The Noticer Returns

by Andy Andrews

  “It is possible to create value in the lives of other people, some of whom might not even be clients or customers; that is more important to them than what your business actually provides. When that is accomplished, that person will never hire, work with, or buy from anyone else.”

  Now it was Baker’s turn to frown. “I’m not sure I get it. Can you give an example of how you create that kind of value?”

  “Yes,” Jack replied, “and I could give you one example after another for hours. But here is one. It was something we did at our car dealerships.

  “You need to understand that most folks shop for cars by price, and they generally don’t like the process. Prices fluctuate, of course, and sometimes people will spend two hundred dollars in gas, driving around to different dealerships in order to save three hundred dollars on the purchase of a car.”

  Baker smiled. “Yeah, I might have done that a time or two myself.”

  Jack continued. “So the vast majority of people feel a bit of an adversarial relationship with car dealers. Now, if a dealer has been in a place for a long time, as we have, there is a greater opportunity to have developed long-lasting relationships with customers. Some of our customers don’t shop anywhere else.”

  Sealy understood. “They are your friends. You’ve proven yourself over time, and they have become your friends.”

  “Correct,” Jack said. “But what about the people we don’t know? To create that kind of loyalty in them seems impossible on the surface. This is where we learned to compete at a different level.

  “Several years ago there was an industry-wide slump. Folks were simply not buying cars. And it wasn’t just us; all dealerships were suffering during a national economic downturn. Even heading into the holiday season, which is traditionally a good time for us, it was bleak. Knowing that December did not appear promising and deciding we would not sit around and mope, we began working for our longtime customers and those potential customers who would be making decisions in the future.

  “We put ads on radio, in print, and online, but not a single one was about prices or a sale. We told a truth that consumers rarely hear, and it got their attention. We said, ‘Business is slow, and we have time on our hands during the Christmas season!’ The next line was, ‘We want to give that time to you, the members of our community.’ The rest of the ad or radio spot or whatever told them exactly what we were going to do.

  “We moved the majority of our service people into the showroom with their tools, and there, until Christmas Eve, the mechanics, the salespeople, the receptionist, and yours truly spent all day, every day, and on into most of the nights, putting together toys for anyone who wanted our help.”

  “Ha!” Christy exclaimed. “Really?”

  “Yep, really. We did not charge a dime. No tipping was allowed. We had doughnuts and coffee for people who wanted to wait, or they could go shopping and come back anytime. I have no idea how many bicycles I put together that December, but let me tell you something, I could put one together in my sleep now.”

  They all laughed.

  “Anyway, here’s what happened. People were grateful. We were excited because of the folks we had helped. It was an incredible Christmas for us. We didn’t sell many cars, but that didn’t matter. We always make our decisions based on long-term benefits. Operation Christmas Toys was exactly that. And it was fun. We’ve done it twice more since.”

  “You didn’t sell many cars?” Baker asked, confused. “I thought you were giving us an example of something that worked . . . something that helped you rise above the competition.”

  “Oh, I just meant we didn’t sell many cars then,” Jack said slyly. “When that industry slump ended and folks began buying cars again, it seemed like they were buying them all from us.

  “All that shopping for the best price? Seeing what dealership would go a hundred dollars lower than the other guy? None of that mattered anymore to the folks we had helped. You see, Baker, by adding value to people’s lives beyond their traditional thoughts about our business, we made quite a few friends. Those friends decided where they would buy their next car well in advance of actually needing one.”

  “Unbelievable,” Baker said.

  “Not really,” Jack countered. “People want to be treated well. They’ve come not to expect it, but they’d still like for it to happen. I decided years ago that no one would ever be treated or welcomed or honored anywhere or by anyone better than they would be treated when they ran into me, whether I was ‘on the job’ or not. This wasn’t even necessarily a business thing. It was a life decision for me that turned into a business asset.”

  “Can you throw another story in here, Jack?” Jones asked. “We have a little more than two minutes.”

  “Sure,” Jack responded. “We also own a few restaurants. All of them serve to capacity, lunch and dinner, six days a week. The food is fresh and well prepared, but a lot of dining establishments manage that. Curiously, we only began packing the places when we added one behavior to the culture of our team.

  “Our waitstaff, cooks, and management learned the names of a number of their occasional customers. Those occasional customers became regular customers. They are a better advertisement than we could ever afford. That might seem a small thing to you and me, but it’s a big thing to people who are not often welcomed enthusiastically at work, at church, or even in their own homes. Huge value.

  “Quickly, here’s another. I hope this doesn’t sound like bragging, but I want you to understand how profitable doing the right thing can be. Our real estate companies sell more real estate than their competitors by far. That is the case in every market we are in. Why? Well, selling real estate is what everyone does, so we do that too. And we do it well. In addition, again, we are striving to compete on a level that the competition is not even aware a game is being played.

  “So every day we diligently seek to discover ways of adding value to the lives of our customers and our potential customers. We seek value that goes beyond traditional real estate. Once we accomplish that, not only have we added value to the lives of deserving people, we have created a business advantage that is hard to put one’s finger on and impossible for the competition to advertise against.”

  Baker asked, “What do you mean, ‘impossible to advertise against’?”

  “What could the competition possibly say?” Jack grinned. “Can’t you see the billboard? ‘We are aware that the friend you love and adore is in the real estate business, but please, let us sell your home instead!’”

  Christy, Sealy, and Baker clapped as Jack said a brief thanks and hugged Jones. He shook their hands and reminded Baker to come by his house with the details about the personal mechanic service. Jack also encouraged Sealy and Christy before waving again and walking past a group from Jones’s parenting class that was now arriving.

  Sixteen

  When we saw the small meeting coming to an end, Polly and I began walking toward the pier. I had intended to speak to Jack Bailey, but he reached the sidewalk without seeing us and turned the other way. Seeing also that Jones was gathering everyone at the end of the pier, I decided I could say hello to Jack another time, and we hurried on out.

  We were the last two to arrive. Glancing about, I saw that our semicircle was arranged, and we were arranged in it, as we had been the week before, with one minor exception. Baker and Sealy had joined us. Polly and Christy had talked by phone several times during the past week. I had observed Christy and Sealy together already. Now, all three were sitting together: Polly, Christy, and Sealy. Good luck, Jones, I thought. I hope you get to talk tonight . . .

  Kelli and Bart were on the far end of the group, Kelli sitting next to Baker. Kelli started our evening by reviewing our twenty-one desired parenting results. When she finished reading the list, we all looked to Jones. The sky was dark and threatening. It had been overcast all day. There was no immediate forecast of rain, but low clouds over the bay always seem to compress the salty humidity, and I could taste t
he air.

  “Allow me to review what we know and present a few conclusions,” Jones said. “The conclusions, I believe, should produce the results you desire for the future of your children. As always, questions are welcome.”

  Jones stopped for just a moment before continuing to speak. I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he was waiting on a question. I felt certain he had not lost his place. It was not even a long pause, merely something I noticed.

  “From our previous discussions,” Jones said, “we determined that today’s society has come to an amiable impasse regarding the different standards by which its children are raised. During our time together, we have come to understand that while most parents are doing the best they can, there is no consensus—no societal agreement—about a standard.

  “And there is complacency, an acceptance of what is, that affects human beings. That complacency encourages a person to disengage from the effort to shape the culture in which he lives.

  “Sometimes we wonder why society has become complacent. Society is nothing more than individuals living in close proximity to each other. Society is people. What we refer to as ‘culture’ is defined by the customs and accepted practices of those people. Therefore, society becomes complacent as a result of individuals giving in to the belief that nothing can be done about their culture. This is not only untrue but also dangerous to believe.

  “Listen carefully. While a culture may be defined by the customs and accepted practices of its people, it is critical to understand that it is the thinking of its people that creates a culture in the first place. Knowledge of this difference is so significant as to be the key to life or death for civilizations. Indeed, it has been for thousands of years.”

  Jones paused again, but this time I was paying attention. He appeared to be weighing a particular thought or perhaps a choice of words. I was watching him closely because what I had come to think of as “the unreadable expression” was again on his face. I had not seen it often, but it was as unforgettable as it was unreadable. Sadness, love, joy, and anger, all at the same time. Also nearly as strange was the reaction to his expression I had begun to recognize in myself. Again, all at the same time I felt insignificance, power, hope, fear, and awe.

  “At this time,” Jones finally said, “I feel the moment has come to inform you that the work you will complete during the next few years is critical not only to the future of your own children but also to the future of your nation as well. Unless you want to end up like Rome.”

  Jones waited as we glanced nervously at each other. Bart, in particular, was frowning deeply.

  “The fall of the Roman Empire is a perfect example of what happens to a society that tires of the fight for its children, gives up hope for a cultural standard, and finally agrees to disagree.

  “The correct definition of the word standard is ‘a required or agreed-upon level of quality or attainment.’ If that is true, and the definition of the word says that it is, then what today’s society has done by agreeing to disagree is to virtually announce that there are many standards. Society has proclaimed that a standard is whatever you decide it is.

  “But wait . . . A standard is an agreed-upon level of quality or attainment. One. One level of quality or attainment that is agreed upon. In other words, when a society grows comfortable with the idea that there can be many standards, the people have, in effect, accepted the reality that there will be no standard. Anything goes. And that, my friends, is exactly what happened to a once great, once wealthy, once undefeatable world power.

  “Many people tour the ruins of Rome today. Seemingly without exception, they take pictures and wonder aloud how it could have happened. How was it possible, they ask each other, that such an advanced society could have managed to disintegrate, plunging an entire civilization into a darkness and confusion so complete that the world would not escape it for centuries?

  “Unfortunately, today, no one seems willing to step up and answer that question. Why is that? Because the answer makes us uncomfortable. If one accepts its truth, the answer requires something of us. The answer is nothing if not a dire warning to the very future of our own society.”

  “What is the answer, Jones?” Bart asked.

  “How did Rome manage to collapse?” Jones said. “Historians have written books attempting to answer that question, but the truth? The truth is an uncomplicated story of good people who simply grew tired of promoting and defending what they knew to be right. When the Romans got discouraged and began to move their ideas and values to the outskirts of society, they unwittingly initiated the beginning of the end.

  “When one walks the streets of Rome today and imagines the magnificence of that empire at its height, it is important to remember that the glory of Rome was begun with a standard held before her people. The destruction of Rome, however, was begun by standards her people held before themselves.”

  We were all a bit dazed after the beginning of the evening’s class. The story of decline and the eventual disappearance of a great nation felt too close to home. Jones looked at us and called a time-out. “Take three minutes,” he said, “and we will reconvene.”

  I wanted to talk to him, but the ladies made a beeline for the old man, getting to him first, and that was that. I saw Polly talking with him as well and went to stand with the other guys. At the end of the break, Bart, Baker, and I were still standing nearby, hoping for a moment with Jones. When that did not happen, as we were about to go to our seats, Bart said to him, “Jones, I think we all are fine to stay as long as you want.”

  He put a hand on Bart’s shoulder and walked him from the railing, where he had been, almost back to Bart’s chair. In the seconds it took to cover that small distance, Jones replied, “Thank you, Bart. I appreciate that, but let’s see what we can do to cover everything quickly. I believe our time is shorter than one might think.” Baker was already seated and talking with Sealy, but I was close by and heard him say it. Bart sort of jerked or twitched as if he had been jabbed with something and looked at me with a “What did he mean by that?” expression on his face. I didn’t know.

  I do know that I had spent the last three minutes allowing myself to become discouraged again. Yes, even after Jones had explained that kind of thinking could prove problematic. A quick mental review of the different standards our society had already accepted, however, was more than I could take at that moment. As I took my seat, I glanced up at the still-gray sky and thought, Is there any hope at all?

  “What do we have?” Jones began. “At present, today’s society has agreed to disagree. There was, however, one thing we found in our discussions that society does agree on.”

  I perked up. Oh? I thought. Something society does agree on?

  “Yes,” Jones went on, “society agrees that our culture is declining, that we as a people are becoming less than we were. If you examine the top ten problems high school teachers faced with their students of several decades ago versus the top ten problems high school teachers face with the students of today, the differences are chilling. In fact, if today’s list were not labeled ‘high school,’ one might think the list had been created in reference to a prison.”

  And . . . I am back to no hope.

  “But there is hope,” Jones said, lending more credence to my suspicion that the old man could read my mind. “There is hope because there is something else society does agree upon. And this is a big one.”

  He had our attention.

  “When society looks at its own history and examines the peaks and valleys, there is one particular time we point to as a high-water mark. In the history of our nation, which stretches more than two centuries, one group is always singled out as an example to the rest of us.

  “Upon the excellence, character, and integrity of these particular people, everyone agrees. Even among those whose standards might vary greatly from your own, all religious affiliations, members of the media, liberals, conservatives, all races and ages . . . everyone, everywhere, with only a moment to
contemplate history and the role of humanity in it, put their fingers squarely in one place and declare, ‘That is the best we ever were.’

  “Society acknowledges the cultural rise that preceded that group and the decline in our culture that has occurred since. And still, we point to them. Those people, we say, as we examine that place in our history . . . those people sacrificed more. They served each other more enthusiastically. They cared more about their God and their country. They did not expect to be carried; they offered to carry. They expected to be able to keep most of what they produced. And because of that belief they worked harder and produced more for everyone.

  “Yes,” Jones said, “society agrees about those people. We even have a name for them. We call them ‘the greatest generation.’”

  We all had whispered the phrase as Jones spoke it aloud: the greatest generation. He was right; they were. And he was correct in the assertion that everyone agreed that they were. Still . . . no offense, Jones, I was thinking, but so what? How does that help us today? Truly, I felt we were much closer to Rome than we were to the 1940s and ’50s. Then, as he had done so many times before, Jones blew me away.

  “I must confess,” Jones said, “that I may be the only person you’ll ever meet who does not believe that those people were ‘the best we ever were.’ In fact, allow me to state for the record that I do not believe that group of people was the greatest generation.”

  Jones stared at us as we held our breath. What he had just said was so out of bounds we didn’t know what to think. He was totally on target with the first part. He had been correct; everyone does agree about that one thing. Everyone agrees that those people were the best we ever became. Then he said that they were not? I wasn’t sure . . . was that sacrilegious?

  “No sir,” Jones said, “I don’t really think those folks deserve the title.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head. With his eyes narrowed but still sparkling like blue fire, he said, “If we’re really talking greatest generation, I’m voting for their mamas and daddies.”