Clayton Christensen is a professor at HBS and the author of The Innovator’s Solution
In 1997 I was attending Ricks College (now BYU-Idaho) as a business undergrad. That summer, the business department offered a cross-country trip from Rexburg, Idaho to the east coast. I signed up along with approximately 15 other students, and we and a few faculty members drove in a small bus to Washington DC, and then up to New York before flying home. The trip took three weeks, if I remember correctly, and along the way we visited a number of businesses and business, cultural, and government centers such as the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, Wall Street, NASDAQ, Motorola, Kodak, the Smithsonian, Congress, and dozens more. In Boston we stopped at Harvard and were given a tour by Clayton Christensen. He told us about the case method, the history of HBS, showed us a classroom, and walked us around campus.
At the time I had no idea who Clayton Christensen was, except that he was a very tall man who was giving us a tour of HBS and apparently worked there. But I vividly remember much of what he said, and more importantly I remember how it made me feel. As he spoke I was convinced that I wanted to go to HBS. If I get in it will be almost ten years to the month since that experience, and during that time my feelings haven’t changed.
Later I learned more about Clayton and became interested in his research. I read The Innovator’s Dilemma and am, in fact, reading The Innovator’s Solution right now. I heard him speak a year or two ago at a Utah Information Technology Association event here in Salt Lake City. That sums up my exposure to Mr. Christensen, until tonight.
A month or so ago, an employee of mine and I had lunch at Tucanos in Provo, Utah, a Brazilian churrascaria. I was an LDS missionary in Brazil for two years and love Brazilian food, so I take any opportunity I get to eat there, even though it’s a bit outside my preferred lunch budget.
Normally the food is great, but this day it was lacking. The pao de queijo (cheese bread) was cold, the bananas fritas (fried bananas) were green and crunchy rather than ripe and soft, and to top it off the chocolate cake that is normally moist and amazingly delicious was hard and dry. I brought up the last point with the waitress because if I’m going to pay $6 for a slice of cake I figure it better be good, and if it’s not then I think it’s my responsibility to inform the restaurant. Actually, I normally don’t complain about food because I’m anti-confrontational, but I have a special place in my heart for Tucanos, and felt like I would be doing a disservice to them if I didn’t say something. I’m a business owner, and I appreciate people telling me what I can do better. How else am I going to get better at what I’m doing? So I told the waitress about the lackluster slice of cake, and she said she would inform somebody, but then they still charged me for the cake.
Again, I don’t like to complain, but when you complain about food at a restaurant and you leave it largely untouched, isn’t it standard practice for the restaurant to not charge you for the food? I’m not saying it should be a law, but I think it is good business. After all, if I’m paying money for something and it isn’t up to my expectations, what is the chance I’m going to risk that much money again? But if the experience is risk-free then I might try it again.
So after I left, I sent an email through the Tucanos website letting them know about my experience. My tone was constructive, because I wasn’t angry, I just don’t want to see one of my favorite restaurants heading downhill. One of the partners called me and talked with me about it and was very professional and nice about it. He then sent me a letter with two gift certificates, each for a free meal. And so tonight my wife and I went to Tucanos to try it out again and see if the last time was just a fluke or if the cake would be poor again.
When we arrived we found out there was an hour long wait. We went to look for some things we needed at some local stores, and returned about an hour later. As we walked in my phone started ringing and as I answered it I realized it was the girl at the front counter, standing two feet from me, telling me that our table was ready. I only bring that up because the timing was so perfect and it seemed quite random.
We were seated, and as I looked around me I noticed a group at a table to my left, and as I look over a man looks at me. He looks familiar, and he seems to be thinking the same thing about me. I turn to my wife and say “I’m not sure, but I think that’s Clayton Christensen at the table to my left.” I look again, and he looks at me again. I think I looked again and he looked at me again. Of course it’s one thing for me to recognize him, but there’s no reason for him to recognize me. After all, I only met him once, briefly, and that was almost ten years ago.
My wife and I discussed whether I should say something to him, but I was hesitant because I was only 95% sure it was him, and even if it was him, should I interrupt his dinner to say something? What would I say? But we decided it was too much of a coincidence, and if I didn’t say something I would surely regret it. After all, how could it hurt? If someone walked up to me during my dinner and introduced themselves would I be put out? Not at all, and I’m sure Clayton is a nice guy, maybe even nicer than me.
So I walked over, trying to do so before he could get a forkful of crab salad into his mouth and render my introduction awkward by virtue of his not being able to respond, touched him on the shoulder, and asked “Excuse me, but are you Clayon Christensen?”
Rather than giving a play by play account, which would probably bore you, I’ll just say that yes, he was indeed Clayton Christense, and he was very nice and polite, and even thanked me for introducing myself. He stood up to talk with me and wife as she joined me, and apologized for his being so tall. He looks to be about 6′ 7″, so he was a bit daunting of a figure, although I found it an interesting thing for which he would apologize. That is, his parents are the ones who should be apologizing to me, right?
Anyway, I told him briefly about my recent application to HBS, and that he was partially responsible for it. He said he thought I looked familiar, and when I told him about the trip I had taken to HBS in ’97 he said he remembered it and acted as though he remembered me from that trip. If that is so, then the guy has a heck of a memory. He asked us several questions, and told me that when/if I got an invitation to interview I should contact him and he’d give me some pointers. We let him get back to his dinner, although we met again later at the salad bar and he asked me some more questions about me and my wife.
As my wife and I continued eating tonight we talked about what a random occurrence it was to run into Clayton Christensen in Provo, Utah, right after I had submitted my application, and as I was in the middle of reading his book. When I think of this chance meeting (my previous lunch, the low quality of the food, my out-of-character complaint, the resulting gift certificates, the spur of the moment decision to use them tonight vs. any other night, our decision to go early, the hour long wait, our being seated in that particular part of the restaurant, etc.), I can’t help but think there must have been a higher power guiding events. Not that anything has tangibly happened, but I suspect this is just the beginning of something larger than a chance meeting between an HBS professor and a hopeful applicant. I’m glad I got the courage up to introduce myself, or indeed, I would surely be kicking myself right now. Oh, and by the way, the chocolate cake was excellent this time.
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