Stepping Away from the Clif

“I don’t want to go to work on my last day,” she said wistfully.  “I just want to disappear.  I don’t want the sad goodbyes.”  It was the first emotion that I had really heard from her on the subject. 

It’s been a month since that conversation, though it seems like nearly half a year has passed.  We were driving to her office Christmas party; her last.  My wife’s last day at Clif Bar was just two weeks away.  She was retiring from the company that had just 32 employees when she first started 15 years ago; when it was still in the shadow of Power Bar.  Now Clif is a major player and the company boasts over 300 employees and still growing. 

I had planned to write a simple story of Cora’s retirement; a sort of chronicle of the last days.  But during those final days; the Christmas party, a retirement dinner for Cora a few days later and her actual last day I caught a glimpse of something very special.  I saw the reason why Cora and other employees had spent many years at Clif Bar and why many employees try to make it their last stop in the working world.  The palpable sadness of Cora and her co-workers during those last days spoke of a unique bond; not only between colleagues but between company and employee.  And so to solely tell a tale of retirement is to do an injustice to the whole story.  The whole story has to include something about the people and the place that she was leaving. I decided that to properly tell the whole story I would have to read Raising the Bar;The Story of Clif Bar Inc, by the company’s founder Gary Erickson. 

                   

The story could begin in 1997 when Cora decided that working for a suspender factory wasn’t going to cut it.  It was one of those paycheck to paycheck situations.  No, not the employees; the company itself was living paycheck to paycheck; not a formula for security.

The story could begin years earlier in the early nineties when Erickson, on a 175 mile bike ride couldn’t stomach one more Power Bar and made a vow; that he could and would invent a better bar.  Recently I told a cyclist friend this story and he told me that he’d heard it but had dismissed it as “another urban legend.”  “No, it’s true,” I told him.  Erickson, displaying the discipline of an endurance athlete and the ballsiness of a cyclist who careens down a hill at over 50 miles per hour, was true to his vow. 

                   

In August of 1997, the two beginnings merged when Cora was interviewed by Erickson and hired for an accounting position.  Cora called me at work one day and told me she’d been hired by Clif Bar. 

“What the hell is Clif Bar?” I asked.

“The energy bar,” as if she really knew what it was.

“What energy bar?”  The only energy bar I knew of was Power Bar and I’d only rarely had those.

A short time later I tried one; I was hooked.  I told friends about Clif Bar.

“What the hell is Clif Bar?” they would ask.

“The energy bar,” I would respond in that sarcastic, know it all “what planet did you come from?” manner. 

“What energy bar?” 

As Cora brought home bars I handed them out to pleasantly surprised friends.

                   

During the days leading up to Cora’s retirement I felt a gnawing melancholy.  Why?  I wasn’t retiring.  The day after her last, the sadness deepened.  I still didn’t know what Cora was feeling.  Sometimes she is just so good at concealing what lies deep down.  Hell, it’s hard to know what’s just beneath the surface; that is unless I’ve done something wrong.  When she was hit by renal cancer, waiting to have a kidney removed you wouldn’t have known what doubts and fears were tossing about in her mind. 

On the evening of her last day, and officially retired, I read sentiments written to Cora on cards and in a small hardbound folio; and what I already knew years ago was made more clear; that this is not the typical “we have to make money at all costs, even if those costs include employee morale, high turnover and a disregard for everything but the bottom line” company.  Clif Bar is a company that thrives on camaraderie, respect and a love that the employees have for one and other.

Cora, Thank you so much for everything over the years.  From the day I started you made me feel like family.

Mama Cora, Getting to work side by side with you has been a blessing. You’ve helped me be a better wife and mother and I know there is much more to come. Many more laughs and words of wisdom.  I love you.

Cora, Your amazing sense of humor and sweet compassion and care make you shine so brightly.  Our time together has been much too short!  I adore you more than words can express.  Thank you for all your sweetness and endless laughs.  You will be deeply missed by all.

As I read these declarations again I began to realize just why I was feeling so melancholy. 

                   

What do we want from our jobs?  Money of course.  But we also want some sense of satisfaction and the notion that we can contribute, creatively and intellectually, and that those contributions are expected and appreciated.  For myself, I can say that I am in large part paid to do what I’m told and have been cowed into keeping my mouth shut; initiative smothered by micromanagement.  Reading Gary Erickson’s book, it is clear that Clif Bar is a team effort.  Employees are expected to be creative, to take initiative and to make contributions.  

Years ago when I coached cross country I started summer workouts in June and emphasized to the athletes that the goal was not a league championship or a trip to the state championship in faraway November.  The goal was to focus on the moment; the workout of the day and the stated purpose of that workout.  Coaches often run workouts by telling their athletes what to do and leaving out the all-important why.  I always emphasized the goal of the day, whether it was; endurance, speed, form, recovery, stretching or even stress relief with a day off from running and a game of soccer or throwing Frisbees.  For me winning wasn’t the chief goal.  As a coach I felt an obligation to impart some values of leadership, teamwork and goal setting and to teach the importance of physical fitness.   

And so it made perfect sense to me when I read Erickson’s comparison of Clif Bar’s corporate journey to a bike trek in which the focus is not on the destination but on the journey; every mile, every turn, every hill and every obstacle.  He uses the example of taking roads less traveled; roads that constantly reveal new opportunities and challenges.  Clif eschews the typical approach that most companies take of being destination oriented (destination meaning bottom line).  By focusing solely on financial gain, says Erickson, “everything else feeds that agenda” While most companies exist to make money, Clif Bar exists for other reasons; what he calls the five aspirations. Those aspirations are:

Sustaining our brands; maintaining the integrity of the product.

Sustaining our business; maintaining a healthy company.

Sustaining our people; providing a challenging yet satisfying work place that respects the personal needs of the individual employees.

Sustaining our community; giving back to the local community and to worthy causes

Sustaining our planet; running an ecologically responsible company.  

To focus on the bottom line would supersede these aspirations, yet Clif Bar’s focus on these aspirations has led to a healthy bottom line. 

                   

“Take care of your people.  Create and sustain a business where they can live, not just make a living”… “I know now that I have a responsibility to the people of Clif Bar.  Their well-being is critical”… “Businesses often talk about taking care of their people.  In reality they see this as a means to an end”…. “We believe that if we provide meaningful work as well as something beyond work, people will do their jobs well and lead healthier, more balanced lives.” ~ Gary Erickson describing aspiration 3; sustaining our people, in his book, Raising the Bar.

                   

“You have been such a delight and always so welcoming to us field folks whenever we have been in house for meetings … Cheers to you my friend – you will be GREATLY missed!”

“Dearest Cora, Words cannot begin to express how much I’ve enjoyed seeing you and working with you over my last eight years at Clif Bar”

                   

I recall three evenings when Cora came home from work dead tired and sore.  She’d been doing construction work; clearing a yard, putting up the walls of a home and putting together a roof.  She spent those days as a Clif Bar employee, but working at Habitat for Humanity, helping to build the American Dream for people not as fortunate as us.

Clif Bar’s aspiration 4 states in part, “Serving our community and supporting important causes is not a by-product, but an aspiration of our business.”  Among the causes supported are; Alameda Food Bank, Santa Clara County Diabetes Society, Meals on Wheels, AIDS Walk, PAWS and Disabled Sports USA.  When I coached cross country I always had donated bars available for the team after meets.

                   

Dear Cora, What a pleasure it has been to work with you during these past twelve years at Clif Bar.  You always made payroll a personal connection.  While confirming a personal day here or a vacation day there, your notes always came back asking about life and family.  There was always something so warm and supportive in these simple exchanges.  Who else could make payroll come to life like you do?

And then came the last day, December 20^th.  I decided to take the day off, drop Cora at work and then pick her up at the end of the day.  At four o’clock I went to her desk and helped gather up the last boxes of mementos and personal belongings.  Time to go and I sensed a hesitation as if she didn’t really want to go ; co-workers drifted over to her desk; hugs, tears and goodbyes.  We made it as far as the front of the office and then we were met by more colleagues gathered to say goodbye.

One of them asked Cora, “Did you say goodbye to Kevin (the company president)?”

They walked to the back of the building.  I remained at the front with some of the staff.  A few minutes later, cheers and applause were heard from the back of the building.  As Cora described it, she had just said goodbye and someone began to clap.  That someone was joined by others and then the clapping was intensified by cheers. Cora turned to find a line of colleagues waiting to give her a parting hug.

We drove home, mostly in silence.  I wanted to take her to dinner and we gave it a shot but, in the middle of the Christmas season there wasn’t a table to be had anywhere.  We got take out and spent a quiet evening at home.  And so it was done.

                   

As Cora stepped away from the Clif she proved a three way symbiosis.  Cora was leaving with a bittersweet feeling coupled with the satisfaction that she was appreciated and loved and her work and contributions valued; her co-workers would feel the loss of a valued colleague but would continue in a rich environment; and Gary Erickson’s business model was once again validated.

I know now where that melancholy came from.  It came from a couple of places.  When I read those words of endearment it dawned on me that I’d not seen anything like that before.  I’ve worked in many places and seen colleagues off; either to retirement, a new job, or a relocation.  I’ve signed the farewell cards and added my “Best of luck” or “It was nice working with you” to all the other similar clichéd send offs but never have I seen such affection.  To see the parting itself; one member of a close knit group from the rest left me with a heavy heart.

But more than anything that sense of sorrow was born of envy.  Yes envy.  I suppose that I was living the dream job vicariously through Cora.  I’ve been traveling the minor league circuit, playing for the Bad News Bears, while my wife was playing for the Yankees.  I usually watched from the stands with envy but at times I was able to visit the clubhouse on those times when I participated in company functions.  And so when Cora retired, my fantasy career retired with it.  Cora’s hung up the pinstripes and I’m still riding buses to little backwater bergs trying to make it to the bigs.

I think most of us have the ability and the will to thrive at our jobs; to do good work, to be creative, to build professional and personal relationships at the workplace and in so doing to thrive in our personal lives and be so much the healthier for it in mind, body and spirit.  What I learned from this story was that it not only takes a company which treats its employees with dignity but it takes individuals to take it upon themselves to help forge a positive atmosphere.  I am certain that the former are rare gems indeed.  The latter?  Well, it’s in our own hands.  Each of us has the power to at least try to cultivate a positive workplace.  Sometimes we find that we’re swimming against the tide.  What I do know is that neither can be sustained by itself.  They can only exist in tandem.  

For some retiring is less dream and more fantasy; a mirage that fades with bad fortune, lack of planning or a little of both.  For those with a passion for what they do retirement would be a prison of freedom.  For those like me, and we’re probably in the majority, retirement would be like getting paroled from prison.  A co-worker and I were talking about that recently.  I glanced at the high chain link fence around the perimeter of our lot, “I’d leap right over that fence in a heartbeat.”  And then for those like Cora it is a transition into a new adventure or as one of her colleagues put it; her “next white road journey.”

In the contact list of my cell phone is Clif Bar.  It is Cora’s direct line.  If I call that number I suppose that I’ll get Cora’s replacement.  I should delete it; but I can’t, I won’t.  It’s been there for as long as I can remember.  To delete it would be like tearing out a chapter of our lives. 

Gary Erickson’s book, Raising the Bar;The Story of Clif Bar Inc, is available at Amazon.com.