Chapter 11: – The Most Hated Man in Minneapolis
December 2008. Snow blanketed Minneapolis when CSM President Rob Dann walked into my office and said something I’ve carried with me ever since:
“I’m glad you’re here. You’re going to shake us up. Do me one favor while we’re together—get it right 51% of the time.”
That landed strangely with me. I had always lived by the rule that success meant winning, not just scraping by. But Rob explained: if we were right more than half the time, we were winning. If we were right too much, it meant we weren’t taking risks. We weren’t innovating. We weren’t pushing.
Good thing he believed that, because we were about to walk headfirst into the winds of the Great Recession.
The CSM portfolio stretched from Seattle to Naples and Boston to Phoenix. The good news? There was a corporate jet. The bad news? The recession. I walked into CSM leading a strong Marketing and Sales team. Dar Johnston ran Revenue Management with an iron fist. Aimee Cheek brought fresh creativity in social media and marketing. And my Regional Directors, Andrew Claude and Joel Danko, couldn’t have been more different—but both were smart, successful, and loyal CSM leaders.
And peace? About to cease.
Rob’s first charge to me was clear: measure the Return on Investment of the entire Marketing and Sales organization. That meant no more fuzzy metrics, no more vague feel-good reporting. We dove into Smith Travel Reports (STR) to measure occupancy, rate, and market penetration. Then we went granular—tracking every salesperson’s performance. If they were thriving, we celebrated them. If not? They had to “step up or step out.”
We set sales targets, bonus plans, and even put cruises to the Caribbean on the table for top performers. For the rest, Performance Improvement Plans became the new reality. And if the numbers didn’t improve, change was coming.
That’s how, for the better part of a year, I became known as:
“the most hated man in Minneapolis.”
Andrew and Danko carried the weight with me. CSM had always been a warm, fuzzy sales culture, but now we were becoming clinical. Calls poured into Peggy Olson—sales managers crying, “CSM has a new VP of Sales and he fired me.” And sure, I signed the papers. But every single time, I heard my mother Bertha Carver’s voice in my head:
“You’re about to change someone’s life and take away their livelihood. They have families and children to care for. Are you making the right decision?”
That voice never left me. It kept me grounded even in the hardest calls.
And make no mistake, it was hard. We were deep in the Great Recession. Banks were collapsing, unemployment was rising, and hotel performance across the country was in free fall. Yet, somehow, we were winning.
Every month, we sat with Rob, reviewing hotel by hotel: who was green, who was yellow, who was deep in the red. Regional Directors Claude and Danko partnered with Operations VPs Dan Peterson and Steve Schulndt—pairs as different as could be, but strong together. Until the end of the year, when Rob challenged me to “shake it up,” rethink portfolios, and reassign support. It was bold, uncomfortable, and exactly what the moment demanded.
And during that period, I made a hire that would change my life. I was looking for a task force sales pro—someone who could fill gaps when managers were out or struggling. Dozens of interviews later, one candidate blew me away. Enter Charlene “Charley” Carter. A Georgia native, she walked in from a Minnesota snowstorm in a pinstriped suit and three-inch heels. If she could handle that, she could handle anything. Hired on the spot. I had no idea then she and I would later co-found a company together. But that’s for later.
For now, I was in the middle of the storm—recession, accountability, and hard choices. But we were clawing our way to market share gains while others slid backward. We were proving risk and discipline could pay off.
Then it happened: a resignation. Rob Dann—the president who hired me, who taught me “51%,” who I respected deeply—was leaving. Just like that, peace was gone again.