The numbers
mean something

by Larry Meyer
MRA Chairman and CEO

Remember when “data” was strictly a scientific term? Now it’s an accepted part of our daily lives, from the data on our computers to data security scares in the news.

The power of data in today’s world is huge—its loss, theft or mismanagement makes and breaks careers every day. Still, those who work with it—especially confidential, valuable data having to do with sales transactions or our personal health—are seriously underappreciated.

One of my business mantras is “the numbers mean something.”

This month I want to thank the people in MRA’s Customer Data, Accounting and Membership departments. These are the people who know what I mean by that expression.

Retailers and organizations like ours often hear we must be customer-focused, and of course that’s true. But it’s surprisingly easy for serious trouble to creep in when the “numbers”—mundane tasks like paying bills, billing and updating records—are treated casually, without regard for detail and accuracy.

I came to MRA 30 years ago to get the organization out of difficulties that resulted in part from a sloppy attitude towards “the numbers.” And a few gut-wrenching moments in my first few months here—discovering unpaid bills stuffed in a drawer, for instance—still affect my business outlook years later.

So I have tremendous appreciation for all those who maintain and “crunch” those numbers—from bills to membership data to health insurance information.

I especially thank Jean Sarasin, who joined us 26 years ago as an accountant and bankcard clerk and has risen to senior vice president. I have no doubt that MRA’s numbers are in excellent hands.

As a firm believer that “the numbers means something,” I’m grateful that we’ve found such capable and trustworthy people to oversee the data that have become central to our business.

Shortly before Christmas in 1994 I received a package containing a letter, photo and gift box of golf balls. The letter read: “you are someone’s guardian angel.” As I continued reading, I realized what the writer was referring to.

Two months earlier I had been in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, to meet with management from Rite Aid. One evening I came out of my hotel room and heard a commotion down the hall.

I saw a woman gasping and trying to get anyone’s attention. It looked like she was choking, so I used the Heimlich maneuver and a chunk of food flew out of her mouth.

She had been eating dinner in her room when she choked on a piece of fish and was suffocating. She appeared to be okay, so I went to dinner. I realized later I didn’t get her name.

She must have learned my name from hotel staff, because a few months later I received this gift—golf balls and this wonderful letter and photo from the woman I had helped at the hotel.

It was especially gratifying to see the photo of this woman’s family—her husband and the daughter the couple had recently had after eight years of trying to start a family, as the letter explained.

More than the gift, the photo and letter were the personal touches that made me especially glad that she took the time to go the extra mile when expressing her appreciation.

Life’s experiences really are amazing.