一位罹患新冠后遺癥的首席執行官開槍自殺，他留下了哪些教訓？
柯問思（Beth Kowitt）
2022-03-14
在肯特·泰勒溘然辭世前的那個12月，這位得克薩斯客棧牛排館（Texas Roadhouse）的創始人開始向家人、朋友和員工分發一本書。泰勒酷愛讀書是出了名的，他還喜歡把自己心儀的大部頭著作饋贈給別人——通常會在書中附上一份個人感悟。
這本書對這位餐飲企業家來說，算是一個小小的突破。他平時主要閱讀一些領導力和管理方面的經典著作，諸如《基業長青》（Built to Last）和《高效能人士的7個習慣》（The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People）之類。泰勒之所以能夠將他的公司打造成一家市值逾50億美元的企業，或許正是這些書給予的靈感。
但近些時日，泰勒更耽于自省。2020年11月，他不幸感染新冠病毒，此后就患上了嚴重的耳鳴——這是大腦對聽力受損做出的反應，通過產生聲音來彌補耳朵不再處理的外界聲響。病情逐漸惡化，聽起來就像“一架噴氣式飛機在你的耳邊以每周7天，每天24小時的頻率轟鳴起飛。”他的兒子馬克斯·泰勒說。就在他的痛苦似乎達到頂峰的時候，肯特開始翻閱這本談論如何以冥想的方式尋找快樂的書籍。“挺管用的，從閱讀中尋找快樂之道，有助于減輕他身體上的痛苦。”馬克斯表示。
很少有人知道泰勒正在經受新冠后遺癥的折磨。他對這番磨難守口如瓶，只告訴了最親密的人。他不是一位糾結于挫折，無法自拔的人，很快就開始以他特有的堅韌去解決耳鳴問題——咨詢世界各地的專家，拜訪最好的醫生，甚至資助相關研究項目。泰勒是一位斗士，而少數知曉內情的人都期望他最終會找到一種方法來戰勝這種鮮為人知的疾病，就像他屢屢攻克生活中遇到的其他挑戰一樣。
他們錯了。2021年3月18日，泰勒在他位于肯塔基州路易斯維爾郊外的農場自殺，終年65歲。
“9個月過去了，我還是盡量不去冥思苦想究竟是咋回事。我怎么會不知道呢？”與他并肩工作16年的執行助理謝莉·麥高恩說。“因為他不想讓我知道。他不想讓我們任何人知道。”
這本該是一個值得慶賀的時刻。盡管新冠疫情讓餐飲業哀鴻一片，但得克薩斯客棧已然度過了最艱難的時刻，甚至比以往更加強大。這在很大程度上要歸功于泰勒的領導才能。他準備退后一步，花更多的時間去陪伴馬克斯、兩個女兒和他的孫輩。此外，他此前完成的大作——泰勒在書中詳細介紹了他是如何構筑起這個行業最具創新性的概念之一——也將在短短幾個月后上架銷售。
但現在，這家公司突然發現自己面臨一個天大的課題：在痛失了一位打破傳統、與公司身份休戚與共的創始人之后，未來的路應該怎么走，如何繼續經營下去？“我不能被壓垮，這家公司也不能就此垮掉。”杰里·摩根說。他在2020年被任命為總裁，并在泰勒去世后接任首席執行官一職。“要是公司垮了，我們如何對得起他的在天之靈。”得克薩斯客棧準備舉辦一場追悼會，設立每年一度的創始人日，還打算建造一尊雕像和一家博物館。但不管怎樣，應該做的工作還得做：全球630家餐廳需要每天下午4點準時開業。“我翻來覆去地想，在緬懷方面花多少心思是適宜的，又應該分配多少精力來籌劃未來、繼續前行？”前首席運營官史蒂夫·奧爾蒂斯這樣說道。他不僅是泰勒的密友，也是得克薩斯客棧的特許經營人。
誠哉斯言。所有這些大驚小怪肯定會讓泰勒無比尷尬。在世的時候，性格內向到極致，不得不擺出姿態來扮演首席執行官角色的泰勒，也從來不想被人膜拜。他會仿照撲克牌友威利·納爾遜的模樣，戴上所謂的“威利辮子”（一種把紗線縫在頭巾上的裝扮），然后把這些辮子像名片一樣分發出去——這種滑稽的行為掩飾了他非凡的紀律性。公司的頭銜和等級制度讓他很惱火。隨著生意越做越大，泰勒一直在竭力避免這兩樣東西所帶來的種種虛飾。在路易斯維爾總部，沒有高管專享停車位，遑論以勢壓人。在一個生意繁忙的周六，泰勒像其他人一樣在得克薩斯客棧餐廳排了一個小時隊才等到一張餐桌。
泰勒向來都很低調。和大多數人一樣，3月看到他的訃告時，我對這位企業家知之甚少。這則訃告讀起來就像是新冠悲劇的一個縮影。是啊，病毒是不會憐憫任何人的。但在泰勒和他的公司身上，我發現的遠不止是一個悲傷的故事。從這位創始人身上，以及他執拗地堅持走自己的路，并最終收獲巨大成功的歷程中，我們可以學到很多教益。作為一個研究案例，得克薩斯客棧讓我們見證了堅持不懈，懷揣悲痛繼續前行的力量。是的，這是一個令人難過的故事，但它同樣是一個洋溢著希望光輝的故事。甚或，正如泰勒的文學靈感所暗示的那樣，這也是一個關乎快樂的故事。
在得克薩斯客棧的創業神話中，失敗是非常醒目的一部分。做了多年餐館經理的泰勒相繼被100多名投資者拒絕。后來，三位當地的心內科醫生決定支持他創辦自己的連鎖店。1993年，第一家得克薩斯客棧在印第安納州的克拉克斯維爾開業。不到6年，這家初創牛排連鎖店就因為選址不當，不得不關閉最初5家餐廳中的3家餐廳。泰勒一直在辦公室里保存著這些失敗店面的紀念品：兩條制成標本的魚和一個牛頭骨。在他的余生中，每家店面的選址都是他親自考察，親自拍板的。對泰勒來說，從錯誤中汲取教訓的謙遜態度，是一個極其關鍵的素養。即使在最輝煌的時刻，他也不希望這家公司表現得好像已經抵達成功彼岸似的。
泰勒鼓勵最早加入的員工與他聯手，共同賭一把得克薩斯客棧的未來。店長需要預付2.5萬美元，并簽署一份為期五年的合同，但在工資之外，他們還能夠得到餐廳利潤的10%。在一定程度上，采用這種安排也是不得已而為之——泰勒確實需要錢，但它也激發了創業精神。“主人翁意識滲透到了公司的各個部門，大家都抱有一種‘這家店是我的，我們就是店主’的心態。”奧爾蒂斯說。他和泰勒相識于丹佛的連鎖餐廳Bennigan’s，兩人當時都在那里打工。這個模式甚至帶來了更好的食物。較低的員工離職率意味著餐廳可以制作更加復雜的菜品，比如從頭開始烤的面包或需要三天時間烹制的排骨。
得克薩斯客棧往往選擇在人們駕駛皮卡、聽鄉村音樂、愛喝百威（Budweiser）而不是喜力啤酒（Heineken）的區域開設店面。奧爾蒂斯說：“對于餐廳的定位，我們毫無疑慮，也不存在什么灰色地帶。肯特從不讓我們分神。”有一次，公司將鯰魚列入菜單，一位新員工隨即提議稱，一整塊鯰魚看起來要比四小塊酷得多。泰勒的第一反應是：你是無法用手拿起一整條魚的。他知道，得克薩斯客棧的顧客想用手指拿起食物。
泰勒也有非常偏執的一面。住進一間沉悶的酒店客房，他會給墻上掛一條壁毯，換個燈泡，并安裝上揚聲器。在自家餐廳，他會親自把掛在墻上的動物頭下移四分之一英寸。在得克薩斯客棧創辦早期，現任首席學習和文化官的吉娜·托賓負責經營該公司在路易斯維爾開設的第一家分店，泰勒經常在周日攜家人來店就餐。起身離座之際，他會塞給她一張紙，上面是他用微笑或悲傷表情對用餐體驗的每個環節（牛排、菜肴、服務員、氣氛等等）進行的鄭重評價。
他從不想跟法律和人力資源扯上任何關系。在泰勒眼中，這些部門代表著森嚴的規則，動輒就對人說“不”的習慣，而這些都是他深惡痛絕的事情。該公司的前法律顧問西莉亞·卡特利特指出：“在得克薩斯客棧，‘公司’是一個令人不齒的臟字。”在上市后的17年中，這家公司只辦過一次分析師溝通會。泰勒每年都會抽出三個月的時間去滑雪，有一次臨行前還給董事長格雷格·摩爾的語音信箱留了一份接班計劃，以防他的直升機滑雪之旅遭遇不測。泰勒的座右銘之一是：“蜜獾狗屁都不在乎。”他指的是一段廣為流傳的視頻：這種狂傲不羈的小動物與毒蛇干了一架，并一頭扎進蜇人的蜂巢。泰勒還特意在辦公室里放了一只蜜獾標本，以求更加形象地向來訪者傳達這個訊息。
2019年，泰勒決定親自寫一本商業書。沒錯，這是一件很有首席執行官范兒的事情，但他做事的方式非常不像首席執行官。他用手寫，把每一頁的照片發給編輯（經常不按順序，而且是在大半夜）。他希望這本書讀起來像出自他口。“我對他說：‘肯特，我覺得‘滾遠點’這個詞使用過度了。’”該書的編輯阿德里安·戈斯蒂克告訴我。“但他回答說：‘我平常就是這么說話的。’”泰勒拒絕給他的書后綴一個索引表。要是有人想知道這本書是否提到自己，泰勒就會告訴他們，你必須得通讀一遍“這該死的玩意”。
2020年2月下旬，泰勒約了幾位好友參加每年一度的滑雪之旅。度假的時機再合適不過了。得克薩斯客棧增勢迅猛，有望迎來有史以來最成功的一年。每家門店每周的平均銷售額達到10.5萬美元，同比增長4.5%。在Applebee’s和Olive Garden等業內同行陷入困境，門可羅雀之際，得克薩斯客棧的客流量卻在不斷增長，成為休閑餐飲業迄今為止表現最好的公司。
身處猶如世外桃源的奧地利阿爾卑斯山，由于當地新聞是德語，泰勒對鋪天蓋地的新冠疫情早期報道全不知情，還在優哉游哉。但在他3月9日重返辦公室那一刻，泰勒終于意識到事態的嚴重性。隨著新冠疫情持續加劇，每家門店每周的平均銷售額驟降至2.9萬美元，創下歷史新低。公司每周要“燒掉”500萬美元的現金——這不免讓人回想起泰勒在創業早期不得不放棄兌現自己的支票來發工資的情形。現在，為了按時支付一線員工的獎金，他不再領取薪水，還額外拿出500萬美元充實公司的員工救助基金。事實上，2020年的大部分獎金都是他自己掏腰包，泰勒還要求少數知情者不要把此事張揚出去。
受困于極端匱乏，不斷變化的運營情報，管理團隊一時無從著手。于是，泰勒建立了一個決策流程，他要求所有議題都必須進行深入徹底的討論，但務必要在24小時內作出決定。這項策略在個人防護設備（PPE）方面得到了回報。大多數高管相信，如果員工都戴上口罩，顧客勢必會感到恐慌。但經過與運營四家餐廳的中國臺灣團隊溝通后，泰勒斷言，過不了多久，食客反倒會因為服務生不戴口罩而感到不安。最終，采購團隊購入大批口罩，避免了隨后爆發的“口罩荒”給其他企業帶來的窘境。
泰勒始終堅稱，得克薩斯客棧獨有的氛圍——輕快的鄉村音樂，地板上的花生殼——不能被令人悲傷地包裹在一個濕漉漉的外賣盒中。該公司拒絕提供外賣配送服務，其自取業務僅占總銷售額的7%，為行業最低。但隨著新冠疫情給喧鬧的聚會場景按下暫停鍵，是時候重新評估這種做法了。那么，他們如何以得克薩斯客棧的方式做外賣呢？
泰勒開始召集“瘋子”出點子。“瘋子”是他對那些不按常理出牌的門店經營者的昵稱。在其他任何公司，這些人都會被貼上“麻煩制造者”的標簽。事實上，在泰勒成為自己的老板之前，這也是同事們對他的一貫看法。
尼爾·尼克勞斯是其中最瘋狂的一位。工齡長達26年的他現在掌管123家門店。加入得克薩斯客棧之前，他曾經在現已倒閉的美國墨西哥連鎖餐廳Chi-Chi’s工作了十余年。有一次參加迪士尼巡游活動時，看到每個人都跟隨著經典鄉村歌曲《Cotton Eye Joe》的節拍，與唐老鴨和米老鼠一起舞動，尼克勞斯突然萌生了讓食客在他管理的一家餐廳跳排排舞的念頭。獲悉這家餐廳的每周銷售額飆漲了5000美元，泰勒打電話給他，想知道他是如何做到的。很快，每位得克薩斯客棧的員工都知道如何側并步和側交叉步。
考慮到如今的情勢，點子自然是越瘋狂越好，而尼克勞斯再次不負所托。一位員工問他可否從自家餐廳買一罐青豆，因為超市的貨架早已空空如也。尼克勞斯隨即決定廉價出售部分庫存。不過，當一家餐廳開始向顧客出售生牛排時，就連他也覺得太過火了。尼克勞斯帶著歉意給老板打了一通電話，但泰勒卻出人意料地肯定了這種做法，為什么不呢？隨后，尼克勞斯安排兩位經理與當地一家農產品公司合作，建立了一個臨時農貿市場，并由此創下每日銷售紀錄。一些顧客甚至在餐廳外辦起了車尾派對。收到尼克勞斯的報告后，泰勒讓大家備好野餐桌，在停車場大張旗鼓地開派對。
每每身處險境，泰勒總能展現其不落窠臼的領導才能。那一年的諸多變數最終讓得克薩斯客棧煥然一新。這家公司躍入電子商務領域，推出了一家在線肉店，尋求與Omaha Steaks一決高下。由于電視不再播放體育賽事，得克薩斯客棧還推出了一個鄉村音樂視頻站。不動產團隊購買了多個儲存倉，用印有公司專屬標識的塑料包裹起來，并將其用作配送中心。外賣業務現在占據公司營收的五分之一，創下休閑餐飲業在新冠疫情期間外賣收入的最大漲幅。根據得克薩斯客棧在上季度公布的財報，總體銷售額比新冠疫情前高出20%。
泰勒這輩子從來沒有怕過什么，但他一直害怕感染新冠病毒。在新冠疫情爆發的最初幾個月，他逃到自己的農場，等到領導團隊再次進行面對面磋商時，他會戴著雙層口罩和手套現身會場。鑒于如此多員工仰仗他的領導，他實在生不起病。無論如何，泰勒總是有點潔癖的——如果你要清嗓子或咳嗽，最好不要在他面前做。
因此，當泰勒在2020年11月患上新冠肺炎時，沒有人知道他是如何感染的。“我有點震驚，搞不懂這究竟是咋回事。”麥高恩告訴我。他的癥狀還算輕微，但沒有過多久，耳鳴就轟然而至。
耳鳴是一種孤獨的癥狀。美國明尼蘇達大學醫學院（University of Minnesota Medical School）專門研究耳鳴的教授休伯特·利姆解釋說，它幾乎就像是一個幻肢。外人都聽不到患者感受到的嗡嗡聲，所以很難評估。泰勒所患的衰弱性耳鳴是最嚴重的一種，困擾著大約1%的人，它可能會嚴重影響睡眠。肯特·泰勒的父親鮑威爾·泰勒告訴我，他的兒子把這種痛楚隱瞞了好幾個月，不想讓別人為他難過。
目前還沒有治療耳鳴的方法，但馬克斯說，父親只要醒著，就會想方設法地尋找治病良策。在翻閱了休伯特·利姆的研究成果，并在播客上聽完他的演講后，泰勒主動聯系了這位耳鳴專家，并最終為他的研究捐贈了50萬美元。利姆告訴我，耳鳴病例在新冠疫情期間有所增加。但目前要判斷耳鳴是否由新冠病毒或新冠疫苗引起，還為時過早。過去兩年出現了太多其他的混淆因素，例如壓力、隔離、更安靜的環境等等。
2020年12月，泰勒像往年一樣飛赴佛羅里達，陪伴年邁的父母過圣誕，但最終在那里待了好幾個月，因為他發現，他已經無法忍受高空飛行的痛苦。那一年，泰勒沒有去滑雪，沒有喝咖啡（這會引發耳鳴），也不再聽他心愛的滾石樂隊（Rolling Stones）。
3月初，前首席運營官奧爾蒂斯飛往佛羅里達，準備跟泰勒和其他幾位朋友進行為期一周的乘船旅行。一看到老友突然衰老了很多的面容，奧爾蒂斯大驚失色。泰勒告訴他，最近好一陣子，他每天的睡眠時間不超過三個小時。但他看上去也像是一位為未來做打算的人。泰勒剛剛在佛羅里達州的那不勒斯買了一艘船和一棟房子。在旅行的每一天，他都顯得放松自如，病情似乎日漸好轉。
就在這次乘船旅行結束后，泰勒前往愛爾蘭進行了一項實驗性治療。這似乎對一只耳朵起到了立竿見影的效果。他給奧爾蒂斯發了一個語音信息，說治療很順利，他很樂觀。泰勒甚至對現在擔任公司董事長的摩爾說，他正在考慮去滑雪。
但在3月中旬，泰勒回到路易斯維爾接種新冠疫苗時，耳鳴又卷土重來。兩天后，他離開公司，開車去了郊外的農場，然后開槍自殺。泰勒的一位朋友說，他從來都不喜歡槍，但在路易斯維爾爆發因為警察殺害布倫娜·泰勒而引發的抗議活動期間，作為執法部門支持者的得克薩斯客棧屢屢受到威脅，泰勒隨即買了一把槍。鮑威爾·泰勒告訴我，他兒子給他最看重的人逐一留下遺言。“他原以為他能夠像攻克其他難關一樣，最終邁過這道坎。”鮑威爾說，“但這一次，他算是棋逢對手了。”
我來到路易斯維爾那天，距泰勒離世幾乎剛好過了九個月。在公司支持中心，人們仍然在尋找個性化的悼念方式。在得克薩斯客棧工作了四分之一個世紀的首席學習和文化官托賓，在口袋里揣著一把吉他飾品，上面刻著泰勒的一句口頭禪：搖滾吧！她會時不時地擦擦它，希望從中汲取靈感。
泰勒最親密的心腹都在為如何應對這些更加公開的紀念活動而苦惱。在路易斯維爾的第二家得克薩斯客棧門店，員工在入口處擺放了一支蠟燭和照片。主管溝通和公共事務的副總裁特拉維斯·多斯特有些日子不去那里了。在他看來，如果泰勒在天有靈，這個臨時搭建的神龕會讓他發瘋的。但他不想要求員工把它拆掉。在公司總部，一個印有泰勒照片的巨大橫幅裝飾在大樓的一側。“他肯定不喜歡這樣。”長期擔任泰勒助理的麥高恩說。
任何形式的吹捧都會讓泰勒感到不舒服。他很內向，聰明但不善社交。奧爾蒂斯告訴我，他或許更愿意讓別人來做所有這一切的代言人。為了克服對聚光燈的極度不適，泰勒創造了另一個自我：布巴（Bubba）。每當他迫于無奈之下登上舞臺，他就會扮演起這個看上去喧鬧無比的角色。泰勒所穿的服裝和他所戴的假發，其實是一種策略，意在幫助他扮演一些讓他感到局促的角色。哪怕進入首席執行官模式，他那一身牛仔褲和牛仔帽行頭，也是表演的一部分。“我至少跟他一同外出一千次了，從未見過他戴牛仔帽。他甚至不聽鄉村音樂。”奧爾蒂斯說。
與泰勒交往最深的人，最不可能對他膜拜有加。我采訪了多位泰勒的心腹，他們真正了解隱藏在這些服裝道具背后那個真實的泰勒。這個核心圈子有一個共同點：他們都曾經挑戰過他。“我對他向來都是有啥說啥，絕無半句虛言。”麥高恩說，“他喜歡別人反駁他——但這樣做的人并不多。”
麥高恩從2005年開始擔任泰勒的助理，有效地掌管著他生活的方方面面。“每個做行政工作的，總會遇到自己仰慕的老板。”她解釋說，“沒錯，他就是我有幸遇到的那一位。”兩人會乏味地仔細查看他放在后兜的日程安排表，麥高恩時刻不忘備好他標志性的藍色可擦除筆和方格紙。但當泰勒的孫子出生時，她也在醫院忙前忙后，還參與策劃了他女兒的婚禮。就像我交談過的很多人一樣，她一直是泰勒及其家人的堅定保護者。“我現在仍然是。”她告訴我。我明白，這是一個友好的警告。
泰勒放棄他的薪水后，麥高恩有點擔心，問他在經濟方面是否會有問題。“我覺得自己真的看不穿他有多少財富。”她說，“在我看來，他普通的不能再普通了。”泰勒最后一次買車，也是她第一次可以說服老板買輛新車，再不要買二手車。他此前的座駕一直是雪佛蘭（Chevy）的Suburban越野車，里面總是堆滿了垃圾，麥高恩稱之為“滾動的垃圾桶”。
我是在泰勒的辦公室，與麥高恩和多斯特交談的。各種假植物環繞在我們四周，都是他喜歡的類型。“這些都是我在家得寶（Home Depot）買的。”麥高恩說。書架上擺放著泰勒的孩子和孫輩的照片，一如他在三個家中所展示的那樣。
泰勒是在新冠疫情爆發前幾個月才搬到這間辦公室，此舉是為了讓麥高恩的辦公桌靠近窗戶。時至今日，這位多年的助手還是很難走進老板的農場住所，但她還沒有對這個地方產生感情。“這里的氣息不像他。”她說。等到泰勒的孩子整理好心緒，他們會拿走他最后的私人物品，然后這間屋子就會用作他途。泰勒不會希望他的員工把這里變成一處圣地。
多斯特和麥高恩是泰勒自殺當天最后見到他的兩個人，也是最早知道這起慘劇的人。麥高恩揣測，這一切都是他事先計劃好的，“他知道我們會不惜一切代價保護他。”事發當天，兩人設法確保在消息傳出之前讓他的家人先知道此事。“回想起來，他其實早就培訓過我們，讓我們知道應該做什么，怎么做。”
在他去世的那天，泰勒在辦公桌上留下了一個信封，里面裝著他的心愿。其中包含一片橫格紙，上面只有寥寥幾個字：杰里·摩根，首席執行官，2021年3月18日。麥高恩把這張紙條裱起來送給了摩根。這位新任首席執行官把它擺放在辦公室醒目處，時刻提醒自己這份工作的分量。
在那之前，摩根始終期待著一種迥然不同的接班方式。在2020年12月被提拔為公司總裁之前，他一直泰勒麾下的眾多“瘋子”之一，在14個州經營著120多家餐廳。泰勒沒有確定退休時間表，也沒有給任何承諾——摩根對此并無異議。“肯特不可能完全置身事外。”摩根說。多斯特曾經嘗試著幫助兩人做好交接準備，安排他們閱讀《老爸的生意》（My Father’s Business）一書。這本書記錄了Dollar General公司的首席執行官的代際交接過程。但大家心知肚明的是，無論什么時候，泰勒都將在公司發揮巨大的影響力。
相較于他現在的境遇，摩根對這一幕做了更充分的準備——他告訴泰勒不要插手他的事務。去年8月，出于對新冠疫情的擔憂，他打電話取消了公司的年度會議。在那一刻，摩根突然萌生了一種格外強烈的沖動，他多么希望自己能夠拿起電話，與泰勒溝通此事。但斯人已逝。讓他稍感慰藉的是，他知道泰勒會說什么：不用做一只被壓扁的松樹——冒冒失失地跑到公路上，優柔寡斷，然后被車輾過。無論如何，告訴別人應該做什么從來都不是泰勒的風格。他更喜歡訓練人們如何思考。“進入我的大腦。”他會這樣說。
摩根已經在公司工作了25年，是一位久負盛名的運營者。作為餐廳經理，他每天都會花兩個小時稱量當晚要供應的所有牛排，并親自品嘗菜單上的每一道菜。“這樣做確實很蠢。”他說。和泰勒一樣，他是一位注重細節的人，但他更喜歡與人打交道，不喜歡搞花架子。他無法忍受只有三四個人參與，“看上去糟糕無比的排排舞。”他說，“如果你打算草草了事，干脆就別做。”要是他再重40磅，再高4英寸，摩根可能會在高中畢業后繼續他的橄欖球生涯。他說話的口氣更像是一位主教練，而不是一位首席執行官。事實上，他也經常以教練自詡。
現在，摩根的首要任務是幫助公司盡快走出悲痛。在最初那幾個月，他不得不進行深呼吸，出去散步。他坐在妻子面前，懇求她施以援手。他逐漸接受了一個事實：每隔一段時間，他就會在團隊面前情緒崩潰。“太沉重了。”摩根說，“最最要緊的是，他把這副擔子交給了我。是他讓我上場的。”
我在路易斯維爾采訪的最后一位，是肯特的兒子馬克斯。他今年26歲，從出生那一刻起，得克薩斯客棧就是他生活的軸心。大學畢業后，他在丹佛的一家餐飲初創公司做事，打算開創自己的事業。但在2018年，他的外祖父去世了，這是他人生中第一次經受親人離世的打擊。馬克斯感到上天在召喚他重返肯塔基州。新冠疫情襲來時，他正等著領取房地產經紀人資格證書。在新冠疫情期間，無事可做的馬克斯開始在得克薩斯客棧的支持中心幫忙，做一些諸如協商租金延期、購買個人防護用品這類需要有人做的事情。這本該是一份臨時工作，直到肯特告訴他，他需要馬克斯加入得克薩斯客棧——這是他此前從未提過的要求。
這對父子一直住在路易斯維爾郊外的家庭農場。肯特搬進了他在那里建造的新房子，馬克斯和幾位朋友則住在舊農舍。在剛剛住進農場那幾個月，父子倆每天都會圍坐在戶外一張桌子旁，討論公司事務和世界時局。但這種后院討論常常會轉向他們將要分享的書——肯特偏愛商業，而馬克斯則傾向于哲學。在肯特去世后，馬克斯看到他的辦公桌上還擺著一摞沒有來得及送出的書。
馬克斯告訴我，這本書觸及了父親在生命最后時刻不斷演變的人生觀。他更加注重精神上的富足，即使在經歷耳鳴折磨的時候，他也始終保持著積極的心態。他把自己寫的書通讀了一遍，然后大刀闊斧地刪掉所有的負面內容，比如一些可能被誤解的笑話，他第一次失敗婚姻的細節，等等。書中絲毫沒有提及他自己感染新冠病毒或者罹患耳鳴的遭遇。至少沒有公開談及。“恐懼是不可避免的，痛苦亦是如此。”他在結語中寫道，“我從來沒有遇到過一位沒有在個人生活中克服過障礙或悲劇的成功人士。但我們每天都可以選擇，要么聽從周遭負面事件的擺布，做出情緒化的反應，要么綻開笑顏，努力成為房間里最積極向上的那個人。”
得克薩斯客棧是肯特的生命，是他的孩子。馬克斯坦言，父親這輩子幾乎把所有心思都花在了這家公司上；有時候，這會成為他和家人難以承受之重。馬克斯還上大學時，他父母的婚姻，也是肯特的第二次婚姻，就宣告破裂了。就在肯特去世前，他本打算退后一步，花更多的時間跟家人在一起。“這確實是他的目標。”馬克斯說，“對我們所有人來說，這都是一個很好的教訓，你現在就應該抓緊時間陪伴家人，因為你永遠不知道，你還能夠在這人世間駐留多少時日。”
結束與馬克斯的對話，已經是下午晚些時分，我旋即訂了第二天的返程機票。我原計劃利用一上午的時間在路易斯維爾四處轉轉，更加深入地體驗這座塑造了肯特·泰勒的城市。但這場對話讓我感受到親人離世帶來的悲傷，留下的種種遺憾和未竟之事，也讓我迫切地想要回到自己的親人身旁。為了趕早班飛機，我凌晨4點就醒了。驅車經過得克薩斯客棧的總部和那張印有泰勒照片的巨大橫幅時，我似乎感到，他正在上空俯視著我。
如何緩解工作場所的悲傷情緒
過去兩年來，很多人都失去了親人。僅在美國就有超過86萬人死于新冠肺炎，墜入無邊悲痛的至愛親朋估計多達770萬之眾。任何有此經歷的人都會告訴你，悲傷情緒不會因為你去上班而戛然而止。
但美國工人并沒有受聯邦政府保護的法定喪假。根據美國勞工統計局（BLS）的數據，僅有56%的美國員工享有帶薪喪假。
雇主不妨采用以下這些措施，為員工提供更多的支持：
提供帶薪喪假——多多益善。
寥寥數日，是很難讓失去至親的人走出悲痛的。“悲傷不是一種時斷時續的情緒。它會像驚濤駭浪一樣涌來。”南伊利諾伊大學愛德華茲維爾分校（Southern Illinois University Edwardsville）專門研究悲傷情緒的教授喬斯林·德格魯特說。
放寬對喪假資格的限制。
帶薪喪假通常只限于直系親屬的死亡。那么如果你在哀悼一位密友或一位情同手足的表親呢？
一些公司在新冠疫情期間延長了喪假時間。例如，高盛集團（Goldman Sachs）現在為失去直系親屬的員工提供20天的帶薪喪假，給失去遠親的員工放5天假。
承認員工的悲痛——并且明白它還在持續。
雇主務必要感悟到員工的喪親之痛，不要假裝一切如常。“我們總是認為，只要給幾天假期，悲傷就會散去。當然，悲傷是需要時間來緩解的。”對悲傷頗有研究、著作等身的Grief.com網站的創始人大衛·凱斯勒說，“但雇主也要在員工重返崗位后，適時地給予其撫慰。”——Maria Aspan（財富中文網）
譯者：任文科
在肯特·泰勒溘然辭世前的那個12月，這位得克薩斯客棧牛排館（Texas Roadhouse）的創始人開始向家人、朋友和員工分發一本書。泰勒酷愛讀書是出了名的，他還喜歡把自己心儀的大部頭著作饋贈給別人——通常會在書中附上一份個人感悟。
這本書對這位餐飲企業家來說，算是一個小小的突破。他平時主要閱讀一些領導力和管理方面的經典著作，諸如《基業長青》（Built to Last）和《高效能人士的7個習慣》（The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People）之類。泰勒之所以能夠將他的公司打造成一家市值逾50億美元的企業，或許正是這些書給予的靈感。
但近些時日，泰勒更耽于自省。2020年11月，他不幸感染新冠病毒，此后就患上了嚴重的耳鳴——這是大腦對聽力受損做出的反應，通過產生聲音來彌補耳朵不再處理的外界聲響。病情逐漸惡化，聽起來就像“一架噴氣式飛機在你的耳邊以每周7天，每天24小時的頻率轟鳴起飛。”他的兒子馬克斯·泰勒說。就在他的痛苦似乎達到頂峰的時候，肯特開始翻閱這本談論如何以冥想的方式尋找快樂的書籍。“挺管用的，從閱讀中尋找快樂之道，有助于減輕他身體上的痛苦。”馬克斯表示。
很少有人知道泰勒正在經受新冠后遺癥的折磨。他對這番磨難守口如瓶，只告訴了最親密的人。他不是一位糾結于挫折，無法自拔的人，很快就開始以他特有的堅韌去解決耳鳴問題——咨詢世界各地的專家，拜訪最好的醫生，甚至資助相關研究項目。泰勒是一位斗士，而少數知曉內情的人都期望他最終會找到一種方法來戰勝這種鮮為人知的疾病，就像他屢屢攻克生活中遇到的其他挑戰一樣。
他們錯了。2021年3月18日，泰勒在他位于肯塔基州路易斯維爾郊外的農場自殺，終年65歲。
“9個月過去了，我還是盡量不去冥思苦想究竟是咋回事。我怎么會不知道呢？”與他并肩工作16年的執行助理謝莉·麥高恩說。“因為他不想讓我知道。他不想讓我們任何人知道。”
這本該是一個值得慶賀的時刻。盡管新冠疫情讓餐飲業哀鴻一片，但得克薩斯客棧已然度過了最艱難的時刻，甚至比以往更加強大。這在很大程度上要歸功于泰勒的領導才能。他準備退后一步，花更多的時間去陪伴馬克斯、兩個女兒和他的孫輩。此外，他此前完成的大作——泰勒在書中詳細介紹了他是如何構筑起這個行業最具創新性的概念之一——也將在短短幾個月后上架銷售。
但現在，這家公司突然發現自己面臨一個天大的課題：在痛失了一位打破傳統、與公司身份休戚與共的創始人之后，未來的路應該怎么走，如何繼續經營下去？“我不能被壓垮，這家公司也不能就此垮掉。”杰里·摩根說。他在2020年被任命為總裁，并在泰勒去世后接任首席執行官一職。“要是公司垮了，我們如何對得起他的在天之靈。”得克薩斯客棧準備舉辦一場追悼會，設立每年一度的創始人日，還打算建造一尊雕像和一家博物館。但不管怎樣，應該做的工作還得做：全球630家餐廳需要每天下午4點準時開業。“我翻來覆去地想，在緬懷方面花多少心思是適宜的，又應該分配多少精力來籌劃未來、繼續前行？”前首席運營官史蒂夫·奧爾蒂斯這樣說道。他不僅是泰勒的密友，也是得克薩斯客棧的特許經營人。
誠哉斯言。所有這些大驚小怪肯定會讓泰勒無比尷尬。在世的時候，性格內向到極致，不得不擺出姿態來扮演首席執行官角色的泰勒，也從來不想被人膜拜。他會仿照撲克牌友威利·納爾遜的模樣，戴上所謂的“威利辮子”（一種把紗線縫在頭巾上的裝扮），然后把這些辮子像名片一樣分發出去——這種滑稽的行為掩飾了他非凡的紀律性。公司的頭銜和等級制度讓他很惱火。隨著生意越做越大，泰勒一直在竭力避免這兩樣東西所帶來的種種虛飾。在路易斯維爾總部，沒有高管專享停車位，遑論以勢壓人。在一個生意繁忙的周六，泰勒像其他人一樣在得克薩斯客棧餐廳排了一個小時隊才等到一張餐桌。
泰勒向來都很低調。和大多數人一樣，3月看到他的訃告時，我對這位企業家知之甚少。這則訃告讀起來就像是新冠悲劇的一個縮影。是啊，病毒是不會憐憫任何人的。但在泰勒和他的公司身上，我發現的遠不止是一個悲傷的故事。從這位創始人身上，以及他執拗地堅持走自己的路，并最終收獲巨大成功的歷程中，我們可以學到很多教益。作為一個研究案例，得克薩斯客棧讓我們見證了堅持不懈，懷揣悲痛繼續前行的力量。是的，這是一個令人難過的故事，但它同樣是一個洋溢著希望光輝的故事。甚或，正如泰勒的文學靈感所暗示的那樣，這也是一個關乎快樂的故事。
在得克薩斯客棧的創業神話中，失敗是非常醒目的一部分。做了多年餐館經理的泰勒相繼被100多名投資者拒絕。后來，三位當地的心內科醫生決定支持他創辦自己的連鎖店。1993年，第一家得克薩斯客棧在印第安納州的克拉克斯維爾開業。不到6年，這家初創牛排連鎖店就因為選址不當，不得不關閉最初5家餐廳中的3家餐廳。泰勒一直在辦公室里保存著這些失敗店面的紀念品：兩條制成標本的魚和一個牛頭骨。在他的余生中，每家店面的選址都是他親自考察，親自拍板的。對泰勒來說，從錯誤中汲取教訓的謙遜態度，是一個極其關鍵的素養。即使在最輝煌的時刻，他也不希望這家公司表現得好像已經抵達成功彼岸似的。
泰勒鼓勵最早加入的員工與他聯手，共同賭一把得克薩斯客棧的未來。店長需要預付2.5萬美元，并簽署一份為期五年的合同，但在工資之外，他們還能夠得到餐廳利潤的10%。在一定程度上，采用這種安排也是不得已而為之——泰勒確實需要錢，但它也激發了創業精神。“主人翁意識滲透到了公司的各個部門，大家都抱有一種‘這家店是我的，我們就是店主’的心態。”奧爾蒂斯說。他和泰勒相識于丹佛的連鎖餐廳Bennigan’s，兩人當時都在那里打工。這個模式甚至帶來了更好的食物。較低的員工離職率意味著餐廳可以制作更加復雜的菜品，比如從頭開始烤的面包或需要三天時間烹制的排骨。
得克薩斯客棧往往選擇在人們駕駛皮卡、聽鄉村音樂、愛喝百威（Budweiser）而不是喜力啤酒（Heineken）的區域開設店面。奧爾蒂斯說：“對于餐廳的定位，我們毫無疑慮，也不存在什么灰色地帶。肯特從不讓我們分神。”有一次，公司將鯰魚列入菜單，一位新員工隨即提議稱，一整塊鯰魚看起來要比四小塊酷得多。泰勒的第一反應是：你是無法用手拿起一整條魚的。他知道，得克薩斯客棧的顧客想用手指拿起食物。
泰勒也有非常偏執的一面。住進一間沉悶的酒店客房，他會給墻上掛一條壁毯，換個燈泡，并安裝上揚聲器。在自家餐廳，他會親自把掛在墻上的動物頭下移四分之一英寸。在得克薩斯客棧創辦早期，現任首席學習和文化官的吉娜·托賓負責經營該公司在路易斯維爾開設的第一家分店，泰勒經常在周日攜家人來店就餐。起身離座之際，他會塞給她一張紙，上面是他用微笑或悲傷表情對用餐體驗的每個環節（牛排、菜肴、服務員、氣氛等等）進行的鄭重評價。
他從不想跟法律和人力資源扯上任何關系。在泰勒眼中，這些部門代表著森嚴的規則，動輒就對人說“不”的習慣，而這些都是他深惡痛絕的事情。該公司的前法律顧問西莉亞·卡特利特指出：“在得克薩斯客棧，‘公司’是一個令人不齒的臟字。”在上市后的17年中，這家公司只辦過一次分析師溝通會。泰勒每年都會抽出三個月的時間去滑雪，有一次臨行前還給董事長格雷格·摩爾的語音信箱留了一份接班計劃，以防他的直升機滑雪之旅遭遇不測。泰勒的座右銘之一是：“蜜獾狗屁都不在乎。”他指的是一段廣為流傳的視頻：這種狂傲不羈的小動物與毒蛇干了一架，并一頭扎進蜇人的蜂巢。泰勒還特意在辦公室里放了一只蜜獾標本，以求更加形象地向來訪者傳達這個訊息。
2019年，泰勒決定親自寫一本商業書。沒錯，這是一件很有首席執行官范兒的事情，但他做事的方式非常不像首席執行官。他用手寫，把每一頁的照片發給編輯（經常不按順序，而且是在大半夜）。他希望這本書讀起來像出自他口。“我對他說：‘肯特，我覺得‘滾遠點’這個詞使用過度了。’”該書的編輯阿德里安·戈斯蒂克告訴我。“但他回答說：‘我平常就是這么說話的。’”泰勒拒絕給他的書后綴一個索引表。要是有人想知道這本書是否提到自己，泰勒就會告訴他們，你必須得通讀一遍“這該死的玩意”。
2020年2月下旬，泰勒約了幾位好友參加每年一度的滑雪之旅。度假的時機再合適不過了。得克薩斯客棧增勢迅猛，有望迎來有史以來最成功的一年。每家門店每周的平均銷售額達到10.5萬美元，同比增長4.5%。在Applebee’s和Olive Garden等業內同行陷入困境，門可羅雀之際，得克薩斯客棧的客流量卻在不斷增長，成為休閑餐飲業迄今為止表現最好的公司。
身處猶如世外桃源的奧地利阿爾卑斯山，由于當地新聞是德語，泰勒對鋪天蓋地的新冠疫情早期報道全不知情，還在優哉游哉。但在他3月9日重返辦公室那一刻，泰勒終于意識到事態的嚴重性。隨著新冠疫情持續加劇，每家門店每周的平均銷售額驟降至2.9萬美元，創下歷史新低。公司每周要“燒掉”500萬美元的現金——這不免讓人回想起泰勒在創業早期不得不放棄兌現自己的支票來發工資的情形。現在，為了按時支付一線員工的獎金，他不再領取薪水，還額外拿出500萬美元充實公司的員工救助基金。事實上，2020年的大部分獎金都是他自己掏腰包，泰勒還要求少數知情者不要把此事張揚出去。
受困于極端匱乏，不斷變化的運營情報，管理團隊一時無從著手。于是，泰勒建立了一個決策流程，他要求所有議題都必須進行深入徹底的討論，但務必要在24小時內作出決定。這項策略在個人防護設備（PPE）方面得到了回報。大多數高管相信，如果員工都戴上口罩，顧客勢必會感到恐慌。但經過與運營四家餐廳的中國臺灣團隊溝通后，泰勒斷言，過不了多久，食客反倒會因為服務生不戴口罩而感到不安。最終，采購團隊購入大批口罩，避免了隨后爆發的“口罩荒”給其他企業帶來的窘境。
泰勒始終堅稱，得克薩斯客棧獨有的氛圍——輕快的鄉村音樂，地板上的花生殼——不能被令人悲傷地包裹在一個濕漉漉的外賣盒中。該公司拒絕提供外賣配送服務，其自取業務僅占總銷售額的7%，為行業最低。但隨著新冠疫情給喧鬧的聚會場景按下暫停鍵，是時候重新評估這種做法了。那么，他們如何以得克薩斯客棧的方式做外賣呢？
泰勒開始召集“瘋子”出點子。“瘋子”是他對那些不按常理出牌的門店經營者的昵稱。在其他任何公司，這些人都會被貼上“麻煩制造者”的標簽。事實上，在泰勒成為自己的老板之前，這也是同事們對他的一貫看法。
尼爾·尼克勞斯是其中最瘋狂的一位。工齡長達26年的他現在掌管123家門店。加入得克薩斯客棧之前，他曾經在現已倒閉的美國墨西哥連鎖餐廳Chi-Chi’s工作了十余年。有一次參加迪士尼巡游活動時，看到每個人都跟隨著經典鄉村歌曲《Cotton Eye Joe》的節拍，與唐老鴨和米老鼠一起舞動，尼克勞斯突然萌生了讓食客在他管理的一家餐廳跳排排舞的念頭。獲悉這家餐廳的每周銷售額飆漲了5000美元，泰勒打電話給他，想知道他是如何做到的。很快，每位得克薩斯客棧的員工都知道如何側并步和側交叉步。
考慮到如今的情勢，點子自然是越瘋狂越好，而尼克勞斯再次不負所托。一位員工問他可否從自家餐廳買一罐青豆，因為超市的貨架早已空空如也。尼克勞斯隨即決定廉價出售部分庫存。不過，當一家餐廳開始向顧客出售生牛排時，就連他也覺得太過火了。尼克勞斯帶著歉意給老板打了一通電話，但泰勒卻出人意料地肯定了這種做法，為什么不呢？隨后，尼克勞斯安排兩位經理與當地一家農產品公司合作，建立了一個臨時農貿市場，并由此創下每日銷售紀錄。一些顧客甚至在餐廳外辦起了車尾派對。收到尼克勞斯的報告后，泰勒讓大家備好野餐桌，在停車場大張旗鼓地開派對。
每每身處險境，泰勒總能展現其不落窠臼的領導才能。那一年的諸多變數最終讓得克薩斯客棧煥然一新。這家公司躍入電子商務領域，推出了一家在線肉店，尋求與Omaha Steaks一決高下。由于電視不再播放體育賽事，得克薩斯客棧還推出了一個鄉村音樂視頻站。不動產團隊購買了多個儲存倉，用印有公司專屬標識的塑料包裹起來，并將其用作配送中心。外賣業務現在占據公司營收的五分之一，創下休閑餐飲業在新冠疫情期間外賣收入的最大漲幅。根據得克薩斯客棧在上季度公布的財報，總體銷售額比新冠疫情前高出20%。
泰勒這輩子從來沒有怕過什么，但他一直害怕感染新冠病毒。在新冠疫情爆發的最初幾個月，他逃到自己的農場，等到領導團隊再次進行面對面磋商時，他會戴著雙層口罩和手套現身會場。鑒于如此多員工仰仗他的領導，他實在生不起病。無論如何，泰勒總是有點潔癖的——如果你要清嗓子或咳嗽，最好不要在他面前做。
因此，當泰勒在2020年11月患上新冠肺炎時，沒有人知道他是如何感染的。“我有點震驚，搞不懂這究竟是咋回事。”麥高恩告訴我。他的癥狀還算輕微，但沒有過多久，耳鳴就轟然而至。
耳鳴是一種孤獨的癥狀。美國明尼蘇達大學醫學院（University of Minnesota Medical School）專門研究耳鳴的教授休伯特·利姆解釋說，它幾乎就像是一個幻肢。外人都聽不到患者感受到的嗡嗡聲，所以很難評估。泰勒所患的衰弱性耳鳴是最嚴重的一種，困擾著大約1%的人，它可能會嚴重影響睡眠。肯特·泰勒的父親鮑威爾·泰勒告訴我，他的兒子把這種痛楚隱瞞了好幾個月，不想讓別人為他難過。
目前還沒有治療耳鳴的方法，但馬克斯說，父親只要醒著，就會想方設法地尋找治病良策。在翻閱了休伯特·利姆的研究成果，并在播客上聽完他的演講后，泰勒主動聯系了這位耳鳴專家，并最終為他的研究捐贈了50萬美元。利姆告訴我，耳鳴病例在新冠疫情期間有所增加。但目前要判斷耳鳴是否由新冠病毒或新冠疫苗引起，還為時過早。過去兩年出現了太多其他的混淆因素，例如壓力、隔離、更安靜的環境等等。
2020年12月，泰勒像往年一樣飛赴佛羅里達，陪伴年邁的父母過圣誕，但最終在那里待了好幾個月，因為他發現，他已經無法忍受高空飛行的痛苦。那一年，泰勒沒有去滑雪，沒有喝咖啡（這會引發耳鳴），也不再聽他心愛的滾石樂隊（Rolling Stones）。
3月初，前首席運營官奧爾蒂斯飛往佛羅里達，準備跟泰勒和其他幾位朋友進行為期一周的乘船旅行。一看到老友突然衰老了很多的面容，奧爾蒂斯大驚失色。泰勒告訴他，最近好一陣子，他每天的睡眠時間不超過三個小時。但他看上去也像是一位為未來做打算的人。泰勒剛剛在佛羅里達州的那不勒斯買了一艘船和一棟房子。在旅行的每一天，他都顯得放松自如，病情似乎日漸好轉。
就在這次乘船旅行結束后，泰勒前往愛爾蘭進行了一項實驗性治療。這似乎對一只耳朵起到了立竿見影的效果。他給奧爾蒂斯發了一個語音信息，說治療很順利，他很樂觀。泰勒甚至對現在擔任公司董事長的摩爾說，他正在考慮去滑雪。
但在3月中旬，泰勒回到路易斯維爾接種新冠疫苗時，耳鳴又卷土重來。兩天后，他離開公司，開車去了郊外的農場，然后開槍自殺。泰勒的一位朋友說，他從來都不喜歡槍，但在路易斯維爾爆發因為警察殺害布倫娜·泰勒而引發的抗議活動期間，作為執法部門支持者的得克薩斯客棧屢屢受到威脅，泰勒隨即買了一把槍。鮑威爾·泰勒告訴我，他兒子給他最看重的人逐一留下遺言。“他原以為他能夠像攻克其他難關一樣，最終邁過這道坎。”鮑威爾說，“但這一次，他算是棋逢對手了。”
我來到路易斯維爾那天，距泰勒離世幾乎剛好過了九個月。在公司支持中心，人們仍然在尋找個性化的悼念方式。在得克薩斯客棧工作了四分之一個世紀的首席學習和文化官托賓，在口袋里揣著一把吉他飾品，上面刻著泰勒的一句口頭禪：搖滾吧！她會時不時地擦擦它，希望從中汲取靈感。
泰勒最親密的心腹都在為如何應對這些更加公開的紀念活動而苦惱。在路易斯維爾的第二家得克薩斯客棧門店，員工在入口處擺放了一支蠟燭和照片。主管溝通和公共事務的副總裁特拉維斯·多斯特有些日子不去那里了。在他看來，如果泰勒在天有靈，這個臨時搭建的神龕會讓他發瘋的。但他不想要求員工把它拆掉。在公司總部，一個印有泰勒照片的巨大橫幅裝飾在大樓的一側。“他肯定不喜歡這樣。”長期擔任泰勒助理的麥高恩說。
任何形式的吹捧都會讓泰勒感到不舒服。他很內向，聰明但不善社交。奧爾蒂斯告訴我，他或許更愿意讓別人來做所有這一切的代言人。為了克服對聚光燈的極度不適，泰勒創造了另一個自我：布巴（Bubba）。每當他迫于無奈之下登上舞臺，他就會扮演起這個看上去喧鬧無比的角色。泰勒所穿的服裝和他所戴的假發，其實是一種策略，意在幫助他扮演一些讓他感到局促的角色。哪怕進入首席執行官模式，他那一身牛仔褲和牛仔帽行頭，也是表演的一部分。“我至少跟他一同外出一千次了，從未見過他戴牛仔帽。他甚至不聽鄉村音樂。”奧爾蒂斯說。
與泰勒交往最深的人，最不可能對他膜拜有加。我采訪了多位泰勒的心腹，他們真正了解隱藏在這些服裝道具背后那個真實的泰勒。這個核心圈子有一個共同點：他們都曾經挑戰過他。“我對他向來都是有啥說啥，絕無半句虛言。”麥高恩說，“他喜歡別人反駁他——但這樣做的人并不多。”
麥高恩從2005年開始擔任泰勒的助理，有效地掌管著他生活的方方面面。“每個做行政工作的，總會遇到自己仰慕的老板。”她解釋說，“沒錯，他就是我有幸遇到的那一位。”兩人會乏味地仔細查看他放在后兜的日程安排表，麥高恩時刻不忘備好他標志性的藍色可擦除筆和方格紙。但當泰勒的孫子出生時，她也在醫院忙前忙后，還參與策劃了他女兒的婚禮。就像我交談過的很多人一樣，她一直是泰勒及其家人的堅定保護者。“我現在仍然是。”她告訴我。我明白，這是一個友好的警告。
泰勒放棄他的薪水后，麥高恩有點擔心，問他在經濟方面是否會有問題。“我覺得自己真的看不穿他有多少財富。”她說，“在我看來，他普通的不能再普通了。”泰勒最后一次買車，也是她第一次可以說服老板買輛新車，再不要買二手車。他此前的座駕一直是雪佛蘭（Chevy）的Suburban越野車，里面總是堆滿了垃圾，麥高恩稱之為“滾動的垃圾桶”。
我是在泰勒的辦公室，與麥高恩和多斯特交談的。各種假植物環繞在我們四周，都是他喜歡的類型。“這些都是我在家得寶（Home Depot）買的。”麥高恩說。書架上擺放著泰勒的孩子和孫輩的照片，一如他在三個家中所展示的那樣。
泰勒是在新冠疫情爆發前幾個月才搬到這間辦公室，此舉是為了讓麥高恩的辦公桌靠近窗戶。時至今日，這位多年的助手還是很難走進老板的農場住所，但她還沒有對這個地方產生感情。“這里的氣息不像他。”她說。等到泰勒的孩子整理好心緒，他們會拿走他最后的私人物品，然后這間屋子就會用作他途。泰勒不會希望他的員工把這里變成一處圣地。
多斯特和麥高恩是泰勒自殺當天最后見到他的兩個人，也是最早知道這起慘劇的人。麥高恩揣測，這一切都是他事先計劃好的，“他知道我們會不惜一切代價保護他。”事發當天，兩人設法確保在消息傳出之前讓他的家人先知道此事。“回想起來，他其實早就培訓過我們，讓我們知道應該做什么，怎么做。”
在他去世的那天，泰勒在辦公桌上留下了一個信封，里面裝著他的心愿。其中包含一片橫格紙，上面只有寥寥幾個字：杰里·摩根，首席執行官，2021年3月18日。麥高恩把這張紙條裱起來送給了摩根。這位新任首席執行官把它擺放在辦公室醒目處，時刻提醒自己這份工作的分量。
在那之前，摩根始終期待著一種迥然不同的接班方式。在2020年12月被提拔為公司總裁之前，他一直泰勒麾下的眾多“瘋子”之一，在14個州經營著120多家餐廳。泰勒沒有確定退休時間表，也沒有給任何承諾——摩根對此并無異議。“肯特不可能完全置身事外。”摩根說。多斯特曾經嘗試著幫助兩人做好交接準備，安排他們閱讀《老爸的生意》（My Father’s Business）一書。這本書記錄了Dollar General公司的首席執行官的代際交接過程。但大家心知肚明的是，無論什么時候，泰勒都將在公司發揮巨大的影響力。
相較于他現在的境遇，摩根對這一幕做了更充分的準備——他告訴泰勒不要插手他的事務。去年8月，出于對新冠疫情的擔憂，他打電話取消了公司的年度會議。在那一刻，摩根突然萌生了一種格外強烈的沖動，他多么希望自己能夠拿起電話，與泰勒溝通此事。但斯人已逝。讓他稍感慰藉的是，他知道泰勒會說什么：不用做一只被壓扁的松樹——冒冒失失地跑到公路上，優柔寡斷，然后被車輾過。無論如何，告訴別人應該做什么從來都不是泰勒的風格。他更喜歡訓練人們如何思考。“進入我的大腦。”他會這樣說。
摩根已經在公司工作了25年，是一位久負盛名的運營者。作為餐廳經理，他每天都會花兩個小時稱量當晚要供應的所有牛排，并親自品嘗菜單上的每一道菜。“這樣做確實很蠢。”他說。和泰勒一樣，他是一位注重細節的人，但他更喜歡與人打交道，不喜歡搞花架子。他無法忍受只有三四個人參與，“看上去糟糕無比的排排舞。”他說，“如果你打算草草了事，干脆就別做。”要是他再重40磅，再高4英寸，摩根可能會在高中畢業后繼續他的橄欖球生涯。他說話的口氣更像是一位主教練，而不是一位首席執行官。事實上，他也經常以教練自詡。
現在，摩根的首要任務是幫助公司盡快走出悲痛。在最初那幾個月，他不得不進行深呼吸，出去散步。他坐在妻子面前，懇求她施以援手。他逐漸接受了一個事實：每隔一段時間，他就會在團隊面前情緒崩潰。“太沉重了。”摩根說，“最最要緊的是，他把這副擔子交給了我。是他讓我上場的。”
我在路易斯維爾采訪的最后一位，是肯特的兒子馬克斯。他今年26歲，從出生那一刻起，得克薩斯客棧就是他生活的軸心。大學畢業后，他在丹佛的一家餐飲初創公司做事，打算開創自己的事業。但在2018年，他的外祖父去世了，這是他人生中第一次經受親人離世的打擊。馬克斯感到上天在召喚他重返肯塔基州。新冠疫情襲來時，他正等著領取房地產經紀人資格證書。在新冠疫情期間，無事可做的馬克斯開始在得克薩斯客棧的支持中心幫忙，做一些諸如協商租金延期、購買個人防護用品這類需要有人做的事情。這本該是一份臨時工作，直到肯特告訴他，他需要馬克斯加入得克薩斯客棧——這是他此前從未提過的要求。
這對父子一直住在路易斯維爾郊外的家庭農場。肯特搬進了他在那里建造的新房子，馬克斯和幾位朋友則住在舊農舍。在剛剛住進農場那幾個月，父子倆每天都會圍坐在戶外一張桌子旁，討論公司事務和世界時局。但這種后院討論常常會轉向他們將要分享的書——肯特偏愛商業，而馬克斯則傾向于哲學。在肯特去世后，馬克斯看到他的辦公桌上還擺著一摞沒有來得及送出的書。
馬克斯告訴我，這本書觸及了父親在生命最后時刻不斷演變的人生觀。他更加注重精神上的富足，即使在經歷耳鳴折磨的時候，他也始終保持著積極的心態。他把自己寫的書通讀了一遍，然后大刀闊斧地刪掉所有的負面內容，比如一些可能被誤解的笑話，他第一次失敗婚姻的細節，等等。書中絲毫沒有提及他自己感染新冠病毒或者罹患耳鳴的遭遇。至少沒有公開談及。“恐懼是不可避免的，痛苦亦是如此。”他在結語中寫道，“我從來沒有遇到過一位沒有在個人生活中克服過障礙或悲劇的成功人士。但我們每天都可以選擇，要么聽從周遭負面事件的擺布，做出情緒化的反應，要么綻開笑顏，努力成為房間里最積極向上的那個人。”
得克薩斯客棧是肯特的生命，是他的孩子。馬克斯坦言，父親這輩子幾乎把所有心思都花在了這家公司上；有時候，這會成為他和家人難以承受之重。馬克斯還上大學時，他父母的婚姻，也是肯特的第二次婚姻，就宣告破裂了。就在肯特去世前，他本打算退后一步，花更多的時間跟家人在一起。“這確實是他的目標。”馬克斯說，“對我們所有人來說，這都是一個很好的教訓，你現在就應該抓緊時間陪伴家人，因為你永遠不知道，你還能夠在這人世間駐留多少時日。”
結束與馬克斯的對話，已經是下午晚些時分，我旋即訂了第二天的返程機票。我原計劃利用一上午的時間在路易斯維爾四處轉轉，更加深入地體驗這座塑造了肯特·泰勒的城市。但這場對話讓我感受到親人離世帶來的悲傷，留下的種種遺憾和未竟之事，也讓我迫切地想要回到自己的親人身旁。為了趕早班飛機，我凌晨4點就醒了。驅車經過得克薩斯客棧的總部和那張印有泰勒照片的巨大橫幅時，我似乎感到，他正在上空俯視著我。
如何緩解工作場所的悲傷情緒
過去兩年來，很多人都失去了親人。僅在美國就有超過86萬人死于新冠肺炎，墜入無邊悲痛的至愛親朋估計多達770萬之眾。任何有此經歷的人都會告訴你，悲傷情緒不會因為你去上班而戛然而止。
但美國工人并沒有受聯邦政府保護的法定喪假。根據美國勞工統計局（BLS）的數據，僅有56%的美國員工享有帶薪喪假。
雇主不妨采用以下這些措施，為員工提供更多的支持：
提供帶薪喪假——多多益善。
寥寥數日，是很難讓失去至親的人走出悲痛的。“悲傷不是一種時斷時續的情緒。它會像驚濤駭浪一樣涌來。”南伊利諾伊大學愛德華茲維爾分校（Southern Illinois University Edwardsville）專門研究悲傷情緒的教授喬斯林·德格魯特說。
放寬對喪假資格的限制。
帶薪喪假通常只限于直系親屬的死亡。那么如果你在哀悼一位密友或一位情同手足的表親呢？
一些公司在新冠疫情期間延長了喪假時間。例如，高盛集團（Goldman Sachs）現在為失去直系親屬的員工提供20天的帶薪喪假，給失去遠親的員工放5天假。
承認員工的悲痛——并且明白它還在持續。
雇主務必要感悟到員工的喪親之痛，不要假裝一切如常。“我們總是認為，只要給幾天假期，悲傷就會散去。當然，悲傷是需要時間來緩解的。”對悲傷頗有研究、著作等身的Grief.com網站的創始人大衛·凱斯勒說，“但雇主也要在員工重返崗位后，適時地給予其撫慰。”——Maria Aspan（財富中文網）
譯者：任文科
The December before Kent Taylor died, the Texas Roadhouse founder started handing out copies of a book to family, friends, and employees. Taylor, an avid reader, was known for giving away his favorite tomes—often including a personal note inside.
The book was a departure for the restaurant entrepreneur. He’d mostly leaned toward leadership and management classics—Built to Last, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People—that he had read for inspiration as he built his company into an enterprise valued at more than $5 billion.
But Taylor had been feeling more introspective of late. In November 2020 he had contracted COVID and since then had suffered from severe tinnitus, a condition in which the brain responds to hearing loss by generating sounds to compensate for the ones the ear is no longer processing. The tinnitus had progressively worsened to the point that it sounded like “a jet airplane taking off in your ear 24 hours a day, seven days a week,” says his son, Max Taylor. Kent had turned to the book—a meditation on how to find joy—when he’d been at what appeared to be the pinnacle of his suffering. “It was helpful for him, through his pain, to read about how you can be happy,” Max says.
Few people knew about Taylor’s struggle post-COVID. He’d kept his ordeal close, telling only his inner circle. He wasn’t one to dwell on setbacks, and he went about tackling his tinnitus with his signature doggedness— consulting with specialists around the world, visiting the best doctors, even funding research on the little-understood condition. He was a fighter, and those few who knew expected he’d find a way to beat it, just as he had every other challenge that had arisen in his life.
They were wrong. On March 18, 2021, Taylor killed himself at his farm outside Louisville, Ky. He was 65 years old.
“Nine months in, I still try not to go down that rabbit hole of trying to figure it out. How did I not know?” says Shelly McGowen, his executive assistant of 16 years. “Because he didn’t want me to know. He didn’t want any of us to know.”
It should have been a celebratory time. While the pandemic devastated the restaurant sector, Roadhouse had come through the worst of it even stronger than before—thanks in large part to Taylor’s leadership. He was preparing to take a step back, planning to spend more time with Max and his two daughters and grandchildren. A book he had written detailing how he’d built one of the most innovative concepts in the industry was due to hit shelves in just a few months.
Instead, the company suddenly found itself wrestling with how to go on after the loss of an iconoclastic founder who was so intertwined with its very identity. “It couldn’t cripple me, it couldn’t cripple this company,” says Jerry Morgan, who’d been named president in 2020 and stepped into the CEO role after Taylor’s death. “We would have not served him right to let it do that.” There would be a memorial service and the establishment of an annual founder’s day, a statue, and a museum. But still somehow the work needed to get done: 630 restaurants around the globe that needed to open every day at 4 p.m. “I turn that over in my head— how much of it is healthy that we pay tribute, and how much of it is we have to move on?” says former COO Steve Ortiz, a close friend and Roadhouse franchisee.
It’s true: Taylor would have been embarrassed by all the fuss. A closet introvert who adopted a larger-than-life persona to perform the role of CEO had never wanted to be put on a pedestal when he was alive either. He’d dress up in “Willie braids,” yarn sewn into a bandanna, à la his poker buddy Willie Nelson, and hand them out like his calling card—the type of antics that masked his extraordinary discipline. Corporate titles and hierarchy irritated him, and he’d battled to keep the trappings of both out of his company as it got bigger. There was no executive parking at the Louisville headquarters, no pulling rank. Taylor waited an hour for a table at Roadhouse on a busy Saturday just like everyone else.
Taylor had always kept a low profile, and, like most people, I knew little about him when I saw his obituary in March. It read like a microcosm of the pain COVID has inflicted, sparing no one. But what I discovered in Taylor and his company is much more than a story of loss. There are lessons to be learned from the founder and the success he discovered in stubbornly insisting on following his own path. In Roadhouse, there’s a case study in the power of perseverance and moving forward through grief. What I found is a sad story, yes, but also one of hope, and even, as Taylor’s literary inspiration suggests, of joy.
*****
FAILURE IS PART of the Roadhouse mythology. Taylor, who’d spent years as a restaurant manager, got turned down by more than 100 investors before three local cardiologists decided to back him to start his own. The first Texas Roadhouse opened in Clarksville, Ind., in 1993. Within six years, the young steak house chain had to close three of its first five restaurants owing to bad site selection. Taylor kept mementos from each of those duds in his office—two mounted fish and a cow skull—and for the rest of his life, he personally visited and approved every location. For Taylor, the humility to learn from mistakes was key. Even at its most successful, he never wanted the company to behave as though it had arrived.
Taylor got his earliest employees to take a chance on him and Roadhouse with its partnership model. Store managers are required to pay $25,000 upfront and sign a five-year contract, but they then get 10% of the restaurant’s bottom line on top of their salary. The structure was created partly out of necessity—Taylor needed the money—but it also attracts entrepreneurs. “It permeates through all parts of the organization where people have that mentality that ‘I own this, we own this,’ ” says Ortiz, who met Taylor when they both worked for Bennigan’s in Denver. The model even led to better food. The low staff turnover meant the restaurants could take on more complex menu items like bread baked from scratch or ribs that took three days to cook.
Texas Roadhouse would land where people drove trucks, listened to country music, and opted for Budweiser over Heineken, says Ortiz: “There was no doubt or gray area about who we were. Kent never let us get off focus.” When the company put catfish on the menu, a new hire suggested it would look cooler as one big piece rather than four smaller ones. Taylor’s immediate reaction: You can’t pick up a whole fish with your hands. He knew Roadhouse customers would want to get in there with their fingers.
Taylor could be fanatical. In a dull hotel room, he’d put a tapestry on the wall, change the light bulbs, and set up a speaker. At the restaurants, he’d personally move an animal head a quarter of an inch down the wall. In the early days of Roadhouse when Gina Tobin, now chief learning and culture officer, was running the company’s first Louisville location, Taylor would come by on Sundays for dinner with his family. On his way out, he’d slip her a piece of paper that rated every component of the experience with a smiley or sad face—steak, sides, servers, atmosphere, etc.
He wanted nothing to do with legal and HR. Those departments represented rules and telling people no— things he hated. “ ‘Corporate’ was like the dirty word of Texas Roadhouse,” says Celia Catlett, the company’s former general counsel. In its 17-year history as a public company, Roadhouse has held only a single analyst day. Taylor took off three months each year to go skiing, and once he left his succession plan on chairman Greg Moore’s voicemail, just in case his heli-skiing trip went awry. One of his mottoes was, “Honey badger don’t give a shit,” a reference to the viral video where the uninhibited creature takes on venomous snakes and plunges into hives of stinging bees; Taylor kept a taxidermic honey badger in his office just to make sure you got the point.
Even in 2019 when Taylor decided to write his own business book—a very CEO thing to do—he went about it in a very un-CEO way. He wrote by hand, texting photos of each page to his editors (often out of order, and in the middle of the night). He wanted it to sound like him. “I’d say, ‘Kent, I think you’re overusing ‘Kiss my grits,’ ” editor Adrian Gostick told me. “But he would say, ‘That’s how I talk.’ ” Taylor refused to include an index. If someone wanted to know if they were in the book, he’d tell them they’d have to read the “whole effing thing.”
*****
IN LATE FEBRUARY 2020, Taylor hit the slopes with some of his buddies for their annual ski trip. The timing couldn’t have been better for a vacation. Roadhouse was zipping along, on track to net its most successful year on record. Average weekly sales per restaurant were $105,000, up 4.5% over the previous year. And while the rest of the casual dining industry—think Applebee’s and Olive Garden—was struggling, traffic kept jumping at Roadhouse. It was by far the best performer in the sector.
In the haven of the Austrian Alps, where the local news was in German, Taylor had been blissfully unaware of the early reports of COVID. But his return to the office, on March 9, put an end to that. As the pandemic gathered force, average weekly sales plummeted to $29,000 per restaurant, the lowest in Roadhouse’s history. The company was burning through $5 million in cash a week— reminiscent of the early days when Taylor often had to skip cashing his own check to make payroll. Now he gave up his salary to cover bonuses for his restaurant workers, and threw in another $5 million for the company’s employee assistance fund; a chunk of 2020 bonuses came out of his own pocket. The few who knew about it were instructed to keep their mouths shut.
As the management team struggled to operate with little or changing intel, Taylor established a process for making decisions. All issues would be thoroughly debated but decided within 24 hours. It paid off when it came to PPE. Most executives were convinced that masked employees would panic customers. But Taylor was in touch with the team in Taiwan, where the company has four restaurants, and argued that diners would soon be alarmed by servers who went without them. The sourcing team ultimately loaded up on masks, avoiding the shortages that would come soon after.
Taylor had always insisted that the Roadhouse vibe—toe-tapping country music, the peanut shells on the floor—could not be wrapped up in a sad, soggy to-go box. The company refused to do delivery, and its pickup business, at 7% of total sales, was the lowest in the industry. But with COVID shutting down the party, it was time to reevaluate. How could they do takeout the Roadhouse way?
Taylor started calling up his “crazies”—his fond label for the operators he considered out-of-the-box thinkers. At any other company, they would have been branded troublemakers, much like Taylor had always been before he became his own boss.
One of the craziest was Neal Niklaus, who had been with the company for 26 years and now oversaw 123 restaurants. He’d joined Roadhouse after more than a decade working at a now-defunct U.S. Mexican-food chain called Chi-Chi’s. Niklaus had come up with the idea to try line dancing in one of his restaurants while on a Disney cruise when everyone hit the floor with Minnie, Mickey, and Donald to “Cotton Eye Joe.” When his store’s weekly sales jumped $5,000, Taylor called him up to find out how he’d done it. Soon every Roadie knew how to step-touch and grapevine.
Now, the crazier the idea the better, and Niklaus delivered. After an employee asked him if he could buy a can of green beans from the restaurant since the supermarket shelves were empty, Niklaus decided to sell off some of his languishing inventory. He did think one of the restaurants might have taken it too far when customers started buying raw steaks. Niklaus called up the boss with a mea culpa, but Taylor gave him only a sure, why not? Two of Niklaus’s managers set daily sales records when they partnered with a local produce company to create a makeshift farmers’ market. After Niklaus reported that some customers were tailgating outside the restaurants, Taylor told everyone to set up picnic tables and have a party in the parking lot.
Taylor was often at his best during a crisis, and that one-year period ended up transforming Roadhouse. The company jumped into e-commerce, launching an online butcher shop to compete with Omaha Steaks. With no sports to stream on its TVs, Roadhouse rolled out a country music video station. The real estate team bought storage pods, wrapped them in plastic printed with the Roadhouse logo, and used them as to-go hubs; pickup now makes up a fifth of the business—the biggest leap in volume among any of its competitors during COVID. When the company reported its earnings last quarter, overall sales came in at 20% over pre-pandemic levels.
*****
TAYLOR NEVER SEEMED like he was afraid of much in life, but he’d been terrified of getting COVID. In the early months of the pandemic, he decamped to his farm and would show up double masked and gloved when the leadership team started convening again in person. With so many Roadies relying on him, he couldn’t afford to get sick. Taylor had always been a bit of a germophobe anyway—if you had to clear your throat or cough, you didn’t do it in front of him.
So when Taylor came down with COVID in November 2020, no one could figure out quite how it happened. “I was kind of shocked,” McGowen told me. “I’m like, How in the world?” The case had been a relatively mild one, but soon after the tinnitus had taken hold.
Tinnitus is a lonely condition. Hubert Lim, a professor specializing in tinnitus at the University of Minnesota Medical School, explained that it is almost like a phantom limb. Since no one else can hear the buzzing, it’s hard to assess. The type of debilitating tinnitus Taylor suffered from is the most severe kind, which afflicts about 1% of the population and can lead to serious challenges sleeping. Taylor’s dad, Powell, told me his son camouflaged the pain for months, not wanting anyone to feel sorry for him.
There’s currently no cure for tinnitus, but Max said his dad had spent every waking hour trying to find one. Taylor reached out to Lim after reading about his research and hearing him on a podcast, and ended up donating $500,000 to his research. Lim told me that there’s been an increase in reported cases of tinnitus during the pandemic, but it’s too early to know if COVID or vaccines are playing a role. There are too many other confounding factors that have emerged in the past two years: stress, isolation, quieter environments.
Taylor took his annual Christmas trip to Florida in December 2020 to spend the holiday with his parents and ended up staying for a few months when he found that altitude made it too painful to fly. There would be no skiing that year, no caffeine (it triggered his tinnitus), no listening to his beloved Rolling Stones.
Ortiz, the former COO, flew down to Florida in early March to take a weeklong boat trip with Taylor and some others. He was struck by how much his friend had aged. Taylor told him he hadn’t been sleeping more than three hours at a stretch. But he also seemed like a man planning for his future. He had just bought the boat and a house down in Naples, Fla. Every day on the trip, Taylor loosened up and seemed like he was doing better.
Right after Ortiz’s visit, Taylor traveled to Ireland to try an experimental treatment, which immediately seemed to improve the ringing in one of his ears. He left Ortiz a voicemail saying the trip had gone well, and he was optimistic. He even told Moore, now Roadhouse chairman, he was thinking about going skiing.
But in mid-March, back in Louisville, Taylor went to get his COVID vaccine and the tinnitus came roaring back. Two days later he left work, drove out to the farm, and shot himself. One of Taylor’s friends said he’d never liked guns, but he’d bought one after Roadhouse, a law enforcement booster, had received threats during the Louisville protests over the police killing of Breonna Taylor. Powell Taylor told me that his son left notes for all the important people in his life. “He thought he could plow through that the same as he did everything else,” Powell said, “and he just met his match.”
*****
I TRAVELED down to Louisville almost exactly nine months to the day after Taylor died. At the support center, people were still finding their own personal ways to mourn. Chief learning and culture officer Tobin, who’d worked at Roadhouse for a quarter-century, kept a guitar trinket in her pocket. It was inscribed with one of Taylor’s catchphrases—Rock on!—and she would rub it every now and then for inspiration.
Taylor’s closest confidants struggled with how to handle the more public memorials. At the company’s second Louisville store, employees set up a candle and photo in the entryway. Travis Doster, VP of communications and public affairs, stopped going there for a while. He thought the makeshift shrine would have driven Taylor crazy, but he didn’t want to tell the staff to take it down. At headquarters, a massive banner with Taylor’s photo now decorated the side of the building. “He would have hated that,” said McGowen, his longtime assistant.
Any sort of lionizing had always made Taylor uncomfortable. He was really an introvert, brilliant but socially awkward. Ortiz told me he probably would have preferred someone else be the face of it all. Taylor had gotten around his discomfort with the spotlight by creating an alter ego of sorts: Bubba, a boisterous character he played when he had to get up onstage. The costumes and wigs he wore were a strategy for taking on a role he felt some uneasiness playing. Even the cowboy hat and jeans he put on when he was in CEO mode were part of the performance. “I’ve been out with him a thousand times. Never did he wear a cowboy hat. He didn’t even listen to country music,” said Ortiz.
The people Taylor connected with the most were the least likely to idolize him. Everyone I talked to in Taylor’s inner circle, those who had really known the man behind the costumes, had one thing in common—they had challenged him. “I got to be where I was very honest with him,” said McGowen. “He liked it when people pushed back on him—and not many people did.”
McGowen had been Taylor’s assistant since 2005 and effectively ran his life. “In your admin career, you always have that one,” she explained. “Well, he was my one.” The two would tediously go over the day planner he carried around in his back pocket, and she kept him stocked in his signature blue erasable pens and graph paper. But she had also been at the hospital when his grandchildren were born and helped plan his daughters’ weddings. Like a lot of the people I spoke to, she had been a fierce protector of Taylor and his family. “I still am,” she told me—a friendly warning.
When Taylor had given up his salary, McGowen asked him if he was going to be okay financially. “I don’t think I really grasped his wealth,” she says. “He was so normal to me.” When he bought his last car—he always drove Chevy Suburbans—it was the first time she’d been able to talk him into buying new rather than used. It was always so full of junk that she’d called it the rolling trash can.
McGowen, Doster, and I talked in Taylor’s office surrounded by fake plants—his preferred variety. “I would go to Home Depot and buy them out,” McGowen said. On the bookshelves sat the same photos of his kids and grandchildren that he also displayed in his three homes.
Taylor had relocated to this office just a few months before the pandemic, making the move so that McGowen could have a window by her desk. It was still hard for her to go inside his house at the farm, but she hadn’t yet become attached to this space. “This doesn’t smell like him,” she said. When his kids were ready, they would take the last of his personal effects, and the office would go to some other use. Taylor would not have wanted his Roadies to turn it into a shrine.
Doster and McGowen were the last two people who saw Taylor on the day he died, and the first to find out about what had happened. McGowen thinks he planned it that way. “He knew we’d protect him at all costs,” she said. They made sure the family knew before the news got out. “Looking back,” Doster told me, “he trained us to know what to do and how to do it.”
*****
ON THE DAY THAT HE DIED, Taylor left an envelope in his desk that contained his wishes. The contents included a scrap of lined paper where he’d simply scrawled: Jerry Morgan, CEO, March 18, 2021. McGowen framed the note for Morgan, who keeps it on display in his office—a reminder of the weight of the job.
Up until then, Morgan had anticipated a very different kind of transition. He’d been one of Taylor’s crazies, running more than 120 restaurants in 14 states, when Taylor tapped him as president in December 2020. There was no timeline for Taylor’s retirement, no promises made— and Morgan was okay with that. “Kent could have never been completely out of it,” Morgan says. Doster had tried to help the pair prepare, assigning them reading from My Father’s Business, which chronicles the generational CEO handoff at Dollar General. But everyone knew Taylor would always have some hand in the company.
Morgan had been more primed for that scenario—and telling Taylor to stay out of his business—than the one he found himself in now. He’d like to be able to pick up the phone, something he felt acutely when he made the call to cancel the company’s annual conference in August because of COVID concerns. He found some solace in knowing what Taylor would have said: Don’t be the flat squirrel—the one that runs out into the road, is indecisive, and gets run over. It had never been Taylor’s style anyway to tell people what to do. He preferred to train people how to think. “Get inside my head,” he would say.
Morgan has been with the company for 25 years and made a name for himself as an operator. Every day as a restaurant manager he would spend two hours weighing all the steaks he would serve that night and tasting every menu item. “I was just nutty about it,” he says. He’s a details guy, like Taylor, but more of a people person and less into the gimmicks. He can’t stand “a line dance gone bad” when only three or four people are on the floor. “If you’re going to go half-assed,” he says, “then don’t do it.” Morgan, who if he’d been 40 pounds heavier and four inches taller might have continued his football career past high school, has a tendency to sound less like a CEO than a head coach—which he prefers to call himself anyway.
Now, Morgan’s top job is to help the company heal. In those early months, he would have to take deep breaths and go for walks. He sat down with his wife and told her he’d need her help. He’s come to accept that, every once in a while, he’ll break down in front of his team. “It’s heavy,” he says. “The magnitude of the situation is, he’s put me in charge. He’s put me in.”
*****
THE LAST PERSON I sat down with in Louisville was Kent’s son, Max. The 26-year-old had been around Roadhouse his entire life. After college, he had done his own thing, working for a food and beverage startup in Denver. But when in 2018 his maternal grandfather died, the first big loss of his life, Max felt a calling to come back to Kentucky. He’d been waiting on his real estate license when the pandemic hit and started helping out at the company’s support center, negotiating rent deferrals, purchasing PPE, whatever needed to be done. The gig was supposed to be temporary, until his dad told him he needed him at Roadhouse—something he’d never asked of him before.
The father and son had been living out at the family farm just outside Louisville—Kent in the new house he’d built on the property, Max staying with some of his friends in the old farmhouse. During those first months, every day the two would meet outside at a table between the buildings to talk about the company and the state of the world. But often that backyard discussion would turn to the books that the two would share—Kent with his preference for business, Max with his bent toward philosophy. When he went up to Kent’s desk after everything had happened, Max found a stack of copies that Kent hadn’t gotten around to giving away yet.
Max told me that the book tapped into his dad’s changing outlook at the end of his life. He was more spiritually aware, and positivity was at the top of his mind even as he took on his tinnitus. He’d gone through his own book and gutted it of anything negative—jokes that could be misconstrued, details about his first marriage. There’s not a single mention of his own bout with COVID, or of tinnitus. At least not overtly. “Fear is inevitable, as is pain,” he wrote in his conclusion. “I’ve never met a successful person who did not overcome some personal hurdle or tragedy. But we can make a choice each and every day to either listen to the negative around us and react emotionally, or we can smile and try to be the most positive person in the room.”
Roadhouse had been Kent’s life, his baby, and Max was honest that all the time his dad had poured into the company had sometimes been hard on him and the family. His parents’ marriage, Kent’s second, had dissolved when Max was in college. Just before Kent died, he’d been preparing to step back and spend more time with his family. “That was really his goal,” Max said. “It’s a good lesson for all of us that you should take that time now because you never know how much time you have left.”
Max and I wrapped our conversation in the late afternoon, and I had a flight booked for the next day. I planned to spend the morning tooling around Louisville, trying to get a better feel for the city that had shaped Kent Taylor. But talking about grief and loss and what’s left behind made me desperately want to get back to my own family. I woke up at 4 a.m. to catch an early flight home, driving by headquarters and the banner with Taylor’s face looking down on me.
*****
Easing Grief in the Workplace
Loss has touched many in the past two years. More than 860,000 people have died in the U.S. from COVID-19 alone, leaving an estimated 7.7 million or more mourners behind. As anyone who has experienced it will tell you, grief doesn’t stop when you’re at work.
Yet there’s no federally guaranteed bereavement leave for U.S. workers, and just 56% of U.S. employees get any paid time off for funerals, according to the BLS.
There are steps employers can take to be more supportive:
Provide paid bereavement leave—a lot of it.
A few days is hardly enough time to recover from the death of a loved one. “Grief is not a start-and-stop situation. It comes in waves,” says Jocelyn DeGroot, a professor who studies grief at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville.
Loosen restrictions on which deaths qualify.
Bereavement time is often restricted to the death of immediate relatives. But what if you’re mourning a close friend or a beloved cousin?
Some companies have expanded leave during the pandemic. Goldman Sachs, for example, now grants employees 20 days off for the loss of an immediate family member and five for the loss of more distant kin.
Acknowledge your employees’ grief—and that it’s ongoing.
It’s important for employers to engage with loss and not pretend it’s business as usual. “We always think grief is all about time off—and of course it is about time off,” says David Kessler, founder of Grief.com and author of numerous books on the subject. “But it’s also about how you handle their time back in the office.”—Maria Aspan
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