Culture Is What You Tolerate: The Philosophy Behind 8.2 Years Average Tenure

Some guests I interview. Jay Riding I just get to hang out with, and this time the mics happened to be on. He's one of the few people I'd call at three in the morning, which made this a selfish episode for me. I wanted everyone else to get a taste of what I get on a regular basis.

Jay started knocking doors at 16, selling lawn aeration. He made $500 on day one and decided, right there, that he was never going to have a normal job. Twelve years ago he partnered with his friend Gaines at EcoShield when the company was doing about $2 million a year. Today it's around $450 million in active revenue, with 140 partners who've been there an average of 8.2 years. In door-to-door sales, where people churn through in a summer, that tenure number is the one that stopped me.

Don't throw away the draft pick

In 2014, Jay was ready to walk. Six years in the doors, a little nest egg, and a real estate market where you could throw a dart at a house and make a hundred grand. Gaines talked him out of it with a football analogy: you just spent five years earning your degree and now teams want to draft you. Are you really going to start over?

What I appreciated was how honest Jay was about his own motives. Part of why he wanted out, he said, was plain laziness. He knew exactly what it would take to build something big: the drama, the lawsuits, the years. Flipping houses was easier. He also admitted he'd mistaken being a good salesman for being an entrepreneur, which are not the same thing. Anyone sitting on the edge of a pivot should be asking themselves that same question. Is this actually the wrong road, or have I just seen how long the road is?

I don't mind

Jay told a story about a spiritual teacher who, after thirty years of teaching, finally tells his students the secret of his life: I don't mind. Jay's read on it is the opposite of apathy. It means you've cared so much and put in so much that you're at peace with wherever you land, and you've got a chip on your shoulder that says it's going to get bigger anyway.

That lines up with what I see in elite athletes and operators. The people who perform best under pressure aren't the ones who care less. They prepared so thoroughly that by the time it counts, there's nothing left to be anxious about.

Culture is soil

Jay says the word culture comes from a Latin root meaning soil, and that's how he treats it. Momentum is what everyone sees. Culture is everything underneath it. His first principle is that it isn't what you preach, it's what you tolerate. Let one person sell zero a day and stay, and suddenly zero is acceptable for the people selling two and three. The leader doesn't have to be the top producer, but everyone has to know he's the hardest worker in the room.

The second principle is that good leaders are lockboxes. They never gossip down or out, and if they need to vent, they vent up. Jay's reasoning is practical: spill someone's secret once and enjoy the moment, and now nobody tells you anything again. And their number one company rule is to keep talent, which he defines as performance without being a jerk. A great producer with bad behavior gives everyone else permission to behave the same way.

Then there's the investment. They read two books a month for eight months of the year, partners read three, and they've done it for a decade with a weekly call and a monthly workshop. They spend roughly a million a year on leadership development and another million on merchandise, because people need an identity, and the name on the chest should mean something. The reason behind the reading, in Jay's words, is that leaders learn, relearn and unlearn. The illiterate of this century won't be people who can't read. They'll be people who can't do those three things.

I made a point of saying it on the episode, because someone will think this only works with a big company behind you. It doesn't. Find one or two accountability partners, set a weekly reminder, and start tomorrow.

I just want to win

About ten years ago Jay decided he no longer cared whether he was right, wrong, or the smartest person in the room. He just wants to win. He's quick to clarify what that means, though. If you win the argument with your spouse, someone you love just lost. Winning is the outcome that works for everyone involved. Once your team knows you can take the better idea, say I was wrong, and run with theirs, they trust you more.

Feel it, then plan

My favorite stretch was the rapid fire. After a hard no or a failure, Jay lets himself feel it for five or ten minutes. He'll cry in the shower, talk it out, and then build a game plan and move on. He's not interested in complaining on a loop. In 2016 he nearly quit because he hated the travel, until he and his wife agreed to stop talking about it negatively. Once he stopped, he started solving the problem, and now he actually enjoys being on the road.

I closed by asking him what the 16-year-old at that first door would be proud of. He said he got married, had kids, stayed loyal, and, with a grin, that they're rich. I'd say the first three matter more, and they're the ones he talked about first.