Jiddo, my grandfather, taught me many different values. One of his favorite expressions was "Hiyetti, find out what the poor people are doing . . . then don't do it."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Find out what the successful folks do and emulate them." Good sage advice from an uneducated immigrant.
His advice has carried over into all aspects of my life today. I think differently because that was how my mentor taught me to think. He began that teaching process with me as early as I can remember. I recall bagging groceries in his grocery store at the age of five. I was not yet even in school. He taught me about a work ethic. We all worked from early ages because that was the belief system in our family.
We never believed in allowances because we were too poor to have them. Consequently, I never gave my children allowances, either. In fact, I went totally in the opposite direction. I actually charged my children for living in my home. The allowances in our home worked like this: "If there is enough food left over, you get to eat. If there is an empty bed, you get to sleep."
I actually charged my children $228 per month to live in my home. They had to pay their life insurance (I sold them the policy). They had to set some money aside for their college education and they had to give a little back to God (that's how we did it in our house).
We started them with checking accounts when they were six years old. When Quicken came along, they learned how to manage their money on a computer. I would challenge them to invest their money. In fact, if they got over $500 in their checking account and they did not invest it, I threatened to confiscate it.
Christopher, my youngest son, looked up the word confiscate and nearly went ballistic. "Dad, you aren't taking my money," he exclaimed. "I will if you don't invest it. Just think of me as the government. I'm like a black hole. Once your money goes to me, it's gone forever."
When I was growing up, I had a simple perception about life: You had to work hard to be successful. The money I earned working at my grandfather's grocery store was turned over to my mom and dad to help run the home. When I got older, I began working at a service station for my Little League baseball coach, Ralph Corley.
I earned a dollar an hour changing tires and pumping gas and would sometimes work 80 to 90 hours a week during the summer. I turned all the money over to my parents to help feed my 10 brothers and sisters. All of the children in our home worked and we all kicked in financially to help feed the family.
In high school, I worked at the service station and helped my uncles in the family grocery store, which they took over upon the death of my grandfather, Eli Mack, Sr. I also wrote for three newspapers part time and drove a school bus, which surprisingly paid me $35 per month—and, more importantly, provided me with a set of wheels.
I never got to go to college because my father became ill when I was in high school. I went to work in his construction business. I had an older sister who joined the convent and an older brother who had just entered the military. As third in line, I had to work to help feed and educate my eight younger siblings. I'm proud to say that all of them have degrees or multiple degrees. I'm the only one who doesn't have a formal education, and yet, I think I received the best education of all from that so-called school of hard knocks.
Champions find unique ways to solve problems, and they challenge others to do the same. They approach situations differently than most other people do. When I competed in the finals of the 1978 World Championship of Public Speaking in Vancouver, British Columbia, I was the ninth speaker out of nine on the dais that day. Two profound things happened.
Jeff Young, the 1979 winner of the World Championship, also competed in 1978 against me in Toronto. He spoke before I did and used a quote that I was going to use in my speech. I realize it was just a coincidence, but I was beside myself.
If I used the same quote, I surmised some might perceive that I was copying Jeff, even though we had to write and send our speeches in well in advance to allow the judges to determine that we were not repeating a previous speech. We were required to write a totally new speech and send copies of the ones we had used on the climb to the world finals.
So I changed my speech on the spot and did not use the quote. To this day, no one knew that I extemporaneously changed the speech that August day in 1978. I learned I should quote myself more and others less.
The other thing I noticed was that every speaker stayed at the lectern. No one moved. It never occurred to me not to move, but from what I gathered, no one had ever moved from behind the lectern at a Toastmasters International finals competition. To my knowledge, there was no rule against it and I had already requested a lavaliere microphone.
To make a long story short, I won the competition that day and I believe it was because I had the courage to be different on the platform. I needed to stand out. I needed to capture the imagination of the judges and the audience.
An audience member came up to me afterward and begrudgingly offered his congratulations but advised me that "If I was judging today, you'd have gotten a big goose egg." I asked why and he simply stated, "You aren't supposed to move from behind that lectern."
"Boy, I am glad you were not a judge," I responded. I was later told by Toastmasters International Executive Director Terrance McCann that to his knowledge I was the first contestant in the history of the competition ever to move on the platform.
Is that why I won? I don't know. All I know is this: If you want to be a champion, you have to think differently.
When you take care of your customers in a creative way, they will remember how you solved their problem and will reward you by letting others know. Unfortunately, that news is traveling half as fast as the bad news.
Takeaway Servicing and Selling Tactics