Twice a year, my wife runs a children’s consignment sale in the Bay Area. It seems simple enough on the surface, but it’s actually quite complicated when you dig in. And even if it wasn’t, this is Jennifer we’re talking about. At the point where most of us would congratulate ourselves for a job well done, she’s just getting warmed up. For months, I watched closely as she pushed herself beyond most normal expectations to reach her own. She wanted it to be the best event it could possibly be and worked really hard to make it so. Now, after all of her effort, it was time. It all came down to these 3 days.

Day 1 was record-breaking. It surpassed her plans and even her hopes. But after a morning rush on Day 2, there was a momentum-busting lull. We needed more traffic, but our hands seemed tied. City ordinances didn’t allow us to post signs on the street and we’d heard that big fines were likely if we did it anyway. I could feel Jen’s angst and disappointment – not only for herself, but even more so for her consignors.

Something had to be done. So I did what any man about to see his wife lose it would do. I made a desperate move.

I drove to Kinko’s and walked up to the counter. “I need you to make me the best sign you’ve ever made in your life.”

The clerk seemed to know exactly why I was there.  “How big do you want it, sir?”

“Big enough to interrupt someone’s day.”

Fifteen minutes later, I left with a sign the size of Texas. I parked at the busy corner just down from the sale and got out of the car, leaving my pride behind. I wouldn’t need it where I was going.

I could feel people staring at me as I approached the intersection, What’s that guy doing? What is that he’s holding? And so – I showed them. In a moment of resolve echoing John Cusack in Say Anything, I raised my sign to the sky. I could almost hear “In Your Eyes” playing in the background.

I’m not gonna lie. I felt awkward and embarrassed. I found myself wondering, “Is this my life? Am I really on this corner, shaking this sign and my booty to get people to buy some used kids’ stuff?”.

But then something amazing happened. A car turned to go to the sale. And then another – and another. In the first ten minutes, I counted seven people turning in to the sale. And in the hour that followed, there were about a hundred more.

My Irish boy skin was no match for the California sun. It was hot; I was burning, hungry and bored. Confident I’d saved the day, I decided to take my chances with the police. I staked my sign into the ground and two more on the adjacent corners, then headed back inside.

It didn’t take long for us to notice that the crowd was dwindling down again. I was puzzled. What was wrong? Maybe they’d been blown down by the wind or pulled up by some Sign Hater. I went back out to check on them, but there they were – right where I’d left them.

And that’s when I learned a lesson I’ll never forget.

For 5 or 6 minutes, I sat back and watched as car after car passed us by – unaware, unimpressed and unmoved by the gigantic sign that had been so persuasive. Once I was convinced it wasn’t a fluke, I took it back in my hands again and raised it high. Almost immediately, people became interested. Many changed their course to follow where it led.

That’s when it became clear to me. The people weren’t following the sign…not really. They were following me.

It was a simple revelation, but powerful in this context. On its own, it was just a piece of cardboard. Most people drove right past it as if it wasn’t even there. Others read and ignored it. But in my hands, it became a persuasive billboard. It carried weight. People were listening. They cared what it had to say – what I had to say. And they followed. That street corner became a classroom, re-teaching me something I thought I already knew.

We’re not looking for something to follow – we’re looking for someone to follow.  

We’re not compelled by a cause, but by the heart of the one who believes in it.   

We aren’t persuaded by words, but by the passion of the person who speaks them.

A message needs a heartbeat attached to it.

We’re looking for people who know something we don’t. So for better or worse, for our good or to our detriment, we’re compelled by those around us. Not just the charismatic extroverts of the world. You, me. Everyone carries a sign and points the way. CEO or common man. 17 years old or 78. We’re all persuading others to change their course and follow where we lead them.

And they do.

You’re holding a sign high in the air, pointing the way to something. The question is, “To what?”.  

The good news is you get to choose.