The Real Finish Line

I remember how rushed and frustrated Mom was as she searched for a parking spot somewhere near Shockoe Bottom in downtown Richmond.  People were crossing the street from all angles, rushing to get a good viewing spot of the runners now cruising their last mile down to the finish line on Cary Street, so the parking spot search was complicated by the need to avoid running over a pedestrian!

                The year was 1979 and I had just turned 14 years old.  My Dad was the chairman of the Downtown YMCA and, as a dedicated runner for years, was working with folks from the Richmond Times-Dispatch and the Richmond “running” community to get the new local marathon race off the ground.  The then two Richmond newspapers – the Times-Dispatch and the News Leader – would be the sponsors.  The first winner in 1978 was David Ruggles and the running “craze” had officially hit Richmond!  As a young member of the Trinity Episcopal High School cross-country team, I was really into this circus-like race!  I couldn’t wait to run one myself!

                We finally found a place to park; I think Mom stretched the “legality” of where she ended up leaving our car but time was running short and she had done the best she could.  We couldn’t miss the big finish!  My 15-year old brother Chris and 9-year old sister Anne Boyd hustled along with my mom and me to see Dad cross the line.  If I remember correctly, my brother and I were fighting and/or picking on each other (as usual) while Mom watched closely to make sure my sister didn’t wander away and get lost.  We finally found a good sidewalk spot on Cary Street amongst the other onlookers and we waited and watched.  All of us were on “spotting Dad” assignment since there were so many runners – we didn’t want to miss him.  Finishing a 26.2 mile race was a big deal.

                And then we saw him, but there was something odd about his “pass by” that we weren’t expecting.  There was Dad, running alongside another runner, a young man who looked to be about half his age.  As they came closer we then realized he was holding hands with this other runner.  It all happened so fast that we didn’t really know what to make of it – had this really happened?  Who was that with Dad?  It wasn’t anyone any of us recognized or remembered.  In a brief moment he (actually they) was gone, lost in the sea of other runners.  We gathered ourselves and walked the few blocks further to the finish line to find Dad, which we did.  I don’t remember any of us asking him right away about the runner with whom he was holding hands; maybe Mom did but I don’t remember it.  Until the following day…

                That’s when the front page coverage of the race in the Richmond Times-Dispatch boasted a large finish line photograph of my Dad, hand in hand with this other mystery runner.  And then we sought the story from him.  As it turned out, Dad had been running with Kevin for over half of the race.  As a marathoner myself I am quite certain that they had highs and lows together, they suffered together, and then they finished together.

I can well imagine how they got to know each other pretty well over the miles they covered.  Strangers until they met, they finished their challenge linked as one.  Apparently Kevin – he was no more than 17 or 18 years old – had suffered mightily in the closing two miles (for those of you who have run a marathon, those last few miles can feel like they will last forever).  He stopped at a water stop for a cup and, with fainted breath, told my Dad that he was feeling very bad and needed to walk for a while.  His last words here “Bob, you go on ahead…”  Dad’s reply was “Kevin, if you stopping running now you might not start back up again” – and so Dad reached out his left hand and took Kevin’s right.  And that’s how they spent nearly the last two miles of the race.  Hand in hand.

                You see my Dad, the Reverend Robert Hays Steilberg, specialized in helping others reach the finish line; Kevin was only one example although a highly visible example.  As a minister to the worst felons at the Haynesville Correctional Center, Dad gave hope and dignity to those who many felt didn’t deserve it.  He fed thousands as the manager of Freedom House in Monroe Park, easing the pain of homelessness in the city of Richmond.  He built relationships that you just don’t see every often; I once attended the funeral of our country house matriarch neighbor, Maggie Carter, with him.  As a close friend and minister to the family he was invited to sit in a place of honor for the service near the rostrum.

                He and I were the only white people in a congregation of over 200.

Different paths?

                  Years later I found myself an officer and leader in the banking industry; I had worked very hard to get where I was!  Who would have thought that an English and German major with literally no coursework in Accounting, Economics, or Finance would be managing a bank?!  Ooccasionally I would think of my career and compare/contrast it with my Dad’s.  We seemed so different in what we did and in how we served.  Was I really even a Servant?  Was I selfish?  Dad, I thought to myself, was saving lives and easing the pain of a troubled community.  Me? I was managing and charging hard to deliver a tidy profit for the shareholders of our bank.  I didn’t necessarily feel guilty about it, but I often noted the contrast of method and purpose between father and son.  We seemed so different.  Occasionally we would talk about it – what he did and what I did - and I would ask him if he was sorry neither I nor my brother or sister went to seminary in his footsteps.  His reply was always the same – “Matthew, we’re all ministers in one form or another”.

                Years went by and my career gained momentum.  I found myself dispatched by my bosses to bank mergers and acquisitions along the eastern seaboard, getting the word one day and finding myself in the new city the next.  We literally moved every two years! By the time our first son was eight years old he had lived in four different states.  All three of our children were born in different states too.  It was exciting and a big compliment to be chosen for such assignments.  What about my Dad?  Well, he kept to the same work in pretty much the same places.  He envisioned and founded Christ House, a halfway house for recovering substance abusers in Newport News.  His goal was to return dignity to the men who lived there with him and to aid in their re-entry into society.

Then the game changed

That’s what my Dad was up to about the same time I found myself working on the Dominion Bank/First American Bank merger in Harrisonburg for my employer, First Union Bank.  It sure seemed that we were miles apart in our how we spent our days.  I also began to wonder about the difference in the significance of our days.   You know what else I noticed?  My job wasn’t as fun as it used to be.  Days were more chaotic and challenging.  How?

                The merger I was leading in the Shenandoah Valley was a very unsettling event for many employees of the acquired banks.  Looking back I can only imagine just how it must feel to be “bought”.  But it was also very stressful for those of us from the “buying” end of things.  Layoffs and branch closures were commonplace in order to make the “premium” paid for the acquired banks a good business decision.  I began to learn the trade of bone-cutting expense reduction and the impact on families and communities.  Every day brought extremely difficult and unpopular decisions and actions.

We had paid more for these banks than they were worth, so I also saw the pressure increase on remaining employees to “produce” substantially higher sales volumes and work very long hours.  Not surprisingly it wasn’t long before distasteful outcomes began to manifest themselves – health issues, separations and divorces, and dishonest business behavior…just to name a few.  It was a trend that I would see grow and continue for many years to come with each merger of which I’d be a part.  This was so different than the first few years of my banking career, perhaps a bit more exciting yet not nearly as real and genuine.

And it was here in Harrisonburg during all of this stress that I witnessed my manager John, a 40-year old non-smoker, discover that he had terminal lung cancer.  Within the year I would be a witness to his death, leaving behind two young daughters and his wife.  No doubt about it now, work wasn’t fun anymore.

What’s my real job?

I’ve heard it said that business is about helping others getting what they want and doing it better than anyone else.  That made me think – do I have the same responsibility, this higher responsibility, to my employees, to my team?  If so then isn’t it my job to help them get what it is they want and do it better than anyone else instead of simply focusing their time and attention on what they needed to do to keep their job?  For many years it seemed that executives above me pushed everyone else hard to help them get what it was they wanted.

And they asked me to do the same. Tellers needed to refer more new customers even as they had to handle transactions and keep their drawer in balance.  Managers needed to make more new business calls and open as many new accounts as possible.  Everyone needed to save money on expenses.  New information systems made it possible to “measure” an employee’s contribution on a minute-to-minute basis.  Each morning the list of “winners” and losers was published…and discussed.  Those who were at the bottom of the list got the message loud and clear – they’d better get their numbers up today.  Everyone needed to work with fewer teammates than were needed for a challenging yet comfortable work day.

                What I was watching, what I was being asked to do…was so hard for me.  I liked running a successful business; I liked getting new accounts and managing my business efficiently and prudently.  I liked winning and being number one!  I liked making customers happy.  Where was the fun bank I once knew back in North Carolina?

I didn’t like the compromise of ethical values and concern for human relations that was growing day by day in our industry – and likely other industries too.  I can honestly say that I had never seen friends and co-workers cheat to get ahead when I ran my quiet little bank branches back in North Carolina.  Now I saw it non-stop.  The terrible part?  It was the senior managers and executives who did most of the cheating!  The greed of the 1990s and early 21st century was well in hand.  And unfortunately, it was accompanied by ruthless micromanagement with little concern for the hopes and dreams of the workforce.

My call becomes clear

I didn’t decide to aspire to Servant Leadership or deliberately set out to be one, I guess that something inside just started pulling me that way.   How?  I began to write notes and letters to employees the way my Dad always wrote to me with his blue fountain pen.  I wanted them to know that I noticed their hard work and sacrifice and that I cared.  I wanted them to know that I hoped their son or daughter did well in their soccer game this weekend or that they had a fun birthday at home with their family.  I took to remembering as many things as I could about my teammates – beneath and beside me, and even above me.  I tried not to miss the opportunity to catch someone doing something right instead of only arresting them when they did something wrong.  A big part of my motivation was that I knew I was asking each to do a big job, to do a tough job --- and I really felt that they would apply themselves more diligently if they felt genuine support from their manager.

Interestingly, only last year did I read of Robert Greenleaf and his description of Agape Love; I found great validation in his line of thinking (or feeling).

                I believe that a true Servant Leader is a dedicated teacher.  I worked hard to teach employees new skills because I saw that with new skills they could do a better job, be more successful, and make better things happen for themselves and their families.  I loved teaching!  I liked learning about new things in banking so that I could teach and tell others.  Too often I saw blustery business executives demand a performance from an employee without properly preparing that employee with the skills needed to be successful.   Frankly, I saw these executives command their people to perform activities that they couldn’t begin to do themselves.

But I loved teaching, just as my parents were both teachers.  My love and passion for it led me to be named First Union’s National Sales Manager, and so for two years I was in the air to all of our markets up and down the east coast…teaching and guiding individuals and teams every day.

Caring and accountability as one             

Real Servant Leaders know that it’s not their job to only say positive things and make people feel good; they also understand the importance of accountability.  There’s nothing wrong with a goal-oriented Servant Leader who demands stellar results!  Servant Leaders must hold their teams and individuals accountable for the right behaviors and strong performance outcomes.   Servant Leaders must stand ready to make tough decisions too, that might even mean asking a poor performer to leave the company.  The bottom line: Servant Leadership isn’t just about telling people what they want to hear or paying compliments.   Real Servant Leaders are in a stronger position than others to be candid and direct managers – they’ve built a well of “respect and care” capital with their people that inspires open minds and ears.

One last crucial step

                Here’s another rare find these days – the business executive who’s willing to admit his or her mistakes.  The fact of the matter is, however, that we’re all deeply flawed and we all make mistakes – so why does it seem that people in high places are unable to own up to theirs?  Because they believe that mistakes – and admitting to them – will make them look weak and incompetent.  Admitting to a mistake might cost them an opportunity.  A Servant Leader doesn’t make the similar miscalculation.

                And that’s because they understand in fact…that it’s quite the opposite.  I saw other Servant Leaders grow stronger as they accept their mistakes and imperfections.  They give redemption to their teammates who commit errors because they, too, have been given redemption.  I found this to be so powerful and liberating!  I didn’t have to hide my flaws anymore; I was only bound to accept responsibility and grow from them as they became apparent.  The fact that I am flawed and make mistakes creates the opportunity for me to grow each day.  That’s exactly how I look at it.

…and Miles to go Before I Sleep

The recent recession and the reality that it’s going to be a very tough economy for years to come has only made the need for Servant Leaders in the business community even more important.  Stresses and pressures are racing to new and unseen levels.  Unemployment is high; most worry each day if they’ll have a job tomorrow.  Many are either indirectly influenced or directly ordered to step it up and/or cut corners when it comes to performance.  I see the health, both mental and physical, of employees suffering.  I see relationships strained and kids without their parents for long days and even weekends.  It’s a really hard time to make ends meet and to feel good about one’s self.

And so I have work yet to do.  My father died back in 2000; many of the congregants at his funeral were nameless and homeless.  One thanked me for the shoes he had gotten from my Dad.  Another told me of letters he’d written to judges on his behalf.  Prisoners from Haynesville still call our house occasionally looking for him.  I can hear the loss in their voice when I tell them he died some years back.  I feel badly about having to tell them the news, but I always remind them that Dad was – and is – proud of who they are and that he loved them.

The current need for Servant Leadership is as great as it has ever been, making it more important than ever before for growth in the ranks of those who consciously or unconsciously aspire to it.  Many, like me, are paid to achieve high results for profit-seeking businesses and now we do it in the most adverse economy we may know in our lifetime.  I believe Servant Leadership is a journey and not a destination. I also believe that I am woefully inadequate as a Servant Leader and, therefore, must improve my skills and actions with each day.

The day you start thinking of yourself as a Servant Leader is a sure sign you’re not as close to being one as you may think.  True Servant Leaders are unaware of their performance.

It is about helping others get what it is they want and doing it better than anyone else.   It is making your day about others and not about yourself.  It is about giving without thought of receiving, for in giving we, in turn, receive gifts and riches that surpass our imagination.

Thanks to my Dad

And so the race ended that day, Dad’s picture hand in hand with Kevin was splashed on the front page the next. The following March, at the age of 14 years, I finished my first marathon – the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach.  My Dad was there too, though he finished nearly 20 minutes ahead of me.  We had run together for a while but when he saw I would make it I begged him to run as he was able.  And he did. And I finished.  He was a Servant Leader who helped others get to the finish line and he did it for me with every day that he was my Dad.  He also did it for many others he knew and many thousands he didn’t.  To the best of my knowledge he never saw or spoke to Kevin again.  His work with him was done.  I do hope that Kevin remembers that day and that he is paying it forward by helping someone else finish a race with which they struggle.

I’m now 50 years old and my knees will not let me run another marathon; I finished five in all and I savor and miss each one.  Still, I have a race to run…and others to help to the finish line.  My work goes on.  I know this is my path to follow.