Graduation Address, Kendall College,
September 12, 2003
You will not find anywhere in this brief speech of mine
exhortations to excel: presumably you’ve experienced enough of that while
studying here. You may find, if you listen closely, ways to comport yourself
professionally to become eventually what it is you want to become: the best in
the business, which is—let’s face it—one of the reasons (perhaps the only one)
you decided to attend Kendall.
All of what I mean to touch on briefly this morning relates
in one way or another to the pursuit of excellence and involves three very
basic approaches to the creative process: experimentation, core values, and
communications. An important tangent to the latter (communications) being your
willingness to question all forms of expression, whether it’s as fundamental as
a new twist on an apple pie or a cook’s inability to comprehend your
instructions—baffled by her inability to express herself lucidly; or a challenge
from a subordinate who insists that everything you’re doing is crazy.
Experimentation.
Many years go, the magazine I was affiliated with as editor, Restaurant
Hospitality, published a story about Barbara Kafka, one of the most inventive
and energetic minds in all of foodservice. In the article, I wrote, “Kafka’s
kitchen bubbles with experiments and surprises, with refinements and
embellishments, with twists and turns, all discharged in the pursuit of
culinary perfection and customer service that her company—Barbara Kafka
Associates—never seems able to attain because, as in most of her work, the
imperatives of the firm—as laid down and exemplified by Kafka herself—are to
supersede past perfections with new standards of excellence. By the way, that’s
a nice way to inspire the staff to fresh heights of creativity, or to enhance
the firm’s influence or clout, or to keep the competition guessing. Or all
three. It is also an effective way of letting potential clients know that what
you are able to do for them will be custom-tailored, exclusively theirs, not
something cookie-cut from the dough you rolled for a previous customer.” There
is not, you must admit, much difference between what Kafka and her crew do to
satisfy clients and what any foodservice operation—be it the test kitchen of
the Cheesecake Factory or a hotel’s kitchen, or, perhaps, the kitchen you’ll be
toiling in—must achieve if it is to remain on top.
Let me read to you something from a column of mine that
appeared years ago, but that today, has grains of truth in it. I called this
particular column, “Ruminations” and I proceeded to list several things about
foodservice I like and a few things I don’t, such as “fake flowers on the table
and plastic plants hanging from the ceiling are dead giveaways of what to
expect from the kitchen.” On a more positive note, I wrote this about our
culinary institutions, Kendall included.
Quote: Year in and year out, our culinary schools graduate some of the best
prepared chefs/cooks/managers in the country. They excel and will continue to
excel because, I believe, their faculty and the students they teach question
traditional methodologies. Creativity and innovation are a consequence of
hardcore self-control, a willingness to challenge historical values and logic,
a disposition to mess around with new and seemingly incongruous combinations,
knowing what questions to ask, and knowing—finally—that in the striving for new
ways of self-expression, we often make asses of ourselves. End quote. That
final bit of wisdom (if that’s what it is) is a cute way of saying that as you
strive to be the first on your block to implement something new (say a new dish
or a new preparation method), you are going to make mistakes.
All of you, you’ll have to admit, want to run your own
restaurant; or, if that’s out of reach, at the very least, command your own
kitchen. Somewhere in between those goals lies your future.
Communication.
What stands in the way of those goals is not necessarily the limitations you
place on your education after you leave here (I’m assuming you’ll continue to
learn) or the manner in which you’ve pursued a learning experience here, but in
the way you organize your work habits at your first job and your second and so
on and so on—the most important not being how well you can fold napkins or
create a Charlotte Royale or prepare a pommes soufflé, but how well you
communicate with your associates, both subordinate and superior. You can help
create an environment, wherever you work, that is either intellectually
exciting or vacuous, either stimulating or repressive.
Today, we all know (or have heard about) open-door policies,
direct lines, hotlines, the internet, email, even the surfacing and open
distribution of underground newspapers. All hint at above-board communications.
No holds barred. We rap, we touch, we feel, love, talk with eyes, noses, lips,
and fingers as well as with larynxes and silver tongues. How many times have we
heard someone say to us, “Forget I’m boss; speak freely”? If we plot, we do so
openly . . . right? . . even down, sometimes, to discussing the details with
our victims. It’s all very powerful and wonderful, all of this freedom of
expression. We even rate it with warning labels: G, PG, PG-13, R, and X.
But, for everyone who embraces this freedom, there rises up
to challenge him or her, the anti-talker, someone who believes that silence is
a form of communication. It’s what I’ve decided to call, “proxyspeak.” What’s
proxyspeak, you ask? It’s best rendered thus: Blessed is he or she that keeps
his or her mouth shut and mind closed and appoints by default others to speak
and think for him or her, for such is the kingdom of bliss.
Your future restaurant, your future kitchen, won’t run
itself, especially under surrogate management. If you surrender to your
employees the power of proxyspeak, you’re inviting trouble. If, in your early
days as a professional, you become a proxyspeaker—someone who is appointed to
speak for that someone else who is in a position of responsibility or authority
greater than yours—know well that not only does there exist a communications
gap within, but that the operation is hell-bent for trouble.
You can lead by example, you can lead by direction, but you
cannot lead from a position of silence or indifference, assuming that
subordinates understand exactly what it is you want and what it is they are
supposed to do. Whether you are in a position to tell others what to do, or you
are being told what to do, keep in mind that whatever the decision is, whatever
the policy hammered out is, it results from a pooling of many employee thoughts
and ideas that, for all intents and purposes, respect the responsibilities of
everyone in the restaurant and are in the best interests of all. (OK: what
about all of those employee manuals? As far as I am concerned, employee manuals
are always a work in progress: there are even variations and permutations of
those seemingly inviolate truths that appear in them. They are always subject
to alterations and modifications.) And when you reach the top—as most of you
will—you must make it abundantly clear, especially in instances where problems
appear to be insoluble, that the buck stops at your desk. To do otherwise, to
arrive at decisions or explore options through selfishness, vindictiveness,
revenge, or games of one-upmanship, undermines your leadership and emasculates
the growth of your operation. Ultimately—and from this position there is no
retreat—it makes you and those who report directly to you (including, perhaps,
your closest allies) suspect and powerless. Anti-communication and anti-talking
is deplorable: it implies premeditation, a willingness to fight freedom of expression,
to muzzle thought. Lack of communication is less deplorable, but unacceptable
nonetheless.
If you’ve often wondered why two restaurants—same menu, same
décor, same service, same kitchen—differ as does the night from the day: where
one is a smashing success, the other an abysmal failure, know that most likely
it’s because with the successful operation, management has laid down lines of
communication between itself and employees, itself and customers, between
itself and the front and the back, that are clear rather than garbled, candid
rather than dishonest or evasive, open rather than shut, clean rather than
polluted. And that the other—the abysmal failure—collapsed of its own inertia
(an inertia of silence, of lack of communication and discussion), its owner,
intimidated of anything smelling of intelligence, sucking on a cigar behind the
locked door of his office, counting the evening’s take while skimming off just
enough to make the next payment on his Mercedes.
Core Values. I’m
not at all sure how anyone or any business survives and thrives (or prevails)
without them. The very essence of your commitment to your growth, to your
ability to create and then to sell your services and products, lies within the
values you establish, then implement and respect, regardless of challenges or
confrontations that question your motives. The power of core values (unlike the
rules and regulation you’ll find in an employee manual), when spelled out
articulately and sensibly, is that they provide a basis for every relationship
you nurture—from the relationships (your communications) among internal
customers (your employees) to those with your external customers—your guests.
The problem, of course, is in establishing a set of core values that are
meaningful and then are executed with a genuine reverence for their
implications.
If you haven’t given any thought to creating for yourself a
set of core values, there’s no time like the present to start.
I will give you my set of core values in a moment; and I
will share with you points of view I have made over the past 30 years or so
observing the comings and goings of people and places in foodservice; but,
before I do that, let me share with you first the comments of Scott Cowen,
professor of management, the Weatherhead School of Management, Case-Western
Reserve University, Cleveland.
Cowen recounts a conversation he had with a friend, during
which he described a unique set of core values of—believe this—Harley-Davidson,
Inc. As you may know, Harley-Davidson is one of the great turnaround success
stories of the past 30 or so years. Cowen believes that it was the result of
the company’s core values. Here, says Cowen, is what his friend told him:
“At Harley-Davidson, the unique set of values revolves
around these principles: tell the truth, keep your promises, be fair, respect
the individual, and encourage intellectual curiosity. Harley-Davidson’s values
are embedded in the company’s culture to such a great extent that its employees
would have a higher probability of being fired for behaving inconsistent with
the organization’s culture (its values) than they would for poor performance.
“In other organizations,” Cowen continues, “with strong core
values, these values seem to define who they are as well as their philosophy of
management. When doubts arise, their core values provide a framework for
decision making and behavior. There is a strong correlation between
organizations that have a well-articulated, sincerely felt set of core values
and those demonstrating successful performance. Organizations lacking such
values are operating without any sort of ‘spiritual compass’ to chart their course
and guide their actions. It is difficult for me,” says Cowen, “to believe that
any organization can be a high performer without also having a strong, shared
sense of who they are and what they believe.”
Finally, according to Cowen, “If it is well done, the
process of setting its core values can bring an organization closer together
and give it a sense of united purpose.”
Now then, because when Penton Media hired me back in 1966,
there was not a set of core values there, I decided to establish my own. I knew
that Penton had hired me (for the princely sum of $650 a month) because of my
resume, because of where I came from (teaching English literature and creative
writing at Muskingum
College), because of
where I was educated. It hired me because it believed in me and my potential.
It hired me because it wanted someone who could write and it assumed—after
three interviews—that I was the one to do just that.
Once at Penton, I was not about to let it down. I was not
about to let myself down. At the time, I wasn’t thinking about the commencement
address my father gave when I graduated from high school in 1953, but something
in and about it must have soaked in because the set of core values I set for
myself in 1966 on the first day of my employment at Penton bore a remarkable
resemblance and, need I say, relevance, to what he told our high school
graduating class. So, in writing this simple talk for you, I went back to the
manuscript that was my Father’s simple talk and I read it. The charge to the
class was completely absent of the sorts of clichés one reads or hears about in
so many graduation addresses. Rather, it was filled with an appreciation of
what life’s truths are about and how, if you truly embrace and believe in them,
they can motivate you do to bigger, better, and greater things. Here’s some of
what he told us. They are the essence of the core values I brought to my job as
an editor; and ones you might consider bringing to yours.
Quote: “The real test of character comes when we are
confronted with a choice between good and better; between a good life work and
a better life work, between a good book and a masterpiece; an infatuation and
an ideal life partner. Some people choose a loyalty to their self so narrow
that it excludes all other loyalties to family, school, place of worship, work,
society, and country. Some place loyalty to a small group to which they belong
above that of the community; loyalty to a party above that of the country;
loyalty to the contents of the pocketbook above the outreaching heart; loyalty
to personal comfort above creative adventure; loyalty to privileges above
principles; loyalty to fiction and prejudice above truth.” End quote.
There was more, lots more: quotes and anecdotes all
supporting loyalties and the pursuit of what is right. He concluded his
comments with this: “The world into which you are going needs your loyalty to
higher values, to values that make life noble and beautiful. The world in which
we live will present you with endless situations challenging you to choose
between lesser and greater loyalties, lesser and greater values.”
Now, before closing, let me share with you a conversation
with a foodservice executive—now retired—I’ve had a deep admiration for over
the years.
Many years ago while still at Penton, Michael Kay called me
and wanted to know if I would like to write a story about his collaboration
with John Portman on a new hotel company, The Portman Hotel Company. It was
Portman, you may remember, who designed all of those wonderful Hyatt hotels
with their magnificent atriums. Kay told me that Portman would be opening his
first hotel in San Francisco and would I like to come and take a look and while
there talk to him and Portman. I said, of course, provided there would be a
foodservice angle. He assured me there would be, but far more important was the
approach he—with Portman’s approval—was taking to establish relationships with
employees. For the longest time, going back to the days when Michael Kay was
president of the Omni Hotel Co., I had known him to be a man of warmth and
compassion; a man who looked out for and believed passionately in human rights;
who, whether he admitted it or not, worked according to principle and core
values. During the course of our conversation over a couple of drinks in the
cocktail lounge of this magnificent new hotel, Michael Kay, in response to my
question about management/employee relationships, told me this, “Until you
construct a system that treats people the same way, that gives people the same
rights, that gives people the same voice and the same dignity—you will always
be courting misfortune brought about by back-biting and mutual distrust. The
people who work within the system must know it’s as important to practice human
justice as it is to make a buck.”
So, that’s it: experiment, communicate, and set for yourself
a set of core values (or if you can’t set some for yourself, make sure the
company or restaurant you work for or manage or own, has a set).
Good luck. With the intelligence you’ve acquired here and
with the growing demand for qualified and well-educated people (either book or
street smart), you’ve got a fantastic future waiting for you in foodservice.
Let me leave you, finally, with this choice bit of advice:
“Never argue with an idiot. People watching may not be able to tell the
difference.”
