Five real cattlemen, grubby from the hard day’s work wait for their meal to be served in the wayside restaurant. Each wears faded mud crusted cowboy boots. I decide my mud caked walking shoes replete with cut outs for my toes to breathe are in worse shape, and of course I am equally as grubby after my day’s road work.
“Scales off”, one of the younger cowboys complains to the group. “Those SOB’s. I’ve known a lot of them do’in that trick over the years”, the heavy set boss responds. They must be weighing live stock I surmise.
As the dinner ends the youngest in the group, who is also the most muscled, leaves a small piece of stake and five French fries on his plate. As the waitress picks up the meager remains of a goo dinner, the boss speaks again. “Hold on there. Pack that up in a box. It will be my lunch tomorrow” Now that is leadership.
P.S. Each cowboy pays his own bill. Now maybe that is not leadership after all.