Your body is an engine. But unlike your car, you’d never put beef jerky, mayonnaise and whatever is a praline in your car’s engine.

In fact, before you get an oil service, you probably ask for the good stuff to “protect your engine from harmful dangling participles” and other scientific things the dude in the lab coat on TV says. Why?

Because you’re concerned about performance and longevity. Hold that thought.

So, you’re supposed to get a physical check-up from your doctor each year, or every 60 months, whichever is longer. That’s when the good doc tells you to quit eating for a couple days, drains your blood and basically conducts a field sobriety test (not that I’ve had one), which we fail. Then we’re SHOCKED to find that Pringles and Bourbon aren’t as healthy as we thought.

Later, after you turn 50, your doctor looks you in the eye and asks the most frightening question in the world: “Has your daughter ever worked for Harvey Weinstein?” No, wait, he asks, “Are you ready for your colon check?”

The answer is of course…

OF COURSE NOT! No one is ever ready for that. In fact, I’d prefer the Doc stapled a rabid possum to my armpits while he worked on his chip shot for the afternoon.

Except for last year, he gave me reason to be alarmed. My colon offered evidence that Cheez Whiz is not an actual food and indicated that Oreos don’t count as fiber. (Truthfully, I wouldn’t put either of those in my engine either.)

So as many of you read with the excitement of say, watching Trump drink water, I went green. As in plants. As in – if it grew out of the ground, I probably had it in a bowl last year, mixed with salsa.

And not to be prematurely celebratory, this year’s physical results were pretty darn good. Total cholesterol of 171 (all added up), and my stable colon asked my doctor to just mind his own business. I agreed.

Textbook Customer Service Shift

On the day of this news in full fasting hunger, I ordered my usual veggie sandwich from Jimmy Johns. (Their tagline, “Freakishly fast delivery.” Sometimes they deliver before I’ve fully made up my mind.)

But what showed up was a large white bread lump with like 4 layers of cheese and mayonnaise on it. Not kidding. I looked up at God and said, “So you think this is funny?”

I call Jimmy John’s, and the manager instantly takes the call. I ask if he’s been hired to kill me very slowly. He sees the mistake AND the humor, then –

  1. Instantly acknowledges the error.
  2. Accepts responsibility, apologizes.
  3. Offers 3 complete meal replacements’ credit. (It’s called “Compensatory control.”)
  4. Then to top this masterpiece off…
  5. He calls me back to tell me a variation of my order that could replace some of the carbs in my order. Seriously. Took the time to look up the nutritional contents and suggested a revision. My colon wanted to hug him.

I believe they call this “caring.” Or said more bluntly, “Giving a rat’s behind about your customers beyond what they pay you.” Funny, the result was to WANT to pay him more, to support him more. I considered looking into a franchise until I remembered I was retiring. Take note of the result.

Combining the Ingredients

Input, meet output. If you put good stuff in your car, it works fine. Would you put latex paint in the gas tank? Rethink what you put in your body and your business.

If you live off Double Cheeses, your organs and joints will eventually tell you how much they don’t appreciate it.

You make a mistake with a customer? Look at the 4 steps above.

As you start pointing toward next year, decide the output you want. Seriously. Decide on health. Decide on financial freedom. Decide on positive culture. Decide on being a caring, loving place that promotes health of all types.

Just hold off on the Oreos.