The Heroes of Retail
Our country is in the midst of a 3-way crisis, unlike anything we’ve seen. First a global pandemic sent many of us home from work and school as hundreds of thousands die. An economic crash worse than the 2008 recession put tens of millions out of work in a matter of weeks. Finally, in Minneapolis, a white police officer took a black man into custody and killed him as the world watched. And the country began to burn.
In March 1991, Rodney King — a black man — was pulled over in Los Angeles. Shortly after, four LAPD officers began brutally beating him with their nightsticks, as 11 other officers looked on. A local resident grabbed a video camera and caught the brutality on tape.
Fortunately, Mr. King survived his police encounter, unlike Mr. Floyd. Unfortunately, and unbelievably, the four officers were found not guilty by a jury.
In 1992, I was a newly-minted store manager for a Lucky supermarket in Long Beach, CA. I was young and in no way prepared for what was about to happen. On April 29, the not guilty verdicts set the city on fire, in the most literal sense.
The verdict was announced at 3 p.m. Within an hour there was a charged feeling in the store as people came in, angry and in shock. The vibe was strange — not unlike the feeling of dread one gets in a horror movie just before someone dies. Normally the store was open till midnight, but I closed hours early, fearing for the safety of my team and the customers.
We got the customers taken care of, locked the doors, and I sent everyone home to safety as we watched the sky turn orange and smoky. I sat up half the night at home watching the violence roll across the city.
In the morning I got to the store at 5 a.m. after a sleepless night. The neighborhood was in ruins with streets of smoke from burning trash. The shoe store and restaurant next door to my store had been broken into and looted; empty shoe boxes and broken glass littered the street.
I was shocked to see that my store was untouched. I found out later that a local resident and customer — a Viet Nam vet — had spent the night on his 4th floor balcony with a rifle, firing shots at anyone who ventured near the giant panes of glass on the front of the building.
Every single store employee showed up that morning, ready to work. Many brought coffee and donuts and homemade treats. They had been up all night as well, but were more productive than I had been. The atmosphere was hard to define: it was excitement with a tinge of fear. Like going up that first big incline on a rollercoaster, times 10.
Together we held it together through that long, terrible weekend. We had pizza delivered and shared it with the National Guard troops posted in our parking lot. We worked long hours and did the best we could to serve the very diverse community of which we were a part.
Our community never forgot. After that time, we greeted each other as friends, or comrades in arms in some cases. Several stores had closed during the riots, and they ultimately went out of business. No one would go there after the crisis ended.
I learned many things that weekend, about myself and even more about other people:
1. Never underestimate the character of the people you see working retail. There are many hidden heroes there, often in those you’d least expect.
2. What businesses do in times of crisis matters because those actions will long be remembered. It’s more than just optics.
3. A person’s character is best defined by how they respond to a crisis, not by their external appearance or lifestyle.
