I opened the front door, and as I approached the front desk, the receptionist greeted us warmly and enthusiastically. She said, “Good morning! We are so glad you are here!” Although she was looking directly at us, I was confused by her hospitality. I could not recall having ever been greeted like this in any other corporate headquarters in my life. I nearly looked behind me to see if there was someone else, someone more worthy of such a warm welcome, before I clumsily responded, “Good morning to you. We are glad to be here!”
She asked who we were there to see, and I replied, “We are here to see Mr. Truett Cathy.” As the words hit her ears, she stopped what she was doing and placed her hands in her lap. With amazing sincerity, she looked up at us and said, “Well…today is going to be a great day for you. He is a great man.”
She made a quick phone call, and after talking with someone for a moment, she told us that he was running a few minutes behind but was on his way. She then said, “He loves cars and enjoys sharing some of his car collection with others. Would you like to see his cars?” I was not expecting this question. Once again, I have been in a lot of corporate headquarters and could not recall ever having been asked this type of question. We hesitated while trying to process what she just said. Noticing our hesitation, she added, “We have the Batmobile.”
With our official nametags on our lapels, we began our mini-tour of the headquarters. From that moment until our departure a few hours later, every single person we saw greeted us by name. It was an amazing demonstration of their commitment to their culture.
Mr. Cathy was a car guy. He did not just have a few cars on display; he was a serious collector. While some executives like their artwork on canvas, it appeared that Mr. Cathy preferred his on wheels. Instead of hiding his passion for classic cars, he shared them with everyone. At that point, I thought, even if nothing comes from our meeting, this has been an incredible day.
When Mr. Cathy arrived, we were taken up to his office. The office felt more like a living room in a home than a corporate office. It was a beautiful and impressive space, but I had the distinct feeling that he was more interested in making people feel welcome than filling them with a sense of awe at meeting a billionaire entrepreneur. His office was filled with mementos, sculptures, pictures of family and friends, and artwork that had been collected over the course of a lifetime.
In front of his desk was an old wooden cart filled with vintage six-packs of Coca-Cola in glass bottles. This cart and the Coca-Colas had a very special meaning for Mr. Cathy. When he was 8, he began selling Coca-Colas door-to-door. He found he could buy a six-pack for a quarter, and if he was willing to do the work, he could sell each bottle for a nickel.3
He had a hard time making sales until a neighbor suggested he would sell more if the Cokes were cold. This was especially true in the heat of the Georgia summer. Not only did he enjoy making a profit, but he also genuinely enjoyed making his customers day. This approach to life would stick with him throughout his career.
When Chick-fil-A began to grow and Mr. Cathy began looking for people to go into business with him, it was clear that service was at the heart of his plan. He would ask people to think about how they would feel if the president of the United States came into their store. After giving them a moment to imagine the scenario, he would say, “Your voice and facial expressions would change. You’d be eager to serve the president well, make sure he had a clean table, then go up and see if everything was all right, or if he needed anything. If we’re willing to do that for the president, why not treat every customer that well?”4
We fell into conversation easily. He had just gotten off a phone call about a situation that had been bothering him. There had been a break-in and vandalism at a home he owned, and the person responsible had been apprehended. The vandal was a young man and Mr. Cathy wanted to do something that would help, but was unsure how best to help. We talked about it for a few moments, and then the conversation turned to why he felt it was important to treat people well. He said, “Do you know why people come to my stores, even when they aren’t hungry?” He paused for a moment, just in case we knew, which we did not. He continued, “Because of the way they are treated when they get there.” He said, “We let people know we appreciate them. We express gratitude. That is why when someone says, ‘Thank you,’ we respond, ‘It’s my pleasure.’”
Mr. Cathy credited the Ritz-Carlton for changing how he and his company responded to someone who said, “Thank you” for the service they provided. When he stayed at a Ritz-Carlton, which would have been a long way from his upbringing, he was deeply impressed that when he said “Thank you,” the Ritz-Carlton employee responded, “It’s my pleasure.”5
The second time we visited, we knew a little bit more about what to expect. When we got to his office this time, he invited us to sit down and asked if we would like anything to drink. Although I normally decline, I was unusually thirsty, and I said, “Thank you. I would appreciate something to drink.” He asked what I would like, and I responded, “A Diet Coke would be great.”
At that time, due to his age, he had a personal assistant who was on call to help whenever needed. The assistant was a great guy in his mid-20s who seemed to enjoy the opportunity to serve Mr. Cathy. I first met him when Mr. Cathy came to Oklahoma City, and I appreciated the important role he was playing in Mr. Cathy’s life.
To my horror, instead of picking up the phone and asking his assistant to bring in a drink, Mr. Cathy got up from his desk, shuffled down the hallway, got a Chick-fil-A cup, and then filled it with ice and Diet Coke. With my drink in hand, the octogenarian shuffled back down the hallway and handed me my Diet Coke. It was humbling to have him serve me, and I wished I had not asked for the drink. I wondered how many soft drinks he had prepared over the course of a lifetime. It was clear why he could ask others to serve. It was not a strategy for his company; it was obviously a strategy for his life.
On the three occasions that I was to spend time with Mr. Cathy, he always gave me a gift. My experience with his generosity is not unique. Whether it was a wooden 12-inch ruler on which the Golden Rule was printed, a stuffed cow, or signed copies of his books, he was always seeking to give to others. He did not just give to others; he looked for opportunities to give to others. Perhaps that is why it is not a surprise that he quietly sent $10,000 checks to organizations trying to make a difference in the lives of future leaders, or why he taught a junior-high, boys, Sunday school class at his church for over 50 years, or why he invested so much of his time and money helping orphaned children and children in foster care.
Because of these experiences, when I was invited to a breakfast a few years later where Dan Cathy was going to be speaking, I was happy to attend the event. Although I did not have a relationship with Dan and had only interacted with him briefly when he was in Oklahoma City, my interest in Chick-fil-A’s ability to consistently create a positive customer experience had grown.
When I arrived at the breakfast program, I smiled when I saw Chick-fil-A employees handing out free breakfast food in the lobby. I smiled again when I got inside the main auditorium and saw the iconic Chick-fil-A cows on every table. It was clear that the values that had made Chick-fil-A unique would continue beyond the life of its Founder. When Dan began to speak, I found his style was different from his father’s, but his passion and focus was not.
At one point in the presentation, he shared something that I have found to be genuinely life-changing. He talked about what it meant to go beyond customer expectations. On the stage was a large whiteboard. He wrote the following, “2M2N.” He explained that it was shorthand for “Second Mile, Second Nature.”
Although the concept of “going the second mile” is commonly used, the origin of the idea is nearly 2,000 years old and attributed to the teaching of Christ. Specifically, it is from the fifth chapter of the book of Matthew. In the passage, Jesus states, “If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two
miles.”6
Jesus was a Jewish man living in a Roman world. He lived in a time in which his countrymen were continually reminded that they were not in power. One way to remind conquered people that they were subservient to Rome was to allow their soldiers to practice “impressment.” Impressment meant imperial Roman army soldiers could conscript Jews to carry their equipment, which could weigh up to 100 pounds, for one Roman mile. Being forced to carry the supplies of a Roman soldier was an unmistakable reminder of the reach of Rome.
When Jesus told his followers to go two miles, it would have been shocking advice. Instead of fighting the Romans, they were being told to yield their rights. At first blush, going the second mile appears to be sound advice for avoiding conflict. At a deeper level, there is something else happening. By giving them the option of going the second mile, he is offering them freedom. You cannot enslave someone who chooses to serve.
Dan returned to the whiteboard, and using a dry erase marker, he drew what appeared to be a large capital T. Along the vertical or y-axis, he wrote the word, “expectation.” Along the top of the horizontal x-axis, he wrote “transaction” on the left side and “transformation” on the right side.
Using the model provided, transaction is a form of first-mile thinking, and transformation is second-mile thinking. He said the goal at Chick-fil-A was not transactions, but transformations. Accordingly, the team at Chick-fil-A was asked to consider the expectations of their customers. Using the perspective of the customer, they were asked, “What would you not expect for $5.95?” The answers came quickly and predictably; hot waffle fries, clean bathrooms, ketchup, etc. The question was then modified to, “What would you not expect for $5.95?” In essence, what actions would go beyond the normal expectations of a customer at Chick-fil-A? Energized by the concept, they responded with things like, they would not expect someone to come to your table and offer freshly ground pepper, to carry the trays of food to the table for moms, to refill drinks by asking, “May I refresh your beverage,” or replying to a customer who has offered their thanks by saying, “It’s my pleasure.”
When expectations are met, a positive transaction occurs. When expectations are surpassed, the possibility for transformation emerges. Take a moment to think about the people who helped to transform your life positively. Did they meet your expectations or surpass them? For the vast majority of people I have known, they describe transformational people as those who went beyond what was expected of them. Through their words and actions, they did more than we would have asked them to do on our behalf. It is the teacher that pushed you to reach for more, the parent who went without so you would have what was needed. Transformational colleagues include the coworker who covered your shift so you could take care of a sick child or the boss who used their influence to help give you an opportunity you would not have been given otherwise.
There are numerous benefits to adopting a 2M2N mindset. One that is unexpected is how going the second mile energizes. When we go the second mile, it is no longer a chore; it is a choice. When I was a kid, every once in a while, my dad would call my brother and me into the living room and say, “Your mom had to run to the store. She has had a long day and is tired. Let’s surprise her by cleaning up the living room and kitchen. We’ve got 30 minutes; let’s make it happen.” Something about anticipating her surprise motivated us. When we had the same job on Saturday morning as part of our chores, it took forever. When it was a choice and we wanted to surprise someone we loved, we had an entirely different level of energy.
I found the application of the 2M2N concept is indeed transformational. For example, one of the chores in our house is taking the trash from the kitchen to the garage where we have a larger trash can. Prior to applying the 2M2N concept, when the trash can in the kitchen was nearly full, I would become a human trash compactor and would compress the trash down as far as I could so the next person would have to take out the trash. After all, my job was to take the trash from the garage to the curb once a week. It seemed to me that if I had to do this, the rest of the family could take care of the trash in the kitchen.
Prior to this revelation, I viewed taking out the trash as a chore. Instead of sticking with this approach, I decided to make it a choice. The next time the trash was full, I tied the top of the bag off and pulled it out of the can. I then reached under the sink and got another bag and replaced the one that I took out to the garage. I did not tell anyone that I had done it. The next time I saw the can was nearly full, I did the same thing again. On occasion, my wife will notice and express appreciation for what I have done, but that is not the point. The point is I went the second mile and by doing so something that I had viewed as a chore had become a choice. It changed my attitude, and it made me happy to surprise my wife with a small thing that I hope let her know how much she means to me.
TONY AND KATHY KENDALL
As mentioned, at the end of my sophomore year of high school, our family moved from Mobile, Alabama, to St. Louis, Missouri. My tenth-grade year in Mobile had been a special one for our family. Our varsity football team won the conference championship, and I was named an all-conference linebacker. It was a special day when we received our championship rings, and I have always treasured the fact that my dad and I both have one. He earned his as a coach, and mine was earned as a player.
The next year, while I was living in St. Louis, the team repeated as champions. I was happy for the team, but it was heart-breaking not to be there with them. My sophomore year, I had led the team in tackles, and if I had been able to play my junior year, I had a good shot at breaking the career record for tackles. Sensing my disappointment, I was amazed when my parents decided to allow me to go back to Mobile to play football my senior year.
They made arrangements for me to live with Tony and Kathy Kendall. In time, the couple would have two daughters, but at that time, they had no children and an unused guest bedroom. In an incredible act of kindness, they offered one of their guest bedrooms to me. I lived with them throughout the football season. Over the course of the few months I lived there, I forged a bond with the Kendall family that remains until this day.
Unfortunately, my senior year, the football team had a down year, and we only won three games. When the season came to a close, I moved back to St. Louis to finish out my senior year. Although going to two schools during my final year of high school was not ideal, it was the best option possible, and I remain grateful for the opportunity to have done so.
As the school year was nearing an end, I got an unexpected call from Mr. Kendall. He was calling to invite me to join my classmates on the senior class trip to Walt Disney World. Although I genuinely appreciated the kind invitation, I also knew our family did not have the money needed for me to take a trip to Orlando. I told him that I did not think it would work and tried to play it off. He said, “Well, I’ve already talked to your parents, and they said you could go.”
I told him there was no way we could afford a trip like that. He said, “I understand. But there has been some extra money made available, and there would not be any cost for the trip.” Overwhelmed by the generosity, I said, “Thank you,” and agreed to join the group.
I would later learn where the “extra money” came from. When I moved to St. Louis, the seniors launched a fundraiser to help pay for the senior class trip. The primary fundraiser was selling candy, specifically M&M’s, for $1 per box. Each senior that chose to do so, sold M&M’s and used the proceeds to help defray the cost of their trip. Mr. Kendall saw an opportunity to help me raise money by selling M&M’s under my name. He shamelessly used his position as a teacher to create a monopoly that makes me smile. He offered M&M’s to his classes with the caveat that the only candy the students could eat in his classes were the M&M’s he sold. Over the next few months, he sold hundreds of boxes.
Transforming lives requires going beyond what is expected. You cannot transform the culture of an organization by doing what is expe
cted; it requires going the second mile. Are you living in mile one or mile two?
Chapter 9
“Fly Fishing and D-Day”
Keeping the Big Picture in Mind
A few years ago, I was asked to speak at a national education conference hosted in Birmingham, Alabama. While there, I had the opportunity to meet Dr. Steve Eckman, the president of York College. We were standing outside of the main hall, where the vendors had tables, and we struck up a conversation. It only took a few minutes to recognize that Steve was passionate about leadership development and education.
York, Nebraska is home to nearly 8,000 residents and is located 50 miles west of Lincoln. Founded in 1869, the town has long been a convenient place to stop for weary travelers headed north/south on Highway 81 or east/west on Highway 80.1 The community boasts five parks, including Beaver Creek Park, which has a scenic walking trail. Most of the streets are tree-lined, and the majority of homes near the downtown are turn-of-the-century Victorians. The downtown is active with a handful of restaurants, a coffee shop, stores, offices, and banks. Surrounding the town, in all directions, are cornfields as far as the eye can see.
The United Brethren Church originally founded York College in 1890 in partnership with the city of York. In 1946, the United Brethren Church merged with the Evangelical Church to form a new denomination, the Evangelical United Brethren (EUB) Church. In 1954, the EUB decided to focus their support on an Iowa-based institution, which meant closing York College. Based on an agreement made in 1890, if the school closed, the control of the institution would be transferred to the City of York. In 1956, control of the institution was passed from the City of York to members of the Churches of Christ who sought to use the campus for its originally intended purpose. Consequently, the institution has been in existence since 1890, although its current affiliation began in 1956.2
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