My father was an insurance man for much of his career.  He began as an agent for State Farm, then became a successful area manager for another company.  In approximately 1973 or so, he changed fields, bought a franchise for a specialized headhunter/personnel agency and opened an office in the downtown Dallas area.   It was a success and finally he fulfilled his dream of working for himself.

The business thrived and he decided to expand.  To do so, he needed to bring some managerial talent on board to spearhead the new endeavors.  Right up Dad’s alley, a search for just the right person was instituted, which led to finding a fellow I’ll call Bob, and Dad was thrilled to hire him.  When I use the word “thrilled”,  I mean he was ecstatic, believing he hired a man that would achieve greatness.

Two years later, the business was in financial shambles and the doors had to be closed, leaving a mountain of debt.  It seems that Bob, being in a position of trust and responsibility, helped himself to more money than could  be replaced in time; not with bank loans or any other way.

My Father was a man of great integrity.  He refused to file for bankruptcy, even though that is a perfectly legal way to discharge debt.  At that time in his early fifties, he went to work as an agent for an insurance company, starting from the ground up.  Slowly, and I’m sure painfully, he repaid every debt created by Bob the Embezzler and supported his wife in the meantime.

By the time he died on his 58th birthday, he was debt-free and left Mom financially able to live without going to work … and that was 25 years ago.

The question is, would you have taken personal responsibility to the same length that he did?   When I asked him “Why” he did, he said, “I was too trusting.  It was my fault”.

One of the truths I have learned in my life is that the acceptance of personal responsibility is key to personal improvement.  After all, if nothing is ever my fault, I have absolutely no need to work to be a better doctor, lawyer or indian chief … or husband, father or friend.  If I never feel that I owe an apology or restitution of some sort, then I am blind as a bat, right?

Did my Father go too far with his conviction to make things “right”.  I’ll let you answer that, but it worked for him.  Does the way you handle personal responsibility work for you and the ones you love?

Credits:  Thanks to Try God Blogspot for the thoughtful picture.