You've Got to Show Up

I got fired from one job for stealing. Then I went to work for Southwestern Bell and didn't miss a day of work for the next 40 years.

There's a connection between those two things.

Now, before you start feeling sorry for me about getting fired, let me clear something up. They accused me of stealing. I wasn't stealing what they said I was stealing.

I was stealing some other stuff.

I realize that's not exactly a great defense.

The truth is, I deserved to get fired. I was young, I had a bad attitude, and I thought I was entitled to be treated better than I was treating the company. I didn't appreciate the job I had until I didn't have it anymore.

And being unemployed was miserable.

I was borrowing money from friends, and eventually I had to do something I really didn't want to do. I had to go back home and live with my parents and my younger brother.

Now, I loved my parents, and I loved my brother. But when you've been out on your own and suddenly find yourself back home because you lost your job, it doesn't exactly feel like you're moving forward in life.

It was humbling. Every morning other people were getting up, going to work, taking care of business and moving on with their lives. Meanwhile, I was back home trying to figure out what I was going to do with mine.

But the worst part wasn't being broke or even having to move back home. The worst part was how I felt about myself.

I didn't feel like I was part of society anymore. I didn't feel like I was one of the people helping turn the wheels that made things work. I wasn't contributing, I wasn't progressing, and I knew some of my own choices had put me there.

I didn't like that feeling.

More importantly, I didn't like the person I had allowed myself to become.

So when Southwestern Bell gave me another opportunity, I made a promise to myself:

I'm not going back there.

I wasn't going to steal anything—not even a paper clip. I was going to get there early, stay late when necessary, do the best job I could, and make sure nobody ever had to wonder whether Michael Brundy was going to show up.

And for the next 40 years, that's exactly what I did.

I never missed a day of work.

Whenever I tell people that, I usually add one important qualification: I never got pregnant. That helped.

I was also blessed. My parents and children never had the kind of emergency that required me to be away from work for an extended period. There were days when I didn't feel my best, and sometimes I used vacation time when I needed it, but somehow I maintained that attendance record for my entire career.

In the early years at Southwestern Bell, attendance mattered. If you wanted a promotion, a raise or a good performance rating, you wanted your attendance record to look good. Perfect attendance told the company something about you.

So at first, I showed up because the company expected me to.

But eventually things changed. Perfect attendance wasn't as important to getting a raise or promotion anymore. The company didn't require it the way it once had.

But by then, something else had changed too.

Their requirement had become my requirement.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped showing up because Southwestern Bell expected me to.

I showed up because Michael Brundy expected me to.

There's a big difference between the two.

A rule somebody else gives you is one thing. A standard you give yourself is something else entirely.

Looking back, I realize I had been learning that lesson most of my life.

A big part of life is simply showing up.

I learned it in school. Sometimes I got extra credit simply because I was there and participated. I learned it in sports, where sometimes the opportunity went not to the most talented person on the team, but to the person who kept coming to practice.

I especially remember taking a statistics class in college. It was one of those classes where every lesson built on the one before it. Miss one class and you weren't just one day behind—you might spend the next week trying to figure out what everybody else already understood.

That statistics class taught me more than statistics.

Being there matters.

Over the years, I've watched that lesson play out again and again. Sometimes the person who gets the opportunity isn't the smartest person in the room. Sometimes they're not the most talented or the most experienced.

Sometimes they're simply the person who showed up, participated and was ready when the opportunity appeared.

You can't make a connection with someone you never meet. You can't be considered for an opportunity nobody knows you want. And you can't get picked for the team if you never come to practice.

You can't participate in life from the sidelines.

That's why one of the things I tell young people when they start a new job is pretty simple:

Show up.

And when you get there, smile and speak to everybody.

Not just the boss. Not just the people you think are important. Not just the people who can do something for you.

Everybody.

You never know when the person you pass in the hallway today may be the person you need tomorrow. And it would be a sad day to walk up to somebody you've ignored for three years and suddenly say, "Hey, my friend, I need a favor."

A smile doesn't cost you anything.

Neither does saying good morning.

And if you do those things often enough—showing up, smiling, participating, helping and doing your part—they eventually stop being things you make yourself do.

They become habits.

And habits have a funny way of becoming character.

That's what happened to me.

At first, I showed up because I was afraid of losing another job. Then I showed up because I wanted raises, promotions and opportunities.

Eventually, I showed up because that's who I had become.

So when I look back at 40 years without missing a day of work, I'm proud of the attendance record.

But I'm even more grateful for the lesson behind it.

Because this really isn't a story about perfect attendance.

It's about a young man who messed up, lost a job, had to move back home with his parents, didn't like where his choices had taken him, got another chance and decided he wasn't going to waste it.

And maybe that's the lesson for all of us.

You don't have to be the smartest person in the room.

You don't have to be the most talented.

You don't have to have everything figured out.

But if you want life to give you a chance, you've got to show up.

Showing up doesn't guarantee you'll get the opportunity. But if you don't show up, you won't even be there when the opportunity arrives.

Show up. Smile. Participate. Do your part.

Because some of life's greatest opportunities don't send invitations.

They simply appear.

And when they do, you want to be there.

That's my story for today.

And I'm sticking with it.