Do you have an impression of big box retailers? Is it good, bad or are you truly indifferent about them? Do you think about the level of service you receive versus the costs savings associated with them?
I do.
In my opinion they are all the same. You get cheap stuff at better prices than most other retailers. Service is questionable at best. But there is one glaring exception to this model: Costco.
What is Costco's secret sauce? As a fan, I've been noticing things I never noticed before. First off, former CEO Jim Senegal says that the only thing that matters at Costco is employee culture. He figured out that culture is more important than brand, more important than prices, more important than anything...
Recently I had the pleasure of walking by the staff area at my local Costco. I think I saw the key ingredient in their success. On a list of employee principles, the first line said, "Look at customers in the eye".
Look at customers in the eye!!! Brilliant. Acknowledge a customer as if they matter. Not another cog in an endless line of people buying disposal crap. Companies have a hard time training staff to do just that. And it's not just the big box multinational stores.
It's also the small and medium sized businesses.
A big company like Costco treats us like people and we reward them for it.
If you own a small business, try treating your customers like people. Treat them like family. You'll be surprised by the results. You don't need to spend that ad budget on getting new customers. Just work on the ones you already have. Create raving fans. They'll do all the advertising for you.
Have I mentioned I love Costco? What does it cost to look people in the eye?
Try it. Teach your staff how to do it. I dare you.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Are you a racist?
When I was five, a man delivered a sofa to my parent's house. He didn't have the same skin colour as anyone I had ever known. I was mesmerized. My mom tells the story about an innocent kid staring at him asking questions about why.
I remember the event. I remember not understanding. I remember focussing on him. I was a kid. He was different. I was curious.
Fast forward 25 years. My wife and I wanted to grow our little family. Colour of skin was never a concern. Anyone who adopts knows this.
Morgan Freeman said that the only way we get past racism is if we stop referring to people by labelling them by the colour of skin.
I can honestly tell you that I don't see the colour of my daughter's skin. I see it when others stare at us. I feel it when she cries about feeling lonely. My daughter sometimes feels different. She has a visible difference to those who don't love her. When she was five, she asked us when her skin would become white.
Here's what hurts the most. On three occasions in the past month, three different people affirmed that they were not racist. Yet they continued to categorize all people of colour the same way. In all cases they did not know about my daughter, nor was I confronting them. We were having normal conversations.
If you make a statement that includes all people of the same race, that is the very definition of racism.
How shocking it is to know that in my circle of influence there are racists who prejudge others by the colour of skin. How simple? How ignorant?
You can hurt me with your words, but one day these words will penetrate a sheltered innocent little girl.
That will be an even sadder day for my family.
I remember the event. I remember not understanding. I remember focussing on him. I was a kid. He was different. I was curious.
Fast forward 25 years. My wife and I wanted to grow our little family. Colour of skin was never a concern. Anyone who adopts knows this.
Morgan Freeman said that the only way we get past racism is if we stop referring to people by labelling them by the colour of skin.
I can honestly tell you that I don't see the colour of my daughter's skin. I see it when others stare at us. I feel it when she cries about feeling lonely. My daughter sometimes feels different. She has a visible difference to those who don't love her. When she was five, she asked us when her skin would become white.
Here's what hurts the most. On three occasions in the past month, three different people affirmed that they were not racist. Yet they continued to categorize all people of colour the same way. In all cases they did not know about my daughter, nor was I confronting them. We were having normal conversations.
If you make a statement that includes all people of the same race, that is the very definition of racism.
How shocking it is to know that in my circle of influence there are racists who prejudge others by the colour of skin. How simple? How ignorant?
You can hurt me with your words, but one day these words will penetrate a sheltered innocent little girl.
That will be an even sadder day for my family.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Love of softball
I'm what some would call an old fart. Not decrepit old, just not young. Some use the words more experienced. Some would say wise.
I don't care about the label that is applied to me by others. Youthfulness isn't defined by age. It isn't defined by energy. It is defined by state of mind. My grandfather was in his nineties when he died. He had a more youthful character than most people a third of his age.
Youthfulness is demonstrated in the desire to play games and tricks. I love to play games.
From a very early age, I loved the game of softball. I remember my first glove was emblazened with the Montreal Expos logo. As a kid, I would find a way to practice the sport in some way or another. A good game of catch, shagging fly balls, throwing balls against a building. The game has always been a part of my life.
When no one else would organize a team, I would do it. At thirteen, I organized games against my cousin's team in a nearby community. When my cousin couldn't put together a team, I would organize a game against the local women's team. Our team consisted of players aged 8 to 13. We were good enough to compete with the adult women.
Our team was made up of a bunch of friends. A bunch of like-minded kids who were trying to occupy their time in a community where social dangers were everywhere.
Looking back at those youthful days, I'm very proud of the kids I grew up with. Most of my friends have moved to different parts of the world. Softball brought us together. Life has torn us a part.
As my friends gave up the youthful game, I continue to play. Now in my forties, I play only once per week. It is my time. I'm in my glory on the diamond. Time stands still for a couple of hours as I relive my childhood on the field. Friends are different but the game is the same.
It no longer matters if I win or lose. It should never have mattered but it did at one time.
Now a bunch of like minded old farts get together once per week to enjoy the passion of a game designed for youth.
I almost stopped playing this year when my son expressed interest in baseball. Unfortunately baseball was one night per week and it was on the same night as my softball night. As any good dad would do, I was ready to hang up the glove so he could enjoy the same wonderful game that I have always loved. Fortunately for me, he thought a hard ball being thrown at him was too scary this year.
So for one more year, I get to hit a ball, run around the bases with the ultimate goal of getting home safe.
There's something primal about that. Don't you think?
I don't care about the label that is applied to me by others. Youthfulness isn't defined by age. It isn't defined by energy. It is defined by state of mind. My grandfather was in his nineties when he died. He had a more youthful character than most people a third of his age.
Youthfulness is demonstrated in the desire to play games and tricks. I love to play games.
From a very early age, I loved the game of softball. I remember my first glove was emblazened with the Montreal Expos logo. As a kid, I would find a way to practice the sport in some way or another. A good game of catch, shagging fly balls, throwing balls against a building. The game has always been a part of my life.
When no one else would organize a team, I would do it. At thirteen, I organized games against my cousin's team in a nearby community. When my cousin couldn't put together a team, I would organize a game against the local women's team. Our team consisted of players aged 8 to 13. We were good enough to compete with the adult women.
Our team was made up of a bunch of friends. A bunch of like-minded kids who were trying to occupy their time in a community where social dangers were everywhere.
Looking back at those youthful days, I'm very proud of the kids I grew up with. Most of my friends have moved to different parts of the world. Softball brought us together. Life has torn us a part.
As my friends gave up the youthful game, I continue to play. Now in my forties, I play only once per week. It is my time. I'm in my glory on the diamond. Time stands still for a couple of hours as I relive my childhood on the field. Friends are different but the game is the same.
It no longer matters if I win or lose. It should never have mattered but it did at one time.
Now a bunch of like minded old farts get together once per week to enjoy the passion of a game designed for youth.
I almost stopped playing this year when my son expressed interest in baseball. Unfortunately baseball was one night per week and it was on the same night as my softball night. As any good dad would do, I was ready to hang up the glove so he could enjoy the same wonderful game that I have always loved. Fortunately for me, he thought a hard ball being thrown at him was too scary this year.
So for one more year, I get to hit a ball, run around the bases with the ultimate goal of getting home safe.
There's something primal about that. Don't you think?
Friday, June 27, 2014
Focus in...
Do you want something really bad? So bad that you can smell it. You can taste the sweetness of success. You can hear the cheers of your fans. Doesn't it feel great?
The ability to be a visionary is a gift. Many of us get scared to share our vision of the future. We feel judged so we keep our hopes and desires to ourselves.
The difference between a dreamer and a visionary is the dreamer doesn't have a plan of action. The visionary is a rare breed.
Our communities need visionaries. Our regions need people that are not afraid to fail. My province has seen two world class entrepreneurial visionaries in K.C Irving and Harrison McCain. Others have done extremely well but not world class like these two kingpins. Love them or hate them, no one can deny their fearless ambition and their unwillingness to accept a lower lot in life.
I'm going to take off my mask and be completely vulnerable. I am going to take a company to world-class status. I am going to build a company that one day is compared to the two great companies in our neck of the woods.
You can laugh. You can roll your eyes. Guess what? Many did the same when Harrison McCain used to talk about being a leader in the frozen french fry business.
I may be a bit over confident. Isn't that required?
Some will say I'm dreaming. I don't think so. I have a plan. My plan is so clear I turned down an opportunity earlier this year that will cost me millions of dollars.
Roll your eyes. Laugh.
Do you have a plan?
I do. And I'm focused on it.
The ability to be a visionary is a gift. Many of us get scared to share our vision of the future. We feel judged so we keep our hopes and desires to ourselves.
The difference between a dreamer and a visionary is the dreamer doesn't have a plan of action. The visionary is a rare breed.
Our communities need visionaries. Our regions need people that are not afraid to fail. My province has seen two world class entrepreneurial visionaries in K.C Irving and Harrison McCain. Others have done extremely well but not world class like these two kingpins. Love them or hate them, no one can deny their fearless ambition and their unwillingness to accept a lower lot in life.
I'm going to take off my mask and be completely vulnerable. I am going to take a company to world-class status. I am going to build a company that one day is compared to the two great companies in our neck of the woods.
You can laugh. You can roll your eyes. Guess what? Many did the same when Harrison McCain used to talk about being a leader in the frozen french fry business.
I may be a bit over confident. Isn't that required?
Some will say I'm dreaming. I don't think so. I have a plan. My plan is so clear I turned down an opportunity earlier this year that will cost me millions of dollars.
Roll your eyes. Laugh.
Do you have a plan?
I do. And I'm focused on it.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Who gave you the right?
There's an old television commercial of a fisherman and his son on a boat. The fisherman throws garbage overboard and the son asks where does the garbage go (when it goes into the water). The fisherman answers in stoic fashion, "Away".
The commercial was developed to promote anti littering campaigns on the water, emphasizing the drastic effects it can have on marine life.
Texas developed a formidable campaign addressing the same littering issues. "Don't Mess with Texas" was a strong message that delivered a clear desired outcome.
There seems to be less littering in our society today than there was thirty years ago. But there is still one area that needs major attention: Cigarette butts.
Walk down the street of any community and you'll see the nasty discarded fragments of desperation following you wherever you go.
Both my parents smoked cigarettes when I was young. I was used to having ashtrays around the house, cigarette butts in the car and breathing second hand smoke. It was a different time.
Today as more and more understand the dangers of smoking, times have changed. Second hand smoke seems to be a thing of the past as more smokers are forced to smoke outside. I haven't seen a used ashtray in years. They don't even put them in cars any more. Not to mention the cigarette lighter has been replaced with the electrical outlet most cars.
Given all of these social changes, many who do smoke still don't respect their environment. As a restauranteur we would periodically go outside and pick up butts from customers who would fling their discarded cancer sticks before enjoying a hearty breakfast. Although the paper and burnt up tobacco disintegrates with a bit of rain, the filter lingers.
Pick a day, any day and you can find someone flick their butt out a car window. Do people realize that the filter ends up polluting our beautiful communities?
Although less people are throwing litter in the ditches, smokers continue to devalue our communities with their habits.
I am sympathetic to those who smoke. It is something either they like to do or something they cannot quit. And since we live in a free country, I believe it is their right to smoke away.
If you're a smoker, keep your butts in a bottle in the car. Why does the world have to clean up your discarded garbage?
Like the commercial from the early eighties, do you think your butts just go away?
The commercial was developed to promote anti littering campaigns on the water, emphasizing the drastic effects it can have on marine life.
Texas developed a formidable campaign addressing the same littering issues. "Don't Mess with Texas" was a strong message that delivered a clear desired outcome.
There seems to be less littering in our society today than there was thirty years ago. But there is still one area that needs major attention: Cigarette butts.
Walk down the street of any community and you'll see the nasty discarded fragments of desperation following you wherever you go.
Both my parents smoked cigarettes when I was young. I was used to having ashtrays around the house, cigarette butts in the car and breathing second hand smoke. It was a different time.
Today as more and more understand the dangers of smoking, times have changed. Second hand smoke seems to be a thing of the past as more smokers are forced to smoke outside. I haven't seen a used ashtray in years. They don't even put them in cars any more. Not to mention the cigarette lighter has been replaced with the electrical outlet most cars.
Given all of these social changes, many who do smoke still don't respect their environment. As a restauranteur we would periodically go outside and pick up butts from customers who would fling their discarded cancer sticks before enjoying a hearty breakfast. Although the paper and burnt up tobacco disintegrates with a bit of rain, the filter lingers.
Pick a day, any day and you can find someone flick their butt out a car window. Do people realize that the filter ends up polluting our beautiful communities?
Although less people are throwing litter in the ditches, smokers continue to devalue our communities with their habits.
I am sympathetic to those who smoke. It is something either they like to do or something they cannot quit. And since we live in a free country, I believe it is their right to smoke away.
If you're a smoker, keep your butts in a bottle in the car. Why does the world have to clean up your discarded garbage?
Like the commercial from the early eighties, do you think your butts just go away?
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Patience is a virtue I was not blessed with
I grew up poor. Not living on the street poor. Sharing a bedroom with my sister poor. Bringing butter sandwiches to school poor. Mixing canned milk with water poor.
We had all the necessities to survive. There just weren't any extras. We never went hungry. But somedays we lived on tomato soup to get us to grocery day, which in effect was mom or dad's payday.
Those years are long behind me, but I never forgot how I felt.
I've been accused on many occasions of being an impatient person. When I want something, I want it now. I read recently that many successful entrepreneurs suffer from the same condition.
In my ongoing search for growth, I wonder what drives my impatience. A friend told me that impatience is derived from fear. Fear from what?
Another friend told me that his impatience is derived from a a fear of loss. He's afraid to lose money, time and power. I liked the answer so much I identified with it and believed my impatience may be coming from the same place.
This made sense until I had a coffee with another good friend. He honestly told me that I like to be in control - almost a control freak. He was right. I could easily explain every major event in my life when I lost my patience. Each time I was afraid of losing control. Control of my future, control of my finances, control of my life. Someone else controlled me and I fought back.
Here's what's ironic: when I lose my patience, I lose control of my emotions. What I'm afraid of losing is actually lost the second I fear losing it.
I think the fear of losing control has something to do with my childhood. I can't change my past. I can only change what I do now.
I'm working really hard to let the fear go.
Wish me luck!
We had all the necessities to survive. There just weren't any extras. We never went hungry. But somedays we lived on tomato soup to get us to grocery day, which in effect was mom or dad's payday.
Those years are long behind me, but I never forgot how I felt.
I've been accused on many occasions of being an impatient person. When I want something, I want it now. I read recently that many successful entrepreneurs suffer from the same condition.
In my ongoing search for growth, I wonder what drives my impatience. A friend told me that impatience is derived from fear. Fear from what?
Another friend told me that his impatience is derived from a a fear of loss. He's afraid to lose money, time and power. I liked the answer so much I identified with it and believed my impatience may be coming from the same place.
This made sense until I had a coffee with another good friend. He honestly told me that I like to be in control - almost a control freak. He was right. I could easily explain every major event in my life when I lost my patience. Each time I was afraid of losing control. Control of my future, control of my finances, control of my life. Someone else controlled me and I fought back.
Here's what's ironic: when I lose my patience, I lose control of my emotions. What I'm afraid of losing is actually lost the second I fear losing it.
I think the fear of losing control has something to do with my childhood. I can't change my past. I can only change what I do now.
I'm working really hard to let the fear go.
Wish me luck!
Friday, June 20, 2014
It's natural
How often do we assume that something is good for us because of company claims that it's all natural?
Every time I hear a company claiming their natural components, I laugh inside. Just because something naturally occurs in nature does not mean it's good for you. A couple products that are naturally occurring in nature that we wouldn't consider a healthy choice: Opium, arsenic, tobacco, uranium, not to mention those little red berries that my mom always told me not to eat in the summertime.
Cobras are a part of nature. Does that mean their naturally produced venom is also good for us?
I get it. In a world of artificial sweeteners, artificial flavors, breast implants, genetically modified foods, synthetic chemicals, andeouldnt plastic surgery, natural seems to be the more healthier option but it doesn't grant 100% certainty that it's good for us.
Give me an emotional reason to buy. Natural may be important to some, but it isn't to me.
Every time I hear a company claiming their natural components, I laugh inside. Just because something naturally occurs in nature does not mean it's good for you. A couple products that are naturally occurring in nature that we wouldn't consider a healthy choice: Opium, arsenic, tobacco, uranium, not to mention those little red berries that my mom always told me not to eat in the summertime.
Cobras are a part of nature. Does that mean their naturally produced venom is also good for us?
I get it. In a world of artificial sweeteners, artificial flavors, breast implants, genetically modified foods, synthetic chemicals, andeouldnt plastic surgery, natural seems to be the more healthier option but it doesn't grant 100% certainty that it's good for us.
Give me an emotional reason to buy. Natural may be important to some, but it isn't to me.
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