Your Success = $100 Million and Counting

You may recall from a previous blog that my company set for 2017 its most aggressive target ever: $100 Million.  Not a SALES goal, mind you, but a CUSTOMER SAVINGS goal.

The premise:
By focusing on our customers’ success more than our own, the good karma would strengthen customer loyalty and increase business more than fancy advertising and pushy sales tactics ever could.

Eleven months ago the goal seemed impossible. For starters, we’d have to deliver to our customers an ROI that even the world’s greatest gambler could never imagine: 10X.  Give KCF $1 today and by year’s end you’ll get $10 in return.  In addition, we’d have to persuade our customers to share cost metrics that are often confidential.  Oh, and one other barrier: We had nowhere near enough customers or revenue to reach a 10X ROI of $100 Million.  Somehow, someway, we’d have to more than triple sales to have a shot at making it.

The last ten months have been fun but no picnic.  Major culture shift in how we interact with our customers.  Chasing down customer metrics that would typically be none of our business.  Shifting hiring criteria to align with a services-oriented approach.  The result?

On the day I’m writing this, November 11, 2017, our customers’ cup runneth over.  $100 Million in proven savings and rising fast.  Wow.

Paper mills reducing downtime.  Auto plants catching machine failures that’ve plagued them for decades.  Oil & Gas fleets running more cleanly and safely.  Chemical manufacturers optimizing their production process.

Since January our commercial customers have flooded us with more accolades, thank you cards, and sales orders than in the previous sixteen years combined.  And in honor of Veterans Day, one more tidbit: Nearly every penny of that $100 Million came from American facilities.  The takeaway for America: Give us a smart factory, strong leadership, and open-minded workers and we’ll dance circles around the old school, penny pinching, tax evading sweat shop trying to win on price.

How will we celebrate?  On Thursday December 7th we’re angling for a party that includes fireworks and a marching band.  This is Happy Valley after all!

Among those on the invitation list:

  • Our customers (of course)
  • Our employees and their families
  • Our company founders
  • Our government agency, military, and SBIR partners
  • Our suppliers
  • Our friends
  • Our community leaders
  • Our local fire department (if they’ll let us shoot off fireworks)

This Thanksgiving, my gratitude extends to the KCF Tech colleagues and customers who’ve proven what a cutting-edge Internet of Things strategy can do to awaken and revitalize American industry.  $100 Million may not be enough to move the needle on our nation’s GDP but it’s enough to indicate we’re on the right path.

How would your business grow if you fretted less over your own sales goals and more on your customers’ ROI?  If you begged your customers to teach you more about their pain points so you can figure out how to eliminate them?  Zig Ziglar said it best, “You can get anything in life you want if you just help enough other people get what they want.”

What do your customers want?  A better ROI?  Recognition?  A promotion?  A safer work environment?  Insight into how to do their jobs better?

Unlock that secret desire and watch the fireworks fly.

Speaking of fireworks, if you’d like to join our festivities on Thursday, December 7th at 4:00pm in State College, PA please drop me a line!

How a West Coast Hippie Rocked My World

Heir to a thriving family business in New York, this stunningly beautiful straight A student majored in Business at Bucknell University.  It was the final ingredient for a lifetime of grooming to return home and carry forward a third generation real estate brokerage.  No one better personified a young female version of Gordon Gekko.

Somewhere along the journey, however, Ms. Gekko transformed into Cat Stevens.  Instead of returning to New York, she moved into a hippie commune in Oregon, tossed the Gucci clothes in favor or earthen gowns, became an ardent vegetarian, and most significantly of all, she rejected a comfortable, secure business track to pursue full-time her passion for music.  Ah, take note of how I phrased that..  her passion for music, NOT her passion for the business of music.

Music became her life.  She performed anywhere she could: kindergarten classes, nursing homes, campfires, bars, casinos…  No venue was too small but over time the venues grew larger.  She was the opening act for several artists you’d definitely recognize and had agents chasing her to sign contracts and commercialize her talents.

Much to the chagrin of her family and hometown friends, however, this talented woman had zero interest in commercial success.  My guess  is she feared a focus on profits would spoil her passion’s purity.

Her commitment, though, came at a price.  For more than twenty years she faced hardships one associates with a starving artist: no shopping sprees, no savings plan, and to my kids’ horror, no Disney vacations.  The starving artist was making ends meet with part time work and self directed engagements that kept her music pure and her cupboards bare.

To be honest, I’ve often been frustrated by her choices.  “So much potential [to be more comfortable/more stable/more conforming/more beautiful/more “normal”].  Why is she squandering her education and connections on a passion that barely pays the bills?”

It’s easy to belittle those who choose an unconventional path and I’m embarrassed to say there are times I’ve been the belittler.

One person who never belittled the starving artist’s choices: her mother.

The artist’s mom could have voiced the most frustration.  After all, her daughter never applied her college degree.  Abandoned the hometown business.  Moved to a hippie commune 3,000 miles from home.  Chose a life that would make any parent worry.

Yet the mom sang only praise.  She marveled at her daughter’s musical talents.  Sat transfixed at every performance, throwing evil stares at anyone giving less than rapt attention.  Delighted at every song the artist released.

Mom’s superfandom was unwavering.  Mom looked beyond the odd choices and sacrifices and celebrated the artist’s commitment to her craft.  I, the skeptic, questioned the mother’s cheerleading and secretly wished she’d grab her daughter by the ear and yank her back to Planet Earth.

Just weeks ago, however, at cheerleader mom’s funeral – of all places -, my two decades of skepticism vanished in the span of three minutes.  The funeral was going through its normal paces when the artist rose to sing Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah.  The church’s design is such that the choir is above and behind the congregation on a balcony, meaning the audience can hear but not see the performer.   (Picture a church version of the TV show The Voice.)

For the first time I was forced to listen, not watch, the artist’s live performance.  Instead of judging her unconventional wardrobe I paid attention only to her voice.  Instead of watching her performance through a fog of frustration I had only my ears to “see” her work.

And lemme tell you, her performance was otherworldly.  The range of her voice, its crispness, the absolute beauty of every note was unlike anything I’ve ever heard from a musician.  Ever.  As I glanced around the church I saw others equally mesmerized by that voice from above.  Heck, even the priest who moments earlier was practically dancing an Irish jig as he celebrated the departed’s “new seat next to Jesus in the Kingdom of Heaven” was in tears as he absorbed the artist’s angelic work.

Now here’s the kicker: The congregation’s reaction to the artist’s performance was akin to only one other person’s reaction I’d ever witnessed.. that of the woman lying in the casket.

In that moment I realized her mom, older than I and for years fighting illnesses that sapped her health, had better vision than I.  While I’d spent twenty years fretting over the artist’s unconventional lifestyle and allowing my prejudices to taint my view, her mom was kind and loving enough to look beyond the asymmetry and embrace the artist’s true genius.

To my mother-in-law, Marian:
From beyond the grave – at your funeral! – you hit me over the head with a lesson I’ll always appreciate.  If you really are sitting shotgun alongside Jesus, I know you heard that performance, loved every second of it, and are smiling knowing that everyone in that church finally sees what you always did.

To my sister-in-law, Jennifer:

You’ve invested a lifetime sharpening a skill that until Marian’s funeral, I underappreciated.  I am humbled by your beauty and grateful for the performance that finally shook me free of my judgements.  Even if your musical talents never generate a dime, you gifted everyone in that church with a priceless performance that brought more value than the biggest real estate deal your family’s business will ever generate.

To you, kind reader:

Next time you encounter a struggling artist who’s sacrificing worldly comforts in pursuit of his/her unique interests, save yourself the years of heartache I heaped upon myself!  Look beyond your own boundaries and admire the unusual path he/she has chosen.
Oh, and if you’re ever at one of my sister-in-law’s live musical performances, give her your undivided attention or I’ll shoot at you the same evil stare my mother-in-law used to (rightfully) shoot at me.

My Bucket List Trip: Sailing Yachts and Flying Garbage Bags

The last time I’d seen that look on my wife’s face – a blend of horror, discomfort, excitement, confusion, and elation – she was in the throes of childbirth.  This time, however, the culprit was twenty five knot winds, driving rain, and eight foot seas.

“Hmmmm…” I mused, “Based on Jessica’s current state am I better off surviving this squall or immediately casting myself to the bottom of the ocean?”

Lucky for me, just as walking the plank was becoming the more prudent option the storm passed and we returned to crystal blue skies and shimmering tropical waters.

You may recall from a previous blog that this past winter I completed a sailing certification that licenses me to charter a yacht up to forty five feet long.  Last week, my family and I put that training to the test with an eight day sailing adventure in the British Virgin Islands.  Outside the occasional squall here are other reasons we could argue this trip was a disaster:

  • Within two hours of arrival Jessica lost her credit card and I lost my cell phone,
  • During one of the hottest weeks of the year we ended up on a boat with no A/C,
  • One of our daughters suffered heat exhaustion to the point we considered a hospital visit (note: Virgin Pina Coladas serve as excellent medicine),
  • No wifi!
  • The only weather report I could find on the CB radio was in Spanish,
  • I stepped on a thorn that sunk an inch into my foot,
  • At one point my bossy grumpiness triggered Jessica – rightfully so – to hurl a full garbage bag at my head.

For these reasons and more, our sailing excursion was an adventure the Lawrence family will relive, recount, and laugh about for years to come.  Imagine waking to gentle sea breezes, snorkeling through vibrant coral and tropical fish, dining while anchored next to pristine, abandoned beaches, island hopping aboard your own private ship, and watching your kids bond through a week without electronics.

A disastrous vacation?  Certainly not.

This adventure was exactly what our family needed: Fun + Adversity + Education + Unpredictability + Laughs + Natural Beauty + Culture + Lifetime Memories.  Yes, you might pack most of these items into a visit with Mickey Mouse but trust me, a Caribbean sailing adventure brings life and color in ways you’ve never before experienced.

A special Thank You to Offshore Sailing School for preparing me for this trip.  You never know how much you’ve learned until you’re forced to apply it, and even through rough seas and flying garbage bags your training kept me calm and my family safe 🙂

Gambling Addiction: How My Customer Saved Me from It

I’ve never spent a dime at the racetrack but I’ve lost millions on racehorses.  Over the last twenty five years I’ve thrown money at over a thousand of ‘em, and fewer than 20% have brought a positive return.  Fewer than 2% have truly hit the big time, and it’s those 2% that have more than covered the funds squandered on the other 98%.  Some years I’ve gotten ahead, some years I’ve lost my shirt, and damn near every year this roller coaster ride puts my stomach in knots.

On what type of racehorse do I habitually gamble?  Salespeople.  Yes, a smattering of engineers, operations, management, and other roles but it’s the salesperson on whom I’ve most often rolled the dice.

Sales in a tricky business.  There’s no formal degree associated with it so anyone is technically “qualified” to give it a try.  Past success does not guarantee future success.  Prior experience, technical expertise, or deep product knowledge is a curse as often as it’s a blessing.  And the #1 wild card: Almost anyone is capable of pulling off a decent enough job interview to convince me they might have what it takes.

I’ve hired MBA’s, Ivy League honors students, military heroes, star athletes, and business owners who’ve failed miserably.  Conversely, I’ve gambled on convicts, illegal immigrants, high school dropouts, and strippers who’ve crushed their numbers and earned more than any of the aforementioned superstars.  To date, my educated guesses have netted roughly the same results as a blindfolded monkey tossing darts at a wall of resumes.

Two and a half decades of doing this and I still can’t seem to crack the code.  Sound familiar?

Last week I attended a workshop in Texas with Michael Hall from Culture Index, a brilliant entrepreneur and facilitator who brings to job recruiting the same Moneyball data analytics that Billy Bean brought to Major League baseball.  In six minutes his system measures one’s profile and tells you whether the job available is a good match for the applicant.  There are tons of screening tools that make similar claims but without going into all the details I can tell you Michael and his system impress me the most, and our company is partnering with him for all current and prospective employees.

Will Michael deliver my company a perfect gambling record?  Of course not.  But if he doubles our hit rate from 2% to 4% of the racehorses we hire, the upside to us and our customers is extraordinary.

My favorite thing about Michael and his company is how we came across it.  Wasn’t a magazine article or a sales call or a Google search or a TV show but rather a customer.  While many companies engage in us vs. them, beat-them-down-‘til-they-relinquish-ever-penny-of-profit vendor negotiations, this customer continually looks for ways to offer value to my team and me.  In this case, they generously extended an invitation to my company to join their executive team for Michael’s workshop.

This company knows what you may have forgotten:
Earning the best service, the fastest delivery, and the lowest price comes from offering value and friendship to the same “adversaries” most negotiators are trained to ravage.

In a way, this special customer has done for me what only 2% of sales racehorses ever learn to do for themselves: They listened to my needs (in this case, how to effectively recruit into our fast growing company the best people) and offered me a solution, even though my need is not directly related to their products/services and immediate profits.  At a time this company could have just kept its head down, focused entirely on its own recruiting needs, and called me only when they needed something or wanted a lower price, they thought beyond themselves and offered me insight into how to improve my business.

Does your company have a team of razor-toothed Procurement Officers responsible for negotiating the best service and lowest price from your vendors?  If so, here’s a list of questions I challenge you to ask them:

  • What are our vendors’ top barriers to success?
  • How are we earning loyalty from our top vendors in a way that makes them excited to do business with us?
  • What’s something low cost yet high value we can implement, like a talent recruiting workshop, that will help us and our vendors?

Think back to the last time you were in the “dominant” buyer position.  Whether you were shopping for a new multi-million dollar software system, a car, or a pair of shoes, how did you treat the salesperson?  How much respect did you offer and to what extent were you focused on helping them?  I know it’s counterintuitive but believe me, after all these years on the vendor side I promise that your flash of genuine interest, friendliness, or spirit of service will earn you better treatment and price than anything you’ll learn in a coercive negotiation seminar.

Want proof?

While my average customer sees a 300% ROI on its investment with our company (good), the customer that included my team in their recruiting workshop is approaching 1,000% ROI (mind blowing).

Thank you, Buddy, Jamie, and the rest of team FTSI for your generous partnership.  You guys are the pinnacle of elite racehorses, and my company and I are all in on any bet that includes you.


Dumb Mistake? Brilliant Move.

Who in your life puzzles you the most? Your spouse? Your boss? Your president?

For me it’s my brother Matt. For starters, he’s a PhD engineer with exceptional communication and human relation skills. I know lots of brilliant engineers and lots of talented communicators but both in one person? Harder to find these days than Richard Simmons.

Matt’s married (to a lawyer, of course) with three boys, lives atop a cold, windy mountain in NY State, and tends by himself all 75 acres of land that surround him. He built his own house, cuts his own firewood, hunts and grows his own food, has no TV, and insists on driving total crap cars that he services on his own. You get the picture? Smart, charming guy with a storybook family who could breeze through life but chooses instead to spend his free time laboring like a protagonist from Grapes of Wrath.

Spring Break is a perfect example of Matt the Enigma, as the rest of our family escapes to sunny Florida while Matt chooses to stay home and struggle through a miserable process: making maple syrup. Have you ever done this? It’s novel to tap a couple maple trees and boil a little sap into a spoonful of syrup but go beyond a short afternoon activity with the kids and it turns into a frigid, smoky, sleep depriving slog. Trust me, unless you have the latest equipment and technology (which, of course, Dr. Matt does not), syrup making absolutely sucks compared to a week of R&R in Florida.

For days he taps trees, collects sap, stokes a fire day and night, and slowly boils down over a hundred gallons of sap into a few gallons of sweet nectar, all while his loyal wife gazes out at the snowy landscape and checks in on how the rest of the family is enjoying the beach. (Renee, You are a saint.)

After days of misery Matt’s ready for the finishing touch, draining those few gallons of precious syrup from the boiling pan into a jar. Imagine Matt’s satisfaction as he gently pours his warm, delicious, hard-earned syrup into the jar, knowing he’s forged with his own hands a year’s worth of delicacy.

Why, then, did the Lawrence family’s only-ever PhD end up last week on his hands and knees, buried in the snow, face covered in a sticky mess, howling like an angry wolf that had just lost its prey? Because after all those hours, all that work, all that misery, my kid brother chose to set his jar on an uneven surface. Just as he’d poured the last drop of syrup into the jar, he caught a glimpse of his mistake. To his horror, the jar toppled over and his syrup disappeared beneath the snow.

Oh, the agony! In Matt’s words: “For a second I just stood there, mouth agape, not believing the tragedy I’d just witnessed. Then I fell to my knees and madly began scooping the snow back into the pan in hopes I could salvage some of the syrup. Well, that wasn’t working at all so I figured, “What the hell. Either I gorge myself right now or I’ll never get a taste.””
So down he went, face buried in the snow, gorging for all he’s worth on his self-made maple syrup snow cone.
Back to Matt: “When I finally surfaced, my hands and face were covered in sticky snow and I had the worst ever ice cream headache.”
At least I think that’s what he said because by this part of the story we were laughing so hard neither of us could breathe.

Perhaps like me you grew up with a brother who never had to study, always aced his tests, breezed through college, and can do more with a crescent wrench than you can do with Home Depot’s entire inventory. If that’s the case, then you know I took ZERO pity on a moment of dumbass that made me feel I still have a chance in a battle of wits.

Well, brother Matt, thank you for the flash of dumbo. Even if only for a moment, you gave your brother a sense that maybe, just maybe, you’re a real human being.

To my readers, what can we learn from my brother? For one, gravity always wins. Two, leave the maple syrup process to the experts. Three, show your human side! I gotta tell you, self-deprecating stories about your innocent failures win more hearts than anything you can share about your perfections.

Whatever satisfaction our family woulda gotten from that syrup is nothing compared to the laughter and lessons we learned from my brother’s disaster. Fail often and laugh it off, and I’ll bet you go through life with more smiles and more friends than Mr. or Mrs. Perfect ever will.

Sailing Through Christmas: What Will You Learn?

When I was a kid my dad came home one day with a beat up sailboat strapped down in the back of his work van. I think it was in lieu of payment for some carpentry work but given its condition it’s just as likely he pulled it out of a dumpster. Regardless, we patched it together and occasionally took it out on a small nearby lake. I loved it! Something about harnessing Mother Nature’s wind power and gliding across the water made our little journeys feel like big adventures.

In those same years, my uncle in Annapolis, MD became a yacht broker and would share tales of the mammoth boats he sold and the grand exploits upon which their owners would embark. For a kid growing up in rural Pennsylvania, the lifestyle seemed as unworldly to me as flying to Mars but I dreamed of one day getting a taste of it.

Fast forward through college, marriage, career, and kids and a few decades later the itch to experience high level sailing remained unscratched. Last week, however, my generous and supporting wife and kids gave me a pass to indulge in a sailing adventure I still cannot believe was real. For eight days a few other students and I traveled to Florida and lived aboard a forty five foot sailing yacht where we were drilled on nautical principles, vocabulary, laws, and techniques. Our captain and instructor, Rick, is a retired sailing professional who’s been captaining boats longer than I’ve been alive. Short of a parrot on his shoulder and a patch on his eye, he possesses all the vigor and veracity you’d expect from a lifelong seaman.

The certification program is no joke. Every day you’re challenged to learn new concepts and apply them with hand-on exercises. It’s humbling to be a forty four year old guy as unfamiliar and out of his element as a sixteen year old learning to drive a stick shift. Sure, I’d read a few how-to books in advance of the excursion but having a theoretical understanding of how to reef a sail is a heck of a lot different from actually doing it under twenty five knot winds and four foot seas. Did we make mistakes? Tons of them. Did we learn from them? You betcha.

Eight days later our motley crew returned to the harbor with sore backs, sunburned faces, calloused hands, and – miraculously – a boat in one piece. And you know what else we brought back from this adventure? A brand new skill set, a sense of accomplishment, and a certification to charter a sailing yacht up to fifty feet long.

Am I now a sailing expert prepared to cross the Atlantic? Not even close. But I am confident that my wife, kids, and I can charter a boat in the beautiful British Virgin Islands and enjoy an experience that just might bring the same euphoria that dad’s dumpster boat brought me all those years ago.

To Offshore Sailing School, my fellow students Charlie, Richard, and Crystal, and to Captain Rick I offer a Thank You for a terrific learning experience. To you, my kind reader, I offer a challenge. What’s a skillset that intrigues you? What’s a bucket list item that you’ve long dreamed of experiencing but haven’t explored? This holiday season, forego the gifts under the tree and replace them with a learning experience that expands your comfort zone and instills fresh confidence. And if there are any guinea pigs out there – preferably strong swimmers – who are willing to “practice” with Captain Ben, I’m delighted to deputize you as a first mate 🙂

Wishing you a Happy Holidays!

Nittany Lion Pride and Your 107,000 Fans

None of us had any personal connection with the group who made it happen. No neighbors, no friends, no family on the team. Nor were any of us poised to benefit in any tangible way from this incredible victory. Yet the moment Penn State pulled off the year’s greatest upset in college football, all 107,000 of us lost our minds.

The woman next to me, a complete stranger who could have passed for my high school math teacher, embraced me like a long lost son while she wept (not cried, WEPT) tears of joy. Her husband, meanwhile, bear hugged us both while screaming like a Braveheart warrior. The dad behind me fell to his knees, grabbed his ten year old son, and sobbed uncontrollably. The crowd’s roar was so powerful I literally felt the sound waves reverberating through my boy.

In case you don’t follow sports, this past weekend Penn State’s football team, an unranked squad, defeated the mighty Ohio State Buckeyes who were ranked #2 nationally. Most agree it was the biggest Penn State victory in decades.

Crowds Gone Wild is nothing new, right? Watch any sporting event and you’ll see mild mannered, otherwise even keeled people freaking out when their team comes out on top. But I must say that Saturday’s spectacle seemed more powerful, more significant than any other victory celebration I’ve experienced.

Reflecting upon it and hearing other Happy Valley residents share their thoughts, there are three reasons this win is forever burned in the memories of those who witnessed it. Two of these reasons are factors you and I can immediately apply in our own lives – and I hope we do. The third reason, however, is one I hope none of us ever need to address.

Reason #1: 100% Effort

In the normal course of your day, how often do you witness 100% effort? I’ll guess almost never. Your office is full of sleepwalking people sitting quietly in their cubicles doing who-knows-what. Your grocery store clerk meekly mumbles “Have a nice day” as you check out. Let’s face it, the majority of the world is half-assing it.

Sports, on the other hand, give us an opportunity to watch talented people give everything they have to the task at hand. How refreshing!

For those who watched last Saturday’s game, do you have any doubt the Nittany Lions gave less than 100%? Of course not. The team showed what’s possible when an outranked squad delivers excellence.

Reason #2: Exceeded Expectations

C’mon, be honest. How many of us truly believed Ohio State was going to lose?

Unfortunately for a sports team underdog, the odds of outplaying a heavily favored opponent are slim. On the rare occasion when it happens, though, a fan base is pleased beyond words and doubles down on its loyalty.

The good news for you and me? Exceeding expectations in the real, half-ass world is much easier. Back to your grim workplace: What if you came into work tomorrow with a smile on your face and a box of donuts for your co-workers? What if that grocery store clerk offered you a genuine smile and complimented your beautiful wardrobe? Tiny gestures are all it takes to light up your fan base. You may not get bear hugged by a screaming stranger but believe me, your small efforts will not go unnoticed.

Reason #3 – The reason Penn State fans responded so emotionally to victory, and the factor I hope you never have to chase to salvage your own personal brand: Redemption

Five years ago Penn State’s reputation cratered in a heap of shame and embarrassment. Joe Paterno’s glorious program deservedly became the laughing stock of the sports and academic worlds. As often happens, however, the baby got thrown out with the bathwater. Not everything Penn State football was evil. The long history of extraordinary athletes, high academic achievement, alumni support, fun tailgates, and exciting football was overshadowed by a tragic abuse scandal that to this day sickens me.

But to thousands of fans, Penn State still represents something good. It’s still a university that produces outstanding graduates (I work with Penn State engineers who blow me away every day with their brilliance). It’s still a place that gainfully employs thousands of fellow Pennsylvanians, many of whom are developing groundbreaking technologies and medicine. It’s still a place that gives back to its community. It’s still a place my family and I are grateful to call home. And last Saturday night, it was a place where Nittany Lion fans could celebrate a clean victory bursting with pure effort, storybook endings, and pride.

No, you may never have 107,000 screaming fans cheering for you all at once. But bring a little more effort and kindness every day and you’ll experience one fan’s cheers on 107,000 different – and delightful – occasions.

Danny’s Goal: What’s your takeaway?

A single goal. If you had to sacrifice nearly everything in life that fills your days – your career, your paycheck, your marriage, even your Target shopping excursions – what goal would you pursue and with how much dedication would you keep after it? Short of locking yourself in a monastery, the modern world is so full of options that living a life consumed with a single purpose seems impossible. Heck, most of us cannot focus on a single task for ten minutes before distracting ourselves with email or social media.

That’s part of what makes Danny Chew so special. Danny decided long ago to commit himself to a single goal. By my calculations, he’s already invested more than 50,000 hours in pursuit of it. (In comparison, the average American works 2,000 hours a year, so Danny’s more than 25 “work” years into this.) When he committed himself to this goal he was still a child; today he’s 55 years old.

In lieu of a family, a spouse, a career, a home of his own, or a steady paycheck Danny remains at home with his mother and scrapes together a few dollars to cover the bare essentials. To minivan driving, suburb living, Target shopping adults like you and me, Danny’s life may seem preposterous. Upon reflection, though, Danny’s life is an incredible example of what’s possible when one chooses a road less traveled.

Ah, but a road less traveled is exactly what Danny has not chosen! You see, Danny’s life mission is to travel one million miles. A million miles by car? No, though it would take the average American 72 years to rack up that many miles on the road. Danny is choosing to travel a million miles by bicycle.

It’s not cycling a million miles that I’m asking you to consider as your inspiration, but rather the commitment and discipline you and I know it takes to narrow one’s focus, day after day after day, into a single mission.

As a fellow Pennsylvanian I’ve never come across Danny on any of my rides but some of my cycling friends have. The story usually goes that while meandering down some back road in Central PA, a guy with monster quads riding an old, tired road bike comes upon you and humbly mentions that he’s about halfway through his day’s two hundred mile ride. Good Lord! Two hundred miles in one day? Never in my twenty years of cycling have I reached that but Danny knocks down that kind of mileage without a second thought. Danny’s a legend in the endurance cycling world. He’s twice won the Race Across America and routinely logs more miles in a week than a professional cyclist is likely to log in a month.

A few days ago, Danny’s single goal collided with a serious obstacle: He suffered a crash that left him paralyzed from the waist down. As of this writing he’s lying in a hospital bed, heavily sedated so that his body can rest. Danny’s life is about to take a serious turn but does his goal remain or will he have to abandon his dream? Please, this is Danny Chew, the guy who’s spent his entire life fighting headwinds, suffering up climbs, and pushing through pain! As the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reported, one of Danny’s first comments from the hospital was, “Worst case scenario, I’ll just have to finish my million miles on a hand cycle. So be it.”

Danny, the entire cycling community is cheering for you and praying for your recovery. You will reach your goal, now with more purpose and inspiration than anyone could have imagined.

Note to readers: Danny has health insurance but it carries a large deductible and he faces many expenses following his release form the hospital. If you’re able, please consider a donation of any amount to Danny’s recovery fund:

Nerves of steel? How to prove you’ve got ‘em

By the time the fire trucks arrived the building was fully engulfed in fifty foot high flames. Fortunately, the police had already cleared the area and everyone was safe. But when the firefighters rolled up and marched directly toward the inferno I feared the safety record was about to take a turn for the worse.

Have you ever witnessed a three alarm fire? Last week was my first, as my daughter and I were out for a bike ride and came upon a small fire at an apartment complex that within minutes of our arrival had gotten out of control.

The scene played out as you’d see in a movie:

People run out of building, police clear the area, firefighters show up to save the day. Hollywood drama, however, ended the moment these brave firefighters moved toward the flames. What made this so different from what we’ve seen in the movies? They walked.

I imagined these firefighters leaping off the truck, sprinting up the stairs, and madly rushing about in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames. Instead, these guys calmly approached the fire and carefully moved about the scene at a steady pace, even when they were so close to the flames I feared they were going to spontaneously combust.

The situation was growing dire: Their fire hoses weren’t keeping pace with the flames and the roof was beginning to collapse. At that moment, all the fire trucks started blaring their horns while the chief on the ground gestured an “Abandon ship!” signal.

Again, I was certain in that moment these guys would break into a sprint and get the heck out of the danger zone as fast as their legs would carry them. But nope, they calmly changed direction and moseyed down the stairs. Imagine! A fifty foot high inferno at your back, the building in a state of collapse, your boss wildly gesturing for you to get the hell out of there, and you calmly exit the building as if you’re leaving the opera. Nerves of steel indeed.

I have no idea if this is standard firefighting protocol but upon reflection it made perfect sense. Think about it: You’re wearing a bulky suit, you’re peering through a face shield that limits your vision, you’re stepping through a smoke-filled area you’ve never before visited, and a bunch of your firefighting buddies are clustered around you. Under these circumstances, running around like an adrenalized chicken is the worst thing you can do.

You and I may not be firefighters but how often do you find yourself living the watered down corporate or personal equivalent? An angry customer chews you out. Your car breaks down on a busy road. Your boss demands that you complete four days of work in four hours. Your kid runs to you in tears after falling off her bike… Whatever the “Oh s***” moment, our instinct is to freak out.

What did these brave firefighters teach me? Do the opposite.

When you find yourself facing a raging fire and a collapsing roof, SLOW DOWN. Take a deep breath, carefully scan your surroundings, and execute a reasonable plan one slow, steady step at a time.

So what happened to our firefighters? Well, here’s what didn’t happen: They didn’t stumble, they didn’t lose control, they didn’t fall down the stairs, and they didn’t get injured. They all made it safely back to their trucks and a few minutes later successfully got the fire under control.

Take a deep breath. Stay calm. Work together… And thank your local fire department for the dangerous work they do.

Don’t tell my daughters they’re smart or beautiful

Posted: 06 Apr 2016 04:44 AM PDT
Where does a guy with limited skills go to learn how to communicate with and motivate his daughters? Back to school, of course. Like parents, teachers have to motivate their kids to pay attention, struggle through difficult tasks, and earn good marks.

Through wildly good fortune our kids have had terrific teachers. One who stands out is Mrs. Feldman, a third grade teacher at our local elementary school who’s now had two of our daughters in her class.

Our kids love Mrs. Feldman. Time and again she’s proven capable of motivating our kids to do things my wife and I sometimes find impossible: become voracious readers, enthusiastically practice math, write creative stories, and every day be excited about going to school.

How does she do it? It’s taken me awhile but at a recent Parent-Teacher conference her formula began to crystalize: She doesn’t compliment the person, rather she compliments the activity. Notice the difference between Mrs. Feldman’s compliment to our nine year old daughter, Amelia, and one that I, the bumbling parent, tend to give:

The Amazing Mrs. Feldman: “Amelia, I’m really impressed with the hard work you’ve put into your writing this year. The other day I noticed you asked for extra help and the story you wrote afterward was your best yet. I’m proud of the effort you’re making.”

Clueless Dad: “Wow, Amelia, you’re a good writer!”

Mrs. Feldman knows something that many parents don’t: Your kid’s success depends a whole lot more on his/her work ethic and willingness to try hard than it does on any natural intelligence. Mrs. Feldman doesn’t praise a child’s talent, she recognizes the child’s effort.

Mrs. Feldman is teaching me an important lesson: Do not lavishly emphasize your kid’s natural gifts. Why? Because the moment your son or daughter encounters an obstacle their God-given gifts cannot overcome, he/she’s likely to give up. Thanks to your misdirected praise, your child comes to rely too much on his/her natural gifts and not enough on his/her work ethic.

Mrs. Feldman, do you subscribe to Harvard Business Review? Here’s what social psychologist Heidi Grant Halvorson published a few years ago in HBR: “Gifted children [often complimented on their natural abilities and the degree to which things come easy to them] grow up to be more vulnerable and less confident when they should be the most confident.” She continues, “The kind of feedback we get from parents and teachers as young children has a major impact on the beliefs we develop about our abilities, including whether we see them as innate or developed through effort and practice.”

Halvorson goes on to describe a study wherein one group of kids was praised for their natural talents while another group was praised for their work ethic. Soon thereafter, each group was assigned a difficult task. The result? The “Wow, you’re a smart kid!” group quickly gave up and failed to complete the task. The “I’m proud of your work ethic” group solved the problem and appeared happier doing it.

It’s easy to pay someone a surface-level compliment, but you’re making a deeper impact by recognizing the effort instead of the result:

Instead of, “Wow, you’re fast” try, “Wow, I love to see how hard you run. Great job on the extra effort!”

Instead of, “You have beautiful hair” try, “You take good care of your hair. How do you keep it so nice?”

Instead of, “You’re a smart kid” try, “Congrats on the good grades. What’s the class that you find most challenging? I’m proud of you for making the effort to do well in that class, too.”

Are my daughters smart and beautiful? Hell yes. But please don’t tell them that. If you want to build their confidence and motivate them to be their best, follow Mrs. Feldman’s formula: Find a way to compliment their efforts instead of their natural gifts.