Loyalbility

I used to think that my father was loyal to a fault…that it was even a liability for him. After courting me for seven or so years to leave P&G and then Clorox, I finally submitted and came to work for the family firm. Within the first six months, I leveled a department he had created to house more than a dozen “down on their luck” mis-fits he knew from church and the community.

My father never said much about their dismissal; he either bit his tongue, or was glad I did his dirty work. Very few ever came back to say “thanks” to him . Most were pretty hacked at me, but every single one knew it was coming. The Gravy Train Express had been cancelled. It was the right call for the business.

What struck me was that their effort to contribute was never commensurate with the generosity he provided. It bothered me more than it obviously bothered my father, because he never said a word about it…even when I would.
At his funeral, and for months after, we received note after note from friends and strangers talking about their fondness and appreciation for my father and some secret service he had provided them when there was nowhere to turn. Almost universally, they noted that they wished somehow they would have liked to be able to repay him, or somehow make it up to him.

It was in these mini memoirs of memorializing that I realized that I gravely mistook his kindness for some ignorant and blind loyalty. He was loyal to his charge to provide a chance for others…even when they weren’t everything they needed to be for him. He was willing to let them grow into it.

How do I know?

I’ve come to see that is what he did for me.