Robert Mayo – Professional Auctioneer, Auction Educator & Public Speaker

As a teenager I had a job working in a restaurant at The Maxim Hotel & Casino in Las VegasNevada. It was one of a number of interesting jobs I had growing up in the gaming capital of the world.

Part of my job was to refill dressing containers in several workstations throughout the restaurant where waiters and waitresses prepared salads for the guests.

The restaurant was on the first floor, and the salad dressing was in a walk in cooler on the second floor. Every day, sometimes twice a day depending on how busy we were, I would take the elevator ride to the second floor and move a 50 gallon trash can on wheels filled with ranch dressing out of the walk in cooler. I would then use a large ladle to fill smaller containers and take them back downstairs. Ranch was by far the most popular dressing in the restaurant, as the others were made in 5 gallon containers that I could easily lift and pour to refill.

On this particular day the giant ranch garbage can was filled to the brim, and for whatever reason, I decided to push the container out of the walk in cooler. Just as the wheel of the can was at the threshold of the cooler door, the elevator, which was immediately to the left of the walk in cooler, opened and the can caught on the threshold of the floor tipping over and spilling 50 gallons of fresh buttermilk ranch dressing out of the walk in cooler, into the elevator and down the elevator shaft.

It seemed like it took 10 minutes for the can to fall, and I was powerless to do anything about it. There was a thick white blanket of salad dressing covering the floor and elevator car in all directions.

Within moments, as if an alarm had sounded, the Sous Chef walked around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. I looked at him, he looked at me and without anyone saying a word I started to clean up the mess while he decided my fate.

Let’s just say this. Cleaning up 50 gallons of buttermilk ranch dressing is no easy task. There were brooms, buckets, towels, tablecloths, mops and a variety of other items involved.

The kitchen floor and elevator was restored to its former glory. The elevator shaft is a different story, as I am sure there is still evidence of this incident there to this day.

When the Sous-Chef returned to inspect my cleanup, I was expecting to get an earful, or maybe even lose my job, but what happened next not only surprised me, but stayed with me to this day.

It was the end of my shift, and by the time I had cleaned the mess up, it would have been time for me to go home already. He then said to me. “Well, lets make some more.” Then he instructed me on where to get the ingredients from the coolers and showed me how to make 50 gallons of buttermilk and sour cream ranch dressing from scratch in a large Hobart Mixer. This man never raised his voice and never reprimanded me for my mistake.

What he did instead was to teach me the power of taking responsibility for my actions by restoring the loss that I had created so no one else had to suffer from my mistake by having to do without, or make the dressing again.

After more then 20 years, I still try to remember his name, and although it will probably never come back to me. His simple act of kindness will stay with me for the rest of my life.

What I also learned from that experience was, when moving a 50 gallon container of salad dressing on wheels, you should always pull, never push.

Life is good, spread the word.

This past winter I received a call from a very nice gentleman in Cass County Missouri who had seen the generous article that had been written about auctions and our company in The Kansas City Star.

He was interested in selling some farm equipment on his property, and asked me to come out to take a look at what he had.

On the day we scheduled the visit, it was a very cold, around 10 degrees. I always like to be prepared, and on this day I had a heavy coat, thick gloves, and warm hat to make sure we were able to walk the entire property without worrying about over exposure.

Upon arriving at the property, my potential seller greeted me and immediately began to show me around. We looked at the barn and a super clean John Deere 4430 tractor as well as some cattle equipment.

There were two other areas on the farm with equipment that he wanted me to look at, and pointed to both of them, with clear instructions on making sure the gates stayed closed so that his “bull would not get out.” This should have been a red flag for me, but I proceeded with high energy like most auctioneers eager to see what we might have the opportunity to sell.

The seller went back into the house to warm up, and mumbled something about, “don’t worry about the bull, he won’t even care you are around.” This was probably another red flag, if red flags mean anything at this point.

After looking at the first area, and securing the gates according to his instructions I proceeded to the second area which was about a fifty yard walk across a pasture with two gates. At this point I had seen no evidence of a bull, and to be quite frank, I was more focused on staying warm and making sure the gates were secured properly.

Just as I had made it half way across the field, I saw out of the corner of my eye a large mass which immediately grabbed my attention. As I turned to get a better look, at the top of a hill about 40 yards away stood the biggest bull that I had ever seen in my entire life. This massive bull seemed two stories high, and if his rack were on the front of a Cadillac, it would have to taken up two lanes while driving.

I froze, and to my surprise, so did he. I looked to my right, where the gate that I had just entered from was tightly secured. I looked to my left where an open gate and fence where. A decision had to be made, and this is where I was thankful for my military medical training, where making quick and decisive decisions is crucial. It was roughly 25 yards either way, but it might as well been a half mile in my mind at the time.

I decided to walk briskly to my left, and use the open gate as a barrier if needed. As I began my brisk walk, the bull decided he was very interested in what I was doing, and this is when I noticed that I was wearing a BRIGHT RED JACKET. It was the warmest jacket I owned, but I would have gladly traded it for a Members Only wind breaker if I had known I was going to be a matador’s cape. Now I know bulls are colorblind, but this is no comfort when you are staring at what appears to be a two ton mass of muscle with an attitude.

He had his head down and was running very fast towards me at this point. I am usually a very optimistic person, but his speed, and the distance I had to cover to get to safety, made me a half cup empty kind of guy that day.

I decided to try something I had seen on a television program, and threw my arms up in the air rapidly. To my surprise, it actually worked, and the bull stopped in his tracks, turned sideways and looked at me. I continued to walk briskly and he started to slowly trot towards me again. I repeated the arm movement a second time, but this bull was not falling for that again. He increased his speed and was now running at me very fast. I decided that a brisk walk was no longer an option and did my best impression of Carl Lewis in a bright red jacket. It is amazing how fast you can run when properly motivated.

The gate and my fence proved to be my saving grace. I was able to barely get around the gate and position myself to jump the fence if he came around after me. As he came around, he snorted several times and trotted near a small outbuilding, while I wasted no time getting on the other side of the fence and ran to the first gate, secured it behind me and proceeded to meet the seller for a post inspection report. The rest of the meeting with the seller is irrelevant in comparison to the several things I learned that day.

The first being, that no matter how prepared you think you are there is always more that can happen to you.

The second thing that I learned is to ask the seller to accompany me whenever he mentions there is bull in the field.

The third and most important lesson I learned on that cold winter day is, never wear a red jacket when there might be bulls in a field, even if bulls are colorblind. I promise you there is no comfort from that knowledge.

Remember, Life is good….. really, really good!

Robert Mayo – CAI,AARE, ATS, GPPA-D
2007-08 Kansas State Champion Auctioneer