All the Way to the Top
VERMILION
LONDON
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Copyright © by Harvey Mackay
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First published 1999 by Ballantine Books,
a division of Random House Inc., New York.
First published in Britain in 2000 by Vermilion,
an imprint of Ebury Press, Random House,
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 0-09-182659-4
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
By Harvey Mackay
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Introduction
SECTION ONE: HOW TO BE A #10
Chapter 1: May I Have the Envelope Please?
YOUR GOALS, EXPRESSLY DELIVERED
Chapter 2: Now That It’s February, Happy New Year
Chapter 3: And I Thought Selling Envelopes Was Tough
Chapter 4: Determination Turns the Ordinary into Extraordinary
Chapter 5: Winning
Chapter 6: Trust Yourself
Chapter 7: Take a Lesson from My Folks: Never Stop Learning
Chapter 8: All Things Come to Those Who Go After Them
EARNING THE STAMP OF APPROVAL
Chapter 9: Father of the Groom
Chapter 10: If It’s a Tie, You Lose
Chapter 11: Help Wanted
Chapter 12: The Fixer
THE CUTTING EDGE
Chapter 13: Putting the Different in Differentiator
Chapter 14: Creativity Killers
Chapter 15: Fuzzy Logic
Chapter 16: Success Is Getting Up More Than You Fall Down
AVOID THESE OR IT’S RETURN TO SENDER
Chapter 17: Don’t Get Clocked
Chapter 18: Not Exactly Chopped Liver
Chapter 19: Another Bonehead Play
Chapter 20: When Smart People Do Stupid Things
SECTION TWO: LICKING THE COMPETITION
WHAT EVERY GOOD STAMP COLLECTOR KNOWS
Chapter 21: 12 Ways to Ruin Your Next Speech
Chapter 22:
Chapter 23: Photo Op
Chapter 24: Telephone 101
Chapter 25: Take Your Work Seriously, Don’t Take Yourself Seriously
WITH THE RIGHT SPIN, A TWO-CENT STAMP CAN BE WORTH MILLIONS
Chapter 26: How to Get a Raise
Chapter 27: Let’s Make a Deal
Chapter 28: Let’s Make a Deal II
Chapter 29: Masters of the Game
Chapter 30: Bidding Wars
Chapter 31: The Real Master of the Game
Chapter 32: The Best Deal I Never Made
SECTION THREE: HOW I PUSHED THE ENVELOPE
SIGNED, SEALED, AND DELIVERED
Chapter 33: One Size Does Not Fit All
Chapter 34: Retail Is Detail
Chapter 35: Retail Is Detail II
Chapter 36: The Day “Buyer Beware” Became “Beware of Buyers”
Chapter 37: The Wisdom of Dirty Harry
Chapter 38: Follow the Leader
Chapter 39: Birth of a Salesperson
Chapter 40: 5 Ways to Ruin a Good Sales Force
Chapter 41: 11 Questions to Ask Your Prospect
Chapter 42: How to Close Tomorrow’s Sale Today
Chapter 43: Crunch Time
Chapter 44: My Money’s on the Bunny
Chapter 45: Don’t “Call Me Ishmael,” Call Me Envelope Salesman
Chapter 46: Beware the Well-Clothed Man Who Offers to Buy Your Envelopes
Chapter 47: Let’s Do Lunch
Chapter 48: The Blackboard Jungle
Chapter 49: He Who Does the Payin’ Does the Sayin’
SECTION FOUR: THE FLAP ON MANAGEMENT
FROM THE MAIL ROOM UP
Chapter 50: A Pat on the Back Accomplishes More Than a Slap in the Face
Chapter 51: How Not to Pick a Winner
Chapter 52: Hiring a Heart Attack
Chapter 53: Pick Your Battles Wisely
Chapter 54: Fish Stink from the Head, and 9 Other Subtle Tips on Managing
Chapter 55: Falling Up
Chapter 56: The Return of the Native
Chapter 57: Speed Kills
Chapter 58: The Value(s) of Your Organization
Chapter 59: The One-Week MBA
Chapter 60: One-on-One
Chapter 61: The Boat Won’t Go If We All Don’t Row
Chapter 62: Toward a Definition of Leadership
RACING THE PONY EXPRESS
Chapter 63: Myths of the Marketplace
Chapter 64: In Supply and Demand, Supply Comes First
IN CARE OF OTHERS
Chapter 65: Second Opinions
Chapter 66: 7 Things Not To Do with a Friend
Chapter 67: How to Pick an Expert
Chapter 68: How to Pick an Expert II
Chapter 69: In General, We Prefer Leadership
Chapter 70: If You Ask for Help . . . Ask the Right Person
Chapter 71: Let Other People Make You Look Smart
Chapter 72: Golden Oldies
Chapter 73: Continuing Ed
SECTION FIVE: GOING FIRST CLASS
HANDLE WITH CARE
Chapter 74: There Is a Limited Market for One-Trick Ponies
Chapter 75: Acting Smart and Being Smart
Chapter 76: The Future Isn’t Just Around the Corner, It’s Right Across the Desk
Chapter 77: Unconventional Wisdom
Chapter 78: The Best Way to Get Even Is to Forgive
Chapter 79: Get in the Swing of Practicing
Chapter 80: Still Buttoned Up?
DON’T WAIT FOR PUBLISHERS’ SWEEPSTAKES
Chapter 81: People Don’t Plan to Fail, They Fail to Plan
R.S.V.P. REWARDS. SERVICE. VALUE. PRICE.
Chapter 82: Take a Tip from Harvey
Chapter 83: The Price Is Right . . . But for Whom
Chapter 84: . . . And Miles To Go Before I Sleep
Chapter 85: No One Gets It: Good Service Sells
Chapter 86: Dishing It Out
QUICKIES
Chapter 87: Olympic Champions Ride the Pine
Chapter 88: Getting Your Own Coffee
Chapter 89: Wisdom? You Bet Your Aphorism!
SEALING THE ENVELOPE
Chapter 90: Letters for Living
Index
This book is dedicated to all the employees of Mackay Envelope Corporation who for 40 years have turned themselves upside down and inside out to make our customers happy, who have understood from the beginning that the quality of our reputation hinged on the quality of our people, and who have taken immeasurable pride in manufacturing something as simple, and as elegant, as an envelope.
Thank you for pushing the envelope, and pushing me, every single day.
By Harvey Mackay
Swim with the Sharks Without Being Eaten Alive
Beware the Naked Man Who Offers You His Shirt
Sharkproof
Dig Your Well Before You’re Thirsty
Pushing the Envelope: All the Way to the Top
First, and I do mean first, my profound thanks to my executive assistant, Greg Bailey, who is more than an extra right hand. Throughout the writing of Pushing The Envelope, Greg was on hand mornings, nights and weekends. And a special thanks to his patient family, too. Greg’s skill in coordinating my schedule and my life makes it all possible.
Margie Resnick Blickman is my first set of eyes (after mine) and she has the fastest blue pencil in the west. A great asset to me as my editor . . . even more as my sister.
Lynne Lancaster started out as my speech coach and now she is coaching me on everything. She is the kind of consultant everyone would like to have, and I’m so glad we’ve been able to work together all these years.
Ron Beyma’s range of experience and perception is nearly unparalleled. He’s always got something to say and his knowledge has been invaluable to me on all my books.
Scott Mitchell is the president of my company, Mackay Envelope Corporation. I guess you must be able to figure out how good he is and how much I depend on him if I can find the time to write this and other books. He is the leader of my kitchen cabinet, and I always take his advice.
Neil Naftalin has always been able to read between the lines . . . a talent that had paid off for both of us over the years. He’s been indispensable to me.
Vickie Abrahamson is a really good friend, the co-publisher of a top-notch trend newsletter, and one of those people who can make a shiny apple a little brighter. I like to think of her as “Ideas, Inc.”
This is my fifth book . . . each one represented by my agent and close friend, Jonathon Lazear of The Lazear Agency. He is the best. And a snappy dresser, too.
Christi Cardenas, Jonathon Lazear’s associate, has always been on the ball, and I thank her.
Judy Olausen’s photographs hang in some of the best museums, homes, and corporate offices in the world. With good reason. She can even make me look good.
Thorn Sandberg of Kenyon Consortium designed the cover. The title I gave the book baffled me in terms of how we could convey the idea. But it didn’t bother Thorn—He went right to it and designed what I believe is one of the better jackets around.
Ken Blanchard is a household name. But in my household, I’m proud to say he’s also known as a close friend. Thanks to you, Ken, for all your inspiration.
Rabbi Joseph Edelheit—a man of enormous integrity—was kind enough to read each draft and give me his thoughts. Many thanks to him.
Francie Paper is one of the quickest wits anywhere—she’s candid, smart as a whip, and when you ask her opinion, you really get it. But it’s always valuable, pithy, and to the point.
Rick Frischman and David Hahn of Planned Television Arts are the best public relations people around. They’re not cheap, but as the saying goes, “you get what you pay for.”
Leona Nevler, senior vice president of Ballantine Publishing Group, is my editor, but has been my friend since she published my first book, Swim with the Sharks in paperback. She always comes through when I need her.
Kim Hovey, publicity director of The Ballantine Books Group, is a real pro. We go way back to other successes.
Lisa Queen, vice president of William Morrow, my first publisher (Swim with the Sharks) has become a trusted friend. I thank her for her wisdom, given unselfishly, by reading each successive book and giving me her feedback. Note to her boss at William Morrow: She did this on her own time.
Although editorial enhancement and other changes have been made in terms of contour in the pieces within, grateful acknowledgment is made to United Feature Syndicate which distributes my columns to various newspapers.
Jim Ryan, president of Carlson Marketing Group, is not only a marketing genius, but he helped me decide what belonged on the cutting room floor.
Lloyd Sigel of Lloyds Food Products is my retail guru and always keeps me honest when writing about the industry.
Mary Anne Bailey provided a sharp eye while reading Pushing the Envelope in its various stages. Many thanks to her.
Linda Ferraro, my loyal and trustworthy secretary, has put up with me at Mackay Envelope through five books. My thanks for her dedication, good nature, and great disposition.
And finally, ever since I said “I do” back in 1960, my wife, Carol Ann, has continued to astonish me with her knowledge, creativity, vision, resourcefulness, and blockbuster ideas. I still can’t believe how fortunate I’ve been these past 38 years.
How lucky can one guy get?
Because I write anecdotally, and utilize real-life situations in all of my work, I feel that using gender-specific language lends authenticity to each chapter. Obviously, the message in each of these pieces is not aimed solely at a male or female reader. Have fun with what I’m offering here—and learn from the experiences of both genders along the way.
When you’re pushing the envelope, you’re looking to maximize your advantage. You’re looking for the edge . . . the angle . . . the window.
It’s there.
Every business has its tricks of the trade.
It’s well known that casinos don’t have windows or clocks because casino operators don’t want their customers to have distractions or to keep track of time. The fewer the distractions, the longer the player plays, the greater the opportunity for the casino’s vig to grind the player down.
It’s also common knowledge that hotels have full-length mirrors near the elevators so the guests can admire themselves—and not notice the wait caused by the lack of elevators. Mirrors are cheaper than elevators. That’s the hotel’s edge.
Some tricks of the trade are not as widely known, maybe because they’re not called tricks of the trade.
Religious congregations are notorious for their divisiveness and factions. Smart ministers survive the intrigues and remain popular by creating loyalty through the mundane process of hospital visitations, not fiery sermons. It’s called “church building.”
Steve Ross, former chairman of Time Warner, was a world-class negotiator who cultivated a surface image of enormous generosity that concealed a powerful inner drive for advantage, control, and wealth. A free charter-plane run to fetch your doggie? The chance to meet a famous movie star? Fun, fun, fun for you. Mon, mon, mon for him.
Even high tech, the engine of America’s economic supremacy, is often marketed on a false promise of speed for its own sake.
And there is, of course, my favorite trick of all, the envelope trick. Maybe I like it so much because I’m in the envelope business, and because you can’t do it with a fax or e-mail. Or maybe it’s because it uses up four envelopes.
Ever since I was a college kid bouncing around Europe with my buddies, I’ve been on the road, picking my way through different countries, different cultures, different kinds of people and ways of doing business.
That’s a lot of bouncing and picking. About thirty-five years of roadwork.
Okay, about forty-five years!
In the process I’ve learned some of the secrets of the temple. Some are not so secret. They are the homespun lessons of the road: Stay alert. Read the map. Both hands on the wheel. Some are cautionary flags, signs of danger ahead, rough roads, hazardous conditions, dangerous curves. Some are just plain red lights. Stop. Go no further.
When you’ve done as much windshield time as I have, you’ve seen almost all of it.
So let’s get packed (there’s a chapter on that) and get the show on the road (and on that, too).
I get all my best lines from the movies, which is where I learned to quote Michael Corleone, supposedly quoting Machiavelli, saying “Hold your friends close and your enemies closer.”
Rat-a-tat-tat.
Well, my enemies—those low-rent hounds who are always underbidding me—must have seen the same movie, because they are wise to my ways. I try to buddy up to them at all the envelope conventions, but they aren’t having any.
How can you rat-a-tat-tat them if they always keep their distance?
So, I make it my business to concentrate on the first part of Michael’s homily, and stay close, very close, to my friends.
When Ingemar Johansson fought Floyd Patterson for the heavyweight title in New York four thousand years ago, I was still wet behind the ears and the only guy at ringside without a six-dollar cigar in my mouth and a blonde on my arm. My guest was a machine supplier, so I could be the first kid on my block to get my hands on his new high-speed envelope machine.
I also took care of my buyers. I entertained. I gifted. I schmoozed. I laughed in all the right places.
There are lots of reasons why. When the buyer likes you:
• If you mess up, and I do occasionally, as do we all, you have a deposit of goodwill to draw against. You will get a second chance.
• When your buyer’s company has some big new policy change, the buyer will try to find some way to keep on doing business with you even though he has to cover his backside to show conformity to the big new policy change.
Here’s what happened to me at a Fortune 500 company in Minneapolis some years ago. If it happens to you, you might consider employing the fabled “envelope trick.”
The policy change: Cut costs. Slash prices. Squeeze those greedy vendors till their stony little hearts bleed and their squeaky little voices cry out for mercy.
The directive to the buyer: All paper, packaging, and printing contracts had to be bid out. No renewing of any contracts whatsoever. Freeze ’em. Tweeze ’em. Tease ’em. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ’em.
There were four bidders. I had had the business for 10 years. Ed, the buyer, and I were friends.
And, being the sole supplier every year, I had made it a point to know everyone up and down the ladder, from the vice president of purchasing to secretaries to mail room personnel. I was Good Old Harvey, spreading good old goodwill and cheer to one and all.
So, not having put all my eggs in the buyer’s basket, I had a network throughout the company. I worked it to find out who the other three bidders were.
This helped.
I was able to make some very constructive suggestions on how the specs should be drawn up.
This also helped.
Keep in mind, there were still limits. Even though the buyer wanted me to wind up with the business, this had to be an arm’s-length transaction. My competitors were no fools. Any hint of collusion and they would cry foul. And they, too, had their pals within the organization.
There were eyes everywhere to see to it that the big new policy change was observed.
Rule: There would be no second looks.
Rule: No chance to change my price.
Rule: No seeing the competition’s bids.
Ed was not about to jeopardize his job for me. I didn’t expect him to. But he gave me one edge, a very big one. I was to be the last bidder in.
I prepared four envelopes. Each contained a bid:
A. A down and dirty bid, leaving the gunnels of the good ship Mackay about one-fourth of one inch above the waterline. If I had underestimated my costs by one extra pot of glue, I’d be sunk. I prayed I would not have to use it.
B. A modest down and dirty bid, about three inches above the waterline. A couple of good waves would swamp me, but at least I could make it to shore on calm seas.
C. The same price as last year’s contract with no price increase. Business as usual.
D. A 6 percent increase, which reflected two paper-price increases in the past 12 months. The America’s Cup winner. This was still a fair price, given the boost in the cost of my raw materials, and the buyer would have given it to me if he had not had to get four bidders, but . . .
As we in the bidness world all know, competitors have this nasty habit of trying to buy their way into a new big account one year and worry about keeping it the next. So I was a realist. There was a good chance one of those three bums would underbid me.
So, now I am armed with four bids, not knowing which one I will play. I put bid A in the top of my briefcase, bid B in the bottom of my briefcase, bid C in the left inside pocket of my suit coat, bid D in the right outside pocket of my suit coat.
Time for my summit meeting with Ed. My goal, of course, is information.
We reminisced about 10 years together, years of fun and fellowship, service and self-sacrifice. . . . How in the early days, before I could afford a truck, I used to put his envelopes in the trunk of my car and deliver them to him personally. How we opened the plant on Saturdays and Sundays to fill his orders. How we waived overtime charges when his budget was tight.
Keep in mind, that as I do this jolly reprise, I am running a CAT scan over every inch of Ed. My main focus is to try and read his tone of voice and his body language to detect any hint as to whether, and how much, the competition has chopped me up.
Though Ed knows exactly what I’m up to, Ed is his usual warm friendly self. Nothing has changed in his manner. No better. No worse. NOTHING HAS CHANGED.
In Ed’s mind, he is not helping me that much, just schmoozing and batting the ball around. Ed discloses kind of harmlessly that the competitors aren’t including the paper price increase in their bids, but on the other hand, didn’t attempt to slash their way in either.
So now I know that there will be no price increase. D is dead in the water. Even though my competitors were hit with the same exact paper price increase I was, they decided to eat it in hopes of underbidding me. I know which bid to submit. It’s C. I reach for my left inside pocket and turn in my bid. I get the order. Ed’s integrity is intact. So is my account.
Someday maybe I’ll be skillful enough to apply the second half of Michael Corleone’s aphorism about keeping close to your enemies. But in the meantime, I’m going to continue to concentrate on staying as close as I can to my friends. They sure can help you if they want to.
MACKAY’S MORAL:
The reason you always dance with the one who brung you, is ’cause when the party’s over, you may need a ride home.
If you ask the attendant at your health club what the busiest day of the year is, he’ll tell you it’s the day after New Year’s. That’s when all the New Year’s-resolution types pour in. By February only a handful are left. Now that New Year’s Day is well over, tell me, how many of those resolutions have you kept? How many can you even remember?
Maybe you could use a new set. This time, you won’t have to fight the crowds.
1. I will improve my listening skills.
I will remind myself that I can’t learn anything when I’m doing the talking. I will abandon my phony “open door” policy and establish specific meetings and set aside specific times so that others can have real access to me. I will break down barriers. I will try to end the “not invented here” syndrome and encourage the free flow of information across departmental and hierarchical lines. I will answer my own phone . . . well, I will answer it more often.
2. I will improve my professional skills.
I will cease to be a pothole on the information highway. I will not allow myself to become one of these old fuddy-duddies who brag about their inability to operate modern business equipment. I will get up to speed in computers and communications equipment. Nobody should come into the twenty-first century without being computer literate.
3. I will improve my reading skills.
Unfortunately, my reading ability has slowed down over the years and it is taking me longer to absorb less. I will take a speed-reading course. Instead of reading what merely confirms my existing prejudices, I will search out material that introduces me to new ideas and new ways of thinking.
4. I will waste less time.
I will use my commuter time to read more or to listen to audio tapes that can help me improve my skills and broaden my understanding.
5. I will exercise regularly.
I will do so to the point where I become “positively addicted.” I know exercise not only improves my health but helps me maintain a high level of performance on the job.
6. I will encourage risk taking.
I know that many businesses fail from lack of boldness rather than from trying something new. I will not punish or ridicule honest mistakes. I love my work. I want others to feel the same about theirs, so I will try to make my workplace fun and exciting, not just a paycheck.
7. I will put into practice a plan to become the sole source of supply to my largest customers.
The most important element of my plan is to treat my customers as though I were their most dedicated employee and consultant, ready to serve them in every way, so they feel my company is practically a division of their company.
8. I will be committed to growing and improving everyfacet of our business.
I want every employee in my company to know we are open for hire eight days a week, 13 months a year. I want them constantly to be on the lookout for good people to become part of our team.
9. I will contribute to my community.
I will be a giver. I will give money. I will give time. I will try to make a difference. I want to help make the place I live become a better place for everyone.
10. I will not neglect my family in pursuit of the almighty dollar.
I will never forget that they do more to keep me on an even keel and bring more genuine happiness into my life than any business success I can ever achieve. So Carol Ann, David and Virginia, Mimi and Larry, Jojo and Michael, make room for me. I’m on my way home.
MACKAY’S MORAL:
Start your new year today. And remember, anyone can make a resolution. Very few people can keep one.
There were only two times in my life when I wanted to be older. When I was 15 and the minimum age for a driver’s license was 16. And when I was 59 and a marathoner, I knew the next year I’d be ranked against 60 to 64-year-olds instead of 55 to 59-year-olds.
I ran in the 100th Boston Marathon in 1996. By mile 10, I didn’t think I was going to get even a minute older. It was my tenth marathon and the toughest. With one mile to go, I hooked up with an old friend, Hal Higdon, editor of Runners’ World. He was just about to complete his 100th (and this is not a typo, folks) marathon. One hundredth Boston and his own personal 100th. He was grimacing and not looking too good, so I hollered out, “What’s wrong? . . . You should be on cloud nine. . . . They can’t take this away from us!”
He said he had fallen apart at mile 10, a point at which, for the running elite, the real race hasn’t even started. For the last 15 miles, he was just gutting it out.
Twenty-five yards from the finish line, I had to slow down and take in the whole scene. My running partner, Bill Wenmark, had taken out his camera so he could take a picture as I crossed the finish line.
At that moment, Higdon, who by now was five to 10 runners ahead of me, turned back, cupped his hands, and said, “Harvey, that will teach you to stop for a picture.”
Hal Higdon’s competitive juices were still flowing down to the last nanosecond. The truth is, except for the elite, marathoners do not really compete against each other.
When you are running with 38,000 other people, how can it matter if you finish 8,651st, 18,651st, or 28,651st?
What matters is, you finish . . . period.
There is only one thing runners really compete against—the little voice that grows louder at every split that says: “Stop.”
It is, unfortunately, a familiar sound. We hear it all our lives, at work, at school, in our personal relations.
It tells us we cannot succeed.
We cannot finish.
The boss expects too much.
The company is too demanding.
The homework assignment takes too long.
Our family is too unappreciative.
The truth is that many successful people are no more talented than unsuccessful people.
The difference between them lies in the old axiom that successful people do those things that unsuccessful people don’t like to do.
Successful people have the determination, the will, the focus, the drive to complete the tough jobs.
Why run 26 miles 385 yards?
Why torture yourself to achieve a goal with no tangible reward or significance other than what you yourself assign to it?
The answer lies in the question: Because only you can know what it means, only you are able to make yourself do it.
When you do, then you know there isn’t anything you can’t do.
No amount of hype, no cheering section, no personal glory, no place in the annals of history, can carry you all those miles.
You have to do it yourself.
Your chances of success in life are probably just as good as anyone else’s.
Don’t shortchange yourself through fear or a preconceived notion that the cards are stacked against you.
At the Boston Marathon, Heartbreak Hill is at mile 18. There are mile 18s in everyone’s life.
Some come earlier in the race. Some later.
But wherever you find them, you can overcome them.
Running a marathon is not about winning the race against 38,000 other runners. It’s about winning the race against yourself.
MACKAY’S MORAL:
You’ll never turn try into triumph . . . without adding the umph!
I remember when I was first starting out and asking a colleague I respected how many calls he would make on a prospect before giving up. He told me: “It depends on which one of us dies first.”
Determination is what keeps us hammering away. Determined people possess the stamina and courage to pursue their ambitions despite criticism, ridicule, or unfavorable circumstances. In fact, discouragement usually spurs us on to greater things.
Consider Sylvester Stallone and his phenomenal success. As a child, Stallone was frequently beaten by his father and told he had no brains. He grew up lonely and confused. He was in and out of various schools. An advisor at Drexel University told him that, based on aptitude testing, he should pursue a career as an elevator repair person.
He decided to pursue acting, but his abnormal life led to one failure after another. He remained determined to learn his chosen craft and used his failure to try his hand at writing. After watching Muhammad Ali fight Chuck Wepner, a relatively unknown fighter who went the distance against the champion, Stallone was inspired to write the script for Rocky—in less than four days.
As Vince Lombardi said, “It’s not whether you get knocked down. It’s whether you get up again.” Five Rockys later, Stallone is a champion . . . of determination.
General Ulysses S. Grant was so determined, like many military heroes before and after him, that he was deemed indispensable in President Lincoln’s eyes. After Grant’s defeat at Shiloh, nearly every newspaper in the United States demanded his removal. Lincoln’s friends pleaded with him to give the command to someone else. But Lincoln said, “I can’t spare this man. He fights. He’s got the grip of a bulldog, and when he gets his teeth in, nothing can shake him off.”
Look at Mother Teresa. The tiny nun brought world attention to the plight of the poor through her quiet determination.
The roots of President Teddy Roosevelt’s determination started with a childhood ailment. Severe asthma limited his ability to play like other kids, and as he lay in bed struggling to breathe, Roosevelt was afraid to go to sleep for fear he wouldn’t wake up. Yet Roosevelt was determined to become strong mentally and physically. His desire to become self-sufficient fortified him through a daily exercise routine and hours of weight lifting. He became an avid reader and absorbed books on every conceivable subject. As a Harvard student, Roosevelt became known for his energy and enthusiasm.
Thousands of businesses that statistically should have failed are successful today because of the determination of their owners:
• In his first three years in the auto business, Henry Ford went bankrupt twice.
• Coca-Cola sold only 400 Cokes in its first year.
• Apple Computer was rejected by Hewlett-Packard and Atari.
• Inventor Chester Carlson pounded the streets for years before he could find backers for his Xerox photocopying process.
Today we live in a culture of instant gratification, where the attributes of patience and determination are hard to find. We need to be more like the young college graduate who was determined to find a position with a reputable company. In the interview process she faced continual rejection, yet her determination helped keep her goals in mind. One busy personnel manager, flooded with applications, suggested the hopeful applicant check back in 10 years. “No problem,” the young woman responded. “Would a morning or afternoon interview work best for you?”
MACKAY’S MORAL:
Be like a postage stamp. Stick to it until you get there.
win (win), won, winning . . . v.i. 1. to gain the victory 2. to finish first in a race or contest 3. to succeed by effort.
Neil Steinberg, a newspaper reporter, published a provocative and amusing book, Complete & Utter Failure: A Celebration of Also-Rans, Runners-Up, Never-Weres & Total Flops. By far the largest section is about the national spelling bee, “an institutionalized failure,” “a distillation of the ills of the American education system.”
With 60 pages devoted to trashing it, Steinberg has a lot to say about what’s wrong with the spelling bee. For one thing, despite endless assurances by every adult in sight that all the nine million participants are “winners,” Steinberg counts 8,999,999 losers, some of whom burst into tears when they get a word wrong, or relieve their frustrations by duking out a punching bag thoughtfully provided in the Comfort Room immediately offstage.
“I struggle to find some sort of meaning, some utility in this vast expenditure of effort,” Steinberg laments. After all, who has to know how to wing words like “thanatophidia” or “abiogenist”? You look ’em up. Better to spend the time practicing the violin. You can’t look that up.
The point of the contest is not to find the best speller, but to have a contest, to enlist kids in the adult world of rote learning, cutthroat competition, humiliating defeat, and/or (at 8,999,999 to one odds) meaningless victory. “All the trouble and effort to name a spelling bee champion in order to have a spelling bee champion named. It is an end in itself.”
Well, let’s see if the same criticism holds up when we look at another kids’ contest.
Not so long ago I watched the opening events of the Special Olympics.
Physically and mentally challenged young people from all over the world get together and participate in athletic events.
The point of the event is not to find the best athlete. None of the participants will set any world records. Their athletic achievements might be looked at as essentially meaningless, but they capture the spirit of athletics, which is as much about participating as it is about competing.
Should they have taken Steinberg’s advice and put in their time on a more practical pursuit, like the violin? Should they seek to develop skills where they stand better odds of finishing first?
No.
The first definition of winning is not “to finish first,” it is “to gain the victory.”
That might mean finishing first, but it might just as well mean:
• taking part,
• having fun,
• setting a goal,
• making the attempt,
• having the support, love, and admiration of your friends and family,
• being the best you can be,
• being welcomed as an equal and learning that everyone counts,
• making a personal sacrifice,
• experiencing pain, setbacks, defeats, and having the courage to risk humiliation,
• testing your own limits,
• performing in front of an audience,
• making new friends,
• breaking through to a new level of performance,
• traveling to new places,
• encouraging others,
• sharing the experience, and
• hearing the applause.
Those are equally important elements of winning. Maybe they’re easier for us to see when they involve the kids who are physically challenged rather than kids who have the skills to spell improbable words.
That’s because it’s so obvious that the Special Olympics kids are having the time of their lives. The principal physical danger at these games is the omnipresent possibility of being hugged to death. As for the spelling contest, Steinberg points out that, “The bee retains the appeal it had as the symbol of the American Dream. A full quarter of the contestants come from ethnic immigrant families . . . Chinese, Koreans, Thais, Cambodians, Hispanics, and subcontinental Indians. They are the same crowd that excel at schools across the country, their families having instilled in them the fierce drive to succeed and the love of education so often faded in those who have been here long enough to take education for granted.”
Complete and utter failure? Steinberg knows better. And so do the Special Olympics kids. They seem to have a pretty solid grasp of why they’re there and what winning is really all about.
MACKAY’S MORAL:
There’s much more to winning than finishing first.
Irwin Jacobs graduated from a public high school in a section of town that was on the borderline between working class and the class that couldn’t get enough work. Jacobs didn’t like school. He had other plans. After much pleading from his father, Jacobs agreed to attend the University of Minnesota. The deal was this:
“Irwin, just give it a try. If you decide you don’t like it, well, then you don’t have to stay.”
Irwin gave it a shot. Perhaps it was not his best shot. He quit after one day. One day. That was it. His next move was to buy some sports equipment—fancy fishing poles or skis, I think—at a liquidation sale. He resold them a day later for 10 times what he paid for them. To Irwin Jacobs, that was a lot better way to spend a day than his day at the U. School has been out for him ever since.
As far as I know, Jacobs doesn’t own a fishing pole, but he does own a couple of companies that manufacture fishing boats, and other boats. And other companies. Net worth: estimated in excess of 250 million.
Then there’s Bill Gates. If you’ve heard about him, you may want to take up a collection for Jacobs. Gates dropped out of Harvard at age 20 and opened up a business in his garage. He called it Microsoft. He is now the single richest person in the United States, if not in the world, with a personal fortune measured in the tens of billions.
Now, I’m a sucker for stories like that, and I’m not alone. It is a phenomenon of American life that we are suspicious of intellect. We all like to hear about people who had mediocre records in school and then blossomed into big-time success. We like them almost as much as the horror stories about the high school heroes who hit the skids. Why?
Because there are a lot more of us who were mediocre types than were brains. Also, high school is a time of maximum insecurity. Not being among the smartest, it was easy to feel less than admiration for the kids who were. And who probably had not yet developed the smooth veneer that turneth away envy.
The popularity of the “smart is dumb” theory is understandable, but don’t confuse the Irwin Jacobs—Bill Gates type of success stories with the belief that it pays to be ignorant. These guys are smart all right, they’re just a different kind of smart.
They trusted themselves. They learned what mattered to them and totally ignored those things that didn’t. Few of us have that kind of self-confidence. School held no charms for a poor kid who could double his money overnight trading fishing poles. That doesn’t make him dumb. Just a lot more sure of his own talents than the rest of us.
Take a look at your own high school class. What has become of the good athletes and scholars, the class president, the science whiz? My guess is that they have been able to transfer their success in school to success in their careers. It’s not that the subjects we study in school have direct application to our jobs. Few of us have occasion to use our high school German or dissect a frog in our daily fives.
School is about learning, all right. But it’s learning to work a system, learning self-discipline, learning to deal with other people, learning to pay attention, learning what you like to do, what you don’t like to do, what you do well, what you do badly.
Sometimes, tough family situations or inadequate school facilities have been a major factor in holding us back. Sometimes, for the Irwin Jacobs and Bill Gates of the world, school just doesn’t offer the kind of real-world training that turns them on.
Jacobs and Gates have a special talent. They believe in themselves. They believe in themselves so strongly that for them school was a barrier, keeping them from their dreams, rather than a means of preparing for the work-a-day world. They were right about that. For them, school was work. Work was never really work at all.
However, things haven’t always worked out so well for some indifferent scholars.
George Armstrong Custer, who led the Seventh Cavalry at the Battle of Little Big Horn, graduated at the bottom of his class at West Point.
MACKAY’S MORAL:
The only things that are truly work are the things we don’t do well.
If at first you’re afraid to fail, then you won’t ever succeed.
One of the greatest things my parents did for me was to encourage every one of my ambitions, even if they appeared to be overreaching. They listened to my dreams of being a golf champ or a basketball pro, cheered them on, and then—what really counted—put their money where their mouths were. They made those dreams seem a lot more attainable by giving me lessons in golf and basketball.