Uncommon People...

Twelve years ago this month, I began working at a family owned business in the height of their busiest time of the year, the holiday season. The atmosphere was a bit crazed at the time, since they had just gone live with their new ERP system and well…the organization was reeling from strong growth and adapting to both organizational and functional changes. I wasn’t sure about what I stepped into at the time but I soon realize how fortunate I was…This was no ordinary workplace, and these were not ordinary people.

Over the years, I was blessed to have the opportunity to grow and learn through challenging assignments, and the rewarding experience of encouraging others to achieve their potential. I worked with a team of people who were capable, responsible, and resourceful, and they had a unique talent for using humor to diffuse stress. I also had the privilege of developing lasting friendships, and getting to know the people I worked with and their families.

The business was a good combination of large enough to provide challenge and growth, yet small enough for everyone to be known for their strengths and contributions. It was not unusual for the Owner or CEO to greet staff members by name while passing them in the hallways. It had the feel of being home to me for many years. This in of itself made it difficult to accept the fact that the progression of my disease would eventually force me to give it up much sooner than I wanted.

While the physical changes were gradual, it did become apparent that something was wrong by the end of 2010, and although my co-workers didn’t pry, they began to show concern, and offer assistance when I needed it. Those closest to me knew of our pursuit to figure out what was causing these changes in my physical condition, and when we confirmed the diagnosis, the word began to get out.

I will never find words to accurately describe the overwhelming support and caring I experienced in this organization, from the Owner, CEO, and Executive Team, to those in my group, and others, outside of my group, with whom I rarely worked. They were kind and generous beyond any expectation. One incredibly bighearted individual provided a scooter that made it safer for me to get around in the building, co-workers held doors, waited patiently for me to pass, and smiled or joked with me to normalize what could otherwise be awkward.

They sent personal notes, cards, and thoughtful gifts, offered prayers, made meals for us, took me to lunch and even doctor’s appointments. One special family drove out of their way to take me to and from work for eight months, often treating me to a Starbuck’s venti black coffee on the drive in. They carried my bags, my lunch, my walker, and let me grab onto them, as I moved slowly to get in and out of the building.

When we formed a team to participate in the walk for ALS, they mobilized a fund raising effort that collected thousands of dollars in donations to support ALS patients and their families, most of which came from their own pockets. They additionally provided donations for any equipment I might personally need.

This is no ordinary company, and these are not ordinary people; they have been my family for a long time, and this is only one example of how they take care of their own.

I can identify with what Lou Gehrig was feeling when he gave his Luckiest Man on the Face of the Earth speech at Yankee Stadium, because for the last twelve years, it has been an honor to work with such a fine group of people and for that I am truly grateful.