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Crippled CEO Blog #101:

The Bible says:

“Love covers a multitude of sins.” – 1 Peter 4:8

And I actually believe in this strongly. If you love someone, you can overlook flaws and forgive transgressions much easier.

But I have a business version of this that I often like to preach (get it? Preach?). 

“Communication covers a multitude of sins.” – 1 Lupton 4:8

Most people think that customers get upset because of mistakes.

And to a certain extent, they do. No one likes mistakes. 

But most people are reasonable, and they understand that sometimes manure occurs. Some people just want to be mad, and there’s nothing you can do about that, but most people are reasonable.

The majority of the time, when you have a very upset customer, when you have really sizzled someone’s fajita, it’s not the mistake that pisses them off, it’s the lack of communication. 

Almost without fail, whenever a customer is so particularly perturbed that they are finally talking to me, some mistake occurred, but the real mortal sin (eh?!) was the radio silence that followed. 

And this makes sense. Nobody wants to call the upset customer. When you know you’ve messed up, the last thing you want to do is dive into that situation and remind yourself of your error. And depending on the issue, there’s a chance you aren’t quite sure how to fix it. Uncertainty and procrastination go together like cheese and… literally everything. 

People hate to be ignored — especially when they feel like they’ve been wronged. Lack of communication takes a level 2 problem and quickly ratchets it up to 11.

The good news is that the flipside is also true. If something goes wrong, but you go out of your way to be ridiculously communicative, and explain what’s going on, and keep them in the loop step by step as you resolve the problem, 987 times out of 1,000, you’ll still have a happy customer. In fact, they might like you MORE because of how well you handled things. How many 5 star reviews have you read that say something like: “They initially double booked my vagazzle appointment, but they let me know the day before, really worked with me to reschedule, gave me a free glitter upgrade, and were terrific when I finally went in. My hoo-ha now sparkles like a diamond. Highly recommend.”

If handled correctly, if you communicate, customers you screw up on  can be transformed into your most enthusiastic evangelists. (You see how I used “evangelists” to tie it back into the Bible quote in the beginning? Does anyone appreciate the level of artistry happening in these things?!)

(You know who never wants to cover my sins? Your mom, that’s who. She also gets a text message from me each week with a link to the latest blog. You can also have this incredible luxury if you send a message to the phone number 484848 with the word CRIP as the message. You’re welcome.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #100:

I was 6. I was in a hospital bed with surgery scheduled for the next morning. 

I had been at the Shriner’s Hospital for Crippled Children for a few days while they ran tests and prepared me for the rather serious orthopedic operation I’d be going under in just a few hours. 

My mom was there with me. The hospital was four hours away from our house, and she had made the trip while my dad stayed back with my younger brother and the business. 

I was scared.

It was about 9:30 PM and a nurse rolled in a television.

My mom turns to me and says, “I have to run out. I’m going to be back in an hour. I’m going to put a movie in for you. I’ll be back before it’s over. Okay?”

I nodded tentatively. 

She then looked to the nurse. “I know the cut off time for TV is ten o’clock, but would you mind…?”

“No problem,” the nurse smiled understandingly. They slid the Little Mermaid VHS tape into the VCR. 

“I’ll be right back.” My mom patted my foot, stood up, and walked out of the room. 

And I was alone. But I had the TV. 

(For some reason, I am crying as I write this right now. I clearly need therapy.)

At about 10:03, a different nurse walked in. “Alright, time for bed. Let’s turn off this TV.”

I looked at her in terror, my eyes huge, and watched as she crossed the room and turned off the television. 

It was not only my distraction that was allowing me to hold it together as I watched the clock tick one moment at a time, counting down the seconds until 10:30 when my mom would return, but it was also the token of her existence, the tool she left me with to accompany me in her absence, in this strange place, the surgery looming like the shadow of a monster. 

My world immediately collapsed and I lost it. Total meltdown. Sobbing uncontrollably, I blubberingly tried to explain how she’d be back at 10:30, how the other nurse said it was okay. I recalled witnessing another instance where this particular nurse had no patience for a spoiled, crying, entitled brat, and scared she’d conflate my authentic emotional breakdown with THAT, I cried even harder, my words lost in sobs and and snot. 

“It’s alright,” she said. “We will put it back on until your mom comes back.”

There are a dozen perfectly legitimate reasons that woman could have left the TV off. It was the policy of the hospital. It wasn’t fair to the other children. If they let me do it, how could they say no to somebody else? It was what her boss told her to do. And so on and so forth.

All companies have policies that exist for excellent reasons. We create rules and procedures for people to follow, for the good of everyone — employees, customers, the company. 

But you have to leave some room for a bit of humanity when it is necessary. Hiding behind a policy when you’re doing the wrong thing is still the wrong thing. And if you’re the boss, you need to not only grant these exceptions yourself, you need to give your people the autonomy to do so as well. 

My uncontrollable sobbing immediately switched to sniffles and trying to catch my breath as she turned the Little Mermaid back on. She broke the rule, but I was able to survive the remaining 26 minutes until my mom came back because of her, and I still appreciate it 33 years later. 

Because we need more people like that nurse. If you’re in the position to be her, then be her. And if you’re in the position to let other people be her, then please do that, as well. It can make all the difference for somebody.

—

Hey. This is #100. Crazy, right? Whether you’ve been here since the beginning, or you hopped on recently, thanks. It means a lot.

(I don’t even want to tell you what YOUR mom puts on my TV, though there are mermaids involved. She also gets a link to my blog every single week because she sent a text to the number 484848 with the word CRIP as the message. You should, too.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #099:

It was pointed out to me this week that I somehow have not written a blog yet about a phrase people often associate with me. 

It’s a mantra that my mother bestowed upon me and I have repeated to myself and others countless times. 

Done is better than perfect. 

I was a wee bit of a perfectionist growing up, which often meant that school projects and other tasks wouldn’t get completed — because they weren’t yet perfect. 

I still have a bit of that in me, and certain things do drive me nuts, but I’ve largely been able to cure myself of this affliction by constantly hammering myself with the phrase “done is better than perfect.”

And it’s so useful because it applies to seriously everything.

So often, we leave things incomplete, or even worse, don’t even start, because it’s just not perfect. We go back-and-forth over details that probably don’t really matter for ages, when we should just ship the thing.

This gets even worse in a group setting, where you can have lots of people debating tiny minutiae that can seem critically important. Meanwhile, your competition just sent out what they had, and it’s not perfect, but it’s out there, it’s done, and it’s better than the nothing that you released. 

Have you not sent that résumé because it’s not just right yet? Send it. Done is better than perfect.

Tweaking that text message to the boy you like? Send it. Done is better than perfect.

Going over the proposal for the 60th time? Done is better than perfect.

Trying to make just one more change to the logo? Done is better than perfect.

If it wasn’t for “done is better than perfect“, I would never publish a blog each week. Seriously. There are things I dislike about every single one.

But I just put it up anyways and move on.

Because done is better than perfect.

(Do you know who is perfect and always makes sure that I’m done? Your mom, that’s who. She also gets a text message from me with a link to the latest blog every Sunday. She signed up by texting the phone number 484848 with the word CRIP as the message.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #098:

Rich person: *acts frugally*

Regular people: “Well, that’s how he has all that money.” 

There’s a problem with this trope. 

It’s not true. 

You can’t get rich by saving money. 

The math just doesn’t work.

If you make $50,000 per year, the most you can possibly save is everything you make — $50,000 per year. And if you do that, it will take you 20 years to have $1 million.

But you can’t save everything you make. Under $70,000 a year or so, you can’t even save half of what you make. You need money to survive and enjoy your life. 

Spending time, energy, and willpower skipping affordable things you enjoy in order to save a few dollars a day isn’t going to get you the financial results you’re looking for. 

The path towards financial independence is paved entirely by making more money. Getting raises at your job, side businesses, and so on. 

Now, if you are saving money and investing it in something that makes you more money, that’s different. That’s another revenue stream. Definitely do that. Compound interest is powerful, especially if you’re young. 

But skipping Starbucks every day to save $1,500 a year? Stop that. It’s not helping. It’s just making you cranky, which is probably causing you to miss opportunities. Buy the coffee, and use the caffeine to make extra cash. 

(You know who is all about additional revenue streams? Your mom. She also never misses a blog post because she sent a text to 484848 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link each week. You should do the same.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #097:

There have been a few times over the last 97 weeks when I didn’t feel like writing a blog.

This shouldn’t be too surprising. 97 consecutive weeks is a long time. It is almost 2 years. It makes sense that there would be a few occasions when my mood, health, etc. was standing between me and getting this done. 

Today is one of those days. Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten. Maybe I didn’t get enough sleep. But whatever it is, I don’t really feel like it. 

But I am doing it anyways, like always — on two occasions I’ve posted on Monday instead of Sunday, but I’ve never missed a week. Because, as Seth Godin often says, professionals ship the work. Your plumber isn’t going to cancel because he’s not feeling inspired. Your surgeon in the emergency room isn’t going to stop your operation because his girlfriend dumped him. Professionals show up. And they do the job.

For some reason, we understand this for service jobs and manual labor, but we somehow think that more creative/cerebral work — writing, graphic design, and so on — should be treated differently. We think we need to wait for inspiration, for the right mood, to be in the right head space. 

But this idea is just as silly for creative work as it is for laying tile.

And there is a secret, too. Just like exercising makes you want to exercise, and starting to have sex puts you in the mood for sex, and ordering food makes you hungrier, and so on, starting to do the work makes you “inspired”. Once your brain figures out that it’s not getting out of this task, it helps you do it. And doing this often trains this response. You just have to get the figurative ball rolling, and the hardest part of that is the initial push. 

And just like that, a blog has been written, despite whatever forces were fighting against me. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

(Do you know who’s always in the mood? Your grandmother. That’s right, I have branched out from your mom. They both also guaranteed they’ll never miss a blog post by sending a text to 484848 with the word CRIP as the message. You can do that, too.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #096:

My dead dad thought I was a disappointment.

I started my first business at 12 years old. I bought my first house a week before my 19th birthday. I was in USA Today at age 16 and featured as an expert in two New York Times bestsellers by 21. Mother effing Forbes did a whole piece on me. Before he died, I had grown the business he started to 6 times the size it was when he retired and I took it over. And I did this with cerebral palsy, in a wheelchair, with all of the issues you can — and can’t — imagine that go with that. 

And for my entire life, he thought I was kind of a screw up. 

There’s a good chance that you know that your parents feel the same way about you. Like my dad, they saw all of the dumb stuff you did growing up. They saw the irresponsible things you did in high school. In fact, that’s when they knew you best — before you moved out and grew up. 

If my dad can look at my life and be disappointed, it is pretty clear that this is a game that can’t be won. I don’t think it would’ve mattered what I did, and I bet the same goes for you, as well. I’m sure there are leaders of nations and self-made billionaires who have also experienced this. 

Parents who are going to be disappointed are going to be disappointed. I think the best bet is to employ the reverse of the famous break up line: it’s not you, it’s them. 

(You know what parent is never disappointed in me? Your mom. She’s also never disappointed when she gets a text from me every Sunday. You can, too, by texting the number 484848 with the word CRIP as the message.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #095:

Today is the 13 year anniversary of me breaking my face. On August 8, 2008 — 8/8/08 — I was leaving work on a Friday in a rental chair (more on that in a minute). Near the base of the metal fork lift ramp that I use to get in and out of my shop, I must have stopped for a moment. The front tires of the chair were elevated to make it easier to climb curbs — a “feature” I was unfamiliar with. It also made the chair lurch forward if you stopped suddenly. When I stopped on the ramp, the chair flung me forward like a catapult. I flew from the chair, and while in flight, I had the presence of mind to turn my head to the side; I definitely didn’t want to land directly face first. I would later tell people that I protected my hands and body with my face.

One of my employees found me a couple minutes later, spitting out blood and teeth while I laid there.

In the emergency room, they put ten stitches in my lip, four more in my eyebrow, and told me I fractured my nose, my cheekbone, and my eyesocket.

Ironically, I was leaving work to go give back this rental wheelchair and get my own chair back. I had ridden up and down that ramp without incident in that rental countless times over the course of the week. If I had made it to the bottom one last time, I would’ve been back in my chair, safe and sound — no problems. 

But why was I in a rental wheelchair? Because I had flown earlier in the week. And airplanes notoriously destroy wheelchairs. My chair died about an hour after I landed in Chicago. I had to spend the entirety of my time there being pushed around, unable to move on my own. The trip was so terrible for me that, afterward, I wrote an essay advocating for the euthanizing of anyone who is born/becomes disabled, as a favor to society. 

And then I smashed my face. 

It was a really good time. 

Why am I telling you this? Because now, it is a funny and entertaining story. Now, it is in the past. When I couldn’t eat, smile, or talk without experiencing terrible pain, I kind of wanted to die. But now it’s fine. 

I remembered this when I smashed my head and broke my ankle in 2019. I remembered that it sucked for a while, it got better, and then it was just a story.

That week was really, really bad for me. Broken wheelchair, broken face, ruined trip. Everything about it was so all-consuming. It seemed inescapable and forever. And when things are really bad, that’s always how it feels.

But this, too, shall pass. If you don’t die, then eventually it’s just a thing that happened to you. And maybe, with enough time in the right perspective, it might even be kind of funny. Or at least educational. 

(Do you know who has given me some crazy memories? Your mom. She doesn’t have to remember to check for a new blog post, though. She gets an update every Sunday because she sent a text to the number 484848 with the word CRIP in the body. You should, too.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #094:

If you’ve been in business for a little while, it is easy to start to dislike your customers.

It is easy to start resenting them.

And for good reason: people can suck. They can be whiny and annoying. They can be unreasonable. They can be impatient. They can be cheap.

And since 100% of customers are people, even if you sell to businesses, then that means our customers can be all of the above, as well. Throw in a dose of obligation, because we feel like we have to deal with them, and it doesn’t take long before even the good ones start out at a disadvantage in your mind. 

This is normal, but you have to be aware of it. You can’t let it firmly root and become permanent.

For one, because it’s a great way to be miserable. Hating the people that you work for is a guaranteed path to despising your life.

But also, because it’s amazing that they trust you. It is an absolute miracle that they trust you more than anyone else they could have chosen, and because they trusted you, they chose to give you their money. It is easy to overlook how remarkable that is. You know how great you are, so it’s easy to take for granted how incredible it is that, day after day, you’re the one that gets chosen. 

If you can keep that in mind, it is easier to like your customers. Because if they’re smart enough to trust and choose you, then really, how bad could they be?

(You would not believe the kind of thing your mom trusts me with. One thing that she trusts me with is sending her a message every Sunday about the latest blog post. You can do this, too. Send a text to the number 484848 with the word CRIP as the message and I’ll send you a link to the latest blog each week.)

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I’m cheating this week. This week’s blog is taken from my response to an interview question I answered earlier in the week. I thought it was interesting, though, so I figured I’d share it here.

Crippled CEO Blog #093:

Where are you from and how did your background and upbringing impact who you are today?

I was born at Bethesda Hospital in Boynton Beach, FL. My parents lived in a townhouse in a neighborhood called Golf View Harbour — a funny name, considering that the subdivision has neither golf, view, nor harbor — less than a mile from the hospital I was born in.

As a baby, I moved with my parents to another house in Golf View Harbour. When I was 18, I moved out on my own — quite the feat for an 18-year-old with cerebral palsy who uses a wheelchair — into a house I purchased, also in Golf View Harbour. A few years later, I upgraded to my current home, also in Golf View Harbour. I have lived my entire life in this tiny subdivision, in four different houses, a stone’s throw from the hospital I was born at. I’ve traveled extensively, from Europe to Hawaii, but Golf View Harbour in Boynton Beach, Florida has been my residence for four decades.

Being so firmly rooted in my hometown has shaped the way I have built my companies. I have ignored the old adage warning against hiring friends and family. In fact, I have done exactly the opposite. Almost all of the office staff here are related to me or friends going back years, if not decades — friends that I have because I’ve been in one place for so long.

While growing up in Golf View Harbour, my parents started and ran multiple businesses. It was established early on that the family identified as entrepreneurs and business owners, much in the same way that other families might identify as Yankees fans or inherit a religion. The identities we give ourselves heavily affect our direction in life, and there’s no question that this family identity is the reason that I do what I currently do now.

(Your mom knows all about Golf View Harbour, too. I just whisper her the blog, but you can get a link of it texted to you each week by texting the number 484848 with the word CRIP as the message.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #092:

I have 10-15 years of life left. 

Max.  

There is a possibility that I might live longer, but it is far more likely that I don’t.

That means I probably have 10 summers left. I’m only going to experience 10 more Christmas vacations. 10 more New Year’s Eve celebrations. 10 more Fourth of July‘s. And so on.

I’m pretty much okay with this, but I do think about it, and knowing this reality helps me make decisions in my life. I thought you might find some of the rules I follow as a result of this applicable for your own life, because while the focus is sharper when the time is so finite, the reality is that we all have limited time. I’m just more distinctly aware of mine.

One. I don’t do things that I don’t want to do unless there is a huge upside. Period. I’m just not going to waste my time and happiness on unnecessary things that suck. And I have found out by doing this that the things you skip, that you thought people would be devastated over, or your career would be ruined, etc., turn out to be not that big of a deal usually. 

Two. Only top tier people get to be in my life. If I’m only having 10 more New Year’s Eve parties, I’m not wasting one with lame people. I’m not filling my days with pointless irritants and stupid drama. Pro tip: you have to be an awesome person to attract awesome people. And you can’t become an awesome person with awful people around you. There might be a spot between getting rid of the bad and attracting the good where you are on your own. This is scary, but it’s temporary, and it’s worth it. 

Three. I don’t get upset about things that don’t matter. It is a lot harder to care about what so-and-so said when I know that I’m dying soon. 

Four. I ask for and go after things that I want. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? I’m going to die either way, and I would regret not trying a whole lot more.

Five. I really appreciate the good times and I try to live in them as much as possible. I try to make a point of calling out particularly great experiences, so they get remembered and catalogued that way. I know that I’m going to need those memories when things start to decline. My life is great right now, but it’s going to get bad before it ends. Realizing this makes appreciating what I have much easier.

Six. I think about the impact I’m going to leave behind. It is easier to selflessly give (time, money, energy) when you know that the benefits from that will live on in the recipients after you’re gone. 

Seven. I set up an estate plan. Even if you don’t think you’re dying anytime soon, this is important. Jennifer Gomez is my estate attorney and my friend. If you own stuff and think you might die eventually, you should contact her and get everything squared away.

Eight. I create things, like this blog, so that the people who care about me or want my advice can come back to it in the future. 

Nine. I imagine my funeral, and I try to be the kind of person who will inspire people to get up, walk to the front of the room, stand behind a podium, in front of a (hopefully large) crowd, and say great things about. Maybe hearing person after person telling previously unknown stories of acts of kindness will nudge someone else in the audience to do the same. 

Ten. I do work that matters. It’s not an accident that all of my businesses help people — both through the products we sell, and the way we treat our work family. Every day, I work on growing these businesses happily knowing that other people will get to experience the lion’s share of the rewards. And I do it with people who see the bigger picture, who know that doing the right thing is always the right thing, and whose company I am privileged to keep each day. 

That’s it. I hope at least a couple of these are useful to you even if you’re not planning on kicking the bucket anytime soon. We are all dying. We should live our lives like we know we are. 

(Do you know who’s trying to kill me every night? Your mom. I’ll be lucky if I make it 10 years at this rate with her. She also signed up to get a text message from me each week, that way she sees every blog before I’m gone. You can do the same. Just send a text to the number 484848 with the word CRIP as the message and voila! A link each week to the new blog post.)

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