The One Sentence That Made Me Choose Family Over the Corner Office

“The guy is an orchid,” John blurted out.

John Teira was a 30-year-retired IBMer who was working for me. He was hired to introduce our professional services company to IBM lab directors nationwide. He was an intelligent and experienced senior sales executive who knew how to talk to IBMers.

John was in the last season of his business career. He didn’t want anybody reporting to him. He just wanted to sell, make money, and add to his retirement account.

I was President of Sterling Software Professional Services worldwide, a division of a publicly traded company. I had an apartment in NYC, my HQ, with branches throughout the US and Western Europe. I was in my mid-thirties and was a little over my head.

The big problem was that I was a product guy running a services organization. And this was my first stint at running a company with remote offices across multiple cultures.

I needed coaching.

I needed a consigliere.

John Teira was the man.

I treasured the time we spent together while on the road and over dinners. John lived in New Jersey but worked out of the NYC HQ office. The more I got to know John, the more I trusted him. The more I trusted him, the more I opened up to him about strategy, people, and my insecurities. In short, he became my mentor even though he worked for me.

His experience was invaluable in developing sales strategies, but his wisdom and understanding of people helped me succeed in running this division.

A couple of stories come to mind.

I had a NYC branch manager who was close to hitting his numbers but was never there. In trying to nail this guy down, I always came away empty-handed. But the killer was this. I was a busy exec, and he was taking too much of my time. A likable guy who communicated well, but was needy and lacked the confidence to make decisions.

While talking to John about my frustrations with this branch manager, John blurted out, “The guy is an orchid.”

“A what?

“An orchid.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

An orchid is a beautiful flower that is almost impossible to keep healthy. An orchid requires just the right sunlight, the right humidity, the right potting, and just the right amount of water to flourish.

“Your NYC branch manager is an Orchid.”

From that moment on, I was always on the lookout for orchids. If I happen to hire one or inherit a direct report like this, I will move quickly. I never had time for an orchid for the rest of my business career, including as an angel investor.

Another John story.

I had an opportunity to become the CEO of US Operations for an even larger public Professional Services company. A requirement for the job opportunity was moving to Los Angeles. I wanted the job, but I felt this was the wrong time for Kathy and me to move. Our kids were thriving in our Atlanta community. In addition, I was on the road most of the time, and the move to LA was not going to change that part of the job.

I talked to John about this opportunity. He knew me and knew I was ambitious. I wanted this. But he could feel my dilemma.

We talked about this for a couple of hours over dinner in NYC.

After dinner, he drove me to my hotel, The Hyatt at Grand Central. We pulled up to the roundabout at the front entrance. I thanked John for the ride and the dinner conversation. As I shut the door to his car, he rolled down the window, called me back, and said, “One more thing to think about.”

“If you want to be an astronaut, you have to be ready to go to the moon.”

I tossed and turned all night thinking about this.

Within a year, I realized that my family was more important to me than becoming a career executive. I left my corporate career and decided to start a business in Atlanta. Whatever I started would be focused only on Atlanta. I would not travel. I was determined to stay home, focus on my family, and build a business that honored those constraints.

Thanks, John, for sharing your life’s wisdom with me when I was a 37-year-old executive.

Mentors are so valuable.

I am seventy-three now, and I still look for older mentors. They are harder to find in this season of life, and sadly, the ones I’ve found keep leaving me. But I never forget their wisdom. It shapes me long after they are gone.