My third year in recruiting I billed just under $900,000.

On December 22nd, my boss walked the whole team outside.

There was a Chevy Silverado sitting there with a big red bow on it.

It was mine.

He could have handed me a check for the same amount. He didn't.

He walked the entire team out there, said "I want you all to know Greg had a killer year, and the only way I know how to say thank you is to get him something I know he can haul a lot of deer in."

Everybody on that team knew I loved hunting. That truck wasn't just a bonus. It was proof that somebody paid attention to who I actually was outside of my billing number.

I'd never owned a brand new car before that day. I was 32 with a two year old son and I'd been running a sports bar before recruiting.

That moment didn't just make me feel appreciated.

It made me feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. And every time I thought about leaving over the years that followed, that moment was part of what kept me from going.

The owners who build firms that last aren't the ones who pay the most.

They're the ones who create moments people carry with them.

A check gets deposited and forgotten inside of a month.

A red bow on a truck in a parking lot on December 22nd stays with someone for thirty years.

You don't have to buy anyone a truck.

But you do have to figure out what the equivalent is for the people on your team.

It's also the part that's easiest to put off because it requires actually knowing your people well enough to know what would matter to them.

If you want to find your “Chevy Silverado” recruiter, let’s talk.