“What are you doing for your birthday?”
I’ve never had a good answer to that question, but I hear it a lot every March. When I shrug and say, “No special plans,” people don’t actually say, “what the hell is wrong with you, Mike?” Because they don’t have to. I can see it in their eyes.
Sometimes, if I’m feeling like the curmudgeon I’m destined to become, I’ll say, “Look, I know you mean well, but the miracle of my life had nothing to do with any kind of personal accomplishment on my behalf. My life is the result of supernatural and biological forces completely outside of my control. It’s a fine day to be grateful,” I’ll say, “or send flowers to your mother. But all things considered, it’s a silly day to celebrate.”
Honestly, it’s a wonder I still have any friends left at all. And a great mystery as to why those friends who remain, still wish me a Happy Birthday, and ask me what I’m going to “do” to celebrate the occasion.
Fine. I’ll tell you.
Last night, I celebrated by flying to Orlando to have a drink with Peter Cancro, the CEO of Jersey Mike’s. I always like to share a beverage with the people who hire me to speak, usually the night before the event. It helps me get a
sense of who they are, and what their company is all about. Well, Peter’s company is exceptional, and his story is the epitome of the American Dream – it’s the story of a kid from New Jersey who works his butt of in a local sandwich shop, borrows enough money to buy it before he turns 18, and then, builds it brick by brick into an 8-billion-dollar company.
Peter’s still at it, busting his butt every day to maintain the culture he and his team built over the years, safeguarding the jobs of 13,000 people, and making sure his company gives back to the communities they serve. Every March, for instance, his employees and their customers raise millions of dollars – over $113 million as of today – and distribute them to local charities. That’s…commendable.
This morning, I talked to the small business owners who run 3,500 individual Jersey Mike’s all over the country. I told them about my own origin story, the early days of Dirty Jobs, and my attempts to give something back to the people who built our country. I talked about the importance of a sense of humor, and the life lessons I learned from a few dirty jobbers, and the way the people on that show helped reconnect me to a lot of important things from which I had become profoundly disconnected. Then, I congratulated them for being part of such a good and decent company and wished them a very happy Tuesday.
Afterwards, and Peter pulled me aside. “Thanks for being here today,” he said. “I know it’s your birthday, and you probably had a lot of other things you’d rather be doing.”
“Actually,” I said, “I can’t think of a thing.”
Peter smiled, and asked if I could say hello a good friend of his. I said sure and shook hands with Tom Monaghan and his lovely wife, Marianne. Tom started a little company called Dominoes, once upon a time. He didn’t know it, (but was amused to learn, I think), that back in the nineties, I was the voice of his Deep-Dish Pizza. (“When it’s gotta be deep and it’s gotta be thick, it’s gotta be Dominoes!”)
Small world.
On the way out, Peter Cancro thanked me again for coming all the way to Orlando. He didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday. Nor did he ask me what I’d be doing to mark the occasion. He did, however, offer me a fancy cupcake and a #16 for the road, (Mike’s Chicken Philly, my personal favorite.)
And then, maybe because he liked what I had to say about work ethic, or maybe because March is the month of giving, or maybe because my dear old mother heaved me screaming into the world on this day 63 years ago, Peter handed me a check made out to The mikeroweWORKS Foundation for $150,000.00.
All things considered, a pretty good Tuesday!