Great Lessons from a Coffee Cup and Toy Car

There are items I keep near my desk that are special to me. I am certainly not the only person to do this, though each item is unique in my world.

Personal stuff. Pictures of my family. My wife. My kids.

Non-work related, work stuff. A pressman’s hat, an old Daily Times sign, and two statues of paper boys hawking the morning edition.

There is a pen and clock set from my former advertising staff at The Beacon News, where I had my first newspaper job. It reads, “1,2,3 Boo Yah”. Still makes me smile.

There is also a cheap, ugly paper cup. And a small toy car. Neither seem to belong on a bookshelf. But both provided me with two of the best business lessons I have ever had.

The cup.

In 2007, The Beacon News moved from downtown Aurora to the Fox Valley Mall area. My driving route changed and I was forced to find a new place for desperately needed morning coffee.

I tried several places. It was like an audition. They were all pretty much the same.

Except for one. It was at a gas station mini mart.

Their coffee was not better than any of the other places. Their location did not save precious minutes of drive time either. However, a woman there named Linda went out of her way to be friendly to all the customers. She always had a smile and something nice to say. She was the difference that got that store my business.

This went on for years. I never knew Linda well but came to appreciate our brief daily exchanges.

Then one day, there was a new owner. Linda was gone.

A man stood stoically in Linda’s place. He did not smile. He did not thank me or wish me a good day. I wondered about Linda and went on my way.

With Linda gone, it was a different experience. Her bit of sweetness started my day better than any chocolate donut ever could have. All the customers now stood in line silently, like at every other gas station mini mart. Soon, the coffee area became filthy. I mentioned the mess to the owner, and he blamed it on high school kids. However, it had always been clean previously.

He never knew what he had in Linda and did not care. So, I told him that she was the only reason I was a regular customer. He shrugged his shoulders. She was not family, so he let her go. He then offered me a free coffee. I declined but kept the cup, and never went back.

The store owner could not, or would not, recognize that I was buying Linda’s great customer service, not his average coffee. This type of thinking likely cost him money in other ways.

A good product is like the sword in the stone. It will not go anywhere without good people caring for it.

The toy car.

It was after hours one night when one of my sales representatives, Annie, returned to the office. She was a single mom and had to bring her kids along while finishing paperwork.

From my office, Annie could be heard trying to convince two energetic, little boys to behave so she could work. I had finished for the night, so I figured I could keep them busy for a while so she could get things done.

I told them that help was needed doing important stuff. We needed to make sure the office was safe. They gladly volunteered.

We walked around the hallways and made sure all the office doors were locked. Straightened chairs in the conference rooms and under the cubicle desks. Checked for any possible bad guys. It was dangerous, but we got the mission done.

We then went into my office and played for a while with the toys they had brought. There were a few cars, and the boys gave detailed explanations on why they were so cool. Guys. Cars. We became buddies.

Soon enough, Annie had finished working for the night. I shook hands with my new friends and thanked them for helping. They were glad to be going home.

Then, Anthony, at 3-years-old, showed me an act of kindness, and wisdom, far beyond his years.

He came back to my office by himself and had something in his hand. With a serious expression, he held up the same little car I was playing with and offered it to me. At first, I hesitated, but then realized it was his way of saying thanks for hanging out. I was touched.

We had never met before that night. We had nothing in common. To a small child, I was just an old guy. Yet Anthony found a way to look beyond our sizable differences and made a connection.

Business relationships succeed when barriers are removed. More importantly, they are strengthened with a personal touch. If a child can figure this out, we all can succeed.

This column originally appeared in the Times, a Shaw publication.