CHAPTER 1
IMAGE
Mother always said, "Robert ...don't forget what your last name is; you represent all of us, not just yourself."
Every morning when I left for school or went out to play, Mother would holler before I was out of earshot, "Don't forget what your last name is; you represent all of us, not just yourself!" Certainly, such messages were to some extent were intended to warn me to "behave." In a staunchly religious Eastern Orthodox family, respect and good behavior topped the list of life's rules, and breaking those rules were considered a relative capital offense, which meant severe verbal admonitions that bordered on inquisitions. No matter how harsh the words, however, they were delivered in a lesson format that required behavioral modifications if privileges were to be restored.
Our Western Pennsylvania community, a suburb of Pittsburgh was a true melting pot of Europeans who came to America. Serbians, Greeks, Italians, Jews, Poles and other Eastern European groups settled in this steel town. Cleanliness, honesty, respect and hard work were the value cornerstones of all these groups.
As I approached the transitional period from boyhood to manhood, I was ready one day for the usual refrain. As I went out the door on my way to school, Mother shouted, "Robert, have a nice day and don't forget ..." Before she could finish, I said, "Excuse me, Mother. I know it by heart. 'Don't forget what my last name is,' Right?" Her immediate reaction was one of surprise, followed by a rather smug but approving smile. Her reaction led me to ask, "Did I say something funny?" She replied, "No. Just think it only took you thirteen years to remember!"
She went on to say that each of us individually accountable for our actions, and remember that each person's behavior reflects on the family and community. In small ethnic communities, news travels fast, especially bad news, especially when it came to tarnishing the family name.
The shoe store where my mother worked had developed an excellent reputation over the years. Although the store did not have a written mission statement, known for providing high-quality shoes at a reasonable price. In this, it was not unlike other stores, except it stood far above its competitors when it came to customer serve and overall flexibility. That commitment translated into personalized attention, no matter how big or small the purchase. Any complaint was met with immediate action and customer-accepted resolution.
One day after running several errands for my mother, I returned to my mother's store, when in walked a customer that demanding to see a salesperson. My mother walked over to him and asked if she could be of help. It was during the holiday season, which meant the store was brimming with happy holiday shoppers. He responded in a loud and irritable voice, "Yes! I bought these shoes here and they fell apart. I DEMAND A FULL REFUND!" His voice was so loud, everyone in the store turned to identifying its source.
Ignoring his outburst, Mother carefully examined the shoes—their condition was pre-Civil War. She then asked if he had a receipt—an etched stone tablet would have been more like it. This did not lessen his demand. She went on to ask when he bought the shoes—he couldn't remember. It became obvious, he was trying to 'bully' his way to getting a refund. In the meantime, a hush fell over the store as everyone waited to see how my mother handled the situation.
She asked him to wait a moment, while she checked with the owner. She explained the situation to Mr. Chamovitz. "Before I give you my opinion, what do you think is the best way to handle it?" She did not hesitate. "Well, I recommend we give him a refund, even though he doesn't have a receipt." When Morris asked why, she explained that the store was full of good customers, and the incident drew so much attention, she felt she could turn a negative situation into a positive one. He agreed.
She returned to the customer and thanked him for waiting. "Sir, it is store policy that customers provide a receipt or some type of information to verify that the shoes were purchased here. I'm sure you can understand why we have such a policy, but ..." Before she continued, he interrupted. "I'VE HEARD ENOUGH ... I WANT TO SPEAK WITH THE OWNER!" She did not react to his outburst, instead she commonly, but firmly stated, "That won't be necessary, I've spoken with the owner and he's given me permission to give you a full refund, but under one condition." The customer quieted and asked, "What condition?" She said that he would have to fill out his name, address and telephone number for their records. In addition, any future refunds he might request would have to meet the store's policy of having a receipt.
He filled out the information, took the money and immediately left the store without a 'thank you' or any form of acknowledgment. After he left, my teenage mind needed to resolve why she gave him a refund, when it was obvious he was lying. She offered her usual quietly confident smile and explained. "Even though there is a store policy, there were other factors involved. With the number of customers in the store, the situation became an opportunity, not a problem." I asked, "But what's going to happen now that everyone in the store saw you break the store policy? Won't they try and do the same thing on day?"
She reassured me that it was highly unlikely, because most were long- standing customers and knew I was making an exception to rid the store of a less than honest customer. "You see Robert, by stating the store policy, it's very unlikely he'll ever come back; but even if he does, he better have a receipt—not only that, people like him are always trying to take advantage of someone, and rarely try to pull the same trick twice." I was beginning to get the bigger picture. This lesson served me well later in the business world, when being 'right' turned into being 'dead right.'
Everything that each employee says or does paints a portrait, or image, of the company they represent, whether at work or in public. Companies spend millions of dollars to develop a specific image, or brand, of how the market perceives its name, products or services. When we mention a specific name, for example, Coca Cola, an immediate image or experience comes to mind, i.e., the product and its relative quality and value.
Once when speaking before a sales force of a highly regarded lumber company, one of the participants, the company's number one salesperson, raised his hand and shared an unlikely admission, "Robert, I want to ask your opinion about one of my major accounts. Two years ago, he quit doing business with us, and if that wasn't bad enough, ever since then, he's been on a one man's crusade to share with anyone who will listen, the supposed injustice he had to bear." You could hear a pin drop. I was shocked, along with everyone else in the room, including the company's president.
The customer wanted a credit of $2,000 for lumber he claimed he returned. The sales representative said there were no records to support his claim. The conflict turned into a battle of wills, with neither side giving in. As a result, the company lost a major customer, and even worse, he launched a one-man 'mudslinging' campaign against my client.
I decided to share "The Returned Shoes Caper." I stressed it is important for every representative of the company to remember what his or her last name is, i.e., they represent the entire company and not just themselves. I said that even though the sales representative was acting in what he thought was in the company's best interest; unfortunately, it wasn't. The negative impact far outweighed adhering to company policy. I suggested they send a letter from the company president, along with a full refund. It may not guarantee his business would return, but he might give serious thought to ending his negative campaign—and from that point of view, it could be considered investment spending.
At that point, we took a five-minute break. The president took me aside to discuss the situation. He wondered what effect my suggestion would have on his top performer. I said the rep might feel a temporary loss of image among his peers, and a sense that upper management was not pleased with his handling of the account, however, at the same time, there were lessons learned and opportunities were on the horizon. The president agreed. The meeting reconvened, and he took the floor.
"Hindsight is always 20/20," he said, "but let's not dwell on the past, let's focus on the future, which is the present." He went on to say, from this point forward, he wants everyone to complete a thorough cost and benefit analysis to avoid such occurrences in the future. He then thanked the sales rep for his willingness to share his story and the value it brought to the meeting. The audience's applause spoke for itself, while the sales rep breathed a sigh of relief.
He added, "We're going to take Robert's advice, I'm going to send a letter of apology, along with a full refund check with interest. Even though much time has passed, and even if it's highly unlikely we can't regain his business, we can at least hope he stops his mudslinging campaign." He went on to point out the company's success attributed to hard work, honesty and fairness to its customers. His decision was a reflection of their philosophy. The veteran sales representative nodded in agreement. As the president started to sit down, he smiled warmly and said, "And let's not forget what our last name is ..."
REVENGE
Mother always said, "Robert ...before setting out on revenge, first dig two graves— one for your enemy and one for yourself."
When I was approximately twelve years of age, our family lived in a wonderful neighborhood. Our home was set on a lush, expansive yard, dotted with fruit trees, including the most delicious red and yellow apple varieties. Each year, we eagerly awaited the coming of fall and the annual apple harvest, but this year would be different....
It all began when our neighbor lodged a complaint against us. Several of our larger trees had branches hanging into her yard, which resulted in many apples falling on her property. We made a sincere attempt to pick them up each day, but it was not enough to keep her lawn apple- free. The situation escalated from polite expressions of dissatisfaction to direct and even hostile confrontations. Then, without explanation, she stopped complaining. My parents were relieved but confused by her sudden turnaround.
During the height of the picking season, we could count on four bushels of apples a day, but over the next two weeks, we reaped half that sum. Then we began noticing a significant absence of apples on the branches that reached into her yard and none on the ground on her side of the property line. I asked Mother, "How could she take them without asking?"
"She probably felt justified," answered Mother. "You see, Robert, none of us likes to feel as though we're doing anything wrong, so we rationalize ... That is, we make excuses or find reasons for our behavior. It is possibly her way of getting back at us; although she never complained in past years, so maybe she is having difficulties in her life we don't know about. Whatever the reasons, she's made a decision to take them without asking." Her explanation only compounded my frustration.
My brother and I were angry and felt the need to take revenge. We were young, impetuous, and as a result, everything in our lives was a case of black and white. What was right was right, and what was wrong always seemed so obvious.
One day, my parents were discussing the situation, and I felt compelled to voice my opinion. Self-righteously I blurted out, "That woman is a thief and should be punished!" I was shocked when my parents showed little support for—or even a reaction to my outburst. As far as I was concerned, it was an open-and-shut case. The only question in my mind was what kind of punishment or legal actions to take. I voted for calling the police and sharing the news with all of the neighbors and local media.
My mother sensed my extreme dismay and asked, "Robert, are you seeking justice or revenge? What good does it do to call the police? Even if we do, what do you think the consequences might be?" I hated when she did that—always asking logical questions that made me think. Why could it not be as simple as it is on television or in the movies: the good guys are totally right and the bad guys are always wrong—the good guys always won, and justice inevitably prevailed!
I responded, "I don't want revenge, I just want what is right!" She gave me her classic Mona Lisa smile, which left me with little indication as to what she was about to say; but as usual, she did not disappoint me. In fact, her words still ring in my ears, and even today, when I deal with similar situations. "Robert," she said, "knowing the 'right thing' to do in life isn't always as easy as it seems. In this case, there are many other things to consider besides just making her pay, in whatever form, for what she has done. Look, she has been a good neighbor for more than twenty years, shouldn't that count for something?"
I held my ground: "Well, the least we can do is tell her that we know she stole our apples." Mother gave me a puzzled look. "But darling, why should we tell her what she already knows?"
What my mother had that I did not was experience in life. She knew that this woman was simply a human being who had made an error in judgment. From time to time, we all make wrong decisions. Even if she thought we might never uncover the truth, she would probably feel experience a much greater pain from her own conscience.
It was only a matter of two weeks before she came over to talk with my mother. It was obvious she wanted to confess, but Mother stopped her before she could explain. Placing her arm around the woman's shoulders in a comforting manner, she said, "Look, Louise, I can see you've been troubled over this unfortunate experience. You have been a wonderful neighbor and good friend for too many years to let this one incident change all of that. Let's forget it ever happened, and whenever you want apples for yourself and your family, you're always welcome to help yourself."
While I believe that compassion is my Mother's basic nature, her motives went much deeper. Her values and experience had taught her that forgiveness is far more practical than revenge. Although it took quite some time for our relationship with the neighbor to return to normal, it eventually did. In fact, it ultimately became much stronger and more meaningful.
Years later, I had the opportunity to revisit this lesson in a setting designed to uphold justice, but just the opposite occurred.
In the 1980's, there was an overabundance of competition inside the beltway, and many Washington, D.C. law firms were experiencing similar problems. One firm in particular was losing substantial market share and had begun to experience an erosion of its client base. Looking to take action to stop the bleeding and create a strategy for maintaining and growing their market share, the owners of the firm realized that what they needed was a sound marketing plan. At the time, marketing was a new concept to the legal profession.
As a public relations professional, I faced the inherent barriers that came along with that reality. The lawyers' perception of marketing was a euphemism for the unspeakable term, selling. It was considered the antithesis of what the profession had always represented to the public and its own self-image. I understood and sympathized with their concerns, but what further complicated matters was the fact that the firm suffered from the rivalries between departments and among associates that exist in every organization. It wasn't until I had been consulting with the firm for several months that I became a witness to an extreme example of their particular brand of rivalry.
On one side was a senior litigator who was successful and highly respected by the public and his peers. However, within his practice, he showed little patience or understanding to anyone who questioned his ideas and methods. He assumed absolute authority over his work and rarely delegated any of his responsibilities.
On the other side was his rival, a young, bright, ambitious attorney that questioned the logic behind employee policies. He was also a team player, who actively promoted shared participation and was not afraid to delegate responsibility. Their different personalities and management styles were mutually exclusive, and as a result, the two lawyers were on an inevitable collision course.
