Changing Tides

Foldcraft Morning Memo
September 26, 2005


One of the great discoveries a man makes, one of his great surprises, is to find he can do what he was afraid he could not do. --Henry Ford


GOOD-BYE
A little more than 31 years ago, a young, inexperienced human resources guy came to Foldcraft as his ticket out of the Twin Cities rat race. He didn’t really think the job was going to lead anywhere or that he would even stay in the Company for long. But the owner of the Company and some of the really committed people who worked there at the time expressed confidence and trust in the guy, and he stayed. He experienced more than he could ever have imagined, had opportunities to explore and to create, met U.S. presidents and national figures, traveled abroad, learned about the world at-large and himself, and came to meet and work with more great people than he even knew existed. In short, he became one of the luckiest guys to ever get up and go to work.

Over the past 31 years, he and Foldcraft have celebrated together, grown up, faced the unexpected problems of maturing, grieved together, recited poetry and essentially lived their lives from the same storybook. Neither has been perfect, both could have done better, but each has felt the influence of the other.

And now it’s time for me to say good-bye.

I have required Human Resources to forget about our usual retirement gathering, despite their objections! But there are several good reasons for my request, which I hope you will accept. First, I’m not completely going away, at least not just yet. For an indefinite period, I will be assisting Foldcraft in completing this transition we’re going through. I’ll be available to the Executive Team for whatever help they feel I might be able to give. And sometimes, that will even require me to be on site again.

Second, I had my opportunity to say thanks and Godspeed to all of you at our Summer Huddle at St. Michael’s Church. I figure that one of the nicest going-away gifts that I could give would be to offer no more speeches.

Third, it would simply be far too difficult for me to stand in front so many people who have been so important to me over the years, and to say good-bye. If others have been made to do it, they are stronger and more deserving of a good-bye than I am.

So, THANK YOU. When I took the CEO position 15 years ago, I stated that I would need an awful lot of help. I received it, and I will be forever grateful for every member who helped along the way.

Steve Sheppard
September 26, 2005

P.S. I plan to continue making life observations on my personal blog site, so stop by there if you have the inclination.

Owners Are Winners

So there I was, again, at the doorstep of Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin. It's an unlikely place for me to show up, since I have long ago given up affiliation with most sports teams and have never lived anywhere in Wisconsin. But for the second time in five years, circumstances brought me to this pinnacle of sports symbolism. When things like that happen, I tend to begin looking for the lessons behind them, because there is invariably at least one. On this particular occasion, there were even more to be had, both personal and professional, and they made for a terrific week.

I was invited to speak to the Wisconsin Chapter of The ESOP Association, a national trade association of employee owned companies and the professionals who serve such firms. This is the second time the Chapter has decided to convene at Lambeau; the first occasion was in 2000, just before the Green Bay community decided to support the major renovation investment in the aging stadium. Coincidentally, I had been invited to speak on that occasion, as well, so I had the unique opportunity to visit Lambeau Field "before and after." I always enjoy talking with audiences about employee ownership, butI confess that one of my motivations for accepting the invitation this time around was that I was eager to take a tour of the facility and to see the changes that the makeover had brought about.

In addition, I eagerly wished to discover whether our tour guide from five years ago might still be on the scene. His name was Grant, and besides being a very good tour guide, he proved to be one of the most enjoyable, enthusiastic fellows I have had the chance to meet. He charmed all of us, and especially my children who had accompanied us. (They still reminisce about that funny, friendly and energetic guy "who took us around that stadium" and wanted to have his picture taken with them. He cultivated new Packer fans in the process!)

Something strange and quite unexpected happened when my wife and I entered the stadium gate upon our return visit. The place felt oddly familiar, despite all of the physical changes and remodeling that has been done. We felt welcome, comfortable, as though entering this mammoth edifice strangely held a homecoming quality to it. As a non-fan with no championship memories or personal recollections of Lombardi, I puzzled over the feeling, curious about its origin.

Then, maybe five minutes into my talk, I understood. I had just commented about how unique this gathering was, and that the home of the Green Bay Packers might be the most unlikely venue for an ESOP meeting. But no sooner had I uttered the words than I recognized how wrong they were. Lambeau Field is not a bizarre location for such a meeting; in fact, it might be the MOST appropriate spot in the entire country for an employee ownership gathering. After all, Green Bay has what no other NFL franchise has or can EVER have: ownership of its team.

The connection between the Packers and their fans runs far deeper than a won/lost record. Here, the community embraces the team because the people own it. They care very intensely about whether the team wins or loses, of course, but it is their team regardless of the outcome. The ownership relationship has created a bond that does, in fact, shape the team, the feeling, the entire community of Green Bay. The ownership goes way beyond vicarious thrills on a Sunday afternoon and touches its owners in a much more personal, important way. Other fans in other cities may proudly proclaim that, "this is MY team," but only the folks in Green Bay can mean it.

Employee ownership is not the same thing as a community owning its football team; the Packer players would have to own the team in order for that to be true. But the pride, energy and context of community ownership is very close to that which can come to exist in employee owned businesses. And the success of many of those employee owned firms might stem from the same sources as the Green Bay Packers' success over the years: aligned dreams and goals, invested participants, a meaningful tradition and a shared culture. The "owners" of the Green Bay Packers- their investors and their community- are winners, with the team they birthed and the legacy they created.

Employee ownership creates winners, too, on and off the field. On the field, employee owners have the opportunity to do something for themselves, to become more invested in their work, to become true business owners. Once off the field, employee owners often have disproportionately higher levels of financial resources to call upon for their "post-playing days," a result of successfully making plays season after season and staying with the team. They become part of the fabric of their team, in the same way that Starr and Hornung and Nitschke did.

That's the magic that tour guide Grant brought to our 2000 visit. We missed connecting with him several times during our recent visit, and then he was gone for the day. It seems as though he's a busy guy these days, now the head of the tour leaders and chief ambassador. Grant belongs to the Green Bay Packer family as surely as if he lined up as a wide receiver. His enthusiasm and joy at being part of that family resonates. He never stops smiling or telling stories about his team, whether such tales come from the glory years or the forgettable ones. I don't know whether Grant holds stock in the team, but I know he owns them, nonetheless.

Maybe those employee owners in the audience that day understood the significance of Lambeau Field as an ESOP venue; I didn't. But as it revealed itself to me during the talk that was intended to educate others in the room, I also began to understand a bit more about the feeling
I experienced upon coming back to Lambeau. Working in an ESOP company and within the employee ownership community IS like coming home. There is familiarity, commitment, energy and a sense of belonging that too often doesn't exist elsewhere in the work world.

I will write a letter to Michael Keeling, President of The ESOP Association, and recommend that the headquarters for TEA be moved to Green Bay. Washington, D.C. may have the lawmakers, but Green Bay has the owners....

The Price of Having Fun

We had two groups of visitors at Foldcraft Co. last week. Early in the week the first group consisted of four midwestern business people who were interested in seeing an ESOP company up close, and to develop a sense of how their own ownership efforts might evolve. Despite the intense heat of last week, we had a good visit and we enjoyed getting to know a little bit about each other.

On Thursday, we hosted a dozen men and women who traveled from a bit further away: Italy, in fact. They were business, civic, labor and academic folks who came to the U.S. to experience business and other institutional models. In particular, they were interested in Foldcraft's employee ownership and corporate philanthropy, things we like to talk about. Welcoming visitors from any part of the world is especially fun, and this group made the exchange a delight, again despite the furnace-like temperatures.

I'm not sure what might constitute workplace "fun" for either of these groups, but I wonder what they might have thought about the bull that showed up early one morning at the edge of our parking lot.

The sheer size of the thing (maybe 15 feet high and 35 feet long) ensured that every member and every visitor to Foldcraft that day noticed the obvious message. Of course, if they knew Oscar at all -a fairly quiet, tend-to-business, long-term guy at Foldcraft- the birthday wishes were even funnier, and prompted more visits to his department during the course of the day than probably ever occurred for any reason in the past. But I hope people caught the less visible message, that we like to have fun in this place, that, in fact, it's pretty much a requirement if we're to stay sane!

Our work ought to be fun. Because work requires our very best creativity and innovation and those are cultivated best when we're having fun, truly enjoying the activities and/or the people around us. No one who saw the bull could have resisted a smile, and my guess is that we had a lot of creative things happen in our place that day. Most people in business these days would agree with that notion, I think, but what they might not recognize is that the creative, fun environment has to be paid for.

You see, after the visits were over last week, and in response to questions about their impressions, an interesting observation was made by one of the groups. In the course of our conversations together, they heard us talk about the need for people to be "attitudinally accountable" to this employee-owned entity, to become part of its fabric, its fun, and its purpose. They heard us talk about making changes in personnel when the fit isn't right. And they mused that the organization perhaps wasn't being very tolerant or sympathetic to those who didn't seem to fit. And in a way, they're right.

Things of value are rarely just handed to us. They need to be earned. And maintained. For a business to fit its people, to grow, to adapt, to have fun, and to create, it has to succeed in the usual business metrics of success. For that, we need to have the right people. An organization is only as strong as the collective strength of its individual members and the Company's obligation to all of those members is stronger than the obligation to any one of them. In the process, it may look to some as though there are "hard hearts" at work, when in fact those hearts are being driven by a commitment to a purpose that is uniquely caring in nature. It's an irony that must be accepted.

An organization stands for what it will tolerate. If we settle for less than we need, we will end up with less than we want. The price of having the kind of organization we want, where we can truly "create environments that touch lives," lies in the discipline of expecting and demanding it. That's the cost of being able to succeed, in having fun. And THAT, as the sign above says, is no bull.

Creating Waves

Every once in in a while, it's interesting to suddenly realize the degree of change that has occurred in someone or something around me. Maybe it's the sudden realization that the landscaping around my home has matured to the degree I had envisioned years ago upon its planting. Perhaps I too-abruptly recognize my parents' entry to old age, or maybe even my own encroachment! Or possibly the business at which I have toiled over the past 31 years has quite suddenly emerged from what it once was, to something bigger and more important than I ever dreamed. These have been mostly positive moments, exciting recognitions, that provide me with a measure of time passing and achievements realized.

Last weekend, as I reviewed some of the more recent product and services literature from Foldcraft, a similar wave of realization swept over me. Among the representations, I noticed a proliferation of waves. Of all things! There were waves at the top of upholstered settees, waves at the bottom of lounge seating, waves in the upholstered backs of banquettes, waves at the top of divider walls and even waves cut out of wood backrests. These are a far cry from the basic, off-the-shelf products that served the same basic customers in the same general markets of the early 1970's, and at a time when Foldcraft might have been thrilled to reach $3 million in sales revenues for the year. Degree of change, indeed! It strikes me that we are now in the breathtaking business of making waves.

We're making waves in a stagnant pool of low expectations. Our markets are aflicted with them. How else do we explain customers specifying delivery of their goods literally days or weeks before they're actually needed, because experience has taught them that promised delivery dates are almost never met? Even after we in the factory have called in advance, twice, to confirm the promised date? We're helping teach those customers that some providers can be trusted to be on time, and that the calculation of delivery buffer time is a thing of the past.

We're making waves with a product that is as old as civilization. Even the ancient Sumerians, generally regarded as the first recognizable civilization in history, used rough chair-like objects in oder to get off the ground. Tables and chairs and benches are widely regarded as commodities by many in this industry today: buy a shipload overseas at pennies on the dollar. But I'm not seeing that picture in front of me. I see relationships and trust and responsibility and integrity, and those concepts will never be commodities. They're too valuable, and value-added, for that.

We're making waves in the ways those relationships are forged. We still look good in a catalogue and on a web site, but we stand out even more when the connection can be formed by a visit to one of our sites, or a meeting with our Sales or Design/Build teams. By establishing a single source business, we're making it easier for clients to meet their entire furnishing needs without sacrificing their confidence in the end result. It may be a difficult sale, to convince a client to visit Kenyon, Minnesota. But it always works because of authenticity and integrity, which are the backbone of relationships.

We're even making waves in the way our Company is owned and operated, leveraging the strengths and commitments of our employees, who own Foldcraft Co. 100%, lock, stock and barrel. There are no conflicts of interest here between doing what is right for the business and its customers versus expectations of an outside shareholder. By definition, the members of Foldcraft are a team with common interests, namely, our own! And those interests are tied inextricably to the customer. Simple!

At the end of the day, the presence of waves in our work is a perfect symbol for who we are becoming. Internally, waves sometimes come crashing in, changing the shape and size of the receiving beachfront, frightening in their strength. Other times, though, they are the soothing music of nature, the sound that scientists have determined to be the most likely to induce sleep. But from outside, they're always beautiful, constantly changing shape, reflecting light, stirring vision and soul, integrating us with the fundamental Earth.

It may seem a strange perception for a Sunday afternoon in front of product literature of any kind, but such is the impact of passionate belief!

The Difficulty In Touching Lives

The management team met with all of its Minnesota employeesduring the week before last, 13 small-group meetings over the course of two days, three locations and four different entities:

• Foldcraft/Plymold
• Burgetts
• BKR Designs
• Millwork & More

The meetings were created to describe strategic direction and some of the tactics to be expected over the years to come, and all of which was designed to bring reality to our corporate purpose, "We Create Environments That Touch Lives!" It's one thing to say it, another to bring such a lofty purpose to reality, and this was our attempt at defining, in part, how we might do it.

My own role in the presentation was to be quiet, as the go-forward plan will be the work of the Executive Team following my forthcoming early retirement. As a result, I had plenty of time to consider both the wonder of our aspirations as well as the difficulties ahead in achieving them. Especially when it comes to that "touching lives" part: the soft stuff really is the hard stuff. I don't know whether we touched any lives last week or not with our presentations. But I know that I was touched, or moved, in several ways:

• Out of more than 300 people attending these sessions, I only counted three who dozed off to somewhere else. That's pretty remarkable, when I think about it. The presentations were an hour long each. That's a long time time to sit and listen to someone speak about almost anything, let alone some business plans. Then, take into consideration the fact that by the time we got to some groups, they had already put in all or a portion of a day's work. That attentiveness tells me there was something worthwhile in the message, and that the audience was ripe and receptive to being led in the direction the message points.

• The best questions came from members who work with their hands. The factory folks asked more questions and were more responsive than their office counterparts. Maybe that's because office people have greater opportunities to hear about plans and directions and this information was already somewhat known to them. Folks have fewer opportunities to hear about plans and opportunities out there on the shop floor, and they want to know. I was affirmed again that if one acts as though the members of an organization want to learn and care, they do. It's called providing leadership.

• There is inspiration that stems from what people do together. Oh, there are heroic things done by individuals, to be sure, and many in this society see individualism as a uniquely American characteristic to be cherished. But when a team of people comes together and executes well, there is a tangible, palpable shared energy that surpasses anything individual. Even the presentation of our plans by the senior management group had a success feel to it that transcended the presenters' individual voices and material. Even among a group of middle-aged, experienced managers, there's nothing like a team victory. Watch the World Series.

• The "game" between the organization and the individual is not played out on an even playing field. As open, honest, direct and forthcoming as a company's management group may aspire to be, there are restrictions, conventions and protocols that will always prevent the individual from knowing or appreciating all the factors in a decision or action. The legalisms of our society have a lot to do with that, I'm sorry to say. (When I can't respond to an inquiry about an ailing co-worker due to HIPPA regulations, it's hard to defend to someone who simply wants to care about his or her friend.) The result? We'll never achieve perfect trust together, no matter how badly we may want to, I'm sad to say.

• The resilience and energy of the human spirit is a miracle that shows itself to us every day in one hundred ways, if we'll just listen/look for it, even at work. But the spirit speaks in soft, barely audible tones that need a certain degree of quiet in surroundings to be heard. We live in a noisy place, and those softened sounds are too often unheard.

• The absence of even one member of an organization of 300 people leaves a void. "She" is in her 70's, a tireless worker and supporter, everyone's grandmother, an indomitable personality graced by a sweetness of attitude that the rest of us envy. She is in the hospital- hopefully, prayerfully not for much longer- and the organization is changed by her absence, even in the context of group meetings. If it is true of her, then it is potentially so for each of us. We have a power of impact upon one another that we just can't seem to see. Ironically, it's her absence that is opening more eyes these days.

The sessions were tiring for me, despite the fact that I played such a small role. Maybe it was the realization that the "soft" stuff of organizational life is really the "hard stuff," and we all have a long way to go in understanding what that means. I, for one, trust that we can. What do you think?

Employee Ownership and the Ownership Society

Scan almost any newspaper or magazine these days and you will discover reference to America's "Ownership Society." It's an altogether appropriate reference by the current Administration to the free enterprise system that is the economic and social backbone of our country. President Bush himself has repeatedly invoked the idea that we all have opportunities for ownership -homes, careers, automobiles, whatever- and that we should rightfully treasure and protect that aspect of our society: "We'll be building a culture of ownership in this country. We want more people owning things." http://http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2004/08/20040809-3.html

I am therefore intensely puzzled over the absence of Employee Ownership in the national discussion about our Ownership Society. There may be no more dramatic and important manifestation of the Ownership Society than the opportunity to own a portion of the business where one makes his/her living. The ownership of things resides at a different level than the ownership of an equity-building, wealth-sharing business entity. Besides, the intrinsic benefits of such ownership are far-reaching.

Employee ownership often confers the opportunity for employees to be involved with their companies in a different way, to participate in decision-making, to voice opinion, to be engaged in work more fully, to have an actual stake in the outcome of their efforts beyond a paycheck. Research data has confirmed that employee-owned companies tend to be more financially successful than their non-employee-owned counterparts. Companies with employee ownership retirement components even tend to offer more additional retirement benefit plans than their non-employee-owned counterparts. The companies regarded as "best" to work for in America more often than not boast an employee ownership component. http://http://www.winningworkplaces.org/library/books/index.php

This idea just might be the most politically correct notion in history! If one is from the "right" side of the political spectrum, he/she likes employee ownership because it creates the opportunity for more entrepreneurialsm, greater spread of capitalism and wealth-generation, and "the American economic way." If one comes from the political "left," he/she likes employee ownership because it begins to shrink the disparity between the haves and the have-nots in society by virtue of equity-sharing, and creating an entirely new group of stock shareholders. There is something in employee ownership for everyone to like, and yet it just doesn't come up in the Ownership Society dialogue. Why not?

If it's deliberate, because of such notorious employee ownership-related failures like Enron and WorldCom, then it's like banning medications because a few individuals have abused them. If it's simply an oversight on the part of the Ownership Society architects, then they need to continue to receive wake-up calls from those of us in society who long for the ownership opportunity to be far more widespread. That is occurring, in part through the efforts of the members of The ESOP Association, but it could just as easily be any other member of society who cares about building American prosperity across-the-board.

I work (and live!) in an employee owned environment, and I can no longer imagine working in an organization that did not provide such an opportunity: I will either work for an employee owned enterprise or simply for myself. Such is the lesson and impact of employee ownership on those who have had the privilege of it.

What a shame that more folks don't have such privilege, when it just needs a little exposure....

Everyman

A truly strange and wonderful thing happened to me last week. Maybe the impact has been indelible because I was having an off day or something, but it has impacted me, without doubt. And it taught me, again, about the immensity of personal impacts.

The simplest way for me to relate this episode is to quote the e-mail message that I received. Verbatim, it said this:

Hi Steve. My name is J.O. I doubt that you remember me. I live in Red Wing. I was talking with my wife about you the other day and she recommended that I call you. Steve, a little background information. I think it was back in 1988 and I interviewed with you for a position at Foldcraft, and you and I quickly realized that I wasn't the right person for Foldcraft and your company wasn't right for me. But you and I probably took an hour or so and got to know each other a little better. And you shared some good, sage advice with me. In fact, that would have been in 1988, some 16 or 17 years ago. I was freshly married at the time and had no children and you had a couple of kids. And something you said to me that day has stuck with me all these years.

You had come to Red Wing with your kids on the previous weekend. And you left me with the advice, "Hold your children's hands as long as they will let you." My kids are now 13 and 11 and I've got to let you know that I think about that advice almost every week. Any time I can hold my kids' hands, I do.

So why am I leaving this message? I just wanted you to know that it's amazing the people whose lives you touch and they don't always tell you about it. But I wanted to give you a call and thank you for that good advice, and to invite you to lunch. I'd love to get together sometime, just to take you out and get to know you a little better and shake your hand and thank you.

I know that you don't remember me, but I sure remember you. So, even if you don't call back I want to thank you because for the one or one-and-a-half hours that we visited 17 years ago, you did touch my life.

I hope you'll give me the opportunity to say hello and thanks.

You perhaps have never had the opportunity to be thanked for something you did 17 years previously, but it has a powerful effect. First of all, hearing a thank you any time is nice. But to experience it long after the fact and to know that it has become a part of another person's mantra as a parent is humbling, warming and hugely affirming. A chance observation became something of value, without intention or motive. We don't often knowingly have the opportunity to impart life wisdom to someone else; to be recognized and appreciated for it is rare and its stay is short.

The story here isn't about something clever I said or did in an interview. THIS story is all about the caller, a fairly anonymous fellow who became compelled to act upon his feelings of gratitude with no expectations in return. Imagine calling up someone you don't know, who will not remember you or the incident in question, and offering your heartfelt thanks in an emotional way, not even knowing how that recollection might be received. I doubt that many of us could or would take the initiative to speak in such a way. And therein lies the lesson.

In a world that is filled with hostility, confrontation, self-aggrandizement and competing at any expense, the greatest power still stems from the impacts that we have on one another, intended or not, known or not. We have the abilities, all of us and each of us, to affect great things in one another, if we will simply use the tools that we already have: the word of thanks, a gesture of appreciation, a hand offered in support. These have the power to create something greater than what already exists, and they reside in each of us.

I did call J.O. back. I thanked him for the gesture. I accepted his offer of lunch. There were no strings attached to this interview, just two people thanking one another for the impact that each one had on the other. It was a great lunch, and a better affirmation of everyday life. I'm better for it.

ESOP Resources

I received an e-mail in response to my posting last week regarding employee ownership and why it's so infrequently part of the discussion about ownership of companies. (Even President Bush has said that he favors greater ownership in America, but he stops short of referencing employee ownership of companies.) The fellow asked about resources for learning more about employee ownership for his own company, and I thought that there might be others who wonder where to find such information.

There are at least two really good organizations which serve the employee ownership community. The top group in my own experience is The ESOP Association in Washington, D.C. The association has a broad chapter-affilated membership across the country, and also is the primary advocacy voice for employee ownership in America. Another organization is The National Center for Employee Ownership in Oakland, California. NCEO conducts a great deal of research on many forms of equity ownership and also serves a broad constituency. These are the best places to begin education on the topic.

It's a great topic for discussion, wherever it begins!

Where Is ESOP?

I read an article in one of our industry's major publications, Nation's Restaurant News. The January 24 article, "Taking Stock...Or Not," discussed the pros and cons of public versus private ownership. The article is fine, as far as it goes. What I find myself wondering is, where is the reference to employee ownership? As a member of a 100% employee-owned company, I am always mystified at the absence of mention of Employee Stock Ownership Plans (ESOPs) when it comes to such discussions.

Are there some examples of employee-ownership in the retaurant/hospitality industry? I'd love to hear about them. Employee-ownership in America makes good business and good sense.

Inside and Out

We had a pretty exciting and insightful day here yesterday! In times such as these, I just wish there was some way for every member of our organization to be able to see us from a high balcony perspective and appreciate what they are creating for themselves and our multiple constituencies. It would surprise them, and make them feel awfully proud of the impact that they are having in our industry.

Yesterday we were blessed by a visit from a major customer; actually three people from the corporate offices visited to talk about where they were headed, how we're doing, how we might continue to facilitate that journey and what all of that will require. Over four or five hours, every question, every inquiry, every proposition that they laid before us was handled directly, promptly, and for the most part, affirmatively.

And while it may have been a team of five or six who provided the responses to that customer, clearly our comfort and confidence in doing so was based upon the efforts and commitments of the rest of our Company, which have been so positive. By the end of the visit, the customer representatives were telling us something they've observed before:

"You people are different, in a very good way. We hope that you find a way to keep that engagement and responsiveness alive and growing."

Hearing such comments from such a large entity as this one is gratifying and humbling, and even a little scary when I think about the prospect of continually building upon what we have in place today. How WILL we do that? And will it be enough, and fast enough?

By late afternoon, I found myself in another meeting room with a very different group: this was a report-out from one of our Continuous Improvement teams, which was in the final stages of an intense week of self-scrutiny about their own performances, priorities and contributions. How remarkable to listen to a group of employees (or members, as we call them) talk openly before management and others about their shortcomings, needs for improvement and, most impressively, expressly how they plan to go about improving all of that!

I confess that my first reaction to such introspection was purely emotional admiration for the "common man" (and woman) who is the epitome of Foldcraft. Who wouldn't feel pride upon hearing such leadership from non-managers? But after a moment of reflection, I understood the real impact of what I heard.

Here was the connection between the two meetings! Here was the affirmation about how we would continue to exceed our customers' most demanding needs and expectations. By engaging and unleashing the power of our member-owners (we are a 100% ESOP), by involving them in the continual reconstruction of our business, we will always be fresh and new and up to the task of exciting our customers.

For yesterday, anyway, we looked pretty darn good from the outside and we were told so. Inside, the picture was even more assuring, because it reflected not only yesterday, but tomorrow. Some days are really something special.

Ozymandias At Work

I love the poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ozymandias. First of all, it's a short poem, which is good for me because sometimes I get tied up in the longer works! But it's also a long-standing reminder to me that principled and humble people just might have their day after all, long after the arrogant and less principled have fallen away. I don't know that this is always the case, but it sure feels good when the outcome conforms to our innate feelings of justice.

There's a little of that going on in our marketplace today. Some of our competition has looked down its nose at Foldcraft/Plymold over the years, somehow believing and portraying to the customers that a small, employee-owned operation in the fields of southern Minnesota could not possibly compete in a meaningful way. The notion that these "big boys" put forth seemed to center on the idea that an organization like ours couldn't possibly have the resources or the agility or the "sophistication" to meet the needs of a growing customer. Mom and Pop operations? Maybe. But chains and universities and higher-end corporate interiors? No way. For that, so the tale was told, a customer or designer or architect needed to seek out Ozymandias in the food service furnishings industry.

Of course, we at Foldcraft/Plymold have always recognized the market niche we were after. And as our abilities and appetites have grown over our 56 years in business, we've been pretty objective about what we felt capable of taking on and what we weren't. In the early years, we were hard-faced, contour seats. Then we added tops, and bases. Then it was layout and design services. Next we added more and more of the millwork and decor items. Then high-end millwork capabilities. And full-line upholstered furnishings, serving fast-food to high-end sites. We never bragged much about it; we just added a piece at a time and succeeded with it.

So in recent years, as we've broadened the Foldcraft family of companies, the product lines represented, the services available and who we wanted to be in the industry, we've run into some sour grapes and anxieties on the part of our competitors, as we have increasingly performed with excellence in those arenas and activities where they said we could never go. The net result is that today we are becoming prominent in the market like few others, while some of the "biggies" have become "like decay of that colossal Wreck," as the poem goes.

However far Foldcraft/Plymold may develop, whatever size it may attain for the benefit of its marketplace and employee-shareholders, its actions and performances will speak for themselves, without exaggeration or need for desparagement of others. Our Company was founded upon and has grown with corporate values recognizing that the world in which we live and work is already too full of the high and mighty. We will continue to be focused on dancing to a different drummer in the marketplace, one whose beat allows us to both be the best at what we do and to maintain our integrity, our self-respect and our purpose, to "create environments that touch lives." I never want us to ascend that pedestal from which Ozymandias and others have fallen.

I suppose for most people poetry is sort of an esoteric thing, academically interesting but not very real-life. I disagree. There are great truths to be found in poetry. And I love that poem, Ozymandias.

Creating Environments

This photograph (click it for a larger version) appears all over our Company, in the factory areas as well as in the offices and conference rooms. As you can see, it's a coastal scene, with dark and high cliffs contrasted against the deep blues of the ocean and the sky. Along the left border are concepts reflecting the most basic of Foldcraft's values. And along the bottom of the page is the statement, "We Create Environments That Touch Lives!" It's our Company's purpose statement. In its creation, layers of meaning were considered for every one of those six little words, as they pertained to customers, suppliers, employees, the business community and the world at large.

Now, lots of organizations have statements of vision or purpose or mission. Some even integrate those claims into their actions with great focus and seriousness. I was reminded just this morning that we try to do that, too.

In the midst of a pending business acquisition, our finance guy spent two days visiting some of the most important customers of the firm to be acquired. He inquired about any concerns, assured those who needed assurances, and generally affirmed what we already believed to be true about this company's customer relationships.

Upon return to the company's offices in the afternoon, the founder/potential seller asked whether we might want to be part of a meeting scheduled for the afternoon with one particular vendor. Our man readily agreed, desiring to become better acquainted with suppliers, some of whom had recently been waiting for settlements on overdue accounts. We envisioned making all of those accounts whole upon closing and valued hearing at least one attitude from that group. Of course, one never knows exactly what to expect from a vendor who is owed payment on account; often such communications are tense, confrontational, even threatening. Our finance manager therefore braced himself somewhat, prepared to receive whatever unhappiness might surface and guarded against making any promises that our Company was not yet in a position to make.

The vendor(s) arrived right on time: husband, wife and two small children. Here was one vendor organization that was succinct, as the husband served as the fabricator, the wife acted as the accountant and the kids operated as unmistakable overhead. But their representations were equally uncomplicated. They simply inquired about when they might be paid for the work they had already done, because they had actually secured a loan against the expectation of being paid for such labors. But there were no demands, no threats, no raised voices or heated words, only a hopeful inquiry about whether they would, in turn, be able to meet their own banker's demands. After all, small businesses such as theirs frequently finds themselves on the brink of immediate collapse but for the good graces of the banker.

When word of the potential acquisition was mentioned, our Foldcraft fellow naturally became the focus of attention by the young couple. With this new news before them, who knows what new anxieties might have been rising within them, what sudden visions of personal disaster might have formed in their minds? Yet again they expressed no commands, no histrionic insistence, but wondered whether, if the acquisition took place, they might at least secure a letter from Foldcraft that would affirm an intent to pay the obligation eventually.

I was not in the room on this occasion, but I suspect that our finance guy had everything he could do to refrain from taking out his own checkbook and paying the obligation on the spot. The good faith that they had shown in undertaking the work on terms, their patience in awaiting payment, the dignity and self-respect of their request all combined to create an overwhelming desire to make them whole. In an earlier day and age, perhaps our man would have done just that; in this more legalistic world, it wasn't appropriate.

But the response he did make was entirely so. To the hopeful and anxious faces before him, our guy did make a promise. Instead of providing a letter to take to that banker upon conclusion of the acquisition, the couple was promised a check, a live, valid, payment in full as the first vendor to be removed from the past due listing.

The act might have truly represented the least we could do. But the trust restored in the couple, their immediate feelings of at least some relief and the easing of those tension lines that always seem to belie people's outward calm were immediate affirmations to our guy that we had a special opportunity to make an impact on someone. Not someone known to us, not someone forcing us, not someone from whom we expect any favors, but someone for whom we might create a positive impact.

Touching lives? I suppose it depends on one's definition. But for a Wednesday morning affirmation of words written on cliffs and beach sand, the story works for me.

Environments

"Life is a state of mind; imagine the one that you want, and then create it."
- Unknown

TEACHERS

Part I
I'm always amazed at where the lessons of life come from. My 92 year-old father underwent major surgery back in November to take care of a rather serious aortic aneurysm. The surgery figured to be a risky one for a man of that age, and it captured the rapt attention of the entire family, to be sure. My oldest twins managed to commandeer someone's car every night for four days in order to be around their grandfather and grandmother during this time; they were even at the hospital sometimes when the rest of us were not, and I was sort of impressed with that.

It wasn't until my dad had recovered enough to be conversational that I heard from him about a particular trip made by one of the girls. It seems that on this particular Friday evening, the rains were heavy and the Minnesota temperatures were finally dropping to where they frequently are at this time of year. My daughter, Molly, and her boyfriend had taken the 90-minute trip to Rochester (home of the famous Mayo Clinic) through the rains, and had just entered the downtown area, on their way to the hospital and eventually to dinner.

While waiting at a stoplight, Molly and Andrew noticed an elderly woman slowly making her way on the crosswalk, several grocery bags in hand, without raincoat or umbrella. When the stoplight turned green, she was no more than halfway through the intersection and very directly blocking the traffic. Her steps grew ever more tentative as she warily watched the cars. And Molly jumped out of the car, into the rain without even a jacket, and ran to this woman's side.

Molly asked if she could help, and even in her current predicament the elderly woman hesitated to accept the assistance. But she allowed Molly to take a couple of the bags and to escort her by the arm to the street curb. Once they had reached the safety of the sidewalk, Molly inquired as to the woman's destination. "Oh, it's just up the street," she replied. Molly figured that since she was already wet she might as well assist a bit further on up the street.

After they had covered another block or so, Molly asked again about the woman's destination. The older woman said it was still a bit further but that she could manage from that point on. But by now, Molly wasn't buying it. She insisted on staying with her charge, despite the fact that Andrew was still in the car, circling the block now several times, in order to keep his eye on the unlikely pair.

By the time the two had traveled a total of 15 minutes and covered three city blocks, the woman finally reached the front door entrance to her apartment building. She was grateful to Molly for the aid and said so repeatedly, until Andrew pulled up to the curbside and Molly climbed into the car and out of the rain.

Molly was soaked, of course, but insistent on getting to the hospital for her intended visit with her grandfather. She and Andrew laughed about the spontaneity of the episode and the curiosity of an old woman, out alone, in the rain, burdened with her shopping bags. They also speculated as to the receptivity of the restaurant to a customer who now looked something like a flood refugee.

Molly kept her visit with my dad, and even enjoyed a late, damp dinner with Andrew that night. But she also forged a number of very powerful memories. First, naturally, there is Molly. She will remember choosing to become drenched in rain and good deeds. But whether from pride or from a recounting of youthful exploits, she will not forget.

Next, there is Andrew. He played a role in what happened, but what must he think of a girlfriend who would act with such careless compassion? Whether he regards it as an endearing quality or bizarre behavior, I wager that he has been part of nothing quite like it before or since.

Then, there is my dad. He does not recall a great deal about the days immediately following his operation, but he does remember Molly and Andrew's visit that night. Maybe he was just coincidentally reaching some stage of consciousness on that Friday eve. Or maybe he was struck by the loving actions of a granddaughter and somehow the impression stayed with him.

And there is the senior citizen herself. I find myself wondering what she might think about the young woman who rather selflessly came to her assistance that night. Did it warm her on that evening, or perhaps even still today? Maybe she thinks that the young people today are not so bad, after all. Perhaps Molly might have reminded the woman of her own grandchild, or her own daughter.

I know that I will not forget this story. I don't know whether or when Molly would have related it to me. Maybe she would have been afraid to tell such a story of such impetuous behavior. But for all of its impulsiveness, Molly's act contained a lesson of very basic truth: we need to be here for each other. That's not necessarily a view that Molly has learned, but rather one that she, and all of us, were born with if we can just discover it.

The things that I continue to learn from my kids...

Part II
Meanwhile, my "old man" is an amazement to me. He's a guy who could always do everything, a carpenter, a business executive, an athlete, a man of faith, a husband of some 60 years, a terrific dad. He has been a very active man for his entire life, one who still rises at 5:00 every morning to do calisthenics, clean the house, do the errands with my mom, and who absolutely has to do a 30-minute aerobic workout in the afternoon.

So it was worrisome when he had the surgery for an aortic aneurysm. I had very little knowledge about such a thing, but the prospect of this energetic, sharp-minded guy undergoing open-chest surgery sent me scrambling to the Internet, to medical books and ultimately to doctors for information and understanding. When the due diligence was complete, the entire family was of the same, unmistakable opinion: Dad needed the surgery despite the risks to his 92 year-old body. The surgeons were straightforward enough to describe those risks and probabilities in the clearest of terms: this was going to be severely traumatic, both physically and emotionally for him (and maybe for all the rest of us, too).

Our family gathered together in the week preceding the operation, to hold onto each other, to discuss the logistics of getting my mom to and from the hospital in Rochester and to be generally supportive. My older brother flew in from Sacramento, my younger brother came back from work travel (he's a multi-line clothing rep) and my daughters came home from college for a weekend visit. Although it was unspoken, we all felt the possibility of this being a last family gathering with Dad.

On the eve of the surgery I visited him, presumably to "shore him up" and take his mind off what was coming. As he had been throughout the weeks leading up to it, my dad was calm, jovial, jesting with the medical folks who were busy preparing him. In a private moment I asked him the obvious question: was he feeling nervous or scared? His response was immediate and strong. "I figure that if it's my time, then I have led a long and fulfilled life the way I hoped. I could ask for little more than that. If it's not my time, then I'm thankful for whatever additional days I may have, because I've been blessed." I remember wondering on my way home that evening whether this was how he truly felt, or whether he thought it was simply a brave and "noble" way to feel.

My dad survived the surgery. In retrospect, there were moments when he says that he figured he would not make it, such was his discomfort. But he defied just about everyone's expectations but his own. In fact, an expected 10-14 day hospital stay pared down to 6 days, eliciting wonder and awe from the medical staff watching over him. The nurse in charge of the Intensive Care Unit pulled me aside at one point to tell me, "Working with your father has been an absolute privilege! His physical recovery and attitude are amazing! It's one of the most remarkable recuperations I've ever seen." Doctors from elsewhere in the hospital came to meet him and observe what was taking place. Strangely, I felt great pride in my dad.

By Christmas, Dad was back to driving (he and Mom recently bought a new Subaru Outback with all-wheel drive because they think it looks "cool"). He had begun his exercise regimen again, including stints on the exercise bike. The other night he happened to see a commercial on television for a brand of hot dog, and for the first time since that early November family gathering he experienced appetite; he downed two of those advertised dogs the next day!

As I hung up the phone after a recent chat, I thought to myself that, even at our advanced ages, my dad is still teaching me about attitude and spirit, integrity and grace. Maybe I just never expected that to still be happening, but it's terrific….

Is there any point to these stories, beyond being possibly interesting family holiday tales? I'm biased, but I think so. Aside from the lesson of either story alone, when I reflect on my daughter and my dad I'm amazed at the depth of what they have taught me over the past weeks. Our ages have not mattered. Our previous professional or life experiences have not mattered. The usual family relationship patterns have not mattered. Only two things counted: that two people facing circumstances that they had not created themselves responded heroically, as all of us can. And that someone else, namely me, was open to seeing it and learning something from it. I didn't intend to. I didn't expect to. But it happened nonetheless, and I am different today because of it.

In the busy-ness of our lives the lessons are easy to overlook. Interactions with family and everyday colleagues and customers are seemingly the same today as they have always been. But look a little deeper. Be willing. Become your own version of "a learning organization." On the doorstep of a New Year, I encourage you to be especially open to learning, and the lessons that are right before you. They will enrich your life, and make you a better spouse, a better parent, a better professional, a better person. And there's hardly anything better than that.

RSS: syndication and aggregation

We've now added RSS to this weblog. What's RSS?

It's a radio signal for a website, most commonly used for weblogs. More technically: "Rich Site Summary (RSS) is a lightweight XML format designed for sharing headlines and other Web content. Think of it as a distributable "What's New" for your site." See Intro to RSS for more info.

The Newspaper Association of America site has an informative article titled Syndication Made Simple. "Just as free e-mail newsletters enable publishers to directly reach readers and promote online and in-paper content, RSS "pushes" headlines and succinct, one-sentence article descriptions to those who subscribe to the no-cost feeds."

The other side of syndication is aggregation. Here's an article from Wired News that explains why aggregators are all the rage: Aggregators Attack Info Overload.


This icon is the cue that we're RSS capable. So train your aggregator to grab content from Steve Sheppard's syndicated weblog.

Believing Things Whole

A week ago I shared some thoughts here about the annual Seeing Things Whole gathering that was about to take place here in Minnesota. ("Seeing Things Whole," Oct.22) Griff Wigley, my "blog coach" and long-time friend suggested that I post a second perspective on Seeing Things Whole, this time looking back at it. I think it's a worthy idea.

I don't know how you feel at the end of a typical work week, but if you're like me you might be feeling a bit worn down and ready to crash somewhere in the comfort of family or friends or maybe even solitude. So the prospect of immersing into deep philosophical and organizational discussions is daunting and, frankly, not as appealing as watching the first game of the World Series on TV.

The first activity on Friday night finds the 27 of us introducing our very different backgrounds and disciplines to each other, and then hearing the biblical story from Leviticus, Chapter X. (If you aren't familiar with it, let me just say that it's a disturbing and seemingly inscrutable story, especially on a Friday evening after supper!) And yet this difficult tale started us on our weekend journey of thought, faith tradition, and real-life application. If I went into the event wondering where the energy to participate would come from, Friday night's experience provided the answer. For if I had tackled the story alone, I would likely have felt lost and confused. But being lost with 26 other people made it OK for me to struggle, even energizing, for the struggle was not undertaken alone.

There is great comfort when 26 others are laughing at their own senses of befuddlement, especially when the group is made up of such accomplished diversity, including people like Bob Wahlstedt, founder and Board Chair of Reell Precision Manufacturing; Tom Henry, owner, bicycle advocate and chief evangelist for Landry's Bicycles of Boston; Mike Naughton, associate professor of theology and director of the John Ryan Institute for Catholic Social Thought at the University of St. Thomas; Tim McGuire, syndicated columnist and former managing editor of the Minneapolis Star Tribune; Joel Mugge, real estate broker and founder of the Center for Global Education at Augsburg College; and 22 other creative thinkers and achievers with vitae too lengthy to include here. (Let me know if you'd like to hear the entire list; it's impressive.)

Friday evening was disorienting enough, but our oblique discussion started off our Saturday morning, as well. A good night's rest didn't really clarify anyone's understanding of the story significantly, but we tried hard. And then, another curve: David Specht lovingly encouraged us to shelve the story and our thoughts around it so that the issue posed by Foldcraft Co. (presented by you-guess-who) could undergo assessment.

I suspected that this might be like whipping up the New York Yankees' fans by holding up a Boston Red Sox banner! The audience was possibly ready to strike out at anything after struggling through the Leviticus story, and I was walking into the stadium with a big red "B" on my cap!

My actual presentation about Foldcraft and our issue lasted only a little more than an hour, but the follow-up questions and initial probes took us into the noon hour. But I found myself enjoying the probing questions rather than recoiling from them; in fact, the questions by and large to this point reaffirmed my own feelings about the issue at hand. And it was affirmation by that same group of awesome folks with whom I had been "suffering" in the strange story, a fact that added to my acceptance of their perspectives and my appreciation of those views.

The afternoon session eroded some of that comfort. Not that the participants were looking for ways to make me squirm, but anytime people look over my shoulder and question my motives, my reasons, my actions, my consistency and my very beliefs about what and why I do what I do, I cannot help but feel challenged. Herein is the power of Seeing Things Whole: to allow oneself to be "center circle" and the subject of so much focus can be frightening. But it also presents an awesome opportunity to grow in thinking and consideration of any circumstance more fully, more "whole."

I received a great many gifts last weekend. I discovered some new ways to think about an old problem. I was given the opportunity to defend and affirm strongly-held ideas that I have carried with me for many years. I was recipient of many compliments and expressions of gratitude (as unwarranted as they might have been). And I received the chance to reflect, quietly and away from the usual distractions of a busy life, about my Company, my conflicts, my beliefs, my self.

As hard as it may be to capture an entire weekend's happenings into a short write-up, I hope you can catch a glimpse of this extraordinary experience as I lived it. And if you'd like to hear from others who have been a part of this remarkable process, let me know.