The Longest Game I’ve Ever Seen

The 100th National Cherry Festival just wrapped up here in Traverse City. Our second year as a vendor, and seventh year as the most visited cherry u-pick in the region. And somewhere between the crowds and the cherries, I found myself thinking about how much I have learned about influence from farming.

I moved onto a farm on Old Mission Peninsula, just north of Traverse City, in early 2019 — to see if a relationship with my boyfriend Isaiah could survive northern Michigan. I’d just launched my consulting practice, given myself eighteen months to make it work, and started writing Never Settle with John.

That first year was slow. Very slow. Painfully slow. So I opened a you-pick-cherry business for the summer to keep busy. I made a very small profit — but felt a sense of community and belonging with every single interaction. So I kept it going. I thought I was starting a side hustle. It turned out to be field experience in a whole new realm of influence.

Me at our Cherry U-Pick stand — the 100th National Cherry Festival.

One phone call. Decades of goodwill.

Farming is the longest game I have ever seen. Isaiah’s family has been doing this since 1924 — a hundred and two years — and in that world, you always need people.

This week, mid-harvest, his cherry shaker broke down. Without it, we’d lose at least a quarter of the crop. Isaiah made one call. Dave said yes before he’d finished asking — take the spare shaker — then handed over the name of a welder who could probably fix ours.

One phone call. Decades of goodwill, compressed into two minutes.

Isaiah helping me our first year at the Cherry U-Pick at Third Coast Farms stand
— grown on the Old Mission Peninsula.

It’s like that everywhere here. Goodwill shows up in ways you can’t put on a balance sheet:

A dollar when you’re stuck.

The farmer at the next festival stand who has one-dollar bills when you desperately need them on a holiday weekend.

A door you couldn’t open alone.

The second-degree connection who can finally land us the beverages and jam our customers have been asking about for years.

The customers who bring more customers.

The loyal, repeat customers coming back for their fifth or sixth year in a row — who send their friends and family our way.

The conqueror meets the long game.

I used to get frustrated watching Isaiah. I’d see other farmers take and take — resources, time, help — and he’d just keep humoring them. My old instincts screamed.

But then, periodically, Isaiah would need something. And one of those farmers turned out to be where our maple syrup came from — the best I’ve ever tasted. Another was a smaller processor who couldn’t pay as much as the rest, but stayed consistent in up markets and down. Which means Isaiah’s crop has always, always had a home.

I came up as a conqueror. I built a steel spine as a kid and I negotiated to win, crush, repeat. Then I came across the idea of relational influence, and it cracked something open. But it didn’t sink all the way in until I was living it.

What Farming Taught Me

The softest things — a name remembered, a favor freely given — turn out to be the strongest.

What seven years actually gave me.

That little U-Pick has grown 100x. People tell me it’s become a yearly family tradition, from all over the country. It grew through goodwill and word of mouth — and it opened doors we never expected: the festival, new partnerships, growth for Isaiah’s wholesale business, maybe more still to come.

Helping plant the new high-density cherry trees for the U-Pick back in 2021. Those trees now produce an amazing amount of fruit.

Isaiah looks at everything in decades, not years — the trees, the neighbors, the business, us. My conqueror mentality still flares up sometimes. Give them an ultimatum if they aren’t getting the job done! And then he gently reminds me of the long game.

Seven years ago, I gave this peninsula a year, my consulting practice eighteen months, and a cherry stand six weeks. What I actually got was a husband, a hundred-year lens, and proof that goodwill compounds better than anything else I’ve ever invested in.

The best deals aren’t fought for tooth and nail. They’re the ones built with care — and a long-term view.

Try this week

Before your next moment of influence, ask one question: will I want this person’s goodwill a year from now? If the answer is yes, give a little more than the moment strictly requires.