Note: As I transition into retirement, many thanks to my editors at Supply Chain Dive for the opportunity to make my last column a reflective one. I’ve written hundreds of pieces for Supply Chain Dive during the past eight years and I’d like to offer my gratitude for everyone’s support and friendship … and for making me a much better writer.
Baseball players remember their first hit, hockey players their first goal and an author their first sale. For me — as a purchasing guy from way back in the day — it was my first purchase order.
Forty-five years ago — although it seems like it was yesterday — my boss had given me my first purchase requisition for lumber needed to build an office cubicle. It was a simple requisition for eight standard building studs.
I was nervous as I dialed the number of the local lumber yard supplier On the second ring, a man named Artie abruptly and gruffly answered the telephone. I identified myself and my company before he hurriedly asked me what I needed. Although I knew that I needed to order simple two-by-four studs, I read the requisition as written: Eight 2 x 4 x 8, with the emphasis on the “x” and not on the “by,” just to be sure.
After several seconds, Artie responded, “Okay, Rich, you need eight two-by-fours,” before confirming a price and that he’d have them delivered the next morning.
So what’s the moral of the story? Artie didn’t make me feel stupid, and he could have. Instead, Artie taught me something, gave me some confidence and thanked me for the order. It was my first test and I passed. But if Artie took another track and laughed or mocked me, I might have found another profession instead of staying in one for nearly five decades.
While Artie may not have been a mentor in the traditional sense, I consider him an invisible one. I’ve had many many invisible mentors over the years, whether it be engineers, machine operators, truck drivers, scientists or field service reps. Each mentor taught me something about the business and myself. I learned to seek out the mentors who knew more than I did, asked a lot of questions and didn’t make me feel stupid for not knowing certain nomenclature or even what I was buying.
But I also had a lot of visible mentors.
Ron was a factory manager taught me that an understated please and thank you were very powerful words that opened a lot of doors — a smile helped as well.
John was another manufacturing manager who patiently taught me the ins and outs of a new product line I was supporting. Knowing what I was buying — and why — made me a better buyer.
Jim was a manufacturing engineer who taught me that there was a work around for just about everything. I envied how he worked with suppliers to overcome technical barriers — always with a smile and never-ending patience.
Chris was the executive director of a regional purchasing association who gave me my start in professional development and supported my path through association leadership into my second career as a college professor.
And my late friend and colleague Jim always encouraged me to seek balance. We co-presented at many regional and national procurement conferences, but we always managed to catch a baseball game or two, and a bunch of laughs, on our trips.
I teach my students that mentorship is organic and takes time and patience. Sometimes you might be the mentee and other times you might be a mentor without knowing it. Whether visible or invisible, at the end of the day, all mentors are valuable.
If you were to ask me what I learned in 45 years in procurement, I would say that please and thank you are indeed the magic words. And remember to smile. The rest will take care of itself.
My mentors told me so.
