Everything I Learned About Business, I Learned in My Dad's Service Station

When we think back of our earliest memories, our parents immediately come to mind. They were the earliest and biggest influence on our lives. In my case, my memories of my dad are intertwined with Holmdel Village Esso (later Exxon) Service Center-- his business. From as far back as I can remember, so much of my life was shaped by the people and experiences I had at this place of business. It is here I learned about people, about laughter, about ethics, about cars, and yes, about business.

My dad -- Joseph W. Tomaino (we were differentiated by our middle initials)--grew up in Red Bank, a Jersey Shore town. After high school, he entered the Navy and served in the submarine service. After the Navy, he returned to New Jersey and bought a Shell gas station with his brother, my uncle Speedy (Mario) in Oceanport, NJ, before I was born. After I was born, they moved to a new Esso station in Holmdel, NJ. Shortly after, my Uncle got his own Esso station in Matawan, and my dad stayed solo in Holmdel. One of the earliest things I remember was my dad making the distinction that it was a service station, and not a gas station. The importance of that lesson plays out later.

Holmdel in the early 1960's was a farm community of just about 5,000 people. My dad's station was on Monmouth County Route 520, a main east-west county road and heavily traveled. Also, in nearby Colts Neck, a number of successful businesspeople lived--mostly men back then-- who commuted to New York City by automobile. These commuters were the backbone of my dad's business. They relied on their cars for getting to and from the city, and they relied on my dad to keep them running. On the wall in the station was a rack with index cards that were filed by days of the month-- each representing a car and when they needed to be serviced. When they were due, my dad would go with a helper to the customer's house and pick up the car and the helper would drive my dad's jeep back. His customers knew that my dad was honest and they often told him that if he found something wrong to just go ahead and fix it-- no need to call for permission. When the car was finished, my dad would test drive it and return it to the customer's home. This steady business built on the trust my dad established with his customers and their confidence in his skills was the backbone of my dad's very profitable enterprise.

Since we were on a main road, and there were no gas pumps for miles in either direction, the gas business was steady as well. Dad drilled into me that each time a customer comes in for gas, it is an opportunity to identify something they needed and we could sell them. Of course, back then there was no self serve-- and New Jersey still is full service thanks to the legislative advocacy of my dad and his fellow members of the gasoline retailers association. This is where my dad made the differentiation that we were a service station, and not just a gas station. As the gas was pumping into the car, the hood was raised and oil checked without asking. While checking the oil, we also checked brake fluid and washer fluid and coolant level. Then we cleaned the front and rear windows, taking notice of the condition of each of the four tires as we worked our way around the car. These unsolicited service checks resulted in sales of quarts of oil, bottles of brake fluid, gallons of coolant and windshield washer fluid, and occasionally a set of tires! The importance of helping customers understand their needs and how we could help them, even when they had just stopped in for a few gallons of gas, was a critical lesson learned.

Bruce Springsteen lived in nearby Freehold, and several of my dad's evening shift workers were also roadies for him. So when the "Boss" went on the road, my dad was often left having to work an evening shift or two himself. I would often go back to the station with him after dinner to work it with him. At the end of the evening before closing, we would take pump readings and calculate how many gallons of gas we had sold that day. Whenever we hit 2,000 gallons, my dad would go out to the pumps and raise the price for the next day. At the end of the next day, the impact could be seen-- down to 1,400 gallons! I challenged my dad about this. "Dad, why do you screw things up just when we are selling a lot of gas?" I asked. He explained that 2,000 gallons was the amount of gas that his one attendant could pump without my dad or his mechanic having to come out of the shop to help. He clarified that the repairs in the shop were very profitable, and if they had to keep coming out to pump gas, they couldn't get them done. He also explained that the rent he paid to the gasoline company was based on gallonage pumped, so he also would have to pay more rent if the volume pumped kept increasing. This was my first valuable lesson in the importance of tracking performance data and making strategic decisions based on that data. Pricing required a thorough understanding of costs of delivery and profit. It also taught me that success is about profit, not volume, and not to confuse the two.

Customer service was driven home all the time. All of us in the station wore clean uniforms. I had a uniform from the age of 6, ordered from the kids section in the back of the uniform catalogue. The phone had to be answered, "Holmdel Village Service Center, how can I help you?" Every customer was treated with respect and courtesy-- well almost every one. There was one customer type my dad had no patience for. This was the type, typically an engineer working at nearby Bell Labs, who would first try to fix the car themselves first. Then, when they failed, they would come in with the problem and they would make the mistake of tying up my dad's time trying to tell him what he needed to do to fix the car! "Hit the road!" was the usual response of my dad to these fired customers. Dad explained that these customers would never be a regular customer and they would tie him up with their idiosyncratic need to be in control of the repair process! Dad, and his mechanic Harry, had a name for these customers. They were called "Creep-a-litis's" which was later just shortened to "Litis". They deliberately screened each new walk in customer for warning signs that they were a "Litis". This taught me the lesson that you should shed your "D" customers who will never become an "A" or "B" customer as they just drain your time and energy. It also taught me to be aware of the warning signs with prospects who may be these "D" clients, and don't even take them on.

But for "A" customers, my dad would bend over backwards to meet their needs. One Saturday, just as Dad got home (he worked 6 days a week), the phone rang. It was one of his very good customers who explained that his driver was sick and that he had a dinner engagement in the city and could my dad help. He said "of course, as long as I could bring Little Joe." Dad quickly showered and we headed to the customer's house and drove Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield in their Lincoln to the Cattleman's Steak House in Manhattan. As the Greenfield's had their dinner in the main dining room, my dad and I feasted in the bar dining room. When the Greenfield's were ready to leave, they sent the waiter to tell my dad-- but the waiter had a special request from the Greenfields. They asked that Little Joe come to their table, which I did while my dad went to get the car from the garage. At the table, I was introduced to and had a wonderful conversation with their dinner guest-- Senator Jacob Javitz!

Whenever business was slow, my dad and I would drive around and visit other station owners and check in. I learned that my dad stayed aware of what was happening in the industry by these visits. From what he learned on these conversations, he stocked different inventory, bought different diagnostic equipment, and even went back for additional training in new technology. This showed me the importance of research calls, even with your competitors, to stay on top of what is happening in your business environment.

Dad was very, very successful in his business. We had all the signs of that-- big house, nice cars, private schools for my sisters and me, boats and yacht club. These results taught me the value of hard work. But I saw that many of my dad's competitors also worked hard but were not as successful. What I learned was that its not enough to just work hard--you also have to work smart. You need to be data driven and profit focused. You need to passionate about your customers and become a trusted provider of service. And you need to be sure that the product you put out is of consistently high quality. Thanks for these lessons, Dad. They have served me well in my career, and continue to do so.