Can a big company have a soul?

I was sitting around (in Africa still) having yet another great conversation with a friend of mine, Rob. It went something like this (any facts I get wrong are a result of my faulty memory and not a lie on Rob’s part):

Rob: “So I noticed you’re wearing a Matix T-shirt ^[1]”

Me: “Yeah. Funny thing is, I don’t know where I got it. I didn’t buy it. And someone, I don’t know whom, sent it to me. But I liked it and so I’m wearing it. Why? Who are they?”

Rob: “Every pair of pants I own are made by Matix. They are a great grassroots company that I used to work for. I trust them.”

Me: “You trust them? You trust them to do what?”

Turns out that Matix is a skateboard and surf clothing company. And apparently they have a soul. I asked what that meant. How does a company… whose purpose is to make money… have a soul? Rob proceeds to tell me that he used to skate for this company. He wasn’t good enough to get paid, but he got free gear (or “flow” as he called it) and they asked for input from the riders. They incorporated that into what they produced. Apparently the company’s main aspiration was to make clothing that riders wanted to wear. Kits designed to their specifications. I suppose the idea was to make stuff for the riders; the riders get seen by kids on the streets; the kids buy what the riders wear; the kids realize the gear is effective for how they ride; they tell other kids about it; you get the idea.

It wasn’t about the marketing directly. It wasn’t about making a lot of money. It was about doing something that the company owners enjoyed (skating and surfing) and becoming a part of that whole scene. Not using that scene to make money, but (as an adult) remaining a part of that scene. Remaining relevant to what they valued.

Me: “But if you’re no longer a rider and now you just wear clothes, how is the company catering to you… the customer?”

Rob: “They aren’t. But I trust that they will remain true to the riders. And I have found styles of their jeans that still cater to me as a casual clothes hanger… not a skater.”

Me: “And that’s important to you why?”

Rob: “Because they are willing to stay true to the art form. The art form of what we loved to do as kids. Skate. They will invest in and take input from the kids who ride for them. They trust in the sport and so the sport trusts them back.”

The entire time we are having this conversation I’m thinking about Walmart and Whole Foods and The Gap and that blonde that keeps running through my mind. With her long flowing hair. And her… huh? Oh. Sorry. Have I mentioned that I’m deployed? To Africa? For a year? Anyways, I’m thinking, here’s this small company that apparently has a soul. Can those larger companies have souls? The Gap doesn’t seem to have changed much. They sell basic clothes that haven’t really changed over the years. Classic, really. They own an upscale version of themselves (Banana Republic) and a cheapo version (Old Navy). But both those stores are just reflections of The Gap. And we all know it. I guess The Gap has a soul.

But Rob admitted that Whole Foods does not. I wouldn’t know because I have never step foot inside one. I don’t live in cool places. The Army is notorious for keeping its soldiers in decidedly uncool places. Where’s the Army base in downtown NYC? Las Vegas? LA? Miami? And the list goes on. But apparently Whole Foods has this killer micro-brew section that cannot be rivaled. And while Rob knows that he is killing the Mom and Pop’s chance of selling those micro-brews by going to Whole Foods to pick up his Monty Python’s Holy GRAIL ^[2], he cannot resist the Mecca of choice the soulless store provides.

There are numerous examples of this kind of thing in numerous fields. But it left me wondering. Is the small company that just wants to please itself, and still makes enough money to keep doing it, better — morally — than the company of whatever size that is bringing me what I want when I want it? Can a big company have a soul?

Do I?