Long-lasting lessons from my first produce manager

I was 17 years old and had just clocked in for my after-school produce shift in the Northglenn, Colo., King Soopers backroom when I had my first glimpse of my produce manager’s wry wit and insight.

“Some old guy tried to pick a fight with me in the mall parking lot last night,” I said as I slipped on my apron and knife sheath, referring to a parking space misunderstanding. It turned out OK, but that “old” guy was furious.

Tom smiled and took a long drag on his cigarette. “Out of curiosity, just how old is old?”

“Oh, about 30,” I said. Tom — about 32 years old himself at the time — just laughed.

“Just you wait!” he said while trimming a case of cabbage. “When you turn 30, I’m gonna give you a call. Ha!”

Tom was one of many colorful characters I worked for in my retail days. I must have worked for at least 10 different managers as a clerk and as an assistant. I don’t know if my numerous transfers were because I was considered an asset or a liability. In retrospect, it was a blessing.

Famed writer Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “In my walks, every man I meet is my superior in some way, and in that I learn from him.”

I certainly learned, thanks to all the produce managers I had the pleasure of working for; later as a produce specialist, I continued to learn from the same managers. Looking back, one produce manager’s strength (as I touched upon recently) was the financials — keeping track of sales and good record-keeping. That was John Gaccetta, who also helped me overcome my (many) ordering mistakes.

Others excelled in different areas. I spoke recently with a now-retired produce manager, 83-year-old Kent Kuroda. Though my work under him was up to snuff, I was quiet and very reserved. Kent helped pull me out of my shell to overcome my fears and build relationships with the store manager and visiting supervisors.

The “clean freak” manager was Dave Hirsch. I have written about Dave occasionally over the years. At first our crew thought his sanitation regiment was overkill, but this and Dave’s insistence on keeping the department extraordinarily neat and organized was something that influenced me as a manager, as well as others, for many years. I owe a lot to Dave.

And then there was my first produce manager, Tom Cagle.

Tom didn’t have the stern personality or insistence about some things that my other produce managers had, but if I had to attribute one exceptional strength to him, it was his patience.

Today, keeping a level head when everything is going wrong is called emotional Intelligence — a construct made famous by psychologist and author Daniel Goleman.

Whatever this strength is called, Tom certainly had it.

While going through the early paces, trying to learn ordering systems, merchandising schemes, product knowledge, customer service, labor aspects, I often was like a lot of young people in the business: frustrated when things didn’t go my way, irritable with sluggish coworkers or annoyed with upper management who seemed to work against us.

Tom was there to guide me, and his patience was more than just good oversight; it was at a fatherly level.

A person coming up in the produce game can be extremely knowledgeable, organized, dedicated, hardworking and detail oriented. Without that emotional intelligence element, however, you’re in for a difficult journey.

Tom handled several of my performance appraisals. He was honest and pulled no punches when it came to the “needs improvement” section.

But the whole time he directed me and others so calmly and stoically, never losing his cool.

Tom was a subdued but effective mentor. It took a long time to get it through my thick skull that the patience and gentle humor he imparted was indeed a virtue. His example helped temper my approach through multiple stores to multiple chains and throughout many challenging, even contentious, moments — and there were a few through the years.

I lost touch with Tom over the past few years, but I can still envision the Arkansas Razorbacks and Denver Broncos football schedules he regularly posted on the backroom bulletin board.

He was one of thousands of produce managers out there who impart important skills and styles every day to their charges. Like most retail managers, Tom never traveled to a harvest tour, never attended a PMA and was never quoted in a trade publication. After many decades, he quietly retired after being told he couldn’t merchandise as he saw fit any longer. (The company was changing to mandatory schematics.)

I spoke with Tom’s son, who said, “That was it for my dad. He said he knew best how to set the department for ‘his’ neighborhood.”

Tom was right. He was one of the best, and I’m sure Tom affirmed his stance in the most professional and firm, but patient, manner.

Now my mentor, my friend, is gone. Tom was 80 years old.

And, yes, I did receive an unexpected phone call from Tom on my 30th birthday. He laughed as he asked, “Hey bucky! Who’s the old man now?”
 
Armand Lobato works for the Idaho Potato Commission. His 40 years of experience in the produce business span a range of foodservice and retail positions.

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