As every great blues song points out, hardships in life happen. Then there’s a moment of truly heartbreaking agony, which then gives birth to a newfound resilience, bringing hope back into the picture. 

Frontline management isn’t for everyone. There’s a bizarre ritual that requires bathing in the actions of frontline work — selling, advising, turning wrenches or diagnosing vehicle problems — and proving success at it to even be eligible for consideration of managing those exact workers.  

Yet there’s very little correlation between success at doing the work of an individual and managing individuals. Quite honestly, other than “street cred” and the ability to influence others, there is zero overlap. 

The life of hard work on the frontline is often rewarded with a promotion to oversee other people doing the work you used to do, although none of them do it as well as you did, because that means they would have been promoted, right? So the person who is best-suited to do the work — and presumably the most productive at it — is now removed from the assembly line and has been told to increase output. 

Enter the heartbreak phase. 

No one else is driven as much as the person most recently removed from doing the actual work. No one else has the proven track record of sales or hours billed. The daily reinforcement of a job well done based on individual performance is gone. The trap is set. In order to return to the glory of yesteryear, the hero must return to the battlefield. Then the burnout begins from doing two jobs and the heartbreak of “failing” in a new role. 

Not everyone is built for the resilience phase, nor is it always required. It’s often unnecessary. With a little forethought and planning, that superstar of selling or your miracle mechanic could be given small, introductory managerial tasks to see if there’s an adaptability factor. Maybe there’s a curiosity sparked that the individual could have an even greater impact on results if they lead a team? Often, it’s just the allure of a larger bonus or a minor increase in base pay. Monetary rewards do not — and never will — have the endurance of internal motivation. Incentives often have a spike effect, which is followed by entitlement. As fast as the interest in getting greater financial rewards peaks, it fades. 

Maybe the employee could be promoted based on potential?  Reading a profit and loss statement can be taught. Charisma? Not so much. 

Hope is fueled by the spark of something being different — an unexpected result, like trying something completely different or letting go of old ways and just seeing what happens. Hope rises out of the ashes of defeat — doing things the same old way over and over again and being afraid of the unknown because even though the current results are terrible, they are predictable. They are comfortable. 

That spark needs to be nurtured, lest a faint breeze or whisper of negativity blows it out before it has a chance to grow. More often than not, change occurs in small increments. The change is gradually absorbed into the machine of everyday activities. It does not replace it in one fell swoop. 

In good blues music, there is no knight in shining armor that slays the dragon. There is no cookie-cutter Hollywood ending that buttons up all the issues introduced during act one in a neat, tight bow. There is hardship, which creates heartbreak. In that heartbreak is a different way of looking at the world. And that new perspective allows for a glimmer of hope. Something better. Not a magic fix — just better. 

There’s rarely a sequel song in blues — no “Boom-Boom 2” or “Green Onions Returns: Attack of the Blues.” When you genuinely fix one problem in retail, you create something entirely new. It may still have some of the old problems, but what you thought would fix it before now needs new analysis. 

You never fix a problem in a vacuum. There’s no universal fix x and get y result. You fix x and y exists in a new environment. Maybe a new problem is now a priority. Maybe x ends up fixing three issues. (Call me “Mr. Lucky” when that happens!) Further up the road will get here soon enough. Let the new solution attach itself to your dealership’s culture and breathe. 

Business and the blues are often about taking risks — not hanging onto the past.