We’re governing with grace… and Grace (Grace Singleton, that is!)

“Is Zingerman’s still run by its founders?” you ask. That’s a great question. We’ll answer with a tale, both old and new (just like our pickles!). What began with the Delicatessen, founded in 1982 by Paul Saginaw and Ari Weinzweig, now includes 11 food and service businesses, 18 managing partners, 800 employees, and a council of leaders among leaders (hang tight, we’ll explain that in a minute).

An Overview of Zingerman’s Governance

Since 1994, the Zingerman’s Community of Businesses (ZCoB) has been steered by our Partners Group (PG), a group that includes Ari and Paul, the ZCoB’s managing partners (the individual business owner-operators), and staff partners (staff members who own a Community Share; they serve two-year terms). As Ari explains:

It’s where we govern the Zingerman’s Community of Businesses—we use consensus decision-making there to lead the organization. The PG makes decisions on organization-wide issues, like deciding to approve our new 2032 Vision or our new Statement of Beliefs. Or if there was, in a strange sci-fi sort of scenario, just for conversation’s sake, let’s say a global pandemic, the PG is where we would decide how to deal with it.

One important piece that the 2032 Vision outlines is the ZCoB’s evolution of governance:

… we’ve seen a successful transition from Ari and Paul as founders heading the Zingerman’s Community of Businesses (ZCoB) to a mode of governance that will last beyond the tenure of any individual. While long-time ZCoB leaders continue in important roles, a couple of new “generations” of insightful, collaborative folks have stepped forward.

That mode of governance is the Zingerman’s Stewardship Council, a five-member group created in 2020 as part of a succession plan to transition the leadership of the organization from its founders to the other managing partners. To be clear, the Partners Group isn’t going anywhere, rather, as Ari says, “The Stewardship Council is filling the role Paul and I have filled for many years as ‘leaders among leaders.’” He adds:

Our main focus in doing this work with the Stewardship Council is, by far and away, looking at how we can do what we do here at Zingerman’s ever more effectively. We want it to be a way to help lead the ZCoB in becoming an ever-bigger contributor to the community of which we’re a part. We want to support succession and inspire future success. We’re committed to creating a governance model that will help both the organization and everyone in it to thrive for many decades to come.

The original council members include Amy Emberling, Zingerman’s Bakehouse co-managing partner; Toni Morell, Zingerman’s Mail Order co-managing partner; Tom Root, Zingerman’s Mail Order co-managing partner; Ron Maurer, Zingerman’s Chief Administrative Officer and Zingerman’s Service Network managing partner; and Ari Weinzweig. Council members serve three-year terms, and just like the Partners Group, decisions are made using consensus. In June of 2023, we reached the end of the first set of three-year terms. The Council has been designed so that one of these original managing partners will come off each year—the first was Ron Maurer who has his eye on retirement in 2023 after more than two decades with the organization—and a new one is selected. Ari explains how that happens:

Our agreed-upon process for selecting members is that Paul and I, as co-founding partners, consult with our staff partners (since they’re not eligible to be on the Council) and others whose views we value, to make the decision. After a LOT of conversation, and honoring what we believe is the best decision for the organization, we chose the next member. 

This time, Ari and Paul offered the spot to Grace Singleton, co-managing partner of Zingerman’s Deli since 2004. Grace knew from the beginning that she was destined for a life full of food (and she may or may not have thought the food industry would be glamorous thanks to a New Orleans restaurant where she received special treatment, sitting at the captain’s table and sampling Frangelico (a hazelnut liquor) at the age of 13!).  Grace received her culinary degree at Paul Smith’s College in New York and managed restaurants across Ohio (we don’t hold this against her) and Michigan.

She found her way to Ann Arbor for the role of general manager at the Gandy Dancer and became a fan of Zingerman’s Deli. Eventually, she made the jump, calling it “the very best job in the food industry,” and in 2004, she stepped up from retail manager to co-managing partner. Since then, Grace has overseen the gold level LEED-certified Deli expansion project (2010–2014), the opening of Zingerman’s Greyline event space (2016), the addition of virtual tasting events for fans around the country (2021), and more, all while continuing to lead the day-to-day of Deli catering and retail specialty foods. (Impressive, right?!) Of this new role and her latest opportunity to impact the Zingerman’s organization and the Ann Arbor community, she says:

I’ve been here for more than 20 years and I’m really invested in the transition of our CEO’s roles. Ari in particular set the stage with his dedication to doing business differently and how we govern is an important part of that. I look forward to working toward our future with this committed group.

Want to read more? Ari wrote about Grace’s addition to the Council and the work of the Stewardship Council in Ari’s Top 5, his weekly e-newsletter, saying, “Success leads to succession work which, when done well, helps create more success. It’s a very virtuous and very inspiring cycle to be a part of.”

A small shift in beliefs that can have a big impact

You might well know the old, cynical restaurant anecdote in which a customer flags down a server who’s passing his table and politely asks for another glass of water.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the server replies, “but you’re not in my section.”

This story is symptomatic of the shoulder-shrugging unwillingness to take ownership of anything that’s not directly our “duty”—at best, customers get bad service. At worst, companies and communities come apart.

Stories, as I’ve written any number of times in recent months, are beliefs made manifest. I’d like to tell you stuff like this only happens in poorly-run restaurants, but the reality is that it reflects a widely held belief. Most people, in most companies, and in most countries, have been led to believe that they are only responsible for themselves—accountable only for their own work assignments. As a result of which, customers get shunted from one office to the next. One department blames the next, one party points at the other. Stas’ Kazmierski, who taught us the visioning process back in 1993, used to tell the story of a company he worked for: “When you asked who was responsible, people would essentially cross their arms over their chests and point in either direction. We called it the company ‘salute.’ It was always someone else’s responsibility.”

This essay is about the opposite belief. The radical idea that we can all start by taking on total responsibility for everything of which we’re a part. While we are responsible for our own actions, our organizations would be healthier and happier places if we each were to skip the blame, defensiveness, and finger pointing and instead act with a sense of grounded, caring ownership. This small shift, I believe, is a powerful one that can have a meaningfully positive impact on mindsets, energy, and outcomes. Over time, it can change company cultures. It is a big part of ours. While it might seem like “more work,” it works the other way around—when it’s done well (by both the individual and the organization), people feel more empowered, more engaged, and, in the process, they gain a greater sense of purpose.

Over the course of the last few years, through ZingTrain, I’ve found myself working with some organizations that have, unintentionally, got me thinking this all through in greater depth. On the surface, they seem to be doing well. Many have already adapted some of our approaches, along with a host of other ideas that they’ve picked up from around the progressive business world. While all have had some good success, they are also, as they tell me, feeling frustrated: “We do so much for our staff, but they don’t seem to appreciate it. We’ve made all these changes to help them, but all they seem to want to do is show up, do their jobs, and go home. We’re trying to make this a great organization, but mostly people just want to punch in and out.”

I can certainly relate to the feeling of frustration. And yet, over the years, I’ve learned to push past it. Blaming staff for being unappreciative helps nothing. In Freedom and Accountability, Peter Block and Peter Koestenbaum write, “To blame others merely means making a decision to avoid the responsibility which ultimately and inescapably is one’s very own.”

I grew up, like many people, learning how to do all the blaming, finger pointing, and deflecting—our family dinners were all too often about engaging in endless arguments. I’ve tried, instead, to reground myself in the maxim Paul taught me 40 years ago: “When furious, get curious.” Which made me wonder… Why are companies who care about their staff, who are giving so much, finding that they get back so little? As I reflected on what wasn’t quite working, I started to realize that this belief about personal responsibility might be a big piece of the organizational puzzle. There’s something here in our culture that we don’t talk a whole lot about, but I realize is making a bigger difference than I’d given it credit for. It’s the sort of thing that, as Peter Block describes,

… [C]an be thought of as peripheral vision: you look at something, say a picture on the wall, and on the edges of your field of vision are images that are definitely there, but difficult to see definitively and clearly.

Here, we believe that we are each, fully, 100%, responsible for everything of which we’re a part.

This is not something we invented. I was reminded of that the other day while I was reading through a tome entitled, appropriately for the moment, Managing in Turbulent Times. Although the title might lead you to believe that it probably came out in the last couple of years, the book has nothing to do with Covid, attacks on the American Capitol, or the war in Ukraine. Managing in Turbulent Times was written 40 years ago by longtime leadership guru Peter Drucker.

Reading Drucker’s work helped me realize what was missing in some of these organizations where frustration with staff runs so high. Staff members are cared for, but they don’t care as deeply as someone who feels fully responsible for their organization, their department, their colleagues, or their work community. They’re asked only to do tasks, and that is what they do. The sense of belonging that goes with feeling fully responsible for the whole goes missing. The typical employee, Drucker explains, “is held responsible neither for his ownership power nor his knowledge power. And that, at bottom, explains his unease, his discontent, his psychological hollowness. … he has function but lacks status. He lacks responsibility.” As a result of which, Drucker writes:

The employee in most companies … is basically “underemployed.” His responsibility does not match his capacity, his authority, and his economic position. He is given money instead of the status that only genuine responsibility can confer—and this trade-off never works. 

…

The employee on all levels … needs to be given genuine responsibility for the affairs of the … community. … He must be held responsible for setting the goals for his own work and for managing himself … he must be held responsible for the constant improvement of the entire operation. … He must share responsibly in thinking through and setting the enterprise’s goals and objectives, and in making the enterprise’s decisions. 

When we accept responsibility for the whole of our work, what we create, Drucker says, “is citizenship.” While the word is well known, the approach is the inverse of what exists in most companies. Instead of citizens, the typical business quietly sees staff members as “subjects.” The leader—very much like a sovereign ruler, a king, or a queen—is the one who is, patriarchally, responsible for the health and well-being of all. The staff member is accountable only for their own work, but is neither empowered nor expected to take responsibility for the whole. This approach, Drucker demonstrates, will often lead to apathy. At its worst, the unwillingness to share responsibility creates alienation, anger, blame, bias, and burnout.

We did not consciously have Drucker’s directive in mind when we opened the Deli, but Paul and I both believed that we and everyone we hired would work in the way that Drucker describes: People who worked with us ought to have a meaningful say in what we were doing. And, at the same time, they would take total responsibility—as we felt ourselves—for what was going on. We weren’t trying to be radical. It just seemed like the right and obvious way to work. I don’t know that we talked much about it in those early beginnings, but taking responsibility was informally woven into what we do every day. It’s a way of being in the world of which I was reminded again this past weekend when Bill Russell passed away at the age of 88. For Russell, the long-time star of the Boston Celtics, and an active campaigner for civil rights throughout his life, the focus was always on the health and success of the group. As columnist Jim Rohn writes, “Russell was a player who wanted to take responsibility for the success or failure of his team.”

The mindset that Russell brought to the Celtics is what we want, and have always wanted, for our organization. In more turbulent and less turbulent times, it’s our hope and intent that all of us here take total responsibility for what’s going on. By embracing the whole, taking responsibility for the ecosystem and everything and everyone in it, we have a shot at making something magical happen.

I still remember when I realized that this unspoken hope could be hard-wired into the way we work. While I might well have read it first in Peter Drucker, I wasn’t savvy enough to see the power that a shift in responsibility could have until I came upon Gay Hendricks and Kate Ludeman’s 1997 book, The Corporate Mystic. They list “7 Radical Rules for Business Success.” Number 2 blew my mind:

Always take 100 percent responsibility for any activity you’re involved in. If you are in a leadership position, take 100 percent, not 200 percent. Require that each participant take 100 percent. Equality is only possible through meeting at the 100 percent level.

I must have read the statement something like ten times trying to let the concept sink in. It certainly didn’t mesh with what my 8th grade algebra teacher had taught me. And yet, it totally made sense in a belief-altering way. What had I believed up until that point? I’d probably just gone along, unconsciously with the “obvious norm” of what I’d been taught underlay all equity. We would share responsibility the equitable way: “50-50.” It felt fair and the math worked out. Unfortunately, though, that model just doesn’t actually work. It leads to the kind of blame and finger-pointing that Stas’ had taught me about. When I would inquire about something that had gone awry, it nearly always seemed to be the “50%” of the other person, almost never of the one I was asking. As Hendricks and Ludeman say:

The ordinary definition of responsibility: Whose fault is this?
The successful person’s definition: “How can I respond to this so everybody wins.”

Someone else who has challenged these old beliefs about responsibility for decades now is Peter Block. In his book Community, Block writes, “Choosing to be accountable for the whole, creating a context of hospitality and collective possibility, acting to bring the gifts of those on the margin into the center—these are some of the ways we begin to create a community of citizens.” Block, too, talks about citizenship:

A citizen is one who is willing to be accountable for and committed to the well-being of the whole. … a citizen is one who produces the future, someone who does not wait, beg, or dream for the future.

Instead of looking to leaders, bosses, teachers, politicians, or professors as either heroes or villains, we can take a deep breath and realize that we are all, like it or not, in this together. None of us have full control, but we can each work to make the kind of company, and/or community, that we want to be part of. If we do that work well, we create an ecosystem in which people will speak up, voice concerns caringly and constructively, participate in pushing for improvement, actively work to innovate, and come together when things go wrong. The sort of place where, rather than talking behind people’s backs, people calmly call meetings to have difficult conversations. Spots in which cynicism still starts up, but is relatively quickly nipped in the bud through effective self-management. The kind of place where, no matter who you ask for help, it’s always “their section.”

For those of you who write job descriptions, please know that none of this is meant to suggest that particular people aren’t also fully responsible for particular things. To be effective, we need to know who’s doing what. AND, at the same time, we are also, all, 100%, responsible for the whole. Responsibility for the whole can be written right into the job description. It’s a prerequisite for having a healthy, inclusive, equity-based, organization in which people participate fully. When we step up and take full responsibility for what we’re a part of, we grow stronger both individually and collectively. I’m inspired by what historian Keisha Brown writes about civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer’s “bold message—that each of us has the responsibility to work toward the just and equal society we envision.”

All these years later, the idea of taking 100% responsibility is embedded, ever imperfectly, in dozens of places here in the ZCoB. It’s an explicit expectation that’s written into our Training Compact. It’s a critical part of Open Book management and of why most all our meetings are open. It’s supported by our work with staff ownership and Staff Partners. And it’s at the heart of Secret #22, in which I share my belief that everyone in the organization is responsible for leadership. Taking 100% responsibility is also essential to the work we do to teach effective self-management, in our recipes for Customer Service, and on how to have caring conversations. And, it’s written clearly into our Statement of Beliefs:

We believe we’re each 100% responsible for the health of the ZCoB, of which we’re a part. 

All of this is a way to shift power away from the people at “the top” and put it where I believe it really belongs—in the cultural soil of the organization. Peter Block suggests that it invites us to invert old school, hierarchical models that most of us are used to. Instead, we enter a world where we begin to see that power is moving in very different ways from what we’re used to imagining. In this new model, where everyone takes full responsibility, we are at the same time also dependent on, and empowering of, each other. It’s an inspirationally inside-out world in which, as Block puts it:

– The audience creates the performance.
– The subordinate creates the boss.
– The citizen creates its leaders.
– The student creates the teacher and the learning.

Does everyone at Zingerman’s avail themselves of these empowering options? Of course not. All of us, me included, can slip back into cynicism, or start to watch passively from the sidelines as if we have no say. But there’s a big, big difference I’ve learned over the years between freely choosing not to participate and the more commonly encountered alternative where you aren’t allowed to.

How can we expect people to take responsibility for what they can’t control? Natural Law #13 reminds us that “Everything is out of control; all we have are varying degrees of influence.” This push to take 100% responsibility for our work, for our boss, for our peers, and for the performance of the whole organization, means that we need to accept this Natural Law and then move forward anyway. After all, as Peter Block says, “the willingness to accept responsibility and blame for all our acts is a central ingredient in an authentic existence.” Asking people who work in an organization to take 100% responsibility for the whole only works if people also have access to power. If people have no say in how things go, it’s hard to honestly ask them to take responsibility.

How big of a scale can this concept of everyone taking 100% percent responsibility work at? I don’t know. I do know that all social change starts with people accepting responsibility for the group. The other day I saw a clip of Ukrainian young people organizing a rave party during which they started to rebuild a bombed-out building while DJs spun discs and blasted tunes.

What are the practical implications of this work? My belief is that it quietly helps us to create what writer Bankole Thompson, a regular at the Roadhouse, told me last month: “You’ve created an alternative reality here!” If we do it well, we can build the kind of balanced relationship and responsibility that I wrote about in Secret #29. The first two of the twelve tenets of anarchism reflect this. (Tenet 1. All for One—Bringing Out the Best in Each and Every Individual in the Organization. Tenet 2. One for All—Individual Responsibility for the Organization’s Success.) When we do it together, good things come from it. As adrienne maree brown reminds us, “It is our right and responsibility to create a new world.”

Peter Drucker was not an anarchist, and he saw the need for hierarchy in ways that might not be fully aligned with what I would advocate. And yet, half a century ago, he still saw that everyone in an organization taking responsibility was essential to the health of the organization and to everyone in it as individuals:

The task of building and leading organizations in which every man sees himself as a “manager” and accepts for himself the full burden of what is basically managerial responsibility: responsibility for his own job and work group, for his contribution to the performance and results of the entire organization, and for the social tasks of the work community.

Can this concept of each of us taking total responsibility for the whole really work? I’ve come to believe that it’s really the only way. It’s a belief that I see—and feel—in great businesses, on basketball teams, in communities, and in countries. We cannot create collaborative, caring greatness, without it. As Grace Lee Boggs said, “You cannot change any society unless you take responsibility for it, unless you see yourself as belonging to it and responsible for changing it.”

While there is no ZingTrain seminar or Guide to Good Leading book specifically on radically taking responsibility, the belief is quietly woven into all of them. Sign up for a seminar soon! Or, put all this into practice by ordering a complete set of all 34 pamphlets and have everyone on your team read one and share back with the group what they learn.

Want more from Ari?

Sign up for Ari’s Top 5 e-newsletter and look forward to his weekly curated email—a roundup of 5 Zing things Ari is excited about this week—stuff you might not have heard of!

Healthy cultural soil, counter-rhythms, and the power of Silver Branch Perception

I’ve written about humility many times since the pamphlet “Humility: A Humble, Anarchistic Inquiry” first came out in the fall of 2020. As I’ve been preparing to go speak about humility again later this week out west in Portland, I’m reminded how much this seemingly simple and eminently human way to be in the world is badly needed right now. When humility levels drop, despair, conflict, and crises are almost certain to follow. Check the news and you’ll find more than enough evidence of humility’s unfortunate absence. Without humility, it’s impossible to build caring workplaces, communities, and countries in which we can create well-being for all involved. Conversely, an increase in humility would lead us all to more love, more care, more kindness and, I’m pretty sure, peace and dignity.

As I studied the subject over the years, I began to see humility as the metaphorical equivalent of topsoil. In nature, without humus, nothing much is likely to grow. As scientist Suzanne Simard says, “The humus is the foundation of the forest. … It’s an absolutely fundamental part of the being of the forest.” What follows then is a call to all of us—starting with myself—to rebound in the quiet regenerative powers that humility offers to anyone who wants to welcome it into their life. Humility doesn’t get much attention, but it is grounding and good for the planet as well as the people we work with. I wrote in the pamphlet:

The linguistic origin of the word “humble” comes from the Latin humilis, meaning “grounded” or “from the earth.” It’s connected to the word “humus,” which refers to the organic component of soil. In Hebrew, the name of the first man in the Old Testament, Adam, comes from adama, or “earth.” Which leads me to wonder if living humbly is a prerequisite for bringing our full humanness to the fore? Perhaps humbleness happens when we’re at our most human? And when we’re at our most human, we’re effectively in a grounded state of humbleness? 

Unfortunately, neither humility nor humus seem to be on the rise right now. Smithsonian reported earlier this spring that “More than 50 billion tons of topsoil have eroded in the Midwest; the estimate of annual loss is nearly double the rate of erosion the USDA considers sustainable.” A few years ago, the Union of Concerned Scientists announced, “If soil continues to erode at current rates, U.S. farmers could lose a half-inch of topsoil by 2035—more than eight times the amount of topsoil lost during the Dust Bowl.” If I follow the metaphor through, a lack of humbleness leads us away from our humanity, and into trouble. The “topsoil” that’s needed for us to grow as we were designed by nature erodes. The result is the emotional equivalent of climate change; moods become more and more extreme, and swing more and more quickly. Arbitrary applications of authority appear with greater regularity. Temperatures rise as arguments ensue ever more frequently. It makes me think of the state of the nation’s politics as the metaphorical equivalent of the Dust Bowl. What should naturally hold together begins to blow around so badly it’s hard to see clearly—I look at the news today and think back on what it was like to walk through a dust storm in central Kansas during the Great Depression. When the topsoil is gone—both real and metaphorical—we’re in trouble. A few years after the Dust Bowl ended, Dr. Ted Albrecht, an agronomist and professor of soils at the University of Missouri, wrote:

Without humus the earth becomes a corpse, as the Gobi Desert or the Sahara is, and the enormous increase of desert condition … a phenomenon even more terrifying than the savagery of the present war, which is the logical outcome of living for wealth rather than for health.

At times, I will admit, I worry that I’m overfocusing on humility. In light of all the problems we face, humility can seem so small and insignificant. Humble, perceptive leaders like Kathleen Lonsdale inspire me to keep going with it. Lonsdale, who was born in 1903 in County Kildare, just south of Dublin, spoke from experience. An outspoken pacifist in an era when war was the norm, and a woman in a scientific world wholly dominated by men, she repeatedly spoke out—and modeled for the world—what she believed was right. Lonsdale was willing to stand up (and go to jail) for what she believed, and she humbly but powerfully spoke her mind. In her 1957 book, Is Peace Possible?, Lonsdale proposes, “Those people who see clearly the necessity of changed thinking must themselves undertake the discipline of thinking in new ways and must persuade others to do so.” Which leads me to, humbly, keep suggesting that an increase in humility would help us all. We are all, whether we like it or not, imperfect, interconnected, and interdependent. Lonsdale writes:

The pure scientist … must be willing to share his knowledge with others, and since truth is not the monopoly of any one person or nation, he must have an international outlook. He owes a debt to the past, because his own knowledge is based on free publication of the results of other people, and therefore he should dislike secrecy. He ought to be humble, because he knows he does not have the whole of truth, partly because truth is not the monopoly of the scientist and partly because the scientific method includes a realization of the mistakes and misinterpretations of past scientists, the elimination of successive error in his own results and those of other people.

What Lonsdale is describing is not likely to win anyone a political office, but it does, quietly and effectively, make a big difference. While the world fixates on quick fame and fast fortunes, it’s actually by focusing on building the humble topsoil that we can create the kind of healthy lives and organizations to which we aspire. Humility allows us to admit that none of us have all the answers, and embrace the wisdom of Edgar Schein, the country’s leading expert on company culture, who wisely writes: “I’m the consultant, and I don’t know what to do!”

Humility is easy to miss, but it matters. A lot. As I wrote in the pamphlet,

Humility, by definition, won’t win big headlines. It waits quietly in the wings.

If we listen closely, humility has a lot to teach us.

Mozart once said, “The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.” Humility fits that frame. It’s the space between the sounds. The whisper between the words. The energy between the egos. Humility is both ethereal and essential. Like great music, it’s hard to measure—and often goes past unnoticed by casual listeners. But if we pay close attention, we can begin to benefit from the beauty and grace that humility brings to the world.

Thinking musically like this leads me to share a recent learning I’ve had that has given me a new and helpful lens through which to look at the power of humility. It’s about what the art and music world calls “counter-rhythms.” The dictionary says that a counter-rhythm is “a rhythm that complements another rhythm.” It stands in contrast to what gets more attention; each makes the other more immediately apparent. In this context, I’ve started to see our ego as the rhythm; we need to draw on it to lead, and to push, as Kathleen Lonsdale and so many others have, for what we believe. Ego helps us to stand up for what’s right, to speak our minds, to put our art out into the world. On its own, though, the ego creates all kinds of problems. Humility is the counter-rhythm. It balances out the ego, brings us back to ourselves. Finding that balance is easier said than done; I struggle with it regularly, as does everyone I know who has started to see the quiet importance of humility. When we use the two well in tandem, our work has a powerful authenticity. You can feel the difference. Counter-rhythms quietly make the music and art we admire possible. While the eye or the ear goes naturally toward the rhythm, the counter-rhythm is the contrast that makes it great. The artist—or leader—who masters counter-rhythm can, quietly, create magical work.

Painter Robert Hunt (who designed the DreamWorks logo) shares that counter-rhythms “became a mantra to me.” The shift in the quality of his work was significant. “My drawing immediately improved,” he says. Same goes for leadership, I’ve come to see. Strong-willed, innovative leaders without humility go off the rails. Rather, it’s when the rhythm of our main message is effectively balanced with the counter-rhythm of humility that our work is most evocative and effective.

Speaking of which, one quiet source towards which I’ve started to look for a deeper understanding of humility is the late Irish philosopher John Moriarty. Born in 1928 in County Kerry, Moriarty, himself, was something of a counter-rhythm. His philosophy is intriguing but it’s his humility, I believe, that makes it so special. Writer Michael W. Higgins says, “For most of his life Moriarty remained a neglected treasure.” After Moriarty’s passing in 2017, Higgins called him an “epic visionary in the tradition of the Franco-American monk-poet Thomas Merton.” Moriarty, Higgins says, “… sought the consolations of contemplation, the sanctuary of isolation.” He was clearly quite humble, a mindful and thoughtful model for the rest of us to learn from. Réamonn Ó Ciaráin writes:

Moriarty seems to have thumbed a lift to his speaking engagements. He was a contemplative uninterested in prestige or wealth. He was more fascinated by the caterpillar metamorphosing from leaf-eater to butterfly feeding on nectar, than in academic prestige. For almost threescore and ten years John Moriarty emitted gentle waves of challenge almost like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon, he was so fond of and waiting for the echoes.

Moriarty wrote a lot about the ancient Irish concept of “Silver Branch Perception”—a practice of “opening our minds, eyes, and ears” to pay attention, and to tune into the quiet that those who are racing through life will very likely miss. Moriarty said that Silver Branch Perception gives us “a marvelous way of seeing and knowing things that, in effect, is paradise regained.” Slowing down to get centered around humility can help us to see the small things, and notice the nuances that actually make a big difference.

Knowing that humility is a good idea is infinitely easier than making it an integral part of our organizational culture. How do we make humility happen? On an organizational level, writing humility into our vision can work wonders. Encouraging meaningful equity helps as well—we work to create a workplace where everyone matters and no one is better or worse than anyone else. Regular reflection almost always increases humility. This could be journaling, intentional mindfulness, therapy … Talking about our struggles with friends who are themselves grounded in humility helps us gain valuable perspective. Openly admitting our own shortfalls, asking for help regularly, and paying attention to the small successes of people who are typically ignored on the organizational periphery can all contribute to our humble cause. Edgar Schein, in his wonderful book Humble Consulting, recommends that we stay “committed to being helpful, bring a great deal of honest curiosity, and have the right caring attitude.”

Here at Zingerman’s, humility is, ever imperfectly, embedded in the way we work with consensus decision-making at the partner level. It’s an implicit part of Open Book Management and also open meetings. Using Bottom Line Change is a very effective way to make humility come alive in the day-to-day—I might be the CEO, but I still need to use the process to make a change. Diversity drives us to understand we’re all flawed but finding our way by working together. Humility is also now clearly and directly written into our Statement of Beliefs:

We believe humility is an essential ingredient for effective leadership and contributes to personal growth and success.

Another way to increase humility is simply to recognize quiet caring acts of effective, humble leadership when and where they happen. In the spirit of which, I noticed the article that K.C. Johnson—who has been writing about basketball for nearly thirty years now—posted about the coach of the Chicago Bulls Summer League team, John Bryant. While coaching professional basketball is a line of work that usually recognizes drama and yelling, Johnson’s experienced and insightful eye effectively identifies the gentle counter-rhythms of Bryant’s coaching. His quiet humility makes his messages far more powerful. “Leadership is hard to fake but easy to spot,” Johnson writes. Bryant, he says, “displayed it calmly and consistently. From his pre-practice habit of having players share thoughts and opinions about each other to his vulnerability in talking about losing his father to COVID-19, Bryant represented the franchise with class.”

In a society that admires awards, idolizes its heroes, and tears down those it doesn’t like, it’s hard to stay centered in a caring, dignity-based, humble middle ground. And yet, when we make humility a high priority, we will be better able to work together instead of going to war. We can focus on acceptance instead of anger. We can learn to do right instead of worrying about being right. Humility is what allows us to work caringly and collaboratively together, to find the answers, ideas, and insights that we would otherwise miss. Building humility up, instead of wearing it out, can quietly but effectively transform our organizations. And our lives.

As I was working on this piece, I realized I ought to practice what I’m preaching. When I went to the Roadhouse chefs’ meeting the other day, I decided to ask for help understanding what impact humility has had in our kitchen. I proposed that we use the question “What does humility mean to you all?” as the meeting’s icebreaker (a humble and equitable way to get everyone’s voice into a room at the start of any session). They had more to say than I can squeeze in here, but their comments were inspiring. Head chef Bob Bennett said, “There are a lot of kitchens where ego dominates and there’s lots of yelling. Humility means we don’t do that.” Sous chef Jessica Forbes said, “It’s about staying ‘right–sized’ with your ego. You try not to take too much credit, but you try not to beat yourself up either. It looks like walking down the middle of the road, always trying to keep your side of the street clean.” Supervisor Chris Kucera said, “Humility is listening to everyone, no matter their position. It’s trying to take in everyone’s advice.” At the end, Bob added, “Humility reminds us to make time to help someone in need.”

Bob’s comment reminded me of a small personal story that I’ve been watching unfold out behind our house. It’s about the kind of meaningful difference humility can make. As some of you know from her Instagram, Tammie has been rescuing dogs over the last few years. On New Year’s Eve, she saved a pit bull named Blu from an abusive setting where he was chained up outside in the mud 24 hours a day (not good in the Michigan winter). Blu is very strong, and hence, to many, also scary. Most everyone who worked with him at the shelter where Tammie took him liked Blu, but still politely wrote him off as reactive, hostile, and risky. In the spirit of Silver Branch Perception, Tammie, as she often does, saw something others didn’t. Humbly following her heart, knowing that she didn’t have the perfect answer but might still be able to make a difference, she did what Kathleen Lonsdale called for: she took action. She has stayed grounded within herself, but also treated Blu with dignity from day one. Tammie got Blu into a tiny house on our property where she’s helping him get used to being around people, eat better food, get exercise, love, and get ready to find someone who can pay him proper attention and offer him a forever home. Slowly but surely over the last month, Blu’s anxiety has been going down, his eyes have softened, and his energy is slowly shifting. A few nights ago, something wholly unexpected happened. Blu gently put his head on Tammie’s leg and held it there. It was, as she says, the canine equivalent of a hug. The next night, out on our porch, he laid on his back and let her rub his tummy—the most vulnerable position a dog can put himself in. It was a remarkable thing to see, something that would never have happened without the quiet power of humility. There’s still a long way to go, but thanks to Tammie’s care, Blu is slowly becoming the dog he was born to be.

This sort of shift is what, I realize, we can do for people we bring into our organizations who have suffered in bad workplaces or challenged lives where they, like Blu, have understandably hardened their hearts and learned to keep their defenses high at all times.

Why does all this even matter? Like topsoil in nature, we need humility to grow as healthy human beings. Without humility, it’s hard to collaborate. Both dignity and democracy depend on it. It’s only with humility that we can make our organizations and our communities more caring, more peaceful, and more positive places to be. The cost is very low, but the upside for those who are humble and patient is big. Robert Hunt wrote this about counter-rhythms, but it could just as easily be applied to humility:

It’s all around us—the first step is to know it’s there, the second is to look for it, the third is to incorporate it. You may be surprised to find out that it could have a transformational effect on your work. Maybe it will help you make something no one else has seen before…but they will know it has something special in it.

Want to learn more about how to lead from a grounded, humble place of self-awareness? Maggie Bayless and I will be co-teaching the ZingTrain Master Class next month—it’s almost full but there are still a few seats left! It’s on Zoom so you can sign up from New Zealand, Nova Scotia or anywhere else from which you want to learn more about effective self-management.

The “Humility” pamphlet is available at the Deli, Roadhouse, Coffee Company, and online at ZingTrain.com and Zingermanspress.com. We’ve also put together this Leading with Humility Pamphlet Bundle filled with philosophies and practical tools that together can help you create a humbler culture. If you’d like to help increase the topsoil in your organizational culture, we would be glad to arrange bulk pricing if you buy a bunch. Email Jenny at [email protected].

Want more from Ari?

Sign up for Ari’s Top 5 e-newsletter and look forward to his weekly curated email—a roundup of 5 Zing things Ari is excited about this week—stuff you might not have heard of!

Last month, we celebrated Women’s History Month by asking the women partners of Zingerman’s Community of Businesses to give us their best advice. We posted their responses on our Zingerman’s Community Instagram and  thought it’d be fun to recap their wise words here.  Here’s what they had to say:

Amy Emberling, Co-Managing Partner of Zingerman’s Bakehouse
“During my first experiences in the food world in the late 1980s, it was clear that in some restaurants gender bias lived strong, as is the case today. I thought it was bizarre. I just ignored it and forged ahead. I recommend this as a strategy. Don’t engage with it except if necessary to call it out. Don’t embody it!”

Ji Hye Kim, Managing Partner of Miss Kim
“I am not a native speaker. I am not a native. I’ve been a woman all my life, and I’ve been an immigrant ever since the age of 13. I had fancied myself as a fighter, with this idea that I have to go after what I want, because no one ever is going to hand it to me. In much of my personal experience, this has been true. But I know that with the right people and community like Zingerman’s, I can tune out all the noise, even internal ones calling me to be a fighter. I can just focus on being a leader and building something wonderful and delicious together.”

Aubrey Thomason, Managing Partner of Zingerman’s Creamery
“Do not be afraid, do not back down. If they tell you that you are loud, direct, abrasive, and competitive, you are probably doing it right! There are times to be soft and times to be hard, and over time you will learn to balance those things. But first you need to know what you are talking about, be fearless and direct, command attention.”

Grace Singleton, Co-Managing Partner at Zingerman’s Deli
“If I was going to give advice to any woman trying to move up the ranks or own their own business, I’d say believe in yourself first and foremost—you can do anything you set your mind to. Work hard. Nothing great comes easy, don’t lose sight of your goals—it’s easy to get sidetracked—and don’t be afraid to ask for help from others by sharing your vision of success.”

Toni Morell, Co-Managing Partner of Zingerman’s Mail Order
“Never let anyone tell you what is and is not possible. You can be confident and kind, strong and humble. You only learn from your mistakes—you will make them, so get ready to learn. Don’t be afraid to say what you think. You don’t have to know all the answers, but be willing to admit when you don’t. Let your passions guide you. You set the organization’s tone, so be careful you are setting the right one.”

Maggie Bayless, Managing Partner of ZingTrain
“I grew up in an academic family and for years thought there was something a little sleazy about being in business—that corporations were out to take advantage of people. As I found myself in a variety of different jobs, however, I began to see that there were good businesses as well as bad businesses….Now, 23 years after starting ZingTrain, I have the opportunity to meet entrepreneurs and business leaders from around the world, and I’m completely convinced that small businesses can be an incredible catalyst for positive social change.”

Back in November, on what would turn out to be Ji-Hye Kim’s last free day in a long time, ZingTrain eagerly interviewed her about what it meant to be a partner of the Zingerman’s Community of Businesses and opening our newest business—a Korean food restaurant—Miss Kim.

ZingTrain: Tell us the story. Start at the very beginning.

Ji-Hye Kim: I think to tell the story of any new business from the very beginning, you have to start at the point where someone realized they wanted to be a business owner. So that’s where I will start. Before coming to Michigan, I helped someone else open their business. I loved that entire experience. Working with practically no oversight. Creating the systems and an organizational culture from scratch. The freedom and sense of ownership that I felt. That experience is when I knew – I knew I wanted to own my own business. I suppose that’s where this story starts.

ZT: So why did you leave? Why did you walk away from all that?

JK: Well, I didn’t like the industry. That entire business was based on numbers. I wanted something more tactile, visceral, direct, honest and …. pleasurable! I hadn’t realized it yet but food is all those things and I’ve been longing for the Korean food I grew up with for a very, very long time.

ZT: How did you get to Zingerman’s?

JK: When I moved back to Ann Arbor, I lived a couple of blocks away from Zingerman’s Deli. I’d known about it as a student in Ann Arbor, but back then it was just “that expensive place I can’t afford.” One day, I walked into the Deli. I tend to be a pretty shy shopper – I don’t talk much and I mostly focus on the sign copy to make my choices. But before I even knew it, the person at the cheese counter had dismantled my usual armor of shyness and totally charmed me – and we were just talking about a piece of cheese! Funny thing is, I don’t even think he was trying, he was just telling me about the cheese. It was the best service I’d ever received.

Best of all, the cheese was outstanding! I was intrigued. Then I read a piece in the New York Times about Zingerman’s 25th anniversary. I was hooked. I started researching Zingerman’s and the more I read about it – the leadership style, the business model, being Open Book – the more interested I became in working there. And then there was food.

I was 27, going on 28, at the time. The years at the start-up had been intense in an industry I did not even like. So, I gave myself permission to “play” until I was 30. I figured it was low risk. Just long enough to scratch that food itch and then I would get “serious” with my life.

ZT: You’ve been at Zingerman’s for almost a decade now. You’re a partner at Zingerman’s and just opened our newest business. How did that happen?

JK: I started my life at Zingerman’s in the Retail Department at the Deli. It seemed only fitting given that a piece of cheese had changed everything. Besides, none of the other Zingerman’s businesses I applied to called me back! So I focused on learning every aspect of the retail business at Zingerman’s Deli. I learned how the numbers worked, how we took care of the food, the kinds of relationships we built with our producers and vendors and how we interacted with each other.

I took things at my own pace. Think of it as serious, engaged playing! Back then, I had no aspirations for partnership at Zingerman’s. Even though I didn’t know at the time that I wanted to open a restaurant, an Asian food restaurant seemed like a bit of stretch as a companion business for a Jewish delicatessen!

It wasn’t until someone else opened that door that I started considering it. One of my co-workers at the Deli, Kristen, put forth a vision for an Asian restaurant as part of the Zingerman’s Community of Businesses. She asked me if I was interested. And I walked through the door.

ZT: You mean you walked through that door and got on the Zingerman’s Path to Partnership?

JK: Back then the Path to Partnership wasn’t quite as formal and detailed as it is now. An Asian restaurant was definitely pushing the capacity of the process. So Kristen and I met with Ari and Paul and we figured out what the next steps were.

And then stuff just started happening. I realize now that this is one of the those intangible things – the power of vision, the power of being part of a connected community, the power of walking through an open door when you’re ready.

We decided that a food cart would be a low risk way of incubating and testing out the business we were proposing. The very next day someone told me that their friend was trying to sell a food cart! So we bought that cart and called it San Street. Then a local business owner decided that he wanted to open a food cart courtyard – Mark’s Carts. It came complete with a common commissary kitchen! And pretty soon we were one of the carts there, incubating our business.

Turns out that Mark’s Carts was not just an incubator for our idea, it was also a great incubator for being part of a community of businesses – perhaps with a little more dysfunction! We had a shared kitchen space and we had to self-organize to make it work. Much like at Zingerman’s, the company was awesome. We were a group of driven, scrappy, small business owners working hard to succeed. However, in contrast to Zingerman’s, we hadn’t exactly opted into the community and did not have common goals and principles. But we all wanted to make it work. And we did!

Most importantly, the food cart allowed Kristen and me to understand what it means to be a business owner. That’s when Kristen realized it was not for her. I, on the other hand, decided it was definitely for me!

The next four years are a bit of a blur. We really pushed the capacity of that food cart to its limit. We got a second food cart. We started catering events and doing pop-up dinners. Zingerman’s was pretty busy in those four years too. When we all emerged from those four whirlwind years, Zingerman’s had a much more formal and well-articulated Path to Partnership and I was ready to get on it.

ZT: Talk about the Path to Partnership process. What made you finally get on the Path to Partnership? What was it like?

JK: Becoming a partner at Zingerman’s is an interesting process. People have repeatedly asked me, “Did they make you jump through a lot of hoops?” My response : “Who’s they?”

To be honest, when I started on the Path to Partnership, I wasn’t a 100% certain that I wanted to be a partner and open a business within the Zingerman’s Community of Businesses. But like that other door that I walked through, I walked through this one. I figured that the act of walking through the door and being on the path would itself be the clarification I needed. And no matter the outcome, I would learn from it and grow as a person and future business owner.

It’s a very well designed process. It’s flexible. It allowed me to do things at my own pace which was important for me. It allowed me the time I needed to explore. It allowed me the space I needed to articulate the answers to “Who is this group that I am going to be a part of? What is their culture? How do they operate?”

And I got my answers. I held my own and did not go forward with each step in the process until I was ready. While I was on the Path to Partnership I saw our organization from an entirely different perspective. I got to know Zingerman’s (and myself!) at every level. Everyone offered to help. Everyone was on my side. And everyone was recruiting and advocating for even more people to be on my side. The organization was peppered with people proudly sporting San Street t-shirts!

The summary? The Path to Partnership process itself is the best representation of what it means to be a partner at Zingerman’s.  It’s truly well designed.

ZT: What is it like becoming a Partner at Zingerman’s?

JK: Going through the Path to Partnership process you talk to a LOT of people. Every partner at every single business. You learn to advocate for yourself and your business. You learn to ask for help. Everyone you talk to has an opinion that you need to be able to meaningfully consider and then decide what you are going to do with. You’re asked to trust people with your personal future and your business vision and sincerely give them the opportunity to influence it. In other words, the process tells you exactly what it’s means to truly belong in a community.

And the trust. At Zingerman’s, you’ve got to buy in. And I’m not talking about the money, which you also need to do. Buy-in means that you buy into the way Zingerman’s operates – the vision, the guiding principles, open book, servant leadership. The whole thing. If you don’t like it, you don’t get to stand by the sideline and not comply. You also don’t get to maliciously obey. If you don’t like what you’re being asked to do, you bring a better option to the table and sell it to everyone else.

When I started on the path, I was not sure I was the best person to start a business within the Zingerman’s Community. I have a lone maverick side to me that enjoys making unilateral decisions. By the time I was done with all that talking and collaborating, I knew exactly what it would mean for this lone maverick to get herself 17 partners!

ZT: What were your biggest learnings from the Path to Partnership?

The most transformational thing I learned was this – Being a partner at Zingerman’s is not about relinquishing control, which had been my biggest concern.

I realized that I’m not an expert at everything and Zingerman’s was offering me many resources – not only the systems and processes that have been vetted over three decades, but also the collective wisdom and support of the entire organization. A team of 700+ people who were rooting for me to succeed and looking for ways to contribute to Miss Kim’s success.

I had imagined being independent and being part of the community as opposites. It’s more complex that that, even paradoxical. Being on the Path to Partnership, I learned that it’s about being both independent and functioning within a community at the same time. It’s about making better decisions by having access to more information and expertise than you might ever have had the capacity to gather as a small business owner. Being part of the community doesn’t mean that you lose autonomy.  It does mean that you’re committing to being a part of the community, engaging in dialogue and giving and accepting help when needed. Nothing more and nothing less.

I also learned that dialogue itself is really useful. I might not use someone’s input, but being in dialogue significantly improved the quality of my decisions.

ZT: Which brings us to the best part. Tell us about the food.

JK: There aren’t many of absolutes in this organization because we dialogue a lot and make decisions by consensus – but one of the absolute absolutes is the quality of the food. It’s so inspiring to be part of an organization that holds you to that high of a standard and inspires you to keeping reaching for higher. We may not have a lot of experts on Korean food, but we have a lot of food experts here and they understand what good food tastes like!

Zingerman’s totally understood my obsession with the texture of the pork buns and tteok-bokki. My fascination with fermented food. Even my irritability on the misrepresentation of Kimchi in the western world! My numerous trips to Korea to research and learn, the many opportunities I took to go work in the kitchens of chefs more experienced than myself; at Zingerman’s no one ever questioned the ROI of that time and money.

Zingerman’s asks probing questions. What is the traditional version of the dish? What is the original form of this ingredient? How will you represent it here? Questions like these are important to me and totally par for the course at Zingerman’s. Taking the time to answer those questions has made for a much better menu at Miss Kim’s.

Why wouldn’t you want someone to walk into your restaurant, invest a lot of time and energy in evaluating every detail and then give you thoughtful feedback in a way that you understand and can hear? Now multiply that someone by 700 and you’ve got Zingerman’s. It’s like having hundreds of pairs of eyes and ears and millions and millions of taste buds!

If you would like to learn more about Zingerman’s Path to Partnership, please email [email protected] and we’ll send you a slew of really cool and useful stuff. You can also download our FREE webinars on the Path to Partnership online.

You can also read about the food at Miss Kim and see photos.

If just the thought of a “business seminar” puts your brain on snooze, we get it. The term brings on visions of stuffy rooms, mediocre food and endless presentations for us too!

But our ZingTrain seminars really are different—they’re designed to stimulate creativity to inspire real change. The Zingerman’s Experience, in particular, is a good starting place for any business owner, or really anyone who wants to learn the “secrets” that led to Inc. Magazine to call Zingerman’s “the coolest small business in America.”

Here are 6 (really good) reasons to attend The Zingerman’s Experience seminar :

1. You’ll learn all about what makes us tick—and how you can make your organization what you want it to be.
In other words, you’ll hear all about “Zingerman’s 12 Natural Laws of Business.” The 12 Laws are the reason Zingerman’s has become what it is today: a successful business with highly engaged employees. You can learn them, too, and adapt them to your organization. You’ll hear our take on connecting with customers, visioning, growing a great staff, good finance, and the benefits of servant leadership.

“I think our biggest takeaway was our need to re-do our vision, so that we know where we are going as a company. It is meant to inform all of our decisions, and knowing where we are going is key,” says Sarah Worley of Biscuit Love (maker of Bon Appetit’s “Best Sandwich of 2015), who took the seminar with her husband and business partner Karl Worley.

2. The seminar is always co-taught by Ari Weinzweig.
Ari is the co-founder of Zingerman’s Community of Businesses, which means he was there at the very beginning and you get to hear all about the story of how the businesses evolved pretty much from the epicenter of it all. Besides, Ari is great presenter—he’s always candid about the mistakes (mistakes can be beneficial!) that have come with success, and he leads attendees through soul-searching exercises that have the potential to enrich every type of organization. There are also plenty of opportunities to ask him your burning questions.

3. You’ll realize that even the most successful businesses aren’t perfect (a.k.a. Zingerman’s Natural Law #9)
It’s true. There’s no such thing as a perfect organization, and every single one—no matter how successful or well meaning—faces challenges. Getting creative with those challenges and growing a staff that can work past them is what makes for a resilient business. You’ll hear about some of the obstacles we’ve faced, the network of peers that you’ll meet in the seminar will also help you gain perspective and assess the strengths and weaknesses of your own organization.

4. You’ll meet (and learn from) people in different kinds of industries
At the a recent installment, in addition to folks from chocolate shops and bakeries, we also had people from the automotive industry, a kid’s dentistry group, and even academia.

When asked why she thought the seminar might apply to her daily work, Dr. Vicki Johnson-Lawrence, an assistant professor in Public Health and Health Sciences at University of Michigan-Flint, explained, “I’ve seen many academic teams work tirelessly to develop a structure that carried meaning for all of the people involved, from the overwhelmed student to the incredibly busy faculty lab director. Zingerman’s has successfully engaged and excited people across their organization to really care for the success of the organization, and I want to build a culture and team with these same attributes”

5.You’ll get a behind-the-scenes look at Zingerman’s
The Zingerman’s Experience includes tours of Zingeman’s Deli, Bakehouse, Creamery, Coffee Company, Mail Order and Cornman Farms, so you’ll get to experience the “vibe” at a host of very different Zingerman’s businesses and see how we work day to day. We’ll take you on a field trip to Zingerman’s Deli for lunch. During the two-day seminar, you’ll also interact with many of our employees, not just on the tours, but during an intimate panel discussion. Even better, you’ll be able to ask just about every employee you meet just about anything you like.

6. You’ll eat so much good food!
Breakfasts and lunches are catered by none other than Zingerman’s Deli and Zingerman’s Roadhouse.  Treats from Zingerman’s Candy Manufactory, Creamery, and Bakehouse are served throughout the two days. Coffee from Zingerman’s Coffee Company will keep you energized and open to inspiration. And perhaps the best part, you’ll have dinner at Zingerman’s Roadhouse where you’ll have a chance to meet co-founding Partner Paul Saginaw and maybe even some of the other Zingerman’s Managing Partners.

If you’re interested in attending The Zingerman’s Experience or any of our other seminars, visit the ZingTrain website for more info—or give us a call at 734-930-1919.