Man Up, Tea Cups

There are times in life, and in business, you just have to man up. This is a story about one of those times.

It’s funny how seeing tea cups, hearing a song, or some other outside stimulus can conjure up a distant or forgotten memory. “Takin’ Care of Business” by BTO always reminds of Pete Pescetti, one of my great high school friends, who, unlike the rest of my crew, wasn’t into the rock music of the day—Bad Company, Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin. While the rest of us couldn’t wait to get paid and go buy the new Lynrd Skynrd cassette—or God forbid the eight-track which switched tracks in the middle of “Freebird”—Pete saved his money. The lone exception was that he bought the BTO cassette, BTO II. Go figure. So, when I hear “you start your slavin’ job and get your pay’” I always think of Pete.

We recently visited California and I was getting out a coffee mug. You know the morning routine. Half asleep. Turn Mr. Coffee on. Open the cupboard. Get a mug. Pour. It is automatic. You notice nothing. The Buddha would be disappointed.

This particular day, the Buddha wasn’t disappointed because I decided to notice the other coffee mugs in the cupboard. All my banks--Private Bank of California, Mellon, Community Bank—were represented. The obligatory Steeler mug, a gift from my former CFO. One from Glacier National Park promoting fire prevention. (The trees behind Smoky lose their leaves when you fill it with a hot liquid.) Each one a story. Maybe even a novel.

Two grabbed my eye in particular. Two Japanese tea cups.

When we lived in Marina del Rey, our next-door neighbor was a drug dealer. Yeah, expensive condo. Eighth floor. Over $1,000 psf. View of the harbor. Great pool. Rooftop party area. Superb gym. Yeah. Drug dealer next door. That’s LA, right? Kids, in bunches, used to sit on the floor outside of the tenant’s door waiting for the Candyman man to get home. I can only imagine the “arrangement” that permitted the customer base to get into this high security building.

We were concerned.

If you do drugs, that’s your call. Issue is stuff can go wrong when big bucks are involved. A bullet can come through the wall or down the hall and ricochet around. And it doesn’t always lodge where intended. Keep in mind, this was many years ago, pre-legalization of anything. And this wasn’t a casual affair. This was a machine. We decided I would go to the HOA and the police, if necessary, to address the situation.

Turns out, my across-the-hall neighbor was concerned too.

Himari, whose name symbolizes warmth and happiness, had just had a new baby. Himari’s husband worked for Toyota and he often travelled for chunks of time to Japan on business, leaving Himari and the baby alone. We said “hi” to the family when we saw them but, otherwise, did not know them at all.

One day, we heard a soft knock on the door. It was Himari. In her quiet, humble way, Himari said she was uncomfortable with what was going on across the hall. This woman could barely speak English, her husband was out of town, she had a new baby and she mustered the courage to knock on our door and say she was afraid. It was time to act.

I was telling my colleagues and family about the situation and what I was going to do about it. Most were supportive but, surprisingly, many were not. Their objection was not on the principle of laissez-faire. It was because there were afraid for my personal safety. We were stunned. How and why would you let a situation like that fester because you were personally afraid? It wasn’t about me. It was about my wife, Hamari, her baby and the other innocents on the eighth floor.

After the situation had been resolved, very tactfully courtesy of the LA County police, we again heard a soft knock on the door. It was Hamari, baby in arms, with a little wrapped gift in her hand. When we opened it up, it was a beautiful, delicate set of authentic Japanese tea cups. No doubt brought back from Japan. Probably by her husband. They are, as the Japanese know how to do, works of art. They are amazing. What a sweet and humble expression of gratitude. Proximity to another great culture/society, the Japanese. Also LA. Is it not?

There are times in your career where you have to make a stand regardless of the perceived risk to yourself. Over a forty-year career, I have had to face that kind of decision many times. Standing up to an intimidating credit officer who was just plain wrong. Firing a high performer for sexual abuse. Supporting employees that were stereotyped by the higher ups. Openly encouraging diversity. And, despite, initial concerns about the implications of “standing up”, I can honestly say, never, never, did it backfire and result in negative consequences for me personally. If anything, it demonstrated to my bosses, my peers and my colleagues that I had some cojones, was willing to what was right, and that I had the best interests of the company in mind. And if something had gone wrong. So what? You can’t go wrong being right. (See last sentence.) And by the way, if doing the right thing at your company isn’t allowed, it’s time to do the right thing and skedaddle. (More of the proper way to do the right thing later.)

So, man up, tea cups. You won’t regret it.

Show a Little Faith.