The Quiet Man's Commencement Speech

Two years ago, I had this idea that everyone has a commencement speech to give. Everyone has lessons to share, stories to tell, advice to give -- if only someone asks.

It's an idea that returns to my mind every spring as graduates roll across stages, "Pomp and Circumstance" plays in your head, and the "best" commencement speeches flood social media.

My first try at this topic was with my mother in 2014. An ordinary woman by many standard measures, but an extraordinary woman by my standards.  You can read about her commencement advice here.

A Reluctant Speaker

This year, I decided to return to this topic. Naturally, I called on my father. The other half of my wise parenting duo. He wasn't enthusiastic about the idea. "I hoped you had forgotten," he said when I showed up at his house with my pen and pad ready for his interview.

My dad is a man of few words. He's a quiet man. Some of that might be because he has spent more than 50 years of his life competing with my chatty mom for an audience or "air-time." Some of it might just be his nature -- introverted and humble.

If you've never interviewed your parents, I highly recommend it. In my line of work, I've interviewed CEOs, scientists, business people, historians, etc., and my approach is always to be prepared with questions, but to probe and follow-up looking for the "story" or the color. It's a totally different dynamic and you learn things about their lives and their thinking that you may have never  have known before.

A Stable Boy and Soda Jerk from Jersey City 

My father has lived quite an interesting life over his 75 years. He has seen some amazing things and earned a great life with hard work. He could certainly teach some life lessons to this year's class of graduates.

My father grew up in Jersey City. His father was  a Scottish immigrant from Edinburgh, a tradesman. His mother was a Jersey City girl who worked for the phone company. I think he inherited his work ethic, quiet demeanor and handy-man qualities from his working class parents.

When you ask my father about his youth, the answers come slowly. It's like he is thoughtfully walking down a hall in his mind slowly remembering different people and moments. He opens and closes doors, and only tells you bits and pieces. He is still skeptical about the point to all of this.

I find out that when he was 15 years old, he  ran a stable in Jersey City  for a collection of horse owners. What? I can't fathom horse stables in the Jersey City where I grew up, but it existed down where Country Village is today and people rode in the parks and on some trails. The owners paid my father about $5 a week to clean, feed and care for the horses.  He tells me a bit about "Sarge," a tall black gelding jumper that he really liked.
 
That was his morning work. After school in the afternoons, he worked the counter at Pete & Henry's shop on the corner of Cator and Fowler Avenues (two blocks from where he lives today). He was a "soda jerk" as they called them in those days, making malteds and egg creams for the regulars. When I asked, he could still describe how he made the best egg cream in town (see classic recipe here). I learn that my father was an original "barista" mastering froth long before Starbucks.

And then on the weekends, he had yet another job, washing cars and pumping gas at Ed's service station. Horses, egg creams and cars. What else could a teenaged boy in Jersey City desire?

My quiet father doesn't really offer any great wisdom for graduates from this period of his life, but I think it tells its own message about the value of a strong work ethic.

Working in the Hallowed Halls of Bell Labs

In between these jobs, my father graduated from Snyder High School, where he specialized in Industrial Arts. He got his first job at AT&T Bell Labs and worked for a year in one of their electrical shops making coils for new phone prototypes and equipment. Then, he joined the U.S. Air Force.

He saw the world (San Antonio, Tex.., Wichita Falls, Ks., and Mt, Hebo, Oregon!!) and learned another trade -- air conditioning and cooling systems. As a kid, I never rally understood the A/C system and Air Force connection. Was my father the Maytag man for the military? No, my father explained that they needed major A/C systems to keep all the advanced radar equipment cool at the station in Oregon. They were keeping an eye on our neighbors in the Soviet Union and on the lookout for Russian aircraft.

After four years my father returned home to Jersey City to marry my mother. He went back to AT&T Bell Labs and worked there for 36 years.

The transistor was invented at Bell Labs in 1947,
one of the hallmark breakthroughs of this invention factory

My father beams with pride -- as much as this stoic man beams at all -- when he talks about "the Labs." He started out as a union member (AFL-CIO) and worked as a mechanic in various shops. It was an exciting era for Bell Labs and telecommunications. My father shared the halls and cafeteria with brilliant people who invented the transistor, discovered the Big Bang Theory and launched the first Telstar satellite.(Read a history of Bell Labs inventions here). 


He took great pride in being part of such a forward-looking place that was shaping technology and society. Some of the prototypes and materials he worked on became parts of the miniaturized circuit boards that would end up in the first telecommunication satellites circling the earth, the first Picture Phone (40 years before FaceTime) and the lasers that became the foundation of today's fiber optic networks.

Bell Labs was a special place and my father felt special for working there. His career progressed over the years into management jobs, overseeing the mailroom and loading dock operations as well as semiconductor clean rooms. He enjoyed supervising teams. "I always tried to treat them they way I wanted to be treated," he said. "It was always about getting the job done right."

I hear him talk about his time there and the lesson I take away for graduates is to pick a workplace, a company and a job you can be proud of. Be part of making a difference in the world. Understand and appreciate how your role -- whether it's fabricating silicon chips or delivering the mail -- is part of a bigger picture. Enjoy being part of something bigger than yourself that can change the world.

Times Change, But Don't be Afraid

In 1994, times were changing. AT&T, the former Ma Bell monopoly, was still trying to compete on a global stage and the old "contract for life" mentality was being tattered there and across Corporate America. My father, "the company man," essentially worked himself out of a  job and got a harsh dose of reality that many in his generation didn't see coming. He was "downsized" by AT&T after 36 years. "I didn't expect it," he said.  He would go onto work at Essex County College for another nine years, but leaving his home at Bell Labs was not easy.

When I asked my father what he would want to instill in graduates, the first thing he said was "Don't be afraid of change." This surprised me given the fact he spent half his life with one company. He talked about the changes he faced going from union jobs to management ranks at AT&T and other moments in his career. "Change is always challenging, but it taught me about different things that I enjoyed doing. Don't second guess yourself."

Education also means a great deal to my father, who has a high school diploma and a master's degree from the school of hard knocks. He would emphasize that to today's graduates: "I didn't have certain opportunities because I didn't have the education."

One More Lesson

At the end of our interview, I asked my dad about lessons he learned from people in his life, whom he admired. He returned to his youth and the horse stables. He described Sarge's owner, Bill Leach. "I always admired the way he carried himself with people and the way he dealt with problems in his life. He was very quiet, very deliberate and had a very calm demeanor." 

Ironically -- or perhaps not -- my father seems to be describing the man he has become since he was a redheaded teenager. Quiet, deliberate and someone to be admired. 

In our interview, he shared with me simple truths from his life about the value of hard work, handling change and treating people right. It's not a commencement speech that you'll find on YouTube, but it is a thoughtful conversation with one student -- his son -- who is still taking notes and learning lessons from his father. Class dismissed.

The Three C's of Great Mentoring

The other night I went to a fancy business dinner and ran into a long-time mentor of mine. Seeing him for the first time in a couple of years, I started to think about whether he realized the positive impact he had on me, my career and even my family. His advice and actions over the years had been very meaningful to me.  I took him aside for a moment and said thanks.  Thanks for everything.

He was someone I had turned to at key times in my career. When I was stepping into my first real leadership role with difficult personnel decisions, he was there with advice and help. When I was leaving the "nest" of one company to venture off to another, he was there to wish me luck and reassure me. When I was looking to make another career change, he helped open a door and gave me good advice about my life, not just my career.

I've been fortunate to have several special mentors in my career.  People who shaped me, steered me and set me on my path. As I reflect on what the best mentors in my life have given me, the truth is it can be summarized in 3 C's: Counsel, Candor and Confidence.

Counsel

Every good mentor provides you with the counsel, advice and opportunities to grow and develop your skills.  Some of the most valuable mentoring I received came from just sitting across the desk of one of my bosses. I've never read a text book that could really show you the art of media relations -- the trust-building with reporters ... the artful back and forth negotiations ... the anticipation of issues and answers ... the careful choices of words. For several years, my boss would call me up to her office for a call with The Wall Street Journal or The New York Times. Sometimes I might be prepping her with background on the issue, but more often it was just the chance to sit across the desk, listen and learn.

I had another mentor who showed me the ropes when I transitioned to a new company with a very strong and distinct culture. She wasn't in public relations like me -- and to be honest there weren't a whole lot of PR people that she felt were real valuable -- but I was able  to gain her respect and trust with some good writing and strong work ethic. I remember the first time I had to convince one of the company's top executives -- her boss -- to take my advice about a press release. He was not easily convinced about my strategy and it was an early "make or break" moment in our relationship. My mentor took the time to listen to me, advise me on the best way to present myself and make my case to him, and she even put herself in my corner by giving her support.

A mentor's counsel can run from the simple advice about how to edit your latest speech -- "When in doubt, cut your first paragraph and get to the point." -- to the subtle advice on etiquette and corporate culture -- "Let the big executives get on the corporate jet first and then you get on, go to the back of the plane and stay quiet." It's those memorable and meaningful lessons that can make a huge difference in your career -- or at least help you avoid some embarrassing moments.

Candor

The best mentors have the ability to tell you the things others won't.  They care enough to be critics and to provide a candid view of what you need to know.

When I was still relatively young in my career, I was having trouble relating to a peer in our group, something I hadn't run into before. There was friction and tension between us and I just couldn't understand it. My mentor broke it to me, "the naive corporate kid": "Look, not everyone is going to like you, Bill. Not everyone wants to be your friend.  And not everyone is going to be happy about you doing a good job. That's not how it always works.  Figure it out. Deal with it."

Another time, I had decided to buy an electric razor and stop shaving with a blade (this was before today's stubble beards had become fashionable). After a few days, my mentor noticed a bit more of a five o'clock shadow, and she asked me, "What are you doing?" I told her I had gotten a new electric razor, blah, blah, blah. In her direct and subtle style, she said, "Yeah? Well it's not working.  Lose the razor and go shave."  Not everyone will be that candid with you.  Maybe just your mother -- and a good mentor.

Confidence

 And, the last thing a mentor gives you is confidence. They are your greatest champions. They know your strengths -- and weaknesses -- and they still believe in you.

There are times in your career when you might feel like you're not ready for the next job or jump up the career ladder. Or, you run into a boss or situation that turns out not to be the right fit. It's easy to have self-doubt in those situations. You wonder if you are out of your depth. When I was in one of those doldrums, I remember a mentor of mine calling me, giving me a pep talk and she said, 'Whatever you do, don't lose your confidence..." It was like she knew what I needed to hear.

It's at those times that the mentors who know you best can be your rock. They have counseled you over the years and seen you grow and perform. They have spoken candidly with you about where you needed to develop, and they have seen you change. They know your potential, your heart and your talent.  They have all the confidence in the world in you, even when you are doubting yourself.

I've been fortunate to have terrific mentors throughout my career who have helped me on my path. I hope I have thanked them and they know what they have meant to me. And as I get along in my career, I try to share with some other young "corporate kids" the counsel, candor and confidence they have so generously given me.