5

Passion Meets N. Different

Leadership’s team met for hours to develop a plan to get Excellence back. The conversations were direct and stressful, but still a definitive plan had not materialized. Passion left the meeting feeling listless. She went to her office and closed the door. Pulling out her compact mirror, she looked closely at herself. “I‘m so pale,” she thought. “What’s happened to me? I used to be so full of feeling, warmth, and zeal.” Then her phone rang, and Passion answered it. “Yes,” she said, and even to her own ears, her voice sounded empty of life.

It was Darnell. “You have a visitor here to see you,” she said.

Passion had very few visitors. “Who is it?” she asked with interest.

“She says she is a family member,” Darnell replied.

Passion racked her brain but could not think of what family member might be visiting her at work. “Send her to my office, please,” Passion finally said.

Moments later a woman entered and hugged Passion halfheartedly. Before her, Passion saw a woman who seemed to have some of the family characteristics, but she could not place her. The visitor seemed to read her mind.

“We’ve actually never met face-to-face,” the woman said. “My name is N. Different. Perhaps your parents told you about me?” she added, sitting down. “Third cousin once removed.”

Passion sat down across from her. Her parents had certainly told her about this woman. Actually, her parents had warned her about N. Different.

Again, N. Different seemed to read her thoughts. She said, smiling, “Look, none of those childhood stories are true. I’ve heard them all, too. ‘Watch out for N. Different. She’s no good. She’ll suck the life out of you. She’ll leave you cold, empty, and wasted.’” Suddenly, N. Different laughed in a way that was almost maniacal.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” Passion asked skeptically.

“I am here to help you,” N. Different responded, and Passion noticed that she was no longer smiling. “You don’t seem to be at your best right now.”

“Help with … ?” inquired Passion.

“Don’t play coy with me,” N. Different stated. “You know your Excellence is missing. Your leader has put the responsibility on you to get her back, and you are sitting here wondering what went wrong, what you could have done differently, and what you are going to do now.”

“But how could you—”

“I make it my business to know,” N. Different shot back. “And do you want to know what I have learned?” Not allowing Passion to answer, she continued, “I’ve learned that you have taken this onto your own shoulders. I’ve learned that you feel personally responsible for Excellence’s kidnapping.”

Her eyes welling with tears, Passion replied, “It’s true. I don’t know what happened, but I seem to have lost my spirit.” Sniffling, she added, “And if I had been doing my job correctly, Excellence would still be here.”

N. Different handed Passion a handkerchief and said, “There, there, dear. Tell me the whole story.”

Wiping her tears away, Passion blurted out, “I’m Passion! I give enthusiasm to our employees. You see,” she continued, gaining some composure, “there is more to Excellence than just the technical skills of the job. Some of our employees don’t understand this truth at first. Our customers are certainly interested in getting a great product, but they also want to know that our employees care.” She paused for a moment and then said, “It’s how we treat and help each other; the way we look one another in the eye; the acknowledgment that we are listening to our customers’ wants, needs, and concerns. It’s the smile on our face and the inflection in our voice. It’s helping the employees understand the need to see each customer interaction with fresh eyes.

“Do you understand,” Passion said, leaning forward in her chair, “how easy it is to slip into a mundane perspective when it comes to our jobs and our customers? What I try to teach is empathy. If we are empathetic with one another, then we can be that way with our customers, and we are more likely to understand their perspective. You know the old adage about treating others the way you want to be treated? There’s a lot of truth to that.” She took a deep breath. With tears again running down her pale face, she said, “I create the environment for Excellence to thrive. I’m the one who carries the torch for Excellence, and I let that torch go out.”

N. Different got up from her chair and walked to the window. She stared out for a long time before she turned, looked directly at Passion, and said, as if talking to a child, “You do your job well enough. You explain your importance at each new-employee orientation. You make it clear that you, Passion, are an essential function of their jobs.” She stated matter-of-factly, “You’re done—nothing more you can do. You can’t babysit these people. You do your best, and either they get it or they don’t.”

“But—” Passion began.

“No buts!” N. Different declared. “And don’t forget,” she said conspiratorially, “you have plenty of other team members who need to do their jobs. There’s Competency, Flexibility, Communication, and Ownership. If they would do their jobs right, maybe yours wouldn’t be so hard.”

Passion heard what N. Different was saying, but still she wasn’t convinced. Walking toward the door, N. Different said, “I have to go for now. Wouldn’t your life be easier if you didn’t care so much? Why waste your time? Do you think anyone else really cares? Think about what I’ve said. And,” she added, “if you ever need me, just close your eyes and relax. I’ll be there.”

This time it was Passion’s turn to stare out the window. She had a lot to think about.

Special Delivery: PASSION

Passion is what turns life into an adventure.
—Ed Jent

When Dave left Gorman-Scott Inc., he noticed that the parking lot had fewer cars than usual at that time of day. He had worked for Delivery LLC for almost ten years, and Gorman-Scott Inc. had been on his route for the last four. Somehow, the kidnapping of Excellence was not as big of a surprise to him as he thought it should be. Musing on this, he recalled that the number of packages he delivered there had been decreasing over the last year, and, as today, there were fewer and fewer cars in the parking lot, which meant fewer customers. The building’s grounds had appeared increasingly unkempt. Now that he thought more deeply about it, he realized that Gorman-Scott Inc.’s entire character had changed. Not a dramatic, earth-moving change, but a subtle and ill-defined change that was nevertheless present and palpable.

Dave’s thoughts turned to his own company and then to himself. His company had Passion. He had seen a lot of her at first, and he remembered how, after he had become acquainted with her, she began to approach every day, every situation, and every customer with enthusiasm and fresh eyes. He remembered the story that Passion had told to the group during orientation about her dog.

“I want you all to adopt the Dooley philosophy,” she said, smiling.

THE DOOLEY PHILOSOPHY
One should live one’s life seeing every
opportunity as new and exciting

Passion went on to explain that her dog’s name was Dooley, and Dooley went out the same door several times a day to do his business and explore the backyard. “And if you could read Dooley’s body language,” she said, “and the way his eyes widen and his body trembles with anticipation, it’s like the first time he’s ever been out that door each and every time, and he can’t wait to get out there and explore.”

Passion’s story struck a chord with Dave and became part of his mental and emotional toolbox, the one he tried to pull from as he dealt with life’s daily challenges and setbacks. On the days when he dealt with pain or struggled to do his daily tasks with his prosthesis in place, his world would feel dark and his mind would retreat back to the day he lost his lower leg. The Dooley philosophy was one of the concepts that helped him emerge from the gloom to brightness and hope. But, Dave realized, it had been a long while since he had thought about this particular way of viewing the world.

Additionally, Dave’s job had become too comfortably routine. He knew his customers, and they knew him. But as he thought about his customer interactions, he realized that their conversations had eroded into banalities: How are the kids? How’s the wife? The job? These pleasantries were all well and good, but suddenly Dave realized that somewhere along the way he had stopped paying attention—that is, he had stopped really listening. He wasn’t seeing his customers with fresh eyes, and he was operating on automatic. He had abandoned the Dooley philosophy. He was not giving or getting his best.

And then Dave experienced the real epiphany. It came so hard and fast that he had to slow his breathing. The same thoughts he was having about his job—the routine, the ordinary, the feigned pleasantries, the not seeing with fresh eyes—these same things were true of his marriage.

Over the last few years, he and Mary had drifted apart. It wasn’t something they really talked about. Correct that—it wasn’t something he talked about. She had tried to discuss it with him many times, but each time, either he was able to redirect the conversation or the discussion ended in anger and silence. He still loved Mary. Trying to recall their passion, he came to realize that somewhere along the way, she had quit trying so hard and their marriage was now more of an arrangement bound by financial circumstances, a shared history, and love for the children they had together. But where was the passion now?