This article is the third and final in my series paying tribute to my Dad, who passed away late this summer. The earlier articles in this trilogy include: Leadership and Management Lessons from Losing Dad and Life and Leadership Lessons from Dad’s Amazing Early Life.
Thank you to all who have expressed their support and appreciation for the insights I am sharing.
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Dad conducted a master class in overcoming adversity as a child. From an early age placement in an orphanage to navigating poverty, suffering from severe crossed eyes until a radical surgery in his teens, he personified tenacity. We called it “sticktoitiveness,” and to Dad, this was a key to success. He carried this forward through his life.
While I suspect the experience of being abandoned as a young child of four or five left scars, we never heard about those until the Dementia kicked in. Instead, we heard about how his early life forged his sense of independence and drive to fend for himself, and ultimately, his family. This is the Dad we knew.
Taking a step back to move forward
In my prior article on Dad’s early life, I ended with a scene I observed as a young child. Mom and Dad are sitting at the dining room table of their first house, and I’m in the living room playing.
I knew their discussion was serious, and I distinctly recall his words. “If I take the job they’re offering me in the office, I’ll have to take a pay cut.” It was no secret that money was tight. I knew that when they closed on their house and couldn’t scrape up enough cash for us to get a bite to eat at what passed for a fast food restaurant in those days.
I sensed that this decision was significant, although I didn’t realize how much of their life would pivot on his choice.
Mom was more reassuring. I don’t remember her exact words, but I remember her encouraging him to do it. (Sidebar: Mom offered a significant number of life and leadership lessons that guide me to this day. That’s another article. This one’s for Dad.)
Dad took the job, shifting from a plant employee to purchasing manager. He walked out the door 40 years later as president of the company.
When talking with him, he credited the firm’s Treasurer, Harold, for taking a liking to him. “Harold liked my work ethic and thought I was smart. He’s the one who opened this door for me.”
Providing people with opportunities to prove themselves was a hallmark of his leadership style.
A unique vantage point to see Dad in action
Dad in his early office days
One of the privileges of my life was the opportunity to see Dad in his working environment as a rising executive. From the age of 13, when I was hired part-time to paste labels on cans and later plastic bottles, and through many summers during high school and college, I worked in every part of the plant.
Of course, this wasn’t the chemical packaging plant Dad started in. It was the one he designed and built. Literally, he laid out the tank farm, pumping system, packaging lines, explosion-proof room, blending systems, and warehousing. In my earlier article, I shared that Dad dropped out of high school, eventually earning a GED.
Note: no engineering degree.
I was present for the shift from the original location to the next. During the summer the plant was being built, we traveled together every day into the city where I did odd jobs. We would drive home in the late afternoons, listening to the local jazz station, and talk about the plant he was building. Dad found an extra gear for this project, and I was fascinated as he explained the intricacies of the design work to safely pump and package volatile, flammable, and caustic chemicals.
I was there when an unexpected flood destroyed the tank farm during construction. He led the rebuild. (And many years later, following retirement, they engaged him to lead the regulatory-driven rebuild of this farm.)
Having the chance to work in the environment that Dad created and observe as the company flourished and grew offered invaluable leadership and life lessons. I got the opportunity to watch my Dad grow as a leader in real time.
Life and leadership lessons from Dad
Tenacity is essential for success.
I am a tenacious person. I pale in comparison to the “sticktoitiveness” my Dad displayed for complex challenges of all types. Whether we were working together on a home improvement project, solving a car problem, or repairing one of the endless things that needed fixing at the lake, he always knew there was a way forward. When I was ready to give up and pay to fix it, he would remind me, “A little tenacity will go a long way.”
He was right.
Respect is never negotiable.
I loved seeing how Dad engaged with the plant workers. You could tell there was a respect for their work and for them as individuals. After all, that’s where he started. The respect was reciprocated. They knew his roots, and they appreciated his character and how he engaged with them.
When he was negotiating, firing someone, or offering constructive feedback, respect was always present.
Strength is essential
Dad faced numerous uncomfortable moments in his career. Negotiating with the union, suppliers, or powerful retailers was a part of his role. He regularly testified in product liability cases where the goal of opposing counsel is to make you look incompetent. He developed a reputation as someone opposing counsel couldn’t beat.
In one situation, he was preparing to negotiate with one of the country’s most powerful retailers. He wasn’t negotiating with the purchasing department; he was dealing with the founder of the firm. The founder had a reputation for strong-arming vendors into massive price concessions. Dad sat across the desk from him and stood his ground on pricing. After a protracted silence, the founder nodded and said, “Let’s do it.” Almost thirty years after that negotiation, the company’s products are prominently displayed and sold in those stores.
Presence is an integral part of success.
Long before the term “executive presence” was commonplace, Dad understood the elements of projecting strength and command through his communication style and body language.
I observed him engaging with suppliers, trucking companies, and even some particularly tough characters on the plant floor. I was present when he debated the firm’s executives on a strategic decision. It wasn’t a fair fight. They adopted Dad’s path.
You knew he was in charge. Fear was nowhere to be seen in the arena, and his vocal approach and body language conveyed competence and authority. He backed it up with his intelligence, but he never crossed the line into arrogance.
While I didn’t think in terms of executive presence as a 20-year-old, those attributes of his left a lasting impression on me. To the wrong person, he could be intimidating. To everyone else, well, he was an expert and in charge.
Doing the right thing was the only way forward
Dad operated with the mindset that there was a right and a wrong, a black or white. Gray didn’t have a home in his thinking. The only path forward was to do the right thing, no matter how difficult it was. I learned never to take the easy path if it meant compromising values or going gray on right or wrong. I can’t tell you how many times I came back to this lesson from him as I faced my challenging decisions and situations.
Empathy is free — use it liberally
I remember an occasion when I saw his empathy powerfully on display. A long-time plant employee had run into life problems and was bringing toxicity into the workplace. Dad worked with him. Gave him multiple chances. And when the worker’s behavior escalated to a fireable offense, Dad stepped up and did what was right for everyone. Dad was kind in his explanation of his decision and offered ongoing help. The individual (‘Ken’) was angry and his response to Dad was, “I’m coming back to kick your a@@.” Dad’s reaction: “Whatever you think you need to do, Ken.”
Ken came back a few months later, asking at reception for Dad. Dad met him in the lobby, unsure of what to expect. Ken apologized for his behavior, indicated that he deserved to be fired, and appreciated the way Dad handled it.
Cue the lesson.
Dad taught me how to be a better father and husband
Dad loved his family. He was involved, always there to offer support for a problem or project. He found time for us. The experiences and memories we created as a family are priceless.
He loved his wife, my mother. When Mom was dying of cancer, Dad taught us all what it looks like to be a caregiver.
After she passed, he loved his partner. He was extremely generous with my brother and me, as well as his grandchildren.
Dad encouraged me to be a leader, long before I knew what that meant.
He set high expectations for his sons, yet never so high as to create unreasonable pressure. He wanted us to be intrinsically motivated. He wanted us to be tenacious in the face of challenges, as he had been throughout his life.
The Bottom Line for Now:
Our parents are much more than their work selves. They’re teachers, coaches, disciplinarians, and sources of inspiration. They ground us in values. They help us form our character. We are both reflections and extensions of them. They’re also humans who have faults, make mistakes, and struggle from time to time like the rest of us.
They say you don’t really grow up until you no longer have your parents with you. I hate this lesson. I don’t love a world without my parents. It’s lonelier, and the world is a poorer place for the loss of their wisdom. I’m mourning. Yet, I have these indelible lessons to draw upon and keep me moving forward. My goal is to pay Dad’s lessons forward to my sons and grandchildren. It’s the best I can do to honor him.
This article and the series don’t do justice to what I learned from my Dad about leading and living. Nonetheless, there are lessons for all of us in how he lived his life.
It was an honor to be his son.
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