Dear Mr. CEO,

I am an invisible shopper, a ghost, and I shopped at your store today. You didn’t see me. The workers couldn’t see me either. And to be completely honest, I wasn’t so much interested in buying anything as I was in observing and listening. I just wanted to let you know what I saw. And what I heard.

When I entered your store, I was struck by the enormity of it. …

My son told me this story awhile back, and I have been trying to wrap my head around it ever since. It is a story of debts and debts being paid. It makes sense, and it makes no sense. The story goes like this…

A businessman walked into a hotel and inquired about renting a room. He laid a $100 bill on the counter and told the manager to keep the $100 as a deposit while he went upstairs to look at the rooms to see if they were satisfactory.

While the businessman was upstairs, the hotel manager, sure that he would take the room, quickly ran over to the bakery with the $100 bill. The hotel manager owed the bakery $100, and used the $100 bill to pay his debt. …

Most people have had the classic children’s stories read to them at one time or another. As small children, we enjoyed them. They were exciting to hear and sparked our imagination about how the world worked. If your parents read the story to you, it was also a time to feel a closeness with your parents. What kid doesn’t like having their mom or dad read a story to them?

In the years that followed, many of the people who had these stories read to them went on to read these same stories to their own children. Most of these stories seem harmless and remain that way until they are examined for their content and their lesson. This is where some of these stories fall short. …

Every so often, I see a post on Facebook or other social media lamenting that students today need a class in how to be an adult. They mean that students are not being taught how to manage money, credit, and other things associated with adult life. The complaint generally is critical of teaching higher-level math and Shakespeare, while basic adult skills are not taught. I understand that kind of thinking, but this has never had to be an either/or situation. Both can be taught. I know. I designed and taught the course everyone says should be taught.

I began by making out a list of every topic I could think of that a fully functional, competent adult should be able to do. I kept a piece of paper on my desk, and over the course of several weeks, I would scribble down each topic as I thought of them. While my list was not exhaustive, it was lengthy and covered most of the things adults need to know and know how to do. …

When you read this, you will probably think I’m kidding.

A number of years ago I was the Dean of Students at a small alternative high school in Minnesota. While I was not technically the principal, I performed most of the functions an actual principal would. I made sure that transportation, food service, maintenance and other administrative duties were taken care of. I meted out discipline as needed, and met with parents and community members as required. …

The story you are about to read is a story about camaraderie, boyhood energy, and the bonding that takes place through group effort. In the building of this cabin, there was no adult supervision. There were no detailed plans. There was no boss, no supervisor. There was no reward save the end result, which was a crude cabin in the woods, a plethora of memories, and a bond between boys that spanned decades.

I came across a picture of it the other day. “The Cabin” is what we called it.

The year was 1975. I was a 17 year old senior in high school, and my friends and I, like so many of our peers, were bored with our daily existence and looking for something — anything — to inject fun or a sense of purpose into our lives. We had long outgrown high school in most respects, and going to classes was little more than a stale ritual. Don’t get me wrong. We were good students, that is, when we wanted to be. The trouble was we had long stopped wanting to be. There had to be another reason to get up in the morning. …

1.Making lists is not real writing, at least not in the classical sense. Resorting to simply making a list robs the reader of an introduction, a main body, and a conclusion. Gone are the literary devices that make for good writing, and instead we are left with a to-do list, or some Yelp-inspired ranking of whatever.

2. You are inviting people to make fun of your writing. Already the term “listicles” is appearing in the responses to articles that resort to making lists. Do you really want people making fun of your articles instead of reading and admiring them?

3. Most people who are resorting to using lists have no order or method to the listed items. Mostly what I see are random ideas put in no particular order. In a well-written essay, the writer can utilize literary devices such as order of importance, or chronological order, or employ classification as an organizing principle. I see almost none of that in the current fad of substituting lists for actual writing. …