Being “Nice” Is the Most Expensive Mistake in Business

The biggest mistake you can make in business is being nice to employees.

Some people need discipline. Some people need to be fired. And pretending otherwise is how small businesses bleed out slowly.

Post-COVID didn’t just disrupt industries, it rewired work ethic. And small businesses are paying the price for government policies that rewarded not working while punishing those who kept showing up.

You can explain expectations until you’re blue in the face. You can train, retrain, document, demonstrate, and remind. And still…. people just won’t do what’s required. They’ll do the bare minimum and convince themselves that it’s “enough.”

Meanwhile, business owners are handcuffed.

• Food specials? Forget it — cooks “can’t handle” the extra.

• Drink specials? Forget it — servers don’t want to promote anything new.

• Responsibilities and accountability? Forget it — that’s suddenly “too much.”

We survived COVID. Despite shutdowns. Despite losing half our staff. Despite every attempt to pull the rug out from under us. We made it with what we had.

And now?

What we’re left with is an employee pool that’s lazy, disengaged, and painfully lackluster.

People love to say, “You can only go up from here.”

I disagree. When you’ve been stuck at the bottom long enough, sometimes the only way forward is to bail out and find a new starting point.

Between rising rent, food shortages, delivery delays, missed orders, and the added burden placed on owners because employees simply don’t care, it’s enough to make any sane person walk away.

But here I am. Circling the eddy. No paddle. Going down with the ship. Because that’s what captains do. Because we all know sanity isn’t my strong suit!

The ABC’s of Baseball… and Life

For years, my son played travel baseball.

And during a few of those seasons, our travels took us to Aberdeen, Maryland.

What started as another stop on the travel-ball map turned into something much bigger. Not only did we face some seriously competitive baseball, but we also met a lot of great people along the way. One person, in particular, left a lasting impression on me, Billy Ripken.

Yes, that Ripken. Brother of Cal. But Billy wasn’t there to talk about stats, trophies, or highlight reels. He talked about something far more important: how to approach the game.

Billy introduced the players to what he called the ABC’s of Baseball… a simple framework, but one packed with lessons that went way beyond the diamond.

The ABC’s of Baseball

A – Abner Doubleday. The beginning. The game wouldn’t exist without him (1839).

B – Bunting. (1st learn how to hit)

C – Compete. Compete with yourself. Compete with teammates. Compete against the other team.

D – Drills. Do them right.

E – Errors. Make fewer errors than the other team and most of the time, you’ll win.

F – First pitch strike. Be ahead in the count.

G – Get better every day. Compete. Improve.

H – Hit… then hit some more.

I – Instincts. Pay attention. Learn the game.

J – Jump to the next level. Compete and get better—opportunity follows.

K – K’s. Don’t strike out. Stop swinging and missing.

L – Little things. Handle the little things and the big things take care of themselves.

M – Mistakes. Don’t make the same mistake twice. Learn from it.

N – Numbers. Play the game and have fun—don’t obsess over stats.

O – Outs. Make the routine outs.

P – Perfect practice makes perfect. Practice like a moron, you’ll play like one.

Q – Quick first step.

R – Runs. Score them or drive them in.

S – Simple. Keep it simple.

T – Thanks. Be thankful. You’re not entitled. Thank your parents, coaches, teachers.

U – Underhand flip.

V – Versatility. Learn as many positions as possible.

W – Walks. Be ready to hit, but take the bad pitches.

X – X-Factor. Give 100% honest effort. Work hard. Be thankful.

Y – Yell. Be loud. Communicate. Help your teammates.

Z – Zzzzz’s. Don’t fall asleep. Pay attention. Know what’s going on every inning.

During those long drives between tournaments, I’d go over these ABC’s with my son. Over and over. At the time, I thought I was helping him become a better baseball player.

What I didn’t realize was that these “rules” were teaching him how to be a complete competitor, on and off the field.

Then baseball ended.

High school wrapped up. Uniforms were hung up. And suddenly, real life was standing on the mound.

Fastballs came in the form of responsibility. Curveballs showed up as setbacks. And there was no coach calling time-out anymore.

But here’s the thing…

Just because baseball ends doesn’t mean the ABC’s stop applying.

Take a second look at Billy Ripken’s ABC’s, but this time, step out of the batter’s box and into the workforce. Into school. Into adulthood. Into life.

Compete.

Get better every day.

Do the little things right.

Be versatile.

Communicate.

Be thankful.

Give honest effort.

Don’t make the same mistake twice.

That’s how you earn a promotion.

That’s how you level up in school.

That’s how you grow as a person.

I relate these ABC’s to my life every single day. And my hope in sharing this is simple: maybe you take something from it. Maybe you apply it yourself. Or maybe you pass it on to someone who needs it.

Because after all—

life and baseball really do go hand in hand.

The Great Car Insurance Shell Game

Let’s talk about car insurance.

Not the idea of it, because yes, we all agree it’s necessary.

I’m talking about the financial hostage situation we politely call “coverage.”

For 2025, here’s what I paid with State Farm:

March: $650.78 June: $624.39 September: $779.73 December: $637.52

Total for the year: $2,692.42

That’s not Monopoly money.

That’s real, grown-ass, worked-for-this cash.

And what do I get for that?

Two vehicles fully covered. One vehicle liability only. One 18-year-old driver (Yes, I know—insurance companies clutch their pearls when you say that out loud.)

Now before the keyboard warriors warm up, let’s address the obvious.

Yes, younger drivers cost more.

I get it. Risk tables. Statistics. Actuarial science. Fine.

But here’s where it gets spicy….

Let’s Do the Long-Game Math

I’ve been insured for 15+ years.

One claim.

Not one per year.

Not one per vehicle.

One.

Now take that annual premium and stretch it over 15 years.

That’s just over $40,000 in car insurance alone. And suddenly you start asking uncomfortable questions:

Where exactly is all that money going? At what point does “risk” turn into profit padding? Is my premium fixing roads… or upgrading someone’s third vacation home?

Because when you’re paying over $2,600 a year, that’s about $224 a month, every month, whether anything happens or not.

That’s not “just in case” money. That’s rent payment energy. That’s vacation money. That’s new tires, groceries, or fixing literally anything that breaks money.

Here’s the illusion they sell us:

“You’re paying for peace of mind.”

Cool…. But peace of mind shouldn’t feel like financial anxiety with a logo on it.

And what really grinds my gears (pun fully intended) is this:

The safer and more responsible you are, the less you actually use the service, yet the bill never seems to reflect that loyalty.

No refunds for good behavior. No loyalty discount that actually feels loyal.

Just a cheerful reminder that rates “may increase due to market conditions.”

Ah yes. The Market.

The same mysterious creature blamed for everything from gas prices to why your fries cost six dollars now.

So… Is It Fair? Is $2,692.42 fair for:

Three vehicles. One young driver. A long, clean driving history.

Maybe. But fair doesn’t mean reasonable. And reasonable doesn’t mean justifiable when the math stops mathing.

At some point, consumers deserve transparency. At some point, loyalty should count.

At some point, we should stop pretending this isn’t a system built to quietly extract maximum dollars while smiling at you through a khaki-colored commercial.

Car insurance is supposed to protect us.

Not slowly bleed us dry while congratulating us for being responsible.

And when you step back and look at decades of payments versus actual claims…

Yeah. It makes you wonder.

Now Zoom Way Out… State Farm alone services roughly 96 million policies across America.

If someone like me pays about $40,000 over 15 years, that puts the industry conversation into perspective.

That’s trillions of dollars moving through the system.

Trillions. 3.4 trillion to be exact!

So the real question becomes:

How many yachts are the American people funding and why do my rates keep going up?

This Isn’t Law Enforcement — It’s a Failure of Training, Leadership, and Accountability

I spent years in law enforcement. I wore the badge. I trained. I learned restraint, discipline, and the absolute weight that comes with the authority to take someone’s freedom… and, in the most extreme circumstances, their life.

What happened in Minnesota sickens me. Not because policing is hard, it is.

Not because situations get tense, they do.

But because this is not how we were trained, and it is not what we were taught to do. The Use-of-Force Continuum Exists for a Reason

Every competent officer learns the use-of-force continuum early and revisits it often. It’s not a suggestion. It’s not optional. It exists to prevent unnecessary injury and death, for the public and for officers.

Verbal commands.

Control techniques.

Intermediate force.

Lethal force…. as an absolute last resort.

What we witnessed in Minnesota looks like that entire structure was tossed aside. Multiple agents. One man.

https://www.startribune.com/ice-raids-minnesota/601546426

Let me be crystal clear: If multiple properly trained officers cannot safely detain and handcuff a single individual, armed or not, something has already gone catastrophically wrong. Either the training failed, leadership failed, or the decision-making in that moment collapsed under fear and adrenaline.

And none of those justify a fatal outcome.

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2026/jan/24/minneapolis-shooting-federal-agents

Numbers Matter — And So Does Competence

Seven officers trying to detain one man should not result in a shooting. Period.

I don’t care how uncomfortable that truth makes people.

Numbers give officers control. They give options. They give time. They reduce risk, when used correctly. That’s basic tactics. That’s policing 101.

Instead, what appears to have happened was force layered on force, escalating chaos rather than controlling it. Strikes. Punches. A struggle. Then gunfire.

And that raises the most disturbing question of all: Why did one officer decide lethal force was necessary, when the others did not?

What did he see that six others supposedly didn’t?

Was he scared?

Was he poorly trained?

Was he overwhelmed?

Because from the outside looking in, this doesn’t look like a measured response to an imminent deadly threat. It looks like panic in uniform.

And panic has no place holding a firearm over someone’s life.

The “He Was Armed” Argument Isn’t a Free Pass

I don’t know if the man reached for his firearm. I want to believe he didn’t.

But here’s the reality former officers understand and armchair quarterbacks don’t: being armed is not the same as being a lethal threat.

Plenty of lawful gun owners interact with police every single day without being shot.

If a suspect is being actively restrained by multiple officers, that context matters. A lot. That’s where training, positioning, weapon retention, and communication are supposed to take over.

A man being physically subdued is not a “shoot first, sort it out later” scenario.

That’s not policing.

That’s not defense.

That’s a failure.

This Is Bigger Than One Incident

What makes this even more disturbing is the environment in which it’s happening.

Our own government has created chaos inside our borders through aggressive, poorly coordinated enforcement strategies that prioritize optics and speed over safety and restraint. The result? Fear. Distrust. And now, dead civilians.

There were, and still are, a thousand better ways to handle immigration enforcement. Smarter targeting. Better intelligence. Non-militarized operations. Clear coordination with local agencies.

Instead, what we’re seeing feels reactionary, heavy-handed, and reckless. And when federal agents start operating like an occupying force instead of public servants, something has gone terribly wrong.

This Disgraces the Badge

Let me say what too many won’t: This disgraces the badge.

Not every agent. Not every officer. But actions like this stain all of us who took the oath seriously. They undermine public trust. They endanger good officers. And they make every future encounter more volatile.

Law enforcement legitimacy is built on restraint, accountability, and professionalism…. not fear, domination, or unchecked force.

When lethal force becomes the shortcut instead of the last resort, we’re no better than the monsters we claim to be protecting people from.

I didn’t leave law enforcement to stay silent when I see it done wrong.

This wasn’t justice.

This wasn’t safety.

This wasn’t training in action.

This was a preventable tragedy and until we demand accountability, transparency, and better leadership, it won’t be the last. And that should terrify every single one of us!

Where Did Public Etiquette Go?

I was sitting in a doctor’s office the other day. Large waiting room. Nearly 30 empty seats. Three people total, including myself.

Two more people walked in. They saw me. They had to pass me to check in.

While waiting, a woman across the room dropped her papers. She was in a wheelchair, so I got up to help her, because that’s what decent humans do.

I turned around to return to my seat and… it was gone.

The two new arrivals had taken it.

Not because there was no other option.

Not because the room was full.

But because awareness and basic courtesy seem to be optional these days.

I didn’t say anything. I sat elsewhere. But I wanted to say, I wasn’t aware we were playing musical chairs!

But the woman I helped made eye contact with me, shook her head, and said everything without saying a word.

Public spaces used to come with unspoken rules…. awareness, patience, respect for others. Somewhere along the way, those rules were replaced with entitlement and tunnel vision.

Kindness shouldn’t cost you your seat.

And decency shouldn’t be this rare.

Intelligence, Common Sense, and the Lie of “Feels Like”

We can all agree on one universal truth:

There are very intelligent people in the world… and there are people who make you question how warning labels became necessary.

Now here’s the twist, high intelligence does not automatically come with good decision-making or even basic common sense. Some of the smartest people I’ve met couldn’t navigate a grocery store without permanent emotional damage.

There are ways to make yourself smarter…. reading, questioning, thinking critically, learning how things actually work. And then there are ways to slowly sabotage your own intelligence.

Which brings me to my annual winter rage-inducer: weather reports.

The Weather Channel. Weather apps.

Local forecasts delivered with the confidence of someone who has never been held accountable. Weather people are fascinating and should be studied. They are often wrong, always vague, and somehow completely immune to job insecurity. If I was wrong that often at my job, I’d be replaced by a cardboard cutout. (Wait, this can be re-visited later)

But the phrase that really sends me spiraling is this:

“It feels like 20 degrees.”

First of all, what does that even mean? If it feels like 20 degrees… then it’s cold. Congratulations. You’ve described cold.

But it is not 20 degrees. “Feels like” is not temperature. It’s a vibe, a cold one at that but not an actual temp!

Wind chill, humidity, cloud cover, these are real factors, yes. But they do not rewrite physics. Temperature is temperature. It’s measurable. It’s factual. It’s not based on how dramatic your face gets when you step outside.

Let’s take this nonsense back to science class for a second.

Water freezes at 32°F. Water boils at 212°F. Not feels like 32. Not resembles 212. So if it “feels like” 32 degrees and your water isn’t freezing… maybe, just maybe, it’s because it’s not actually 32 degrees.

Wild concept, I know.

Imagine telling a scientist:

“Well, the water feels like it should be boiling.” Cool story. Still not boiling.

So why don’t we just do this instead: If it’s 20 degrees, say it’s 20 degrees. If wind chill makes it miserable, explain why it’s miserable, don’t rename reality.

Because when water is boiling, the temperature is 212 degrees.

It doesn’t feel like it. It is.

And confusing perception with fact is a great way to stay confidently wrong.

When “Not a Good Fit” Really Means “I Didn’t Want to Work”

Owning a business means hearing the same story on repeat.

“Why’d you leave your last job?”

“It wasn’t a good fit.” “The environment was toxic.” “Management wasn’t great.”

Funny how everyone worked in a nightmare… yet somehow those businesses are still open.

Meanwhile, I look around at my own place and watch my dad, my sister, and myself doing jobs that, anywhere else would be the employee’s responsibility. Cleaning. Stocking. Fixing. Resetting. Closing gaps. Picking up slack.

Not here though. Here, we just do it all.

Why? Because we bought into that dangerous little saying: “If you want it done right, do it yourself.”

We didn’t start this way. We trained. And trained again. We wrote memos. We made checklists.

We re-trained, re-explained, re-reminded. And what do we get?

A few people standing around chatting.

Scrolling phones.

Waiting to be told.

Waiting for someone else to care.

I suppose if we actually held people accountable, if we made everyone do their job, our place wouldn’t be “a good fit” either. Maybe it would suddenly become “toxic” too.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth:

This problem exists because we allow it. Not because we’re bad people. Not because we don’t care. But because somewhere along the way, we confused being understanding with being responsible for everything.

So now the real question isn’t about them. It’s this: How long can we sustain the long hours, the constant coverage, doing other people’s jobs and trying to run the business?

How long before burnout becomes the business model?

Only time will tell.

And right now… I’m not convinced it has good news.

The Types of “I Don’t Know” People

You’re not imagining things, there are categories. Like Pokémon, but more useless.

1. The Actual Liar

Knows the answer. Knows YOU know they know the answer. Still lies.

Because… drumroll… accountability feels like CrossFit to them. They would rather juggle chainsaws than say, “Yep, that was on me.”

2. The “OMG, WHAT HAPPENED??” Pretender

This one gives you the full wide-eyed innocent Bambi routine.

They treat basic instructions like you handed them the Dead Sea Scrolls in Aramaic.

You say something on Monday.

By Wednesday they’re like,

“Wait… you NEVER told me that.”

Oh honey… yes… yes I did. But your brain just said, “Nah, let’s not.”

3. The Excuse Generator 5000

These folks will excavate excuses from geological layers you didn’t know existed.

Instead of “I messed up,” you get:

“Well, I didn’t have the right pen.” “My horoscope said today wasn’t good for listening.” “The oven was humming in a weird way and it distracted me.”

Sir… ma’am… be for real.

“Are people really this dumb?”

Sometimes? Yes.

But most of the time?

No, they’re just emotional toddlers wrapped in adult skin suits. (it puts the lotion in the basket)

Here’s the playbook they’re running on:

Avoid responsibility – Avoid conflict – Avoid looking wrong – Protect ego – Pretend confusion so nobody can actually blame them

It’s like weaponized cluelessness.

And it’s exhausting.

Why It’s Everywhere

Because society has turned “being accountable” into “being attacked.”

People are WAY too fragile now. Like, dropped from a six inch curb fragile.

And in the workplace?

Forget it.

Half the population thinks admitting a mistake will open a trap door that drops them straight into unemployment hell. See I just lied… employees know you can’t fire them, we’re all too short handed for that shit!

So instead, they live in this delusional fantasy land where pretending not to know something magically erases the fact they absolutely knew it.

Your Reaction? Honestly? Necessary.

Confrontation isn’t rude.

Confrontation is clarity.

You’re not shaming people, you’re holding them to the standard of “Hey buddy… join the rest of us on Earth.”

Most people don’t confront because they:

Want to avoid drama – Want to be liked – Don’t want to escalate

But then the problem festers like that one dish in the sink nobody wants to clean.

You? You’re doing the Lord’s work.

Or whatever deity is in charge of common sense… probably some frazzled goddess covered in post-it notes. For me, we’d all turn into a pile of dust if waiting for a sign from above!

So what’s going on?

A combo of….. Fear of being wrong – Fear of responsibility – Bad habits – Low awareness – Ego issues – Social politeness culture, and yes… a dash of actual stupidity sprinkled in like everything but the bagel seasoning

You’re not crazy.

You’re observant.

And honestly? The world could use more people who call out the BS instead of letting it grow legs and breed.

When Everybody’s Here But Nobody’s All In

Today, if employees show up for a shift, owners call it a win. But winning the attendance lottery isn’t the same as having a crew that actually works.

Restaurants are short-handed everywhere, and that used to mean one thing: more money for the people who showed up ready to hustle. Now? “Short-handed” too often equals “one-dimensional” employees.

Example: no dishwasher tonight. A line cook jumps in to wash dishes, great… except now they’re unavailable to run the line. The kitchen stops being a machine and becomes a series of improvisations. ONE DIMENSIONAL.

If everyone understood teamwork, really understood “get-shit-done” and helped each other, the kitchen would hum. But I’ve watched us try to teach teamwork for more than a decade. I’m past “train more.” We’ve trained. We’ve written memos. We’ve spoken one-on-one. We’ve followed up. Some of these folks have been here 11 years and came from corporate gigs where micromanaging was normal operation. This is not ignorance.

So what is it? Defiance? Laziness? A refusal to care? I don’t know. What I do know is this: I can control me. I can control expectations and consequences. I can’t control someone else’s choices … but I can decide whether those choices keep a job.

This business will survive. We’ll be short for a season, we’ll hire, and we’ll rebuild standards. But there has to be accountability. We need to implement a demerit system: three documented failures to perform essential tasks and you’re out. No drama, no opinion, just standards, enforced.

If you care about your job, show it. Restock the line. Put the next shift in a better position than you found it. Teamwork isn’t a warm, fuzzy idea, it’s the difference between a smooth service and chaos at 7 p.m.

We can keep doing the same thing and expect different results. I’m not that hopeful, or insane. I’m that done. Time for consequences.

A Public Servant’s Promise: Integrity – Morality – Ethics

There’s something that’s been gnawing at me for a while.

A truth that too many people in positions of public trust seem to have forgotten.

When you choose a life of service, whether that’s as an EMT, firefighter, police officer, city worker, council member, or mayor, you don’t just take a job. You take an oath. You take on a responsibility that demands integrity, accountability, and humility.

You swear to serve the public. To serve people, not yourself.

And that oath doesn’t clock out when your shift ends. It doesn’t disappear when the uniform comes off or when you think no one’s watching. Because here’s the thing: someone’s always watching.

When you’re in uniform or behind the wheel of a city or state vehicle, you are a walking, breathing symbol of public trust. You’re not just you, you’re representing every single person who depends on that uniform to show up when they need help the most. That symbol should mean honor.

But lately, I’ve seen too many forgetting what that means.

Free meals “because of the badge”? No. That’s not a perk of the job…. that’s an ethical line being crossed.

Running personal errands in a city or state vehicle? Wrong again. Those vehicles aren’t status symbols. They’re tools, paid for by the very people you swore to serve.

When you start believing your title earns you special treatment, you’ve already lost sight of the meaning of service.

Service means showing up for your community, not exploiting your position in it.

It means leading by example, not taking advantage because you can.

It means remembering that respect isn’t something you’re automatically owed because of a uniform. It’s something you earn through consistent, honest, honorable actions….. especially when a community is rooting for you.

If you wear that badge, that patch, or that city logo, then wear it with pride, but also with purpose. Remember the oath. Remember the statement you swore to uphold.

Because the uniform doesn’t give you power, it gives you responsibility.

And your oath doesn’t expire just because you got comfortable.

The people you serve deserve better than entitlement disguised as pride.

So, to every public servant out there: Stand tall. Serve well.

And never forget…. your uniform is a promise, not a privilege.

Written by a guy who still believes integrity isn’t negotiable, no matter what title you wear.