When I was 17, I discovered a wonderful thing. My father and I were sitting on the floor of his study. We were organizing his old papers. Across the carpet I saw a fat paper clip. Its rust dusted the cover sheet of a report of some kind. I picked it up. I started to read. Then I started to cry. It was a speech he had written in 1920, in Tennessee. Then only 17 himself and graduating from high school, he had called for equality for African Americans. I marvelled, proud of him, and wondered how, in 1920, so young, so white, and in the deep South, where the law still separated black from white, he had had the courage to deliver it. I asked him about it. "Daddy," I said, handing him the pages, "this speech—how did you ever get permission to give it? And weren't you scared?" "Well, honey," he said, "I didn't ask for permission. I just asked myself, ‘What is the most important challenge facing my generation?' I knew immediately. Then I asked myself, ‘And if I weren't afraid, what would I say about it in this speech?'" "I wrote it. And I delivered it. About half way through I looked out to see the entire audience of teachers, students, and parents stand up—and walk out. Left alone on the stage, I thought to myself, ‘Well, I guess I need to be sure to do only two things with my life: keep thinking for myself, and not get killed.'" He handed the speech back to me, and smiled. "You seem to have done both," I said.

In a study, a researcher pretending to be a volunteer surveyed a California neighborhood, asking residents if they would allow a large sign reading "Drive Carefully" to be displayed on their front lawns. To help them understand what it would look like, the volunteer showed his participants a picture of the large sign blocking the view of a beautiful house. Naturally, most people refused, but in one particular group, an incredible 76 percent actually approved. The reason that they agreed was this: two weeks earlier, these residents had been asked by another volunteer to make a small commitment to display a tiny sign that read "Be a Safe Driver" in their windows. Since it was such a small and simple request, nearly all of them agreed. The astonishing result was that the initial small commitment deeply influenced their willingness to accept the much larger request two weeks later.

Rewarding business success doesn't always have to be done in a material way. A software company I once worked for had a great way of recognizing sales success. The sales director kept an air horn outside his office and would come out and blow the horn every time a salesperson settled a deal. The noise, of course, interrupted anything and everything happening in the office because it was unbelievably loud. However, it had an amazingly positive impact on everyone. Sometimes rewarding success can be as easy as that, especially when peer recognition is important. You should have seen the way the rest of the sales team wanted the air horn blown for them.