—LEAVE IT BETTER THAN YOU FOUND IT

For Blake, A Tribute

“Sometimes you don’t choose a book.  Sometimes it chooses you.”

I said that to him once. 

I no longer remember the name of the movie, but I do remember that particular line from the film.

It captured the way I came to feel about working for Nordstrom.  I had picked Nordstrom, but after some time working there, it felt pre-ordained, as if the company had somehow, magically and benevolently, selected me.

Twenty-four years is a good stretch to stay at the same company, but with the exception of a few (okay, maybe a few thousand) customer meltdowns here and there, I adored being part of the Nordstrom team.  It was as if I’d been given a very special gift.

During that time, I had three people who shaped not only my career, but in many ways, my life.

Blake was one of the major ones.

Part father figure, part older brother, and a large part Mr. Bruce, Blake was a remarkable person, always eager and generous with his time.

He was so many things really.  He was an astute listener.  He could be both folksy and Wall Street-smart.  He was also fiercely competitive, which I mean in a complimentary way. 

He was effervescent, and on occasion that passion overflowed to the point where he made some people nervous, and a few others a little scared.  They didn’t know what to do with him.  They wondered, Why all the questions?  Why those questions?  They wondered, Does this guy ever sleep?  They wondered, Why does he work so hard when his name’s on the building?

Of course, the answer to those and other questions was precisely because his name was on the building.  Rather than taking that for granted, Blake took the opposite approach.  He went at his job as if he’d been given a test run to see if he should be kept around.  And in that way, he taught us about humility and hard work.

To be honest, he made me nervous, too.  At first, he did.

Then I somehow shrugged off my apprehension and, instead of waiting for Blake to find me, I’d seek him out.  It was one of the smartest things I ever did, because every single encounter taught me something invaluable.

For instance, I’d ask him to critique my Recognition Meetings, to which Blake would spare nothing, not even my feelings, because he knew I could take it, and that I needed to learn and grow.  Once he even tossed the printed agenda across my desk, saying, “Your meeting was two hours long and you still showed four videos.  Four?”

He had bionic eyes and could spot an un-tagged shoe from across the aisle.  He knew some managers and salespeople better than I did.  He knew work anniversaries and when to send flowers to someone going through a rough patch.  He knew the shoe shine guy and the operators at Northgate.  He knew which stores were pre-selling and where to look...  It seemed to me as if he knew everything.

Blake taught me so much… The importance of attention to details.  The importance of hard work.  Loyalty.  Fairness.  Modesty.  To appreciate other people’s time.  He taught me the notion that nothing is more important than the team you have, except, of course, for the customer you’re all trying to serve.    

Larger than life is a tag which gets thrown around all too frequently, and sure, it’s cliché, yet Blake was just that.  In many ways, he was a giant, a giant with an equally gigantic heart.

Perhaps only Mr. Bruce embodied the company culture more than Blake, and even then, if Blake came in second, it was merely by a hair.

Without question, Blake was one of the best teachers I’ve ever had.  He taught by The Socratic Method, asking questions, and also by the example he set.

If we are all to be defined by the legacy we leave behind, well then, Blake’s legacy is nothing short of astonishing.  It lives on in me and hundreds of thousands of others.

Like all of us, I’m very, very sad Blake is gone, but I also feel incredibly grateful and lucky.  To have known Blake, is to be a much better person because of him.