We’ve all heard the language. A players. B players. C players. Rank them. Stack them. Upgrade them. That framework is simple - but it’s incomplete. Because what you really want isn’t just an “A player.” You want an exponential.

An exponential is someone who doesn’t just perform well in their role - they expand the impact of everyone around them. They stretch beyond the boundaries of their job description, influence across departments without authority, elevate standards by example, and make the room better simply by being in it.

A traditional “A player” might execute flawlessly. An exponential multiplies output. They don’t just hit their numbers. They help others hit theirs. They don’t just solve problems. They raise the level of thinking. They are positive culture changers - not because they’re loud, but because they’re steady, credible, and generous with what they know.

Exponentials uplevel others while doing their own work. And that’s the difference. Performance is individual. Exponentials are organizational force multipliers.

If you’re building a team, stop asking - “Is this an A player?” Start asking -
“Will this person expand the capability of everyone around them?”

If someone said: “Teach me something.” Not “What should I do?” Not “Can you review this?” Just - teach me something. What would you teach?

There are thousands of tactical lessons in operations and leadership. Formulas. Frameworks. Metrics. But what do you teach when someone gives you a blank canvas?

I'd say: Don’t just solve the problem in front of you. Solve the pattern behind it. Anyone can fix a late shipment. Fewer people ask why late shipments keep happening. Even fewer redesign the system so they stop.

The lesson wouldn’t be about supply chain. It would be about leverage.

If you can identify the root pattern - in process, in behavior, in communication - you multiply your impact.

Sometimes the most powerful teaching isn’t complex. It’s helping someone see one level deeper than they were looking before.

If someone said to you, “Teach me something,” what would you say?

One of the things I don’t talk about often - but value deeply - is that I’m often one of the first calls or messages former team members make when they’re thinking about leaving their current role.

It happens multiple times a month. “Can I run something by you?” “I’m not sure if it’s time.” “Am I overreacting?” “Would you look at this offer?”

Those conversations aren’t about resumes (although I do get asked to review those often). They’re emotional. They’re about doubt. Identity. Fear of making the wrong move. Excitement mixed with anxiety.

And then there are the other messages. The ones that simply say: “Just wanted to let you know I took a new role.” “We moved to a new city.” “Things are going well.” “Life’s taken me here.” No ask. Just an update.

When someone reaches out years after we worked together - whether for advice or just to share where life has taken them - it tells me something important. The trust didn’t end when the job did. Mentoring. Coaching. Teaching - those aren’t tied to payroll. They’re tied to relationship.

If someone still feels safe enough to call you when they’re at a crossroads or thoughtful enough to keep you in the loop long after you shared an office -
that’s not about title. That’s about how you led.

Careers are long. Chapters change. Companies come and go. But if you can be a steady voice - or simply someone worth updating - long after the org chart changes - that’s impact that lasts.

Every organization needs a BHAG. A Big Hairy Audacious Goal. Not a safe goal. Not a “stretch but realistic” target. A goal that makes people pause.

And while I believe strongly in an organizational BHAG - I believe even more in having my own individual BHAG's that support the organizational. That's right - BHAG's. Not singular. But multiple.

A true BHAG does a few things. It creates clarity, prioritization, filters from distractions. And when the goal is big enough - small debates fade. It isn’t about ego. It’s about alignment.

It says - “This is who we’re becoming.” “This is what we’re building.” “This is the hill we’re willing to climb.” Without it, teams drift. Effort spreads thin. Energy gets consumed by incrementalism. With it, momentum builds. Not because it’s easy - it usually isn't - but because it’s compelling.

What I have learned is that a BHAG can’t just live on a slide. It has to translate into quarterly priorities, weekly execution, daily decisions. Big vision with ground action. That’s how audacious goals become real.

I’ve spent some time reflecting on how I’m wired. I've used tools like Enneagram and Predictive Index. For those of us who grew up flipping through magazines, these tests feel slightly more scientific than those old "What Type of Guy Are You?" quizzes in Men's Health - where answering mostly A's meant you were "The Maverick Alpha" or all B's meant you were "The Thoughtful Trailblazer." These tests come with a little more science and a lot less abs on the cover.

On the Enneagram, I test as a 1w2 - the Reformer with a Helper wing. On the Predictive Index, I align most closely with a Venturer (although other tests have also shown Analyst).

That combination is interesting. The 1w2 in me holds a strong internal compass. High standards. Clear sense of right and wrong. Desire to improve systems and elevate people.

The Venturer adds fuel to that fire. It brings decisiveness, comfort with risk, competitive drive, and bias toward action.

So what does that look like in leadership? I don’t just want things to be better. I want them better now. I’ll take calculated risks. I’ll push for growth. I’ll step into ambiguity and move.

The upside is momentum, high standards, and courage to make hard calls. The watch-outs tend to be impatience, expecting others to move at the same speed, letting intensity overshadow empathy if I’m not careful.

Self-awareness helps. I've done well to keep the watch-outs in check. If you have worked with me - you'd probably not seen most of those traits.

The 1w2 keeps my motives grounded in integrity and service. The Venturer keeps me from overthinking and stuck in analysis. Standards with speed. Conviction with action.

Understanding how you’re wired doesn’t limit you. It sharpens you. It can sharpen teams.

I've used Predictive Index in building incredible teams. And while initially I was skeptical of it and may have called it nothing more than a magazine's latest "which guy is he" - the bumping together of different predictive index results allows for the quick identification of where communication will break down, where teams will stumble, and where trait dominance will show up.

I’ve sat in more “core values” sessions than I can count.

Whiteboards full of words and phrases. Great discussions where participants feel engaged. Everyone aligned.

The words and phrases - Integrity - Accountability - Teamwork - Customer first.

Heads would not in agreement. Slides would get printed. Posters go up and slides added to screens.

And then - nothing! Nothing changes. Just the wall paper.

Why? Because core values aren’t proven in workshops. They’re proven in decisions. They show daily and their tested frequently. You see misalignment when a high performer violates a standard, a deadline is at risk, revenue is on the line, or a tough decision has to be made. If the values disappear under pressure then they were never values. They were decorations.

Establishing core values isn’t the hard part. Operationalizing them is. It means hiring against them, promoting against them, and letting people go when they violate them. It means allowing the values to have meaningful impact to the organization. Really believing in your values means measuring behavior and not just outcomes.

Values that aren’t executed on create cynicism. Values that are lived create culture.

It’s better to have three real values than ten laminated ones. Because people don’t read the poster. They read the behavior.

Here we go again. Another big storm rolling through the Northeast.

Roads closing. Warehouses shutting down for safety. Carriers suspending pickups. State of Emergency announced.

And still - the asks come in. “Can we get this out today?” “This meeting is critical.” “This event can’t be delayed.”

I understand the urgency. But when warehouses close for safety - when teams can’t safely get to work - when trucks aren’t moving - when inventory is not positioned at other facilities - there is nothing to fulfill. Supply chain doesn’t override weather. It responds to it.

In moments like this, leadership means protect the people first and then communicate clearly and early.

The storm will pass. The meeting can be rescheduled. The event can adjust. But the safety of the team isn’t negotiable.

Here we go again. And just like every time before - we’ll plan, adapt, and move as soon as it’s safe to do so.

One of the simplest leadership truths - when you’re talking, you’re not listening.

It sounds obvious. But watch any tense meeting. Someone is formulating their response while the other person is still speaking. We call it discussion. It’s often just waiting to reply.

The cost is missed nuance, assumptions filling gaps, and solutions aimed at the wrong problem. Real listening requires restraint. It means letting someone finish, asking a follow-up instead of defending, and being willing to change your position.

The best leaders I’ve worked with didn’t dominate the room. They absorbed it.

If you’re always the one speaking, you’re probably the one learning the least.

What do you want to be remembered for? Not your title. Not your compensation. Not the size of the team you led. When people talk about you years from now, what will they say?

Will they say - “They got results.” “They were fair.” “They made me better.” “They showed up when it mattered.”

In the middle of deadlines, metrics, and growth targets, it’s easy to drift into performance mode - always chasing the next outcome. But legacy is built in the small moments. How you handled pressure. How you treated people when they struggled. Whether you gave credit or took it.

Careers are long. Reputations are longer. At some point, the scoreboard fades. Character doesn’t.

So if the work ended tomorrow - what would remain? And is that aligned with how you’re leading today?

Being imperfect as a leader is uncomfortable. You see the miss before anyone else does. You replay the conversation you could’ve handled better. You recognize the decision that should’ve been different.

Perfection is attractive in theory. In practice, it’s isolating. Imperfection is human. It means you don't always say it right. It means you don't always get it right. It means you don't always see it coming.

But here’s what I’ve know! Imperfect leaders who are honest build more trust
than “perfect” leaders who pretend. Owning your flaws doesn’t erode authority - it grounds it. People don’t need you to be flawless. They need you to be accountable. Consistent. Willing to grow.

Imperfection isn’t the problem. Avoiding reflection is. The goal isn’t to eliminate mistakes. It’s to become the kind of person who learns from them.

Leadership isn’t about being polished. It’s about being real and getting better anyway.

The fastest way to lose momentum is to keep shopping when you should be buying!

Shopping is entertainment. Buying is commitment. There’s a difference. Shopping is browsing. Comparing. Wondering if something better might be one more click away. It’s low risk and low commitment. Buying is clarity.

I’m a buyer. When I see something that fits the need, aligns with the long-term vision, and has the potential to scale with me - I move. I don’t keep shopping. I don’t look for incremental improvements just to feel busy.

Indecision is expensive. Second-guessing slows momentum. Constant comparison keeps you stuck.

The same applies in business. Whether it’s hiring a key leader, selecting a partner, implementing a system, or choosing a strategy - once the criteria are clear and the solution meets them, commit. Then make it work.

At some point, you stop shopping and start building. Are you shopping or are you buying?

"I'm f'ing good at what I do!" And yet that statement is not how I choose to represent myself.

I’m not someone who markets myself loudly. I don’t come with a parade. I don’t need hype. I don’t announce my arrival. But I’ll say this plainly - I’m very good at what I do.

I’ve always been more of a silent assassin. Confident. Prepared. Comfortable letting the results speak.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on that. At what point does strong confidence get mistaken for arrogance? And more importantly - have I ever crossed that line?

Here’s what I’ve come to believe:
Arrogance needs an audience. Confidence doesn’t.
Arrogance dismisses input. Confidence invites it.
Arrogance protects ego. Confidence protects standards.

I don’t need to be the loudest person in the room. But I also have never shrunk to make others comfortable. There’s a difference between knowing your value and needing everyone else to validate it.

I’m still reflective enough to check myself. Still open enough to learn. Still willing to admit that I'm human. But I'm also unapologetic when it comes to what I bring!

Quiet doesn’t mean unsure. Quiet means studying the landscape. It means looking at the pieces that are in play. It means understanding dynamics. And then like a silent assassin - executing the plan!

One of the hardest disciplines in leadership is making a decision in the absence of new information.

You’ve reviewed the data. You’ve asked the questions. You’ve pressure-tested the assumptions. And nothing new is coming. But the decision still needs to be made.

That’s the uncomfortable space where many leaders stall. They wait for clarity that isn’t arriving. They ask for "more analysis.” They delay in the name of thoroughness. At some point, additional information doesn’t increase certainty - it just delays action.

Leadership often comes down whether you can commit when you know you don’t know everything? Because progress rarely waits for perfect data. You decide. You communicate. You monitor. You adjust if needed.

Indecision has a cost. Momentum has value. The goal isn’t to be right every time. It’s to move the organization forward responsibly. Sometimes the bravest decision is simply deciding.

There’s something powerful about the first time you do something you’ve never done before - lead the meeting, run the project, deliver the tough message, own the outcome.

I’m known for pushing people into those moments. Not recklessly or without support, but intentionally. Because growth doesn’t happen inside comfort zones.

I’ve asked team members to present before they felt ready. To take ownership earlier than expected. To step into leadership before they fully saw themselves that way.

And almost every time, I see the same thing - nerves, doubt, then capability.
The first time feels like exposure. The second time feels possible. The tenth time feels natural.

My job as a leader isn’t to keep people comfortable. It’s to expand what they believe they’re capable of. Most people don’t need protection from stretch.
They need someone who believes they can handle it.

Comfort builds stability. Discomfort builds leaders.

On Presidents’ Day, I’m reminded of a quote from Abraham Lincoln:

“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power.”

Leadership isn’t proven when things are easy - it’s revealed in how we handle responsibility. A good reminder that character always outlasts title.

No one launches a startup because they’re excited about insurance policies and legal structure. But if ignore them - they will manage you.

Insurance and legal aren’t overhead - they’re operating infrastructure. In early-stage businesses, especially in operations-heavy environments, it’s easy to focus on revenue, growth, product, and customers. Until something goes wrong - a vendor dispute, an employee injury, a customer claim, a contract you signed too quickly, a shipment that is damaged, or a facility incident you never seen coming.

You don’t have a legal department down the hall or a risk team reviewing every clause. You are the escalation path.

Here’s what I’ve learned from operating in early and scaling environments:

- Understand your risk profile before you scale. General liability is not the same as product liability. Cargo insurance is not the same as warehouse legal liability. Directors & Officers coverage matters once you start raising capital.
Know what you actually need - not just what your broker suggested.

- Read every contract like you’ll defend it in court - indemnification clauses, personal guarantees, termination language, jurisdiction, insurance requirements. These aren’t boilerplate - they’re leverage points.

- Document everything - incidents, SOPs, training logs, safety procedures. If you ever need to defend your company, documentation becomes your strongest asset.

- Build relationships with your broker and attorney early. The worst time to meet them is during a claim.

- Don’t let compliance stall growth - but don’t let growth outrun compliance. That tension is real. Managing it is part of leadership.

In early-stage companies, risk management feels invisible when it’s working well. But it’s one of the clearest signals of operational maturity. Growth is exciting. Profit is validating. Protection is foundational.

If you’ve operated in a startup, you know that you just don't build the business. You build the guardrails that keep in standing.

If I had to name my professional superpower, it wouldn’t be strategy. It wouldn’t be operational turnaround. It wouldn't be the ability to see upstream and downstream. It would be this - I’m relatable.

I can sit in a boardroom at 9:00 a.m. discussing EBITDA and be on the warehouse floor at 9:20 a.m. debating the correct way to tape a box and at 9:40 a.m. negotiating a packaging contract - without needing a costume change or a firmware update.

Somewhere along the way I realized something important - people don’t care how impressive you are. They care whether you’re human.

Humor is my cheat code. It’s hard to create hierarchy when you’ve just said,
“Give me a second - I built that model and even I don’t understand it.” Or when you admit you once spent ten minutes confidently explaining the wrong KPI - while everyone politely nodded. I apologize again if you had to sit through those ten minutes (especially if it was on multiple occasions - dohhhh!).

Relatability disarms rooms. Ops vs. Sales? Usually just two groups convinced the other one doesn’t get it. Corporate vs. Floor? Mostly a translation issue - tied together with a complaint about not wearing proper footwear. Founder vs. Team? Half the time it’s just adrenaline meeting reality.

I’ve found that if you laugh at yourself first, speak plainly, admit when you’re wrong, and avoid acting like the smartest person in the room - you can walk into almost any environment and lower the temperature.

Ego hates humor. Trust loves it. And here’s the thing - you don’t lose authority by being relatable. You gain it. Because the person who can deliver a tough message and still be the one people want to sit next to at lunch - that’s influence.

No cape. Just humility, timing, and occasionally a well-placed joke.

One of the best ways to improve a business - whether in supply chain, hospitality, service, retail, etc?

Stop only studying your industry. Some of the most valuable ideas I’ve implemented didn’t come from logistics conferences or operations textbooks. They came from other industries.

Healthcare taught me about standardized checklists, error-proofing and triaging challenges. Hospitality taught me about customer experience, handoffs, and brand loyalty. Manufacturing taught me about visual controls, and the small components (parts) that go into the larger finished good (result). Technology taught me about agile iteration and debugging. Sports taught me about game day execution and building teams.

When you benchmark outside your lane, you stop recycling the same ideas everyone else is using.

Supply chain isn’t isolated. It’s a system of systems. So why would we only borrow from ourselves?

Some of the strongest operators I know are curious about everything:

How airlines board planes
How restaurants manage peak demand
How software teams deploy updates
How urban planners design cities

The question isn’t, “Does this look like insert industry?” The question is, “What principle is working here?” Because principles travel well - visibility, accountability, flow, feedback loops, and execution changes. The concept often translates.

If you want better results, widen the lens. Innovation rarely comes from staring harder at the same problem.

Supply Chain has given me something that I had never expected - story after story that even the best writers in Hollywood couldn't dream up. One of my favorite stories ties to resourcefulness and resilience - neither of which are built in perfect conditions. They’re built when things go wrong and you don’t have the luxury of waiting for someone else to fix it.

Years ago, when I owned a fulfillment business in Western New York, we had just replaced the roof on our warehouse. End of winter. Snow piled high. What I didn’t know was that the roofers failed to seal a two-inch seam. When the sun came out and the snow started to melt, that tiny seam turned into a waterfall stretching more than a hundred feet inside the warehouse. And to up the stakes - we had a prospective client visiting within days.

For nearly two months, it sounded like it was raining indoors. I could have shut down. I could have panicked. I could have blamed the contractor and waited. Instead, I got resourceful.

I gathered the team and we built a water capture system out of sheets of plastic - stretching fifteen feet wide and spanning a little over one hundred feet. We funneled the water into trash cans. We daisy-chained those trash cans together with sump pumps. Pump by pump, we pushed the water across the warehouse and out to the docks - draining it into the truck court.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t ideal. But orders kept shipping.

That season taught me something I’ve never forgotten. Resilience isn’t loud - it’s practical. It’s looking at a waterfall in your warehouse and saying, “Alright. Let’s build something.”

Adversity doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It just shows up. Resourcefulness is deciding you’ll keep operating anyway.

As for that prospective client - we signed him! He was impressed by our ability to overcome adversity and for creating a relaxing warehouse environment - complete with a water feature.

One of the most important things a leader can do is spend time on warehouse floors, cutting room floors, and factory floors. Not from a distance. Not through reports. But in person.

That’s where progress becomes visible. That where work actually flows. Where problems are really solved. Where team members speak the reality up close and personal.

I’ve been at companies where executives avoided the floor. Avoided the noise, the cold, the heat, the mess, and avoided the people. And it always showed. Because culture doesn’t live in boardrooms. It lives where hands touch product and decisions meet reality.

If you want to understand an operation, go where orders are picked, product is cut, and where assemblies come together. Go where mistakes are felt immediately. Go where people feel the stress of upstream decisions made without their input.

The floor tells you the "why". You don’t understand a supply chain - or its culture - until you’ve stood in the middle of it and listened. Leadership shows up best when it's real - not just slide decks.