My dad and I didn’t have the type of relationship where he would give me a lot of advice. It just wasn’t like that.
If I asked him about something, he’d opine. But generally he kept his thoughts to himself and let me learn things on my own.
I came to appreciate his approach as I became my own man. Bumping your head from time to time is more powerful than someone else – even a parent – telling you what to do. He would let me screw things up sometimes and then occasionally sprinkle in a few words when I seemed open to it.
He also gave me some invaluable perspective towards the end of his life, without using words. I wrote about that in a previous blog post.
But there was one time when I asked my dad for advice that I’ll never forget.
I was starting my professional life. My first big project out of law school was performing a turnaround of a software development company. I handled it deftly in about six months and was ready for something new.
I had an offer to go into a bigger software business to execute an operations upgrade. It was a ‘step up’ and piqued my interest. The company was growing fast, had a bunch of big enterprise customers, and needed to staff up. They were in stealth mode. Perfect. There was just enough complexity to get my juices flowing.
Plus, I really liked the CEO. He was a high-energy, intense guy. Native New Yorker. He wanted me to come in as his Swiss-Army-knife operations guy and make things happen on day one. It felt like a good match.
As a cherry on top, their office was in Times Square which was exciting to me at the time. I had recently moved to NYC from Washington, DC and was eager to feel the pulse of the city.
So I called my dad one night and told him about Mr. CEO and his company. He listened and didn’t say much of anything.
I finished my spiel and said, “so, what do you think?”
After a pause, he asked me a simple but profound question about Mr. CEO:
“Do you trust his ethics?”
I let the question hang for a moment and said, “honestly, I hadn’t thought about it.”
He replied, “Get your answer to that question, and let that guide your decision.”
In the following days, I pondered the definition of ethics.
I had studied about the ethics of being a lawyer. But that flavor of ethics has to do with how a lawyer treats his client. That’s more akin to how a doctor treats a patient. These scenarios are where one party – here the doctor or lawyer – is obviously in service to the other.
My dad was talking about something different. He was talking about a more fundamental definition of ethics. More man-to-man, human-to-human. More applicable to business partnerships.
He was encouraging me to ask myself questions like:
- Will he do what he says he’s going to do?
- Does he show up on time?
- Will he pay what he owes, and on time?
- Is he reliable?
- Does he abide by his word?
Does he understand the difference between right and wrong?
In my youthful inexperience, I focused on the things that seemed important to me at the time. I was attracted to the complexity of the business challenge, the ability to network upwards, and the compensation package.
But my dad pointed me to the one leading question that mattered above all others: did I trust Mr. CEO’s ethics?
For my dad, it wasn’t about money. It wasn’t about status. It wasn’t about whether the opportunity was the right stepping stone in my career.
It was about whether I could trust this guy, Mr. CEO.
Was he a stand-up guy or not?
If the answer was yes, proceed. If not, decline.
I took a few days and mulled it over – not only in my brain but in my gut.
The best way to determine whether you’re dealing with a person of integrity is to get really quiet and listen to your soul. It takes practice.
I took the job. And I’m happy to say that me and Mr. CEO are still friends and professional colleagues all these many years later.
My dad’s question reshaped how I think about ethics, and Mr. CEO’s ethics have stood the test of time.