“I can see clearly now the rain is gone.”-- Johnny Nash
One of my favorite stories is Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. It is part ghost story, part comedy, part tragedy, and part love story that ultimately ends with redemption. But the part that I most identify with is when young Ebenezer Scrooge was apprenticed to Fezziwig. Fezziwig gave Ebenezer his start in business and gave him is first life lessons. As Scrooge described him, “He had the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil.”
Bosses are like that – they have the power to make you happy or miserable. They can make work seem like drudgery, but they can also make work a challenge and even fun. How you interact with them impacts your leadership style for years to come. In my career I have had many outstanding bosses. Those women and men taught me how to lead and inspire because of the way they led and inspired. But like young Ebenezer, I too was fortunate to have one boss whom I will never forget. He taught me about leadership, toughness, kindness, and how to bring the best, not only in people, but also in myself. He shaped my thinking and leadership style more than anyone I have ever worked with.
His name was Walter Eisenberg, and he was the owner of Pearson’s Wine of Atlanta. I had just returned to Georgia Tech after taking a semester off to live with my grandparents in Portland Oregon, work, and think about my future. I had concluded that come hell or high water I would graduate from Georgia Tech and get my life on track. So, back in Atlanta I found myself in need of a job that would both support me and help me pay my tuition, so I found myself going through the job postings at the Georgia Tech Placement Center. One was for a stock clerk/cashier at Pearson’s and since I had grocery and cashier experience, I called for an interview.
When I met him, Walter was in his mid-forties. He was average height and had a middle-age paunch. His accent was from the northeast, and he fought a losing battle with baldness by sporting a ridiculous comb-over. He gestured continuously, almost nervously as he spoke. This caused his hair to continuously fall into his eyes, and he would have to constantly brush it back across his forehead. During my interview he told me, “If you work here, you have three priorities. The first is school. I’ll work around any class or exam schedule you have. Your second priority is working here. Everything else is third.” The “everything else,” I soon discovered, was my social life. From the time I began working at Pearson’s until I graduated from Georgia Tech, my social life was a virtual graveyard.
Walter was tough but fair, and he did not suffer fools gladly. If you ran a cash register, any shortage over ninety-nine cents came out of your paycheck. The first bottle you broke was on him; however, all subsequent breakages came out of your check. If you didn’t show up for work on a Saturday during football season, the next time you came in you’d better show up with one or more of your limbs in a cast or to be ready to pick up your last paycheck. He was also fanatical about keeping the bills in your cash register all facing the same way. To this day I keep the bills in my money clip sorted and straightened out of habit.
Yet Walter cared about his employees. He was widely read, and he would ask about what you were doing in school, how your family was doing, and your career goals. Walter was a task master, and he didn’t praise much; however, you always knew where you stood with him, and I quickly realized I worked well with him.
But it was at Christmastime when Walter really hit his stride. Christmas was, of course our peak season. We planned parties for customers and had a gift-wrapping station. Each employee wore a Santa hat with their names on them. The store was so busy on those Saturdays that Walter hired off-duty Atlanta policemen to direct traffic in the parking lot. On the busiest Saturdays Walter would send out for sandwiches from a deli that was down the street. Ham, roast beef, and turkey on fresh rolls, along with chips and sodas, would be set up in the backroom and it was grab and go time for everyone.
The Sunday before Christmas Walter and his wife Dorothy would open their house to the entire Pearson’s staff for a Christmas party. The food and fare they shared with a bunch of poor college kids was amazing. Then came Christmas Eve, which was always a special day at Pearson’s. Everyone worked that day, even Dorothy, complete with her own Santa hat, came in to manage the gift wrapping. About 2 pm Walter walked around the corner to the Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream Store and returned with a three-gallon tub of eggnog ice cream. He would then make his own special eggnog in a giant punchbowl in his office. Then he would call each of us back for a cup and to receive a Christmas bonus. Then at 6 pm sharp Walter closed the store to allow everyone to enjoy the holiday. As Dickens said of Fezziwig, “The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.”
Walter was there at just the right time in my life. During the first semester I worked for him I was promoted to shift manager and even better, I made Dean’s List for the first time. In fact, during the two years I worked for him I received the best grades of my college career and made Dean’s List several more times. When I graduated Walter offered me a full-time salaried position as Store Manager, but by then I was ready to move on. We kept in touch for a while, but eventually we lost touch. However, I have never forgotten him, or the lessons he taught me. I was fortunate to have a Fezziwig when I needed one. Throughout my career I’ve tried to pay it forward by being a mentor to others, and if I am lucky, I may yet become someone’s Fezziwig.
“The delicate balance of mentoring someone is not creating them in your own image but giving them the opportunity to create themselves.” - Steven Spielberg
Gary welcomes your comments and feedback. You can email him at garys@supplychainmavens.net.