A New Chapter — Beyond 100 Percent, Inside Out
They say you can never go home again. But sometimes home is exactly where you need to stand to see the future with absolute clarity.
For years, my life was a whirlwind of airports, boardrooms, and global sales teams. From my early days as an electrician in Ireland to leading a company to triple its revenue as a Chief Revenue Officer in the United States, the drive to go "beyond 100 percent" has been the central theme of my career. It led me to build SalesCraft, a methodology to transform how individuals sell and lead, and it's the engine behind my corporate advisory firm, Beyond 100 Percent.
But recently, I've been drawn back home to Ireland. I've settled in Blackrock, just outside Dublin, with a view of the sea that reminds me daily of what I missed. Returning to Ireland wasn't just a change of scenery; it was a profound shift in perspective. It was a chance to reconnect with the values that were instilled in me long ago in my family's grocery store in Donegal—hard work, determination, and a good attitude.
This blog, this space, is a reflection of that journey. It's a place to explore the ideas that don't always fit into a corporate presentation or a sales training module. It's where the personal meets the professional, where the lessons from a morning walk along the coast can inform a strategy for team alignment.
And speaking of alignment, my work is expanding. I'm now licensed to deliver UpAGear, a powerful system for transforming how teams align and perform. It's the perfect complement to SalesCraft. Where SalesCraft hones the individual, UpAGear unites the team. Together, they create a powerful synergy for lasting results.
So, this is more than just a relaunch of a personal blog. It's the start of a new chapter. It's about integrating everything I've learned—from the shop floor to the executive suite, from California back to Donegal. It's about exploring what it truly means to live a life that is beyond 100 percent, from the inside out.
Here, we'll explore:
Mindset & Meaning: The inner game of resilience, purpose, and personal growth.
Sales & Leadership: Real-world insights on the craft of connection and influence, drawing from both SalesCraft and UpAGear.
Performance & Purpose: The habits and disciplines that drive achievement in both business and life.
Ireland & Life: Stories and reflections from my homeland, and the lessons it continues to teach me.
Thank you for joining me on this next stage of the journey. I'm excited to share the view from here.
The Uncomfortable Gift of a Blank Slate
Moving back to Ireland after decades in the United States felt less like a homecoming and more like a system reboot. The familiar landscapes of my youth were still there, but I was a different person. The relentless pace of corporate life in America, the constant striving for the next goal, had become my default setting. Suddenly, that was gone.
The first few weeks were jarring. The silence was the loudest thing I'd ever heard. My calendar, once a color-coded tapestry of meetings and travel, was now a vast, empty canvas. The discomfort was immense. My mind, so accustomed to solving problems and driving outcomes, didn't know what to do with the stillness. It felt like a loss of identity.
But in that uncomfortable quiet, something began to shift. When I visited Donegal, I found myself drawn to the coastline, not for exercise, but just to walk. I watched the tide come in and go out, a rhythm that has been constant for millennia, completely indifferent to my career achievements or my quarterly targets. It was a humbling and profound lesson in perspective.
This was the reset. It wasn't about finding a new routine to replace the old one. It was about learning to operate without a routine at all. It was about shedding the armor of the executive and rediscovering the person underneath. It was about realizing that my worth wasn't tied to my title or my P&L statement.
This is the mindset I bring to my work now. True performance isn't just about what you do; it's about who you are. It's about having the clarity to lead from a place of authenticity, not just ambition. And sometimes, the only way to find that clarity is to embrace the uncomfortable gift of a blank slate.
What Narin Beach Taught Me About Letting Go
There's a beach near where I grew up in Donegal—Narin and Portnoo. It's not dramatic. No towering cliffs or crashing waves against rocks. Just miles of sand, the Atlantic stretching out in front of you, and nothing else.
When I visit Donegal now, I walk that beach. At first, it was just something to do. A way to clear my head after the flight, to stretch my legs, to feel like I was home. But somewhere along the way, it became more than that. It became the place where I finally learned to stop.
For most of my career, I was very good at controlling things. Anticipating problems. Mitigating risks. Driving outcomes. That's what you do when you're leading sales teams and building businesses. You plan. You execute. You adjust. And it worked. I tripled revenue at CompTIA. Built frameworks. Led teams across continents.
But here's the thing: you can't control the tide. You can't make the ocean move faster or slower. You can't negotiate with it or optimize it. It just does what it does, the same way it's been doing for millions of years. And standing there on Narin Beach, watching it come in and go out, I realized how exhausting it's been trying to control everything else.
I'm not saying I've figured this out. I haven't. I still catch myself planning three steps ahead in the middle of a conversation. I still wake up thinking about what needs to happen next. But the beach reminds me that not everything needs to be managed. Some things just need to be experienced.
That's a hard lesson for someone like me. Because my whole career has been about action. About making things happen. But I'm learning that sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is nothing. Just be there. Just listen. Just let the moment be what it is.
When you're always moving, always reacting, you miss things. You miss the subtle shift in someone's tone that tells you they're not really on board. You miss the opportunity sitting right in front of you because you're too busy looking at the next one. You miss the people, because you're too focused on the plan.
Narin Beach taught me that. Not through some grand epiphany, but through repetition. Through showing up, walking the sand, and realizing that the ocean doesn't care about my quarterly targets. And maybe, just maybe, I don't need to care about them as much as I thought I did.
The Jerseys I Once Wore: Coming Home to the Pitch
I haven't been back to Davy Brennan Memorial Park since I came home. Not yet. I played there so many times before I left Ireland 38 years ago. Wore the Naomh Conaill jersey in blue and white. Wore the Donegal county jersey in green and gold at under-16 and minor level. Representing your county in Ireland isn't just sport—it's identity, it's pride, it's belonging to something bigger than yourself.
But that was a lifetime ago. I'd built a career on the other side of the world. Led global teams. Tripled revenue at CompTIA. Became someone who measured success in quarterly targets and P&L statements. The boy who once ran onto that pitch in blue and white, or green and gold, seemed like a different person entirely.
And then Naomh Conaill made it to the county championship final. Again.
This was their 13th final since 2003. They'd won 7 of the previous 12. And I'd missed every single one of them. Thirty-eight years overseas means you miss a lot. Weddings. Funerals. Championships. All of it.
But I was back in Ireland now, living in Blackrock, trying to figure out what "home" meant after nearly four decades away. And this time, I could go. October 2025. O'Donnell Park in Letterkenny. Not one county final. Two. The senior team and the reserve team. Same day. Back to back.
O'Donnell Park. I'd been there before. September 1978. I was sixteen years old, wearing the green and gold, playing for Donegal U16 against Dublin. That was forty-six years ago. And now I was walking back through those same gates, not as a player, but as someone who'd spent a lifetime away and finally made it home.
The moment I walked in, I knew. The faces were older, some I barely recognized, but the feeling was instant. A hand on my shoulder. "McGlinchey, is that you?" A laugh I hadn't heard in decades. "Jesus, look who's back." Family I hadn't seen in years. Friends from a life I thought I'd left behind. They were all there, gathered around the pitch, cheering for the same team, connected by something that transcends time and distance.
We stood there for over four hours. Two games. Two finals. And we won both of them.
I can't even describe what that felt like. Not my career, not my achievements, not the years I'd spent away. Just the games. Just the community. Just the pure, unfiltered joy of watching our teams—both of them—fight for every inch of that field and come out on top.
When the final whistle blew on the second game and we'd won our 8th senior county championship, the roar that went up wasn't just celebration. It was release. It was belonging. It was the sound of a community that had waited, worked, and believed together. And I was part of it again.
A few weeks later, we were in the Ulster club championship quarter-final. We lost. It stung, but not in the way I expected. Because what I realized, standing there in the aftermath, wasn't about winning or losing. It was about being present. It was about showing up. It was about reconnecting with the people and the place that shaped who I am, long before I became who I thought I needed to be.
These days, I spend a lot of time talking about alignment, about connection, about building teams that trust and support each other. But I learned those lessons long before I ever stepped into a boardroom. I learned them on that pitch in Donegal. I learned them from teammates who knew that success wasn't just about individual performance—it was about moving together, trusting each other, and showing up for something bigger than yourself.
Coming home to watch Naomh Conaill wasn't just about the GAA. It was about remembering where I came from. It was about reconnecting with family and friends who knew me before the titles and the achievements. It was about realizing that no matter how far you go, or how much you accomplish, there's something irreplaceable about the place that made you.
The jerseys I once wore are long gone. But the lessons they taught me—about teamwork, resilience, and belonging—are still with me. And now, standing in O'Donnell Park instead of on the pitch, I see them more clearly than ever.
One day, I'll go back to Davy Brennan Memorial. I know it will be emotional. That's where it all started for me. But I'm not ready yet. For now, it's enough to know I'm home. And that I didn't have to miss this one.
Lessons in Team Alignment from an Old Irish Pub
I was in a small village pub a few weeks back. Tuesday evening. Not exactly prime time, but the place was packed. I grabbed a seat at the bar and just watched.
Behind the bar was a father and his son. The father—probably in his sixties, hands that have pulled more pints than I've had meetings—was working the taps and chatting with the regulars. The son, maybe mid-thirties, was flying around taking food orders, clearing tables, checking on the younger crowd in the corner.
Here's what got me: they barely spoke to each other. A nod here. A glance there. The father would finish pouring a Guinness and the son was already there to take it to table seven. Someone's glass would get low and before they could even think about ordering, one of them was on it. No shouting. No "can you grab this" or "I need that." They just knew.
I sat there thinking, this is what everyone talks about when they say "team alignment," but nobody can quite explain how to get there. Because you can't manufacture this. You can't workshop your way into it. This was years of working side by side, of trusting each other completely, of caring about the same thing—making sure everyone who walked through that door felt welcome.
I've spent a lot of time in boardrooms talking about alignment. We build frameworks, we run workshops, we create accountability structures. And all of that matters. But watching those two behind the bar reminded me that the real work isn't in the process—it's in the people. Do they trust each other? Do they actually care about the same outcome? Are they willing to cover for each other without being asked?
That's what UpAGear is really about. Not the systems and the structures—though those help. It's about building teams where people just know. Where the trust runs deep enough that you don't need to explain everything. Where everyone's moving in the same direction because they want to, not because they have to.
And when you get that right, it doesn't feel like work anymore. It feels like that pub on a Tuesday night—busy, alive, and exactly where you want to be.
All or Nothing: Getting Back to the Gym
I'm either 100% in or I'm not in at all. There's no middle ground with me. My trainer knows this. He'll tell you I drive him nuts, but he also says I'm a rock star when I'm on it. And right now, I'm on it.
But let me back up. For the past two years, I didn't work out. Not once. I went from five days a week—consistent, disciplined, showing up—to absolutely nothing. The transition back to Ireland, the upheaval, the blank slate I wrote about earlier. I just stopped. And the weight came on. A lot of it.
I'm not proud of that. But I'm also not surprised. Because that's how I operate. When I'm in, I'm all in. When I'm out, I'm completely out. There's no casual gym membership for me. No "I'll just go twice a week and see how it feels." That's not in my wiring.
Now that I'm settled in Blackrock, our apartment block has a gym. So I'm back. Five days a week. Sometimes six. And it's like I never left—except for the extra weight and the humbling reminder that two years off is two years off, no matter how hard you go at it now.
My trainer laughs at me. Not in a mean way, but in that knowing way that says, "Here we go again." Because he's seen this before. He knows I'll push too hard, try to make up for lost time in a single session, and then wonder why I'm sore for three days. But he also knows I'll show up. Every single time.
Here's what I've realized: this all-or-nothing thing is both my greatest strength and my biggest liability. It's what let me triple revenue at CompTIA. It's what drives everything I do. When I commit, I commit completely. But it's also what let me gain all that weight. Because when I stopped, I didn't just ease off—I stopped entirely.
The business world loves to talk about balance. And maybe that works for some people. But I've learned to accept that I'm not wired that way. I don't do balance. I do intensity. And the key for me isn't trying to change that—it's managing it. It's knowing when to go all in, and making sure I'm pointing that intensity in the right direction.
Right now, that direction is the gym. Five days a week. My trainer shaking his head. And me, slowly becoming the person I know I can be again. Not because I found balance. But because I found my focus.
Masterclass on the Perfect Sales Call
I have always admired those who are experts in the chosen profession.
Whether that’s in the business world, entertainment, sport, movies or construction, watching a skilled individual do their job with confidence and proficiency is a thing of beauty. It just flows and they make it look and feel so easy, as if we all could do it - and we probably could, had we put in the hard work and hours of practice to get that accomplished.
In my world of sales management, I am generally on the selling side. Very occasionally I get to be on the other side of the transaction, the person buying the service, and recently I had the good fortune to have been giving a master class on how to sell by someone who was an expert in their profession, salesmanship.
At CompTIA we are exploring some options to develop our sales team and to ensure we are all maintaining our sales discipline and keeping to those good habits.
We got a lead from one of my peers and set up a call to discuss their services. The organization we were speaking with was Habits at Work and we were fortunate to have the CEO Andrew Sykes attend the meeting.
Prior to the call we got an agenda from Andrew, which in itself is not unusual but how often have you not received an agenda for a meeting? Increasingly I am seeing less and less structure to meetings with agendas unfortunately becoming a rare thing.
The agenda gave us a great insight to what we were about to experience. It set out the purpose of the meeting, the benefit to having the meeting, the attendees, all with their names hyperlinked to their LinkedIn profiles.
Andrew had done his research prior to the call and knew his audience. The agenda also broke down the meeting into time slots, identifying what we were going to discuss. Finally, it had next steps, a next meeting date and feedback. The process was very much aligned to my post “A super system for the salesman” .
It was clear this was shaping up to be an interesting call.
When we joined the call, Andrew opened up with confidence and charisma making us feel relaxed and had us buying into him as a person long before we even discussed his company.
Before we moved onto the business element of the call, he asked us to give him feedback after the call. He wanted us to tell him what he did well but also asked us to give him feedback on what he didn’t do so well. It was the first time anyone has ever asked me for that type of feedback after a sales call or any call or meeting for that matter.
It was truly refreshing, and gave us an insight into his thought process. He definitely had a growth mindset. We gave him his feedback on what he did well but we really struggled to find anything he didn’t do so well.
As you can imagine Andrew had us eating out of his hand and the call went extremely well, exactly as he would have imagined it. His next steps were to set up another meeting at his office where we could continue our discussions. We finished the call and as promised, he followed up within the hour with the action items.
A few days later one of my colleagues received a delivery to her office.
It had three books, authored by Andrew, one for each one of us on the call. Inside each book was a hand written note thanking us for our time on the call.
Oh, and the book’s title, “The 11th Habit: Design Your Company Culture to Foster the Habits of High Performance”.
Now, very few of us have written a book on improving performance in the workplace but sending a hand written note after a call or meeting is a great way to build a relationship and should be standard practice. Sadly, like agendas, hand written notes are no longer a regular occurrence but they can be a clever way of differentiating you from all the competition.
Andrew was a true expert in his field, and it was a pleasure to be sold to in that manner. He was slick, polished and accomplished.
I am not in the field selling as much as I used to be but when I am, I am going to make sure I adhere to all those disciplines and habits that make the experience so much better for everyone.
John McGlinchey
John McGlinchey is the Global Sales Leader, Executive Vice President of CompTIA
Life before and after – Part 2, The Final Journey
The first time I saw her, I was captivated by her smile.
It seemed to display the beauty that was inside her heart, it was truly breathtaking. I was lost at sea until I found Fiona, stumbling around trying to find success personally and professionally. A quote from Lao Tzu sums it up so well, “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
In my post on June 1 2017 I talked about the news we received about Fiona and I mentioned the cancer hospital.
From the outside it appears inconspicuous, but inside doctors and nurses are doing a remarkable job saving people’s lives, while patients are fighting for theirs and coping with remarkable adversity.
I recently drove past that same cancer hospital in a taxi, but on this occasion, I had Fiona’s ashes in the back seat with me.
It was her final journey to her resting place in the graveyard in my home town of Glenties, Co. Donegal. It was a surreal moment and one that hammered home the fact that life would never be the same again.
Fiona had spent two years attending that cancer center and received almost ninety days of chemotherapy. Her doctors called her “the special one” – she had surpassed their wildest expectations beating every statistic, she was a miracle!
Sadly, Fiona’s fight came to an end.
In February of this year, we received the news that her treatment had stopped working and we scrambled desperately for other options.
It seemed that the only option was a clinical trial at the University of Chicago. The doctors heading up the trial accepted her pending a final medical. Because her type of cancer was so rare, they were excited to have her on the trial.
Fiona had small cell cervical cancer with about 100 cases diagnosed in the United States each year. Because these tumors are so rare, the cause is not yet fully understood. This was an exciting opportunity for the doctors to understand more about this uncommon cancer.
For Fiona, she was hoping it would give her more time but more importantly, she wanted to give others with the disease a better chance of survival.
The treatment was about a ninety-minute drive from where we lived, depending on traffic, so this was possibly a three or four hour return journey on top of an eight hour treatment day.
We were a family, Fiona, Josie our dog and I.
We had to consider how we were going to look after Josie as I was working, and Fiona would be spending a lot time in hospital. After many conversations and tears we decided that we needed to find Josie a new home.
An acquaintance was looking for a dog as her own had died several months prior. We introduced her to Josie and they immediately bonded. They spent a few weeks getting to know each other and then we dropped Josie off at her new home. It was extremely sad and distressing to come home without Josie but we knew it was the best thing to do for her.
In life there are certain moments, that while they are playing out, you sense something life changing is happening.
For us, that moment was the phone call Fiona received about an hour after we got home from her medical at the University of Chicago. It turned out that her liver was so badly damaged from all the chemo that she was unfit to attend the trial. We were both devastated.
Ironically that day was April 1st.
A few days later, we met with our local doctors at the cancer center and they wanted to try one more throw of the dice and they prescribed an oral chemo drug. Fiona was starting to have more severe issues with her liver around the same time, but with her zest for life and her positivity she wanted to try everything she could to continue to live.
The doctors told us that we would know quickly if the drug was working. With her liver deteriorating very quickly and in a lot of discomfort, they stopped the chemo drug after only a week. They gave her one, maybe two weeks to live and recommended we find suitable hospice care.
We interviewed several hospice organizations, but settled with Northwestern who had provided Fiona with such excellent treatment and care for over two years. Fiona wanted to die at home, so they came and prepared our home and us mentally and spiritually for Fiona’s passing. They are remarkable people who do an amazing job.
As difficult as this time was, they helped us cope with this excruciating situation. Very quickly, Fiona’s condition deteriorated and she became bedridden three days after the final diagnosis from the doctor.
As the news spread about her condition, her friends and neighbors rallied round. They all came to see her and although she was weak, in and out of consciousness, she recognized them. She had a smile and positive words to share with them as they recalled happier times. They were exceptionally supportive as were all my colleagues and my employer.
On the afternoon of Sunday April 28th Fiona passed.
That morning she seemed agitated, and while trying to make her comfortable in bed she whispered to me, “I don’t see the point in this”. She was having difficulty just lying in bed, not her normal positive self.
Later, three of her friends called around, all independently of each other. As the afternoon progressed, Fiona’s breathing became irregular. Her friends were gathered around the bed and I was sitting by her side, holding her hand.
She looked around the room, then back into my eyes and took her final breath.
It was a beautiful moment, one that will stay with me until the time comes to take my final breath. Her passing into her next life was as beautiful as the life she lived here on earth.
As I made the calls to the hospice and dealt with the funeral director, I felt Fiona’s spirit guide and support me. She was still there calling the shots.
We had a beautiful memorial service for her at our local golf club, Cress Creek.
Golf was a big part of Fiona’s life, and she loved spending time with her friends whilst hitting the wee white ball around. Even through her treatment she would not let her condition dictate how she lived her life. Regardless of the challenges, she was on the golf course enjoying golf and nature all around her.
Fiona’s other love was fitness and Orange Theory Fitness. She treasured their support, and encouragement during her illness.
Throughout the two years of treatment, she always joked about spreading her ashes in one of the ponds at the golf course. She would comment that most of her golf balls are in the pond on hole number nine and that’s where she would want to be when she eventually passed.
As the time got closer, she became more considered on exactly where she would want to be laid to rest. Shortly after the disappointing news regarding the trial, she told me that she wanted to be buried in our family grave in Glenties. I was surprised by her request but deeply touched.
So, we began that final journey, passing the cancer hospital and to the airport.
Along the way there were some strange moments, going through security at O’Hare and Dublin for instance. Normally impatient and busy border police became very accommodating once they understood what was in the small wooden box I was carrying. Having the urn in the overhead bin while we were flying across the Atlantic was another surreal moment.
Once back home in Glenties, family and friends gathered around and we had another beautiful ceremony in the chapel.
Our priest Father Gerard and the amazing music made it a special occasion. So many friends and family were there to help and share their memories of Fiona. She made a lasting impression on so many people without even realizing.
Laying her remains in the grave was one of the hardest things I have ever done. The Irish do funerals probably better than anybody and this funeral was no exception. In true Irish fashion, we had a few drinks in her memory and sang a few songs, just as Fiona would have wanted.
They say you should live your life the way you want to be remembered - Fiona truly did.
Her positive attitude, energy and zest for life never wavered. We should all aspire to live our lives as she did.
Fiona was one of those special people that uplifted everyone.
I will miss her and her beautiful smile and contagious laugh. Just being in her presence changed my life for the better. She saw something in me as she saw in everyone she met; she saw their light. Even when her body grew weak, her spirit increased each day, there was a light in her heart. She loved her culture and tradition and regardless of how the day was, Fiona had her million- dollar smile.
I think back to the first time that I saw that smile, the treasured time that we had together and how it has gone by in a flash. Treasure your time with loved ones, it can be snatched from you so very quickly.
Fiona, thank you for each and every single precious moment.
John x
Five Minute Interview with Yours Truly!
I stumbled upon this interview that I did a few years ago in Microscope magazine and I thought it would be interesting to share with people so they get a better sense of who this Irishman from Donegal is!
Tell us what you do for a living.
I am senior vice president, responsible for leading the global business development team in the promotion and sales of CompTIA Certifications.
I have since changed roles and am now the Executive Vice President for Global Certification at CompTIA.
Why are you the right person for this job?
Because I was willing to live on an airplane, or in a hotel for 80% of my working life!!
What gets you up in the morning?
Apart from my alarm clock?
Knowing that I have a busy day ahead, doing a job I love in an industry I am passionate about and can add value to, gives me my motivation and drive – you've got to love what you do and give it 100% otherwise, no one benefits.
Who helped you get to where you are today?
Several people through my life have been a great help – my parents for instilling in me my work ethic, my wife for her support through the years and several colleagues and peers who I have taken advice from, been mentored by and admired.
What is the best or worst business advice you have received and from whom?
My father always taught me to choose a career I enjoy, be happy and have fun. He said, when you enjoy your work you are generally successful at it. And always be truthful to your colleagues and in life in general.
What advice would you give to someone starting out today in IT?
Take the CompTIA A+ certification J and specialise in cyber security!
What’s running on your smartphone?
As I travel a lot, I just love my iPhone. It helps me communicate, get me from A to B without getting lost (well most of the time), keeps me up to speed on what happening in the world and I can listen to my music.
What did we do before iPhones were invented? Looking forward to the new iWatch!
Tell us something most people do not know about you.
I come from a small village in the Republic of Ireland called Glenties in County Donegal, with a population of less than 900 people – in my teenage years, I owned a mobile disco unit and used to run discos all round the local area.
What goal do you have to achieve before you die, and why?
Personally, to play a round of golf under par without any handicap shots then play against Phil Mickleson and Tiger Woods!
What is the best book you've ever read?
There has been many wonderful books but the most recent I really like is Start with Why by Simon Sinek.
He talks about how important it is that leaders and organisations inspire people. His bold goal is to help build a world in which the vast majority of people go home every day feeling fulfilled by their work. Something I try to emulate in at least some small way.
Simon is leading a movement to inspire people to do the things that inspire them.
And the worst film you’ve ever seen?
There have been several, but the one I think was the worst to me was Kill Bill.... Just awful.
What would be your Desert Island MP3s?
I’ve always fancied myself as a bit of a rocker, so some Bruce Springsteen, Queen, Coldplay and a bit of Rihanna to spice it up!
What temptation can you not resist?
It’s hard to say no to a good glass of red wine. A dark, fruity deep red would always win for me accompanied by a decent bar of chocolate.
That’s two temptations I know, but I can’t have one without the other.
What was your first car and how does it compare with what you drive now?
A 1977 Ford Escort Van, yellow and I got a “Dukes of Hazard” stripe on it. In my eyes it was the best car I ever had. Fun and multi-purpose. I now have an E-Class Mercedes but the Escort van holds many fond memories.
Who would you least like to be stuck in a lift with? Why, what did they do?
Can’t think of one specific person. But imagine as you are about to close the lift doors, you saw this guy coming and you were kind enough to hold it for him.
Then, you’re stuck for what could be hours and the guy will not stop singing and whistling I Gotta Feeling by The Black Eyed Peas. That song is annoying as is, but could you imagine if you were forced to listen to this guy over and over again?
If you could be any animal for a day, what would you be and why?
A golden eagle. I think being able to fly anywhere I wanted with no traffic to contend with is one reason, but also because I think it’s a magnificent species and king of the skies.
If you could take part in one event in the Olympics, which would you choose and why?
Although it’s not officially in the Olympics yet but will be from 2016, it has to be golf for me. I see myself and Rory McIlroy teeing it up together and ripping up the course!!!
If I had to pick a current sport in the Olympics, the 100 metres – it’s over so quickly and I guess that 10 seconds effort would be more than enough for me.
If you were facing awesome peril and impossible odds, which real or fictional person would you most want on your side and why?
This has to be two people.
Firstly my wife. If there is a chance that this would be my last day on earth, I’d want to spend it with her; knowing someone loves you right at the end would help me face what was ahead.
Secondly, my hero, Detective John McClane (Bruce Willis in the Die Hard movies) – this guy can get you out of anything single-handedly!
And finally, a grizzly bear and a silverback gorilla are getting ready for a no-holds-barred rumble. Who is your money on and why?
The silverback – I think he would have a strategy of knocking the grizzly out with a well-timed heavy blow while the grizzly would just hope for the best – one swift thump from the silverback and the grizzly would be down and out!
Thanks for reading ...time to train for the 100 meters!
John McGlinchey
John McGlinchey is the Executive Vice President of Global Certification for CompTIA
Good Neighbors
This is my fifth winter in the Chicago area and this one is shaping up to be a corker. Not as bad as the polar vortex of 2013/2014 but lots of snow and freezing temperatures.
Unlike Ireland (I'm originally from a little village in Donegal in Called called Glenties) and the UK, each household makes clearing of snow in their driveways and sidewalks outside their house a priority. Clearing the sidewalks outside your home is mandatory by law.
Right on cue on Super Bowl Sunday we had our first major snow fall of the winter. So, Fiona and I were sitting waiting for the snow to finish, when we heard a scraping noise coming from our driveway, a sound similar to someone clearing snow. As we went to the window to investigate, we saw our neighbor Sarah, in a blizzard, with a snow shovel clearing our driveway.
Feeling somewhat shocked but also elated that we wouldn’t have to shovel any snow, we asked her why she was clearing our driveway, her response blew us away.
She said she was just being neighborly and wanted to do something to help us. She said she wished she could do more. I do not know why we were so shocked as this is typical of the neighbors and friends we have in this community. Sarah’s husband Fred has been clearing our snow all week.
While Fiona was in hospital over Christmas, I received many cooked dinners, food deliveries and offers of assistance from all our friends.
I come from a very rural part of Ireland where neighborly good deeds and kindness are taken as given. I certainly didn’t expect it in the suburbs of one of the largest cities (Chicago) in the world. I have been told it’s a “MidWest thing” but speaking to my colleagues at work, some of whom live on the east coast, I believe it is just human nature.
We genuinely want to help each other out when times are difficult and challenging.
In a world where our politicians seem hell bent on division and exclusion, it is so refreshing and reassuring to know that our societies and neighborhoods are united in helping each other and promoting inclusion.
Thank you to all our friends and neighbors, you have made living in the U.S. such a wonderful experience.
John McGlinchey
John McGlinchey is the Executive Vice President of Global Certification for CompTIA