Damn. I Left My Phone in the Truck.

I was on my way to my next appointment when I realized I had a little extra time. Enough time to actually stop and have a quick bite instead of pulling through the closest fast-food drive-thru and slamming down another heart attack in a bag.

Then I saw it.

Look. There’s a diner.

Perfect.

I pulled in, walked inside, found a seat at the counter and ordered a grilled chicken sandwich, side salad and an unsweet tea. Food was on the way.

Then I reached for my phone.

Damn. I left it in the truck.

You know the drill. Do I get back up, walk outside and get it?

Of course I do.

I mean, what if somebody calls? What if I get a text? What if an email comes in that absolutely, positively has to be answered before my next appointment? What if somebody posts something on LinkedIn and I don’t know about it until after lunch?

And God forbid, that chicken sandwich might look good enough for me to take a picture of it and post it on Instagram.

C’mon.

My unsweet tea was already sitting in front of me. The phone could stay in the truck.

So I sat there.

At first, it felt a little strange. No phone sitting beside me on the counter. Nothing lighting up. Nothing buzzing. Nothing to grab during that three-second lull when there wasn’t anything else going on.

So I did something pretty unusual these days.

I looked around.

There was a guy a couple stools down from me. We nodded. A few minutes later one of us said something. I don’t even remember who started it.

And we talked.

I don’t remember everything we talked about either. That really isn’t the point. The point is that we probably wouldn’t have talked at all if my phone had been sitting on the counter.

Not because phones are bad. Mine is pretty damn useful. It connects me to customers, friends, family, information and just about anything else I want to know.

But sitting there that day got me thinking.

So…are you connected?

A. Connected to your phone, tablet and the digital highway.

B. Connected to your family, friends and personal life.

C. Connected to where you actually are, without enough distractions to keep you from listening, meeting somebody or learning something new.

D. All of the above.

I’m definitely D.

At least that’s what I’m shooting for.

Because I don’t think A is the problem. The problem starts when A crowds B and C out of the seat.

Maybe that’s what happened to me sitting at that counter.

For a few minutes, I had disconnected from the circus that runs so much of our daily lives. The calls. The texts. The emails. The appointments. The news. The constant need to know what’s happening and what somebody needs from us next.

We spend a lot of time under that tent.

So much that every once in a while we forget there’s a pretty big world outside of it.

Sitting at that counter without my phone, I wasn’t disconnected at all.

I had just stepped outside the tent.

There were people around me I didn’t know. Conversations I hadn’t heard. Things happening that had absolutely nothing to do with the little circus I carry around with me every day.

And for a few minutes, I was part of that world instead.

Your phone can show five bars and you can be completely disconnected from what’s happening three feet away. Or your phone can be sitting out in the truck with absolutely no idea what’s going on...

and you can be connected as hell.

Everybody knows something you don’t. But every once in a while, you have to look up long enough to meet them.

Think about that one for a minute.

When was the last time you had a conversation with somebody you didn’t already know?

Not because you needed something. Not because you were networking. Not because LinkedIn suggested you connect.

Just because you happened to be sitting next to each other.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe you laughed. Maybe you learned something. Maybe they did.

Or maybe you just had a good conversation over a grilled chicken sandwich, side salad and an unsweet tea.

That’s enough.

Eventually I finished lunch, paid the tab and headed back out to the truck.

And there it was.

My phone.

Right where I’d left it.

The world hadn’t ended. I hadn’t missed anything that couldn’t wait. And I’d had a healthy lunch and a conversation with somebody I probably never would have met otherwise.

All because I had a little extra time between appointments, passed up slamming down another heart attack in a bag and pulled into a diner.

I’m not leaving my phone in the truck on purpose from now on.

Let’s not get carried away. After all, my next meal may earn that Instagram picture.

But the next time I sit down somewhere and realize my phone is still sitting out there, I’m not so sure I’m going back to get it.

Maybe sometimes the best connection is the one you didn’t plan on making.

And come to think of it...

For both my mental and physical health, the diner was probably my best option.

So here’s a question.

Are you going to step outside the tent today...or are you content living within the circus?

See you next week…

The journey continues.

— HAMP

There’s a Muddy Stream Running Through The Yard

Oh great. A recap show.

You know the feeling. You turn on the TV expecting the next episode and instead they’re showing you a bunch of stuff you’ve already seen.

C’mon. I saw this one.

But then something happens. You remember something you’d forgotten about. You laugh again at something that made you laugh the first time. Maybe you notice something you missed. And before long, you’re kind of enjoying reliving the whole thing.

So that’s what we’re doing this week in The Yard.

No new lesson. No new customer story. We’re just going to walk back through the gate and look around for a while.

If you’ve been here from the beginning, you’ll recognize some things. If you came in somewhere along the way, you might look at a couple of them and wonder, What in the world was he talking about?

That’s okay.

Let’s walk.

It seems appropriate that we start with some mud.

We’ve talked about understanding how the mud gets on the tires. Not from a conference room. Not from a spreadsheet. And not from somebody telling you what they think is happening.

Stand in the mud and find out.

We learned that you can’t learn to drive sitting in a parked car.

There was a boss who showed up in his Ram pickup and other days in his Porsche. Same guy. Same company. But depending on what he drove that day, you might have thought two completely different people had just pulled into the parking lot.

We’ve looked for the truth in shops, sitting at coffee counters and standing in rock quarries. Places where nobody bothered to put a gatekeeper at the door.

Somewhere along the way we met a few Books of Knowledge. People who have forgotten more about their jobs than most of us will ever know. People carrying 20, 30 or 40 years of experience around in their heads while everybody else is busy looking for the answer on a laptop.

We’ve had eagles and turkeys. One of the eagles even ended up wearing sunglasses.

That still makes me laugh.

We talked about who makes us better, who we’re making better and why you probably shouldn’t expect to soar with the eagles in the morning if you’ve been running with the turkeys all night.

And of course, we wandered into sales.

That’s where 1-800-QUICKQUOTE showed up, along with an old saying of mine:

“Once you give someone a price, you have nothing left to sell.”

Because relationships matter. Credibility matters. Knowing the customer matters. Understanding why they’re buying matters.

And sometimes the brother-in-law matters too.

Where is that guy anyway?

We talked about winning orders and then reminded ourselves that when the purchase order finally shows up, the celebration doesn’t last very long.

Practice is over. The game has begun.

Everybody gets a little dirt on them after that. Sales. Engineering. Purchasing. Operations. Quality. Parts. Service. Accounting.

Nobody gets to stand on the sidelines and stay clean.

We even hung a quality certificate on the wall. That went pretty well.

Until somebody found the infamous step drill.

Turns out there can be a pretty big difference between what the process says is happening and what’s actually happening when nobody thinks the auditor is looking.

Pink ponies. Giant rainbows.

And everybody still knew where the step drill was buried.

Most recently, we went all the way back to 1990 and watched a 60-second United Airlines commercial.

An old customer fired them because he didn’t know them anymore.

Thirty-six years later, that is still one of my all-time favorite speeches.

Get up out of your chair. Get out of your office. Close down your laptop.

And go see them!

So there you have it. The Yard recap show.

No golden buzzer. No judges. Nobody getting voted off.

Just some mud, trucks, strong coffee, a parked car, a Ram and a Porsche, a few eagles and turkeys, a Book of Knowledge or two, a brother-in-law nobody can find, the infamous step drill, a purchase order and an old customer we probably should have gone to see sooner.

Not a bad walk.

But something happened while I was walking back through all of it.

I noticed a muddy stream running through The Yard.

I don’t think I intentionally put it there. It was just there.

It ran past the mud on the tires and the parked car. Past the Books of Knowledge. Past the Ram and the Porsche. Past the eagles and turkeys, the gatekeeper and 1-800-QUICKQUOTE. It ran underneath the quality certificate, right past that infamous step drill and through the purchase order.

And it kept going all the way out to that customer we hadn’t gone to see in too long.

Different stories. Different people. Different experiences.

Same muddy stream.

And once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop seeing it.

How we show up is what matters most.

Sometimes showing up means actually being there. Sometimes it means listening instead of talking. Sometimes it means getting out in the shop and understanding how the mud really gets on the tires.

It can mean asking somebody who’s been doing the job for 30 years what they think before you tell them how you’re going to fix it. Keeping the promise after the purchase order arrives. Admitting that the process on the wall isn’t the process happening on the floor.

Or simply getting in the truck and going to see somebody.

Different situations.

Same muddy stream.

Funny. I didn’t see it when I started writing The Yard.

I see it now.

And maybe that helps explain why I keep writing it.

This has never been “Hey, look at me.”

It’s more like, “Hey, this happened to me. Maybe there’s something in it you can use.”

I’ve spent 40 years smelling diesel fumes. I’ve ruined my share of nice clothes getting grease on them in my quest to understand what’s really going on. Along the way, I’ve accumulated a pretty good-sized Book of Knowledge.

Some pages came from getting things right. Plenty came from getting things wrong. And a whole bunch came from customers, bosses, mechanics, salespeople, engineers and all kinds of people I’ve worked with along the way.

Somebody shared part of their Book of Knowledge with me.

I figure the least I can do is pass some of it along.

Maybe one of these stories makes somebody laugh. Maybe it makes somebody think. Maybe it reminds them of something they already knew but hadn’t thought about in a while.

“Yeah. I knew that. Thanks for reminding me.”

That works for me.

Common sense doesn’t go out of style.

And if sharing a little of my Book of Knowledge helps somebody add a page to theirs, we’ve all won.

Maybe The Yard doesn’t need some big explanation about where it goes from here.

Maybe the fence just gets a little wider.

Because that muddy stream doesn’t stop when the workday ends. Showing up, listening, learning, building relationships and keeping your word matter wherever the stream takes us.

Nothing heavy. No life-coach nonsense.

Just real experiences, a little common sense and maybe an occasional reminder of something we already knew.

So whether you’ve been walking through The Yard from the beginning or wandered in somewhere along the way, keep walking.

Look for the muddy stream.

It’s been there all along.

And apparently, so has the lesson.

How we show up is what matters most.

See you next week…

The journey continues.

— HAMP

The Customer Fired Us

In 1990, I was Vice President of Major Accounts for a national full-service truck leasing company. I directed a group of Major Account Executives across the country, and every week I was traveling to visit new and established customers.

Many of our largest customers had operations spread across multiple locations. A big part of my responsibility was building and maintaining relationships with them at the corporate level. We got on airplanes. We walked their operations. We sat across the desk from them. We had lunch. We listened. We learned how their businesses worked.

We showed up.

Then I saw a 60-second United Airlines commercial called The Speech.

Thirty-six years later, I still remember it.

Before going any further, take a minute and watch it.

United Airlines — “The Speech” (1990)

Now you know why it caught my attention.

That commercial wasn't teaching me something I didn't know. It was confirming something I already believed. What we were doing was right.

Travel was an expense then just like it is today. Airfare. Hotels. Rental cars. Meals. It wasn't unreasonable for somebody reviewing an expense report to ask, “Do you really need to make that trip?”

That's a fair question.

But after watching that commercial, there was another question that mattered a lot more to me:

What could it cost us if we don't?

We weren't traveling around the country simply to service accounts. We were building relationships.

There's a difference.

Nothing replaces shaking a hand, looking someone in the eye and asking:

“What can we do to make our relationship better?”

Not what can we sell you? Not what's coming up for bid? Not when is the next order?

What can we do to make our relationship better?

Sometimes you'll like the answer. Sometimes you won't.

Good. You probably needed to hear it.

It's much easier to have that kind of conversation after you've spent time together. You've walked their operation. You've met their people. You've learned their business. Maybe you've had dinner together or shared more than a few cups of bad coffee over the years.

There were times when the relationship itself was the reason for the trip.

That's something I wonder if we're beginning to lose.

Thirty-six years later, the fax machine that helped create the problem in that commercial has mostly disappeared.

The problem hasn't.

Today we have email, text, Teams, Zoom, CRM systems, LinkedIn, cell phones and video meetings. We can communicate with customers from practically anywhere at any time without leaving our chair.

That's incredible.

It's also maybe a little dangerous.

Technology isn't the problem. Convenience is the temptation.

We can easily convince ourselves that sending an email was having a conversation. That a Teams call was the same thing as visiting a customer. That exchanging a few texts means we're staying connected.

Sometimes those tools are exactly what we need. I use them too.

Just don't mistake communicating with somebody for having a relationship with them.

They aren't always the same thing.

Think about your best customers for a minute. When was the last time you visited one when you didn't have a problem to fix, an order to chase, a contract coming up for renewal or something you needed from them?

When did you last walk through their operation simply to see what had changed? Sit down for coffee? Have lunch? Ask what was keeping them up at night?

Or just look them in the eye and ask:

“What can we do to make our relationship better?”

C'mon.

If we were concerned about losing face-to-face relationships in 1990, when the alternatives were basically the telephone and a fax machine, what should we be worried about now?

I spent a career in trucks, equipment and components. Some of the most valuable conversations I ever had with customers weren't held in formal conference rooms. They happened walking through shops. Standing beside trucks. Sitting at lunch counters. Riding somewhere together. Drinking coffee.

Sometimes the conversation was about business. Other times it had absolutely nothing to do with business.

That's how you get to know somebody. More importantly, that's how they get to know you.

Maybe that's why this old United Airlines commercial has stayed with me for 36 years.

The customer didn't fire them because they weren't communicating.

He fired them because he didn't know them anymore.

There's a big difference.

Today we can pull up a travel budget and calculate exactly what it costs to put somebody on an airplane, pay for a hotel and rent a car.

What you won't find on that spreadsheet is the cost of a relationship that slowly disappeared because nobody bothered to show up anymore.

You may not discover that number until it's too late.

Technology changed. Communication changed. Business changed. Customers changed.

I'm just not convinced people changed that much.

Nothing replaces shaking a hand, looking someone in the eye and asking what you can do to make the relationship better.

Maybe the question that commercial put in my head back in 1990 matters just as much today.

Maybe more.

Think about the customers you've known for years. The ones who trusted you. The ones who helped build your business. The ones you once saw a lot more often than you do now.

Is there one of them who doesn't know you as well as they used to?

If somebody immediately came to mind, another email probably isn't what you need. Neither is a Teams invitation or another reminder popping up in your CRM.

You already know what to do.

Get up out of your chair. Get out of your office. Close down your laptop.

And go see them!

See you next week.

— HAMP