My dad used to tell me, “Son, when it’s all said and done, the only person you really answer to is that guy staring back at you in the mirror.” Some may say that doesn’t make good business sense, because it keeps the metrics from being optimized. And if a client doesn’t buy into my philosophy, I’m not going to tell them what they want to hear just to keep them. I believe the word “fiduciary” actually means something. I make house calls for clients who have difficulty getting out. Some might accuse me of not charging enough-I’d just call it a fair price. I own the business I work in the buck stops with me. It only took me three decades to realize that my success comes from the very values that were instilled in me while working at Meadows as a kid. No wonder I often felt like I was wearing a mask. That’s how I took it anyway, and I mistakenly spent the succeeding decades trying to distance myself from where I came from. When I was in my twenties, an older gentleman I respected once told me, “You can’t belie your raisings.” I think he meant it pejoratively. I suspect it is not a coincidence that my tenure with this firm ended shortly after. But I blanched at elevating these metrics over the humanity of families we were impacting. Then the founder and chairman stepped aside and in no time the conversation changed to “share of wallet.” Again, I get that. I suspect it was because that ethic in a way mirrored my foundational experiences growing up. When I was hired in 1995, the internal mantra was, “We are the custodians of our client’s dreams”. One of my favorite corporate experiences was working for a large national brokerage company. But my other grandfather told me to look past what people say and watch what they do. Sure, “putting the client first” is often a value statement emblazoned on a website or printed in a glossy annual report. But if they are not careful the interests of the client get left out the mix. These companies must meet certain metrics to satisfy their responsibilities to the shareholders. One drawback to large investment firms today is that most things are reduced to numbers. And I couldn’t begin to tell you the amount of food that was donated to local schools, clubs, and Sunday school classes. If folks had other stops to make while in town, we’d hold their groceries in the back cooler so their milk wouldn’t spoil in the oppressive Georgia heat. When an elderly customer was under the weather and couldn’t get to the store, we’d take their order by phone and drive the goods over. When folks couldn’t pay for groceries, my uncle would run a tab. Now this idea wasn’t a lesson that was drilled into me directly. In a small town you really don’t have a choice. One of the things I took away from working for my dad and uncle in a grocery store in a small town is this practice of taking care of people: looking out for them and doing right by them. My sister, cousins, and I worked there from my earliest memories. Dozens of young men rotated in and out over the years as stock clerks and bagboys. This was in the time before scanners, when you had to key in every item. Loretta was a longtime cashier and was sometimes joined by my grandmother. Terry ran the produce department (today Terry owns the store under the name Terry’s IGA). My Uncle Austin and my father, Paul Sr., ran the store. When you’re a kid, everything seems consistent. The current store shown here looks like it did in 1983, except for the ice machine. It eventually moved, merged with the Foodland co-op, and then ultimately became a part of the IGA chain. This old photo shows the original location on the town square. My grandfather and his brother started Meadows. By today’s standards it was tiny and would absolutely be engulfed by the nearest Kroger. Meadows joined Washington Food Market and the A & P as the handful of groceries in town (If you ever find yourself within sixty miles of Washington, make a detour to Washington Food Market and ask for barbecue and Brunswick stew-trust me on this). My first job was working for my father and uncle at Meadows IGA. Today the population remains about 4,000. When I was growing up there, the population was about 4,000. Washington is a small town about a two hour drive east of Atlanta, in the heart of the Georgia Piedmont.
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