearly as well. A centuries-old intimacy between doctor and patient is being lost, and patients who visit the doctor are often kept guessing about who will appear in the white coat.


The share of solo practices among members of the American Academy of Family Physicians fell to 18 percent by 2008 from 44 percent in 1986. And census figures show that in 2007, just 28 percent of doctors described themselves as self-employed, compared with 58 percent in 1970. Many of the provisions of the new health care law are likely to accelerate these trends.


“There’s not going to be any of us left,” Dr. Sroka said.


Indeed, younger doctors — half of whom are now women — are refusing to take over these small practices. They want better lifestyles, shorter work days, and weekends free of the beepers, cellphones and patient emergencies that have long defined doctors’ lives. Weighed down with debt, they want regular paychecks instead of shopkeeper risks. And even if they wanted such practices, banks — attuned to the growing uncertainties — are far less likely to lend the money needed.


For patients, the transition away from small private practices is not all bad. While larger practices tend to be less intimate, the care offered tends to be better — with more preventive services, better cardiac advice and fewer unnecessary tests. And the new policies that may finally put Dr. Sroka out of business are almost universally embraced — including wholesale adoption of electronic medical records and bundled payments from the federal Medicare program that encourage coordinated care.


“Those of us who think about medical errors and cost have no nostalgia — in fact, we have outright disdain — for the single practitioner like Marcus Welby,” David J. Rothman, president of the Institute on Medicine as a Profession at Columbia University, said of the 1970s TV doctor.


Dr. Sroka has not taken a sick day in 32 years. After his latest partner left in September, he was unable for five months to schedule any time off until another local doctor volunteered to cover for him. His income and patients depend upon his daily presence. This resiliency is part of a tough-minded medical culture — forged in round-the-clock residency shifts, constant on-call schedules, and workplaces in which revered doctors made decisions and staff members followed orders — that is fast disappearing.


Had he left a decade ago, Dr. Sroka might have been able to persuade a doctor to pay $500,000 or more for his roster of 4,000 patients. That he cannot give his practice away results not only from the unattractiveness of its inflexible schedule but also because large group practices can negotiate higher fees from insurers, which translates into more money for doctors.


Building Relationships


Handsome, silver-haired and likable, Dr. Sroka is indeed a modern-day Marcus Welby, his idol. He holds ailing patients’ hands, pats their thickening bellies, and has a talent for diagnosing and explaining complex health problems.


Many of his patients adore him.


One of them, Alicia Beall, 53, came in for a consultation after a pain in her foot grew worrisome. She has been seeing Dr. Sroka for 30 years, and he quickly guessed that she was suffering plantar fasciitis, a painful inflammation.


“So take off your shoe,” Dr. Sroka said. She did, and Dr. Sroka lifted her foot.


“If it’s plantar fasciitis, it’s usually right there,” Dr. Sroka said and pressed his thumb into her heel.


“Ow! Don’t do that,” Ms. Beall said and smacked him with a magazine. They both laughed.


 

2011年4月12日星期二

Family 'devastated' by body find

 11 April 2011 Last updated at 07:41 ET Becky Godden-Edwards Miss Godden-Edwards was reported to the Missing People Helpline in 2007 by her family The mother of a woman whose remains were found in a Gloucestershire field has spoken of how her daughter's death had devastated her family.


Karen Edwards said Becky Godden-Edwards' drug addiction had turned her in to a "very different person".


Her parents told a news conference that police had given the family the news on what would have been her 29th birthday.


Her remains were found in a field in Eastleach by police investigating the murder of 22-year-old Sian O'Callaghan.


Mrs Edwards added: "Life was hard before when she was living the life of an addict but we really did think she was alive and that one day she would come back home.


"Becky has now been found and the news of her horrific death has devastated all her family.


"My daughter has been murdered and to be given the news on what would have been her 29th birthday, we can't believe it."


Miss Godden-Edwards' family did not initially report her missing to the police as they thought she was living in the Bristol area.


Miss Godden-Edwards left the family home in Swindon in 2001 but it was not until 2007 that her family contacted the National Missing Persons Helpline.


Taxi driver Christopher Halliwell, 47, of Ashbury Avenue, Swindon, has been charged with the murder of Miss O'Callaghan and is due to appear before Bristol Crown Court on 14 July.