A Tip of the Cap to Great Lessons Learned

I read an article this morning regarding tipping. No, not pushing things over or the medieval sport of knocking certain dairy animals on their sides; you know tipping, that small monetary gratitude you extend to your service provider at the point of sale. The article hit close to home in a very subtle situation where I learned a tremendous lesson.

I recently had a coffee meeting with an advisor. It feels so odd that a guy like me, lil ol’ me, is starting to sort of mingle with some big shots. There is some anxiety but I am at least confident that I have made every effort to prepare. If anything, that is the bit of respect that I present to those meeting with me. I know who they are, what they do, and if available on-line, what they think and what they say.

The gentleman pulls up in his immaculate vehicle, with its detailed matte finish (which is much more difficult to keep clean than a polished finish). In contrast, I park my truck down the road and walk to the meeting. It is not embarrassment, because in reality I could care less about perception, but I understand that image does mean something to the bigger guys. I dress well, I speak intelligently, I show my passion and energy, I exhibit a willingness to learn, and also that lurking and raw tenacity. Yeah, I’m from the neighborhood and I have been in more fist fights than I can count on my hands and toes and I been presented being outnumbered two to one, three to one, and four to one on multiple occasions. Life is tough and so is business I presume.

We approach the point of sale to order our coffee, but there is a time consuming conversation occurring between a patron and the shop employee which is verbally noted by my new acquaintance. Immediately I understand that this person is keen on how he spends his time. Check. A young lady swoops around to kindly take our order and we move to the cash register. I pay the bill and receive a token of appreciation for the small gesture, it was the least I could do for someone who places his hourly value of time spent at hundreds of times greater than the ten bucks.

Then came the notorious digital tipping screen flashing from the horizontally oriented iPad mounted on the point of sale counter. It flashed in an instant, and wrapped in the mind of what I am going to say or hear next to keep our infant conversation at least half way interesting, I quickly looked at the screen and selected the 25% button.

“WOW YOU’RE GENEROUS!” the gentleman said.

In an instant, faster than a superman who passes the speeding bullet, I thought “FFFFFF*********!!!” (insert favorite expletive here). Damn.

It was a jolt; a quick jab that I could only clinch my jaw and nullify like a boxer that takes a stiff jab that stuns, but not enough to move you backwards. All of this was occurring in the microcosm of a seemingly insignificant moment. I clearly understood the moment and what it meant. I composed myself and went about the remainder of our conversation which I believe went well. If nothing else I learned a great deal and see opportunities like these as a mirror into the world that I am stepping into. A world that is highly detailed and subtle, a world where half a percent has meaning and 25% does too, even if that 25% is worth a couple of bucks, it is still 25% of something.

After our meeting, I walked back to my truck and took my usual drive through the series of neighborhoods leading to my home. I prefer taking the city streets over the highways. Since I was a wayward teen, I have navigated the city roads and filled myself with a dream of a utopia, not in terms of the Utopia illustrated by Sir Thomas Moore, but my own Utopia, a city that works - a city that has remedied its ills and therefore I somehow remedy my own.

For the whole drive home, I tempered my excitement from this feeling of stepping into a new realm and focused on that moment. I guess it would be appropriate to call it a tipping point. That moment was similar to the “welcome to the NFL” moment that young but talented rookie footballers have when they step into the pros and witness the speed of the game first hand. This moment was such a blessing and that blessing is acutely pronounced because I feel like my response to that digital tip screen should have been better.

I can see that new layer of interaction and subtlety, and interestingly I am still confident that I belong in that realm, more so than ever. I understand that things move at a new gear of varying speed and the next skill to craft is the art of slowing things down.

Here’s a story in a story that talks about slowing down the game: When I was just starting in community college, I had a part time job as a event security guard at the baseball stadium. It was a great experience as I worked during the San Diego Padres 1998 World Series season run. Oddly, my position was in the outfield and I watched almost every home game including the National League championship games versus the Atlanta Braves. During that time, the San Diego Padres and the City of San Diego were in talks to build a new ball park downtown. Our security company had an essay contest with prizes being awarded to the lucky author who had their essay published in the local newspaper. My essay was printed (although the San Diego Union trimmed the last sentence off to make it fit: damn you!) and I won the grand prize, an official Major League Baseball button up jersey.

One night after the ballgame I collected my prize. The next prize awarded was a signed copy of Tony Gwynn’s book “The Art of Hitting.” The guy who won that prize looked disappointed at receiving a book. Almost without thinking I approached that man and offered a trade, a trade he was so happy to engage in and immediately put his arms through the sleeves and briskfully walked away. I knew I had gotten the best out of that trade - knowledge over fabric!

I went home and read that book even though my baseball playing days were over years ago. In the book, the legendary Tony Gwynn, one of the greatest hitters of all time and greatest San Diego Padre of all time, spoke about how he is able to “slow the game down.” He spoke about focusing on the seeing the ball out of the pitchers hand and reading the spinning pattern of the ball seams. He would see a flash of the pattern and react accordingly in an instant. All of this happens within a fraction of a second and he maintained a high level of play throughout his storied career based upon slowing things down. Remember, there are guys that struck out more in one season than Tony Gwynn during his whole twenty year major league career.

I made the trade for that book over twenty years ago to inform and support the lesson presented to me in the year 2022. This new level of business requires one to slow things down and stop time without stopping movement and progress. I continued to reflect on that tipping moment for the duration of my ride through the streets. “That is what it is going to take to create change.” I thought. The little things, the percentages, the mechanics of how things compound over time: positive and negative.

Some of the previous lessons were things like, reading everything fully and finding good answers usually entails first asking the right questions. I have seen how one must learn to speed things up to keep up and absorb the shifting tempos of a multifaceted and syncopated world.

Yes, I am generous, but not that generous. I can put myself in the shoes of another and see the gravity of small decisions. These little things speak volumes and fortunately I understand and am a fairly quick study. Live, learn, and carry on!

Now I have seen, in the flash of a moment, the tipping point, a lesson in slowing the pace in a fast paced environment.

The cows came home and the sleepy night followed. The mischievous kids pushed the cow over, the kids ran away in a stir of giggles. The sun arose and the morning light returned again. The cow stood up again somewhat unaware and began to graze again. 25% of people would understand the situation, 15% may or may not agree. 5% would see the gargantuan significance of a minute moment and 2% can value and sense the weight of a few words spoken. Fortunately, I am able to do that, learn, and adjust.