Former top CEO reveals the one respectful word he never wants to hear from his employees
A former CEO, who headed major clothing brands like Gap and J.Crew, has revealed the one respectful word he hated hearing from his employees throughout his career, according to CNBC Make It.
80-year-old Mickey Drexler, who is now the chairman of clothing brand Alex Mill, has said that throughout his career he made sure that his colleagues and employees addressed him like a regular person and used only his first name.
Revealing in a LinkedIn interview that he preferred to be on the same level as the people working around, Drexler said that he never let anyone address him as "mister".
'No one can call me 'mister.' I don't care who it is. Even in restaurants, I [tell people to call me] Mickey, that's it. I want them to feel not beneath me," the 80-year-old said.
Drexler is credited with turning Gap into a $14 billion powerhouse and founding brands like Old Navy and Madewell. He was also an Apple board member for 16 years, serving from 1999 to 2015.
But Drexler refuses to let his accomplishments make him appear better than any of his employees and wants other bosses to adopt a similar outlook, emphasising connecting with colleagues as an essential part of leadership.
″You have to connect to the team. You can't be in your ivory tower ... You don't learn in a bureaucracy [or] in an office," he said.
Drexler connects with colleagues, entry-level or executives, by asking easy, open-ended questions about their work or background. He calls it 'schmoozing,' but others might see it as small talk or casual networking: a friendly, informal way to build rapport.
'Meet all the people,' said Drexler, adding that small talk is a skill he developed as an executive, not something he's always done. 'Be a normal [person], not [an] ivory-tower person who thinks they're smarter than everyone. ... You never learn [something new] unless you have a relationship with someone," he said.
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Business Standard
5 days ago
- Business Standard
Trump wants US to make things again- but is it ready for the challenge?
President Trump ignited a global trade war on a gamble that taxing other countries would bring jobs and factories 'roaring back' to the United States. Many business leaders are skeptical. Some are incredulous. Sanjeev Bahl is optimistic. From his factory in Los Angeles, Mr. Bahl oversees around 250 people who sew, cut and distress jeans for brands like Everlane, J. Crew and Ralph Lauren. They stitch together 70,000 pairs of jeans a month. America, he insisted, can make stuff again. But there is a catch. The operation works only because his company, Saitex, runs a much bigger factory and fabric mill in southern Vietnam where thousands of workers churn out 500,000 pairs of jeans a month. Mr. Trump's tariffs have upended supply chains, walloped businesses and focused the minds of corporate leaders on one question: Does America have what it takes to bring jobs back? In many industries, the undertaking would take years, if not decades. The United States lacks nearly every part of the manufacturing ecosystem — the workers, the training, the technology and the government support. 'There are some harsh realities,' said Matt Priest, chief executive of the Footwear Distributors and Retailers of America, a trade group. And Mr. Trump's strategy is shrouded in uncertainty. Last month, he said, 'We're not looking to make sneakers and T-shirts' in the United States. But his steepest tariffs, set to take effect in July, were directed at countries that make clothes and shoes for sale to Americans. Vietnam, at 46 percent, was one of the hardest hit. Those tariffs, intended to push companies to bring factory work home, were deemed illegal by a ruling last week by the U.S. Court of International Trade. That decision was temporarily paused by a different court, giving judges time to evaluate an appeal by the Trump administration. Amid all the legal wrangling, Mr. Trump has promised to find other ways to disrupt the rules of trade. Mr. Trump has exposed the difficulties in closing the vast distances, geographical and logistical, between where many products are made and where they are consumed. The gulf was laid bare during the Covid-19 pandemic, when strict health policies in Asian countries led to the shutdown of factories. When they reopened, orders had piled up and snarled shipping routes trying to ferry goods across thousands of miles. For executives like Mr. Bahl of Saitex, the turmoil caused by Mr. Trump's trade policies has brought fresh urgency to the challenges of managing global supply chains. 'The extended fear and uncertainty that Covid brought was unforeseen,' Mr. Bahl said. 'There was nothing that could help us except survival instinct.' In response, Saitex opened a factory in Los Angeles in 2021. Since Mr. Trump announced his intention to impose steep tariffs on Vietnam, Mr. Bahl has been thinking about how much more he can make in the United States. He could probably bring about 20 percent of production to the States, up from 10 percent today, he said. He believes Saitex could be a blueprint for other apparel companies. 'We could be the catalyst of the hypothesis that manufacturing can be brought back to the United States,' he said. But his experience highlights how hard it would be. There are no mills in America on the scale of what the industry needs, nor major zipper and button suppliers. The cost of running a factory is high. Then there is the labor problem: There just aren't enough workers. American factories are already struggling to fill around 500,000 manufacturing jobs, according to estimates by Wells Fargo economists. They calculate that to get manufacturing as a share of employment back to the 1970s peak that Mr. Trump has sometimes called for, new factories would have to open and hire 22 million people. There are currently 7.2 million unemployed people. Mr. Trump's crackdown on immigration has made things worse. Factory jobs moved overseas to countries, like Vietnam, that had growing populations and young people looking for jobs to pull themselves out of poverty. The future that Mr. Trump envisions, with millions of factory jobs, would have to include immigrants seeking that same opportunity in the United States. Steve Lamar, the chief executive of the American Apparel and Footwear Association, an industry lobby group, said there was a gap between a 'romantic notion about manufacturing' and the availability of American workers. 'A lot of people say we should be making more clothing in the U.S., but when you ask them, they don't want to sit in the factory, nor do they want their kids to sit in the factory,' he said. 'The problem is that there aren't any other people around,' he added. At Saitex's Los Angeles factory, most of the workers come from countries like Mexico, Guatemala and El Salvador. Some 97 percent of the clothes and shoes that Americans buy are imported for cost reasons. Companies that make everything in the United States include firms like Federal Prison Industries, also known as Unicor, which employs convicts to make military uniforms for less than minimum wage, Mr. Lamar said. Other companies make some of their fashion lines in the United States, like New Balance and Ralph Lauren. Others are playing around with a model where they make small batches of clothes in the United States to test designs and determine their popularity before commissioning big orders — usually from factories in other countries. It is hard to make things in great volume in America. For Mr. Bahl, it boils down to the cost of a sewing machine operator. In Los Angeles, that person gets paid around $4,000 a month. In Vietnam, it is $500. In Saitex's factory there, which Mr. Bahl set up in 2012 in Dong Nai Province, an hour's drive from Ho Chi Minh City, more than a dozen sewing lines are neatly laid out and humming six days a week. On a recent day, hundreds of workers pushed panels of jeans through sewing machines so quickly that the fabrics, briefly suspended in the air, looked as though they were flying. The work was augmented by sophisticated machines that can stitch labels onto a dozen shirts at a time, or laser a distressed pattern onto multiple jeans. Nearby, at a spray carousel, a robot mimicked the precise movements of a worker spraying denim. 'The speed is much higher in Vietnam,' said Gilles Cousin, a plant manager overseeing the sewing section. If Mr. Trump really wants to bring jobs back, Mr. Bahl said, he should give some tariff exemptions to companies like Saitex that are doing more in the United States. American factories like his can't expand without importing many of the things that go into their finished products. For its part, Saitex ships bales of American cotton to Vietnam, where its two-story mill turns fluffy cotton lint into thread and, eventually, rolls of fabric. That fabric is then dyed and shipped back the United States for his Los Angeles factory. Until there is enough momentum from companies making things in the United States, the fabric, zippers and buttons will have to be brought into the country. Moving production from overseas would require huge investments, too. Saitex has plowed around $150 million in Vietnam, where its factory recycles 98 percent of its water, air dries its denim and uses technology to reduce carbon dioxide emissions and cut down on labor-intensive practices. In the United States, Saitex has spent around $25 million. These are long-term commitments that take at least seven years to recover, according to Mr. Bahl. Ultimately, if Mr. Trump decided to stick to his original 46 percent tariff on Vietnam and Saitex could not soften the financial blow, it would have to look to other markets to sell the products it made in Vietnam — like Europe, where it sends about half of what it currently makes. 'But then,' Mr. Bahl said from Los Angeles, 'what happens to our factory here?'
Economic Times
31-05-2025
- Economic Times
She was a cancer nurse, now she fixes cars: This 39-year-old YouTube trained mechanic's income will leave you stunned
The First Spark: From YouTube Videos to Real-World Repairs Grease-Stained Dreams: The Garage Becomes a Goldmine The Moment of Truth: Can Passion Pay the Bills? You Might Also Like: 'Don't be that person who ignores this technology': Nvidia CEO warns AI will rewrite the rules of employment Beating the Odds—and the Bias From Torque Wrenches to TikTok Fame Desiree Hill used to save lives for a living. As an oncology nurse in Duluth, Georgia, her days were spent navigating the emotional weight of a high-stress hospital unit. Add to that a three-hour daily commute and the overwhelming demands of single motherhood, and life had become more exhausting than fulfilling.'I rarely saw my children,' Hill reflected while talking to CNBC Make It. 'Everything started to feel like it was slipping away—from my personal happiness to my health and peace of mind.'Her career was stable, sure. But was it enough? That's the question that nudged her toward a decision most would call irrational—until they heard what happened zero experience under the hood, Hill began watching YouTube tutorials on car repairs out of sheer curiosity. What started as a late-night distraction soon became a hands-on hustle. She bought an old truck for around $1,200, fixed it with just $60 in parts, and flipped it for more than triple the price within two days.'It was electric—the feeling of making something work with my hands and actually turning a profit,' she says. She wasn't just fixing cars. She was rewiring her entire the side hustle grew, so did her ambition. Within a year, Hill left nursing behind and started flipping cars full-time. It wasn't long before she was waking up at 6 a.m., working till 3 a.m., and involving her kids in the business. Even her 10-year-old daughter built a expanded into mobile repairs, took on customer jobs, and documented her progress on TikTok, where she now has a follower base larger than most small towns. Then came the real pivot: opening her own 9,000-square-foot auto shop, Crown's Corner Mechanic, just minutes from began as a leap of faith. What it became was something much first glance, becoming a mechanic may not sound like the most lucrative midlife switch. But beneath the surface of oil changes and engine overhauls, a financial transformation was brewing. The tiny side gig that once brought in a few thousand dollars here and there has grown into a six-figure business is now pulling in monthly numbers that would make most white-collar professionals raise an eyebrow. Let's just say she's not missing her hospital paychecks anymore. While she keeps her precise profit margins guarded, documents reviewed by CNBC confirm what the figures suggest: she's now earning more in a month than she once did in a Hill has built a business most would only dream of—one that now earns nearly $440,000 a not just the business of cars that Hill is navigating—it's the business of perception. Standing at 4-foot-11, she often stuns customers who assume she's the receptionist or assistant. But when she dissects their vehicle's issue before they've finished explaining, the assumptions quickly fall apart.'I have to prove myself every time I open my mouth,' she admits. 'But I love it. I love showing them what I know.'Her shop is now a hub of collaboration, with space rented out to welders, tow truck operators, and other mechanics. The rent is steep, but the returns—financial, emotional, and reputational—are her clientele grows, so does her vision. She dreams of owning the space she currently rents, expanding her team, and maybe even earning a mechanical engineering degree. She's already repaid a generous loan from a customer-turned-angel-investor and is now setting her sights on crossing a milestone few small businesses ever just how much is she making now?Let's put it this way: her first year flipping cars brought in six figures. Her auto shop's revenue has nearly doubled since last year. And projections suggest she's barreling toward $1 million in annual revenue—a far cry from her nursing Hill didn't just switch careers. She rewrote her story, replacing burnout with empowerment and stagnation with momentum. Her journey is a masterclass in self-belief, grit, and the courage to chase unfamiliar dreams.'If you don't know about us yet,' she says, 'you're going to know about us real soon.'And with the kind of numbers she's pulling in? That's a promise worth betting on.
Time of India
31-05-2025
- Time of India
She was a cancer nurse, now she fixes cars: This 39-year-old YouTube trained mechanic's income will leave you stunned
The First Spark: From YouTube Videos to Real-World Repairs Grease-Stained Dreams: The Garage Becomes a Goldmine The Moment of Truth: Can Passion Pay the Bills? You Might Also Like: 'Don't be that person who ignores this technology': Nvidia CEO warns AI will rewrite the rules of employment Beating the Odds—and the Bias From Torque Wrenches to TikTok Fame Desiree Hill used to save lives for a living. As an oncology nurse in Duluth, Georgia, her days were spent navigating the emotional weight of a high-stress hospital unit. Add to that a three-hour daily commute and the overwhelming demands of single motherhood, and life had become more exhausting than fulfilling.'I rarely saw my children,' Hill reflected while talking to CNBC Make It. 'Everything started to feel like it was slipping away—from my personal happiness to my health and peace of mind.'Her career was stable, sure. But was it enough? That's the question that nudged her toward a decision most would call irrational—until they heard what happened zero experience under the hood, Hill began watching YouTube tutorials on car repairs out of sheer curiosity. What started as a late-night distraction soon became a hands-on hustle. She bought an old truck for around $1,200, fixed it with just $60 in parts, and flipped it for more than triple the price within two days.'It was electric—the feeling of making something work with my hands and actually turning a profit,' she says. She wasn't just fixing cars. She was rewiring her entire the side hustle grew, so did her ambition. Within a year, Hill left nursing behind and started flipping cars full-time. It wasn't long before she was waking up at 6 a.m., working till 3 a.m., and involving her kids in the business. Even her 10-year-old daughter built a expanded into mobile repairs, took on customer jobs, and documented her progress on TikTok, where she now has a follower base larger than most small towns. Then came the real pivot: opening her own 9,000-square-foot auto shop, Crown's Corner Mechanic, just minutes from began as a leap of faith. What it became was something much first glance, becoming a mechanic may not sound like the most lucrative midlife switch. But beneath the surface of oil changes and engine overhauls, a financial transformation was brewing. The tiny side gig that once brought in a few thousand dollars here and there has grown into a six-figure business is now pulling in monthly numbers that would make most white-collar professionals raise an eyebrow. Let's just say she's not missing her hospital paychecks anymore. While she keeps her precise profit margins guarded, documents reviewed by CNBC confirm what the figures suggest: she's now earning more in a month than she once did in a Hill has built a business most would only dream of—one that now earns nearly $440,000 a not just the business of cars that Hill is navigating—it's the business of perception. Standing at 4-foot-11, she often stuns customers who assume she's the receptionist or assistant. But when she dissects their vehicle's issue before they've finished explaining, the assumptions quickly fall apart.'I have to prove myself every time I open my mouth,' she admits. 'But I love it. I love showing them what I know.'Her shop is now a hub of collaboration, with space rented out to welders, tow truck operators, and other mechanics. The rent is steep, but the returns—financial, emotional, and reputational—are her clientele grows, so does her vision. She dreams of owning the space she currently rents, expanding her team, and maybe even earning a mechanical engineering degree. She's already repaid a generous loan from a customer-turned-angel-investor and is now setting her sights on crossing a milestone few small businesses ever just how much is she making now?Let's put it this way: her first year flipping cars brought in six figures. Her auto shop's revenue has nearly doubled since last year. And projections suggest she's barreling toward $1 million in annual revenue—a far cry from her nursing Hill didn't just switch careers. She rewrote her story, replacing burnout with empowerment and stagnation with momentum. Her journey is a masterclass in self-belief, grit, and the courage to chase unfamiliar dreams.'If you don't know about us yet,' she says, 'you're going to know about us real soon.'And with the kind of numbers she's pulling in? That's a promise worth betting on.
