Poop scooping may not sound motivational, but I assure you it can be.
A couple of years ago, I was at Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson, the busiest airport in the world, waiting for a flight to a speaking engagement. As I sat observing people, as I often do, I noticed a disabled veteran walking through the terminal with his service dog, a big, beautiful German Shepherd.
Then it happened. Right there in the middle of the terminal, the dog had an accident. And not just a little accident. Let’s just say she must have eaten a Thanksgiving dinner before the flight.
In an instant, the crowd parted. Hundreds of people streamed past, staring, whispering, stepping around the mess. One person handed the man a few paper towels, but no one stopped to help.
I waited, curious. Surely someone, in a sea of business travelers in suits, many of whom probably call themselves “servant leaders” in meetings, would step forward. But no one did. Not one person in the busiest airport in the world.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my luggage, walked over, and asked if I could help. I took the paper towels, asked someone to bring me more, and knelt down on the floor.
As I started scooping the poop, the veteran tried to kneel down beside me. I stopped him: “No, sir. I’ve got this. You don’t need to.”
I looked at his service dog and asked if I could pet her. He nodded. I rubbed her head gently and told her, “It’s ok. It happens.” She looked up at me with those big eyes, as if she knew she’d let her partner down. That small moment of connection reminded me that sometimes the best way to serve is simply to say, “It’s ok.”
As I cleaned, the veteran told me her name was Ginger and that she had been with him for eight years. This was the first time anything like this had ever happened. She lay there, embarrassed and sweet, as I finished the job with what felt like an endless supply of paper towels.
When it was all over, I thanked him for his service and told him to take care of his companion. As I walked back to my gate, I realized I felt lighter, even joyful. Not because it was pleasant, but because I hadn’t missed the opportunity to serve.
That’s when it hit me: servant leadership isn’t glamorous. It’s not a slogan or a seminar. It’s really a mindset—a servant mindset—and sometimes it’s as simple as grabbing paper towels and scooping the poop when no one else will.
And that’s the problem with leadership today. We talk about innovation, disruption, and strategy, but we’ve lost some of the important words that ground leadership in responsibility. Words that remind us leadership is not about being admired; it’s about being accountable.
Here are seven of those forgotten words.
1. Obligation
Leadership isn’t a perk; it’s an obligation. The day you accept responsibility, you inherit the needs of the team you serve.
Obligation doesn’t always feel inspiring. It looks like standing beside someone in their worst moment — when “it” hits the floor. It looks like tackling the unglamorous task no one else wants because it needs to be done.
Relational intelligence is rooted here. Without obligation, “connection” is cheap talk. With it, connection becomes consistent practice. Obligation is the pooper scooper every leader needs — proof that service is more than words.
2. Stewardship
A school, a team, a culture — these don’t belong to us. They’re entrusted to us.
Stewardship reframes leadership from self to service: “Will the team I serve be healthier and stronger because I was here?” That question drives leaders to cultivate what they didn’t create and protect what they may never see finished.
At the airport, I wasn’t stewarding just a mess; I was stewarding dignity. Stewardship means recognizing that leaders don’t just manage outcomes — they nurture trust, belonging, and hope.
The best leaders leave legacies, not résumés.
3. Servant-Minded
Servant leadership has become a buzzword. Servant-mindedness is different. It’s not about claiming a title but living it when it’s inconvenient.
Being servant-minded means kneeling when others keep walking. It means trading image for impact. It means asking, “How do I lift the burden right in front of me?”
Servant-minded leaders don’t avoid tough conversations or boundaries. They serve people best by helping them grow, even when it’s uncomfortable. But at its core, servant-mindedness is willingness to scoop the poop when everyone else walks by.
4. Custodian
A custodian isn’t just a cleaner — they’re a guardian. Leaders are custodians of trust, culture, and dignity.
At the airport, the real “mess” wasn’t the dog’s accident. It was the silence of the crowd. Custodianship breaks that silence. It steps in, guards dignity, and repairs what could become shame.
Great leaders see themselves as custodians. They notice. They protect. They intervene before little issues turn into culture rot. A team without custodians drifts into cynicism.
5. Sacrifice
Sacrifice has almost disappeared from leadership vocabulary because we confuse it with burnout. But real sacrifice isn’t about depletion; it’s about selflessness.
Sacrifice means absorbing discomfort so someone else doesn’t have to. It’s risking your image to protect someone’s dignity. It’s choosing long-term trust over short-term ease.
That day at the airport, sacrifice didn’t mean giving up something big. It meant giving up my comfort, my schedule, and my pride to kneel on a dirty floor and serve. But that small sacrifice carried more meaning than I realized — for him, for Ginger, and for me.
Sacrifice proves leadership isn’t about you. And that’s why the team you serve will give you their best.
6. Humility
Humility doesn’t weaken leadership — it strengthens it. A humble leader isn’t timid; they’re teachable. They admit mistakes, seek feedback, and share credit.
Humility makes hard conversations possible without destroying respect. It says, “I don’t need to be right; I need to do right.”
Relational intelligence thrives in humility. People don’t follow perfect leaders; they follow authentic ones. And authenticity requires humility.
7. Accountability
Accountability has been reduced to numbers and metrics. But its true meaning is relational: giving an account of yourself and holding others accountable because you believe in their potential.
Accountability isn’t about punishment. It’s about growth. It’s about saying, “I won’t let you settle for less because I know you can be more.”
It’s uncomfortable. It creates tension. But done right, accountability is the highest form of belief. It shows people you value them enough not to let them drift.
Why These Words Still Matter
These forgotten words aren’t flashy. They aren’t popular and maybe never were. They don’t look impressive in a vision statement. But they are the bedrock of trust.
Why? Because leadership isn’t built in the spotlight. It’s built in the margins — in the hallway conversations, the tough meetings, the unseen moments when people discover if you are truly for them.
- Obligation tells people, “You matter enough that I’ll show up when it’s inconvenient.”
- Stewardship says, “I’m here to leave things better than I found them.”
- Servant-mindedness proves, “I’ll trade my image to lighten your load.”
- Custodianship whispers, “I’ll guard your dignity when others walk past it.”
- Sacrifice shows, “I’ll give something up so you don’t have to.”
- Humility admits, “I don’t know it all, but I care enough to listen.”
- Accountability insists, “I believe in you too much to let you settle.”
These aren’t soft words. They’re weighty. They don’t make leadership easier — they make leadership possible. And they remind us that relational intelligence isn’t about keeping everyone comfortable. It’s about creating the kind of trust where growth, candor, and resilience can thrive.
When leaders reclaim these words, they stop chasing admiration and start building transformation.
Full Circle
As I sat on the plane after scooping the poop, I realized something surprising: I felt lighter, even joyful. Not because it was pleasant, but because I hadn’t missed the opportunity to serve.
That’s the paradox of leadership. Serving doesn’t just help others; it changes us. It re-centers us. It reminds us that our influence isn’t measured by how many follow our title, but by how many trust our presence.
And yes — it sometimes means grabbing paper towels at the busiest airport in the world and kneeling down beside a stranger and his dog.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget Ginger. She didn’t need a speech, a strategy, or a system. She just needed someone to say, “It’s ok. It happens.”
Maybe that’s what the people we lead need most, too — leaders willing to serve when it’s messy, willing to protect when it’s quiet, willing to show humility when it’s easier to posture.
So here’s my challenge: get your pooper scooper ready. When it hits the fan — or the floor — don’t walk by. Don’t just talk about leadership. Live it.
Because when leaders recover these forgotten words — obligation, stewardship, servant-mindedness, custodianship, sacrifice, humility, accountability — the teams they serve don’t just follow.
They flourish. And if a dog named Ginger can remind us of that, then maybe leadership isn’t as complicated as we make it. Maybe it’s as simple — and as hard — as showing up when no one else does.
This article may be the single best article on leadership that I have ever read. Equally important, it applies across the board to all of us, wherever we work, regardless of rank, title, position, or role. Thank you, sir.
What a powerful reminder that leadership is not found in titles, strategies, or buzzwords, but in the unseen moments when someone chooses to serve. It’s sometimes a real challenge to show up when it’s messy, inconvenient, and unglamorous. But to me, that’s the best part.