I'll Take Mine Well-Done: A Thick Steak and the Career Corral

Last week I had the opportunity to attend a lecture by James H. Maynard, Chairman and CEO of Investors Management Corp and its primary subsidiary, the Golden Corral Corporation. His topic was "Chase Your Dream! How an idea was turned into a billion-dollar company." What has that to do with your career in software development? Surprisingly, quite a bit. Chew the meat and spit out the fat as I recount a buffet of career advice served up by a successful visionary.

The entrepreneur spoke before a large audience comprised of primarily college students, as the lecture was sponsored by the local university. Students filed by me dressed in everything from slouchy jeans and sweatshirts to outfits suitable for an Apprentice taping with Donald Trump. My manager (and CIO), who sat to my immediate right, noticed the same thing and whispered, "Do you suppose there will be a correlation between how they are dressed for this occasion today and their success later in life?"

I reminded him about the last time we interviewed candidates for a Programmer Analyst I position and we saw everything from Italian suits suitable for a preacher or politician to golf-shirts and khakis. The person we hired was in-between, wearing a dress shirt, but no coat or tie. How a person dresses might reflect a little on judgment and the relative importance they place on comfort and making an impression at that particular event, but I like to believe (probably because of my own lack-luster wardrobe) it isn't a definitive statement in of itself.

The two front rows were reserved for business people and university dignitaries. I found myself sandwiched between my CIO and a School of Business staffer—a woman who was dressed impeccably, with the sort of hair that refuses to move or in any way detract from her statement of being well put together. Her look was in contrast to my own, despite my best efforts to wear what a coworker described as my "Agent Scully" suit. While we had a good 15 minutes of wait time before the speaker began, it wasn't until he was properly introduced and I was stunned by the relative silence in the room that I began to have an anxiety attack about my cell phone. Was it in my pocketbook under my chair? If so, it was definitely set to loud ring. My pager was in there too. Was in on silent mode? I couldn’t remember.

The scenario played out in my mind like a bad dream. I was sure the students had been threatened with a failing grade if their cell phones rang in the middle of such an important event. I could imagine mine resonating with a the first few notes of a bastardized classic—the digital din that invokes universal disgust. "What idiot doesn’t know any better than to turn off their stupid cell phone?" People would frown and crane their necks to get a better look at the hick. I became so obsessed by the mental image that I slowly reached down and fumbled in my pocketbook for the phone. Even that much movement was like flailing arms given my proximity to the stage. I couldn't see the phone...but that gave me little comfort. I waited a few minutes, wondering if I should just take my pocketbook with its potentially explosive contents and slip out. No luck there. I would have to step over 15 people to my right or walk directly in front of the speaker. Finally I put the pocketbook in my lap, rifling through it again. My CIO gave me a glance as if to say, "What on earth on you doing?" I stopped, hugging the pocketbook as though I could muffle the sound that might ensue at any minute with body mass. It was like the poignant image in the last episode of M*A*S*H, when a refugee smothered her chicken (baby) to stop its cackling (crying) to keep from being discovered and killed by the enemy.

It was at that moment I began to realize the true pain of those who suffer from some sort of obsession or compulsion. I had just finished reading about Alan Turing's tics, and even more recently about Nathaniel Hawthorne scribbling the number 64 obsessively on scraps of paper towards the end of his life. Then I had the same sort of Scarlett O'Hara epiphany that I had the last time I locked my keys in my car (while it was running): As God is my witness, I will never be tormented by the fear of an audible cell phone again. I decided to actually listen to the speaker and hope for the best.

This highly successful businessman with a southern drawl (of course, since he was and still is from eastern North Carolina) speaking at the invitation of the School of Business didn't actually get a degree in business. He majored in psychology. Interesting. He began his career working for Burroughs Corporation (yes, the big computer company). He decided that he wanted the freedom of not having to go to work next week if he didn't want to. That's what he said, anyway. From the entrepreneur-action I've seen, it was only a theoretical freedom. In real life, he probably worked harder than ever before, rarely taking any time off. Later comments confirmed my suspicion.

The ambitious, young Maynard started applying for franchises, soon realizing no one was going to work with him and his partner without some financial backing and expertise. His partner learned everything he could about the steak restaurant business, while he focused on getting the finances to build. He scraped up $50,000 in total from eight friends who were teachers (and former college buddies), who basically turned over their life-savings to him. His next move was to take the entire $50,000 and buy stock in a wholesale floral supply company that had nothing to do with the business he was trying to start. It was a move he said he wouldn't recommend...it could have backfired completely. Yet, after purchasing the stock he was able to convince the head of this company to invest in his restaurant idea. In the end, the company made most of their resources available to him as he stepped in and helped both businesses become more profitable.

So what does this have to do with software development? Well, shortly after opening the first Golden Corral in 1973, then President Nixon capped the price of beef and farmers refused to take their cattle to market, thereby making the cost skyrocket and supply plummet. Then, a few years later, consumers started realizing they shouldn't eat steak every day and the Golden Corral menu (at that time) had no variety. The entire business concept was suddenly obsolete. Investing oneself in a programming language or operating system and then being faced with staggering learning curves as everything you have known is chucked out the window of technology is something I can identify with.

Other steak restaurants refused to change and went under. Golden Corral started building bigger restaurants and morphed into the mega-buffet we know today. Granted, some view it with a bit of disdain as an altar to gluttony, with its emphasis on quantity, but it meets a need. Interestingly Maynard said he realized they may again become obsolete, but calmly accepted that possibility as just another day’s work. Obsolete? Fine. I’ll just reinvent myself. I will not be undone.

Maynard offered this advice: Don't worry about the fact that you don't have money. You just need a business plan that makes sense. Write out with clarity a business proposition including all the facts, costs, and why is good for shareholders. While the analogy may not be a perfect one, I couldn't help thinking of the correlation between starting a new business and developing a new application; the importance of being able to express *with clarity* your vision (or the client's, as the case may be). So many times we approach work with only the vaguest notion of what the end product will look and feel like. Ever heard the phrase "we'll flesh out the details later"? We assume the details will evolve and take shape as we work through the project. Sometimes they do, and then again, sometimes we paint ourselves into a corner.

"We hire the attitude and train the worker," said Maynard, advising students to find a company with similar values to their own. "If you love doing tax accounting alone in an office, don't accept a job selling door to door."

Three primary factors – turning points, he called them, contributed to Maynard's success:

(1) The belief that you’re rewarded to the extent you serve other people. The service should be valuable enough that customers want to choose us. (Certainly software consultants know this to be true as well.)

(2) There is more fun if other people share in the success. (Maynard made sure that every store manager had 20% interest in the business so that people had a sense that they were in this together: partners in business.)

(3) Entrepreneurial spirit: 75% of the restaurants are operated by franchisees, half of which used to be managers. (This is a recurring theme I have seen expressed here at DDS: the desire to maintain some independence and control over what you do.)

At the conclusion of James Maynard's speech, a few hands raised.

"Where are the eight friends today?" one professor asked. Apparently some had retired, but all had worked in the company at one time or another and had done quite well for themselves, following that "faith investment."

"How do you balance work and family?" a student asked.

Maynard looked at the audience with an expression tinged with experience and regret. Apparently he'd done okay...he was still married to the same woman he fell in love with during college and had two grown, successful children, one of them working as a social worker. (He said he told his daughter that he does some social work...he created a lot of jobs so that people could support their families.) However, he admitted that he had not done such a good job in the early years determining how much work was enough. He hated the thought that if his business failed, it had been because he hadn't worked hard enough. He said that if managers start working with his company and have a good family and end up without one (because of long hours working) then they consider that a failure. They offer training on maintaining an appropriate balance, making sure their managers do not work too many hours. Ah, I thought. Another favorite DDS topic: the work/family/life balance.

I passed throngs of students lined up at the reception table on my way out the back door. As I settled in the front seat of my car, I saw my cell phone nestled comfortably in the drink holder. *Sigh* Unnecessary worry. Maybe I'd learned more than one lesson today:

Take risks.

Learn how to express your vision with clarity.

Don't sacrifice your family life on the altar of work.

Be prepared to reinvent yourself more than once in your career.

Know yourself and your values.

Prepare (i.e. turn off your cell phone), but don't make yourself sick with worry.