The Only Thing That Counts
It’s easy to be nice to people you like. That’s not leadership. The hard part? Going the extra mile for people who clearly don’t deserve it.
In your mind, you may be the greatest leader who ever walked the face of the earth. In your mind, you have lofty goals for your organization. You care about your customers, your team members, and the people who depend on you.
You feel bad when they struggle. You even have joy in your heart when good things happen. You probably post on your resume and LinkedIn profile that you are a “servant leader.”
That’s all worthless.
It’s This
The only thing that counts is your behavior. And if that’s not hard enough to swallow, here’s the real gut punch: The only behaviors that really count are the ones that happen when you’re dealing with jerks. Those people you don’t particularly like, trust, or know — the complainers, the underminers, the energy vampires who make your life hell.
It’s easy to be nice to people you like. That’s not leadership — that’s just being human.
The hard part? Going the extra mile for people who clearly don’t deserve it (at least in your own mind).
The Second Mile That Defines You
At the beginning of the Christian era, when the Romans ruled the world, a Roman soldier could demand that any citizen carry his pack for one mile — but no more than a mile. People hated it. Hated the Romans. Hated the soldiers. Hated being forced to serve their oppressors.
Jesus gave his followers a radical command: when a soldier demands you carry his pack one mile, offer to carry it a second mile.
This wasn’t about kissing up to Romans or that particular soldier. It was a statement about the character of the person doing the carrying. Who you are isn’t revealed when you do what’s required; it’s revealed when you choose to do what’s not required.
What It Actually Looks Like
When my kids were growing up, we took into our home a number of teens who needed a place to live. Some stayed a few weeks. A couple stayed many, many months. These weren’t easy kids — they came with trauma, behavioral issues, and patterns that had gotten them kicked out of other homes.
We did our very best to help them improve their lives. That was our second mile.
The second mile means:
Sitting down with your most difficult employee and asking what would make them happy at work — and actually listening
Thanking the customer who complains about everything for helping you see the blind spots
Asking your problem people for advice instead of just managing around them
Investing time in people that everyone else has written off
It’s uncomfortable. It’s exhausting. It feels unfair because you’re giving more to people who’ve earned less.
But that’s exactly the point.
The Third Mile No One Talks About
Here’s where it gets complicated: One of those teens we took in became a danger to my children and herself. We ended up turning her over to child protective services.
Another became abusive as an adult — a pattern of apologizing and then blowing up the relationship in the most hurtful way possible. After the third time and a half-hearted apology, we made the decision not to complete the reconciliation process. The pattern of destroying healthy relationships was too ingrained.
We didn’t walk the second mile with them. We stopped walking altogether.
I hate that I couldn’t walk the third mile with these two individuals. I have sadness and regrets for them, but never for a moment have I regretted protecting my family. And in truth, there was not a single additional thing we could have done to make their lives better.
The Line You Can’t See Until You Cross It
This is the leadership paradox no one likes talking about. Going the extra mile for difficult people is what defines your character. But allowing yourself to be abused or taken advantage of destroys it.
Sometimes the very best thing you can do for someone is turn them loose to go find their happiness someplace else. Sometimes boundaries aren’t selfish; they are survival for you and for the rest of the community.
The question that keeps me up at night is this: How do you know the difference?
How do you know when you’re being weak by giving up versus being wise by protecting what matters?
How do you know when one more chance is grace versus enabling?
How do you know when walking away is failure versus the most courageous thing you can do?
The Painful Lessons
I don’t have a formula. Anyone who tells you they do is lying or hasn’t faced the real complexity of leading actual humans.
But here’s what I know: You don’t get credit for good intentions. You don’t get credit for caring deeply while doing nothing. You don’t get credit for being a “servant leader” on your LinkedIn profile.
You only get credit for your behavior when it’s hardest to behave well.
The first mile is what you’re paid to do. The second mile is where character lives. And knowing when to stop walking? That’s where wisdom lives.
Are you walking the second mile with people who don’t deserve it? Good. That’s leadership.
Are you walking yourself into the ground for people who are destroying you? Stop. That’s not leadership — that’s martyrdom.
The brutal truth: Sometimes you won’t know which is which until years later. Maybe ever.
But you still have to choose.