Tuesday, April 30, 2024

I’ve been thinking about commitment. More specifically, about what it means to make a commitment. About how we select the things we commit to. How we choose to keep our commitments, despite inconvenience or discomfort. One of the things I love the most about the people in our business is how seriously we take our commitments. In my view, it’s the single common thread that binds together each of us who work in this business. We make, keep and fulfill our commitments.

Commitment as a concept presented itself early in my life. Long before it occurred to a flighty and grumpy teenager to want to quit music, dance, sports or cheerleading, and half a lifetime before I landed in the title business, the concept of commitment was already firmly in place.

I was a kid who wanted a job. Desperately. I had my reasons, having to do entirely with purchasing power and a degree of autonomy. If we know each other, this fact does not shock you in the least. The problem, however, was that I was 12 years old. This was the early 1980s, and if you had a close friend or a relative who owned a business, a 12-year-old could possibly get away with working in their shop. That was not the case in this scenario.

Otherwise, the requirements for official employers usually meant you had to be 16 to work there. A few owners would allow 14-year-olds to work, provided they had reliable transportation to and from the workplace. That was not the case in this scenario, either. So, creativity had to be brought to bear.

The morning newspaper, however, would issue a paper route to a minor – provided a parent would agree to be responsible for the enterprise. Ah, a loophole! One which my parents allowed me to take advantage of. The requirements for the job and of the stern parental conversations were few, but far from simple. First, there would be no days off, for any reason whatsoever. Not for slumber parties, or holidays or the most inclement of weather. Second, every newspaper had to be on every subscriber’s porch by 5:30 a.m. each day. No exceptions. I was in.

There were many incidents, accidents and learning moments out there on those six blocks walked in the pre-dawn hours. I learned to split a heavy load strategically into smaller sprints, resulting in a more manageable operation. I came to learn that no matter how deep the sleep state, you actually can get up and get moving if you just tell your legs to hit the floor and say out loud the now trademarked phrase, “Time to make the donuts.” The family dog was hit and killed out there, and a new kitten literally dropped down out of a high tree and into my heart.

Not incidentally, I learned that if you consistently throw the paper in such a way that it loudly bangs the aluminum outer door of a certain house repeatedly, the owner (tired of being frequently startled awake at 5 a.m. by an adrenaline-inducing “Bang!”) might lie in wait in the darkness to pop out and yell crazily, “Not One More Door Bang! Not One More Time!”  Hence, I also learned that sometimes reducing risk can be the more prudent choice, including spending the extra time required to walk the newspaper up to that particular house and place it delicately on the porch instead of tossing it; which I guess in a way was my first experience with the general concept of “insurance”.

Other parts of the job taught me different useful things. How to budget a paycheck and fill out tax returns proved to be good skills. How to collect cash cheerfully yet thoroughly from door-to-door paying customers, how to make change, how to write out a receipt and punch the cardboard payment tracker that most kept tucked inside the edge of the light switch plate just inside their front door was part of it, too. I learned how to fire a customer for non-payment, or on account of a vicious dog not constrained, despite requests. I learned which houses to not step into at all, ever, and I learned that sometimes folks who lived behind other front doors were deeply lonely and just really needed a visit from another human. They required extra time, to just “sit and visit a little while.”

I imagine most of you have stories just like this, too. Something taught you to live up to your promises, to not quit when times are hard, to not compare your commitments to those of others. I know you must have because I see how you comport yourselves now.

You issue commitments, and you stand behind them. You walk the walk, even when it is inconvenient, frustrating, or hard. Heck, maybe you’ve even been startled when someone popped up and (surprise!) yelled that you were going to have to change your ways, metaphorically speaking.

And yet, you’re going to keep at it aren’t you? I hope you are.

No matter how tired you are, or how many negatives you’ll encounter, I’m willing to bet that you’ll keep telling your feet to hit the floor each morning. Because you’re committed.

It’s Time to Make the Donuts. Let’s go.

Until Next Time,

Mary Schuster
Chief Knowledge Officer
October Research, LLC