What success really looks like in the propane industry
When I was in the sixth grade, my family moved to a small town in Michigan.
Like most kids who suddenly become “the new kid,” I had a tough time fitting in. Everyone else had grown up together. They had lifelong friendships, inside jokes and shared experiences. I was starting from scratch.
That first fall, I discovered something that fascinated me.
Nov. 15 – the opening day of Michigan’s whitetail deer season – might as well have been a school holiday. Many of the boys were absent because they were hunting with their dads. If someone harvested a buck, it was tied to the front of the family car and proudly driven through town. By the time school resumed, everyone knew who had gotten a deer, and those kids suddenly became celebrities.
As an 11-year-old, I thought I’d figured it out.
“If Dad takes me deer hunting and we get a buck, maybe I’ll finally fit in.”
There was only one problem. My dad wasn’t a hunter.
After months of begging, he finally gave in. He borrowed a .30-30 rifle from a friend, picked up a box of ammunition, bought a deer license and prepared for an adventure that was every bit as new to him as it was to me.
Opening morning finally arrived, and we headed into the woods wearing bright yellow sweatshirts – this was long before blaze orange became standard hunting attire. Just after daylight, a beautiful eight-point buck stood up a short distance away.
Dad shouldered the rifle and fired. The buck jumped, disappeared into the woods and was gone. My heart sank.
We searched for a while but didn’t really know what we were doing. We assumed Dad had missed, and we eventually headed home disappointed. I even remember thinking Dad had somehow let me down.
A couple of weeks later, I told the story to some older boys at our cottage. Their first question was, “Did you trail the deer?” When I said no, they looked at each other and said, “Let’s go.”
Within a few hundred yards of where Dad had fired, a flock of crows lifted from the carcass of that same eight-point buck. Dad hadn’t missed. We had simply quit looking too soon.
Over the years, I’ve had many successful hunts, but that’s not the part of the story I remember most. What stays with me is that my father was willing to step completely outside his comfort zone because his son wanted to belong. That’s what success looked like that day.
The older I get, the more I realize success wears a lot of different faces.
For some people, it’s raising a family. For others, it’s building a business, becoming financially secure, mentoring young employees or leaving their community better than they found it.
The propane industry has its own definitions of success.
Sure, delivering more propane gallons than last year feels good. Buying a new bobtail, opening another bulk plant, expanding into a new market or adding another service technician are all milestones worth celebrating. But some of the biggest successes in our business never show up on a financial statement.
Success is when every driver comes home safely after navigating thousands of miles in every kind of weather.
Success is when a service technician catches a problem during a routine gas check that prevents an accident no one will ever know almost happened.
Success is earning the kind of reputation where customers say, “I trust your company because your people always do things the right way.”
Success is investing in new employees so they develop safe habits from their very first day and enjoy long, accident-free careers.
Success is having your training records, compliance documentation, inspections and safety programs in order – not because someone might inspect them tomorrow, but because that’s simply how your company operates.
The same is true across our industry. Whether it’s the work of your state association, the National Propane Gas Association or the Propane Education & Research Council, countless people work behind the scenes every day to improve safety, strengthen our industry and prepare the next generation. Most of those victories never make the front page, but they matter.
From an insurance standpoint, we celebrate success a little differently.
Helping a company improve coverage or lower premiums is always satisfying. But the best day is when we review five years of loss runs and find … nothing. No accidents. No injuries. No claims.
That tells the real story. It tells us leadership values training. Employees are committed to doing things the right way. Safety isn’t just a slogan on the wall – it’s part of the company’s culture.
At the end of the day, the greatest measure of success isn’t how many gallons you sold or how many trucks are parked in your yard.
It’s knowing that every propane system has been installed, serviced and documented with the same care you would expect if your own family were sleeping in that home and the employee makes it home safely after a long day’s work.
If you can honestly say that, you’ve accomplished something that no trophy, no record sales year and no balance sheet will ever be able to measure.
Frank Thompson is a chartered property and casualty underwriter based in Phoenix. He is the owner of PT Risk Management. Visit ptrisk.com or call 800-556-8228 to learn more.
Featured homepage image: Nuthawut Somsuk/iStock / Getty Images Plus / Getty Images
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