Legacy
This week, one of our company's owners passed away. His name was Bennett.
He was a big personality. Loved being around people. Incredible storyteller. I saw him speak at a meeting once, and at the end, he offered signed copies of a book he'd written. Mine arrived in the mail a few days later. I wrote him a thank you card.
A couple weeks after the meeting, I received a text from an unknown number. It was an attachment—Bennett’s contact information. I stared at it. In a 24,000-person company, who would be sending me this? His name was on my business cards, my paychecks. It couldn't be him.
A few minutes later, I received a second text. It was him.
"Your thank you card was over the top. Thank you for all you do to make our company great. If you ever need anything, you can always text me."
I was astounded. An owner, reaching out to me, because I wrote a thank you note?
It was a practice my dad taught me. After every gift from my grandparents or anyone else, I was required to write one. I thought this was normal.
Bennett stayed true to his word. Whenever I reached out, he showed up—as a surprise guest in one of my meetings, or simply with career advice when I needed it.
A lot of leaders I know get caught in a swirl of meetings, behind closed doors. Bennett was different. He stayed visible. He told stories. He made you feel like you belonged, even in a company this large.
I think about the legacy I want to leave. What it means to stay connected to people, especially when you don't have to. Bennett didn't have to text me. He didn't have to show up. But he did.
I'm so glad I wrote that note. It gave me the chance to know someone who actually made a difference.