Amy Swift Crosby

The other day a small business owner (a man), noted how much my blog seems to “feel his pain.” I liked the compliment but then had to ask — “do you think it’s too dark? Do I share too much about the struggle versus the joy?” We had a good conversation about how there are plenty of inspirational slogans and memes and hero-driven, blue-sky press profiles of successful entrepreneurs, to say nothing of the Facebook phenomenon of the-fabulous-life-you’re-not-living…but that too few people talk about the swamp, the hairy underbelly, of this entrepreneurial life.

I think I do talk about the challenge more than the pleasure because I’ve established a “space” where I unpack conventional wisdom. That is my format. You have one too — whether it’s in writing or in a product that solves problems or a regular event or even your social media feed. People have come to expect a certain contribution from you. Continuing to support and inform that “format” builds your voice in that space.

There are platforms where it’s always a mom championing the underdog, or a cook working without sugars, or an entrepreneur on the balcony of her five star hotel (showing you what success looks like…ahem.) The topics change, but the conversation should always share a common DNA.

If I wrote about yacht excursions and shopping trips to Paris, maybe you’d still read —but it would be for a different reason.  My format relies on asking questions, pushing back on accepted wisdom — and  — not always having answers.

Your format is your formula. What do you do / say / make / reflect — that no one else does in the same way? Figure it out. Then keep doing it.

There’s a food pantry near me that serves hot meals to people who might not get one during the week. When I watch the director of the program run and operate the kitchen, the thing that strikes me most – beyond his calm, centered demeanor, truly stunning organizational skills, the ability to anticipate and solve every single challenge that arrises, kind but clear directives to everyone in the kitchen and dining room and pantry – is his highly specific instructions to volunteers about plating food. You’d think a hot meal of roasted chicken, macaroni and cheese and fresh spinach salad would be a gift in itself. Nope. Not enough. He wants to see the food plated with care and attention to what color borders what – to what’s hottest and ready to serve – to clean lines and generous portions. The Open Door is a step above a soup kitchen for sure, but still – often when people are on the margins – our standard quickly becomes “well, it’s better than nothing.” Not for Ken.

I was recently in Charleston, South Carolina where I watched a celebrated chef approve (or send back) every single dish that came out. Totally different demeanor (barking, swearing, sweating). Between wiping the sides of a bowl or correcting the crispiness of a pig ear, it had to be perfect. His name is on the door. His New York Times review is at stake. Every night. He cares because he has to hold up a brand for which even he works.

But really, there’s no difference in the results both of these men achieve (their approaches vary wildly!).  Each brings a pride, discipline and discernment to their work. One is famous –  the other an ordinary angel, mostly anonymous to the world at large. But they care. And their teams hover and dance around them with respect and appreciation. Those customers – whether eating off a white tablecloth or linoleum cafeteria table – get their everything.

Do some people / clients / friends / relationships get our best? While others settle for our good enough? When no one is watching, does it matter?

It does.

No matter how close or far you find yourself to events of the past days and months, if you aren’t grieving or enraged, you’re at least baffled by how we got here as a country. So many of us are consumed and distracted by our own challenges and burdens, and then reminded – of course – that a bigger crisis surrounds not only the United States but also the world. We are divided by race. By authority. By religion. By gender. Right now it’s easy to forget what unites us.

What can be done? I have the sensation of watching an accident with no power to stop it, call an ambulance, hold the hand of a victim. But we still have the power to make a positive impact.

We can avoid divisiveness over the daily, the trivial, the low hanging fruit of bad drivers or the mission to be right. We can stop being offended by whatever rubs us wrong.  We can be less demanding, more curious. Less finger pointing, more accountable. There’s no time or room for that now. These tedious conflicts are quickly becoming luxuries.

As small business owners, we can lead a small but powerful movement that chooses to assume the highest possible intention. We have to start somewhere, in small but meaningful decisions, that at the very least don’t add to the rising tension – and at the most – raise the collective consciousness of an important web of voices. Use your  power to lead, change and soothe. Not just publicly and professionally. But privately. Personally. Proactively.

Let’s do that. Starting right now. #yeswecan.