Something That Struck Me the Most This Week
This week, I came across a Sunday TED Talk episode that deeply resonated with me. The speaker, James Rhee — a former high school teacher, private equity investor, and first-time CEO — shared a story that touched the deepest level of my soul. James, a Korean American private equity investor who had never been a CEO before, spoke about his extraordinary turnaround of Ashley Stewart, a retail company serving primarily Black, moderate-income, plus-size women. Through kindness and a little bit of math, he transformed a business on the brink of bankruptcy into a profitable and powerful organization. In just two years, not only did the company achieve an incredible financial turnaround, but it also earned one of the highest Net Promoter Scores ever calculated by McKinsey.
Kindness is not a new idea. I learned about it in kindergarten and early elementary school, like when I shared my favorite piece of fried sesame chicken with a new friend at lunch. That simple act of generosity earned me a friend. Yet, as I grew older, I thought about kindness less often. When I heard the word "kindness" in the context of business leadership, it initially sounded strange, even naïve. But as I listened to James, I began to wonder — how could kindness, on its own, save a business?
James showed that it could. The key lies in embedding unselfish kindness into leadership and company culture. For him, kindness wasn't just about gestures; it was a commitment to his colleagues, who he fondly referred to as his friends. He invested his personal time in helping them gain agency, feel comfortable in their roles, and grow into better versions of themselves both at work and in life.
Every Friday, James held classes for his team, teaching them concepts that were traditionally CEO-only knowledge. For example, he used the idea of a balanced portfolio to explain the importance of every person and department. Just as a portfolio needs a mix of high-risk equities and stable bonds, Ashley Stewart needed every employee to thrive. In those moments, James reassured his team — people who were scared of losing their jobs and livelihoods — that they mattered. He made business concepts relatable, empowering his team to understand their value and feel safe.
James also introduced no-laptop meetings every Monday morning, where employees were encouraged to write essays. People joked that it felt like a humanities class, but these essays became a space for vulnerability — filled with laughter, tears, and even self-deprecating humor. Employees connected with one another through their words, fostering a deeper sense of community. They even compiled their essays into vlogs, showcasing their shared joy and satisfaction to the world.
James also brought kindness into the numbers. As a former finance professional, he refused to view labor as just another line item on a spreadsheet. "What is labor?" he asked. "It's you. It's the person sitting next to you." He removed payroll from the cost column, treating it as an investment. To further reinforce this mindset, he calculated net income before labor costs and created a bonus system that prioritized qualities like mentorship and teamwork over sales or revenue.
Kindness extended beyond the company walls. In 2013, during a holiday season when Ashley Stewart had no money left, the team hosted a modest celebration at a women's homeless shelter in Brooklyn. They gave what they could — their time, their hearts, and a few boxes of sample merchandise. Those customers became co-workers in spirit, using their own social media to promote the brand, moved by the sincerity of the team's kindness.
This story made me reflect deeply. Kindness, as James demonstrated, can save a business. It can inspire, transform, and create lasting change. And perhaps, just as sharing a piece of fried sesame chicken once sparked a childhood friendship, a little kindness can be the beginning of something extraordinary.