The Nail
I want to tell you a story about a nail.
A man was looking to buy a house. It would be his first home purchase, and one he was ready for. He’d spent many years saving for a down payment, was confident and strict in his budget, and had even taken a local community class about buying and maintaining a home.
He was meticulous in his search. Before contacting a realtor, he scoured online listings and apps, asked friends about certain parts of town and spoke with his mom about the wise investments she’d made through the years in selecting their various family homes.
He hired a realtor, and the search began in earnest. He went to multiple open houses and showings. And then finally, he found his dream home. It just “felt” right, and he knew it as he walked through each room and imagined his furniture there.
He pictured prepping dinner around the large kitchen island, relaxing on the back patio, and maybe even one day decorating a nursery. He was ready to make an offer.
Smartly, he offered below asking price and was ready to dig in his heels and negotiate while promising to himself he wouldn’t go over his budget. To his surprise, the current owner didn’t reject his offer or even counter with a higher price. The owner merely replied with one unusual request:
“I’ll accept the buyer’s offer, but he must let me keep one nail in the house. He can have the house as-is at his offered price; everything but a nail of my choosing, that is.”
The man couldn’t believe his luck! He was going to be able to own a wonderful house in a great neighborhood at a fantastic price. And all he had to give up was a single nail - among the thousands and thousands in the house.
The buyer moved forward and contracts were drawn up and the deal closed. On the day of the closing the (now former) owner showed up to choose his nail. After thoughtfully walking through the house, he stepped back onto the front porch and there he found the nail he wanted.
“This one,” he told the new owner. “I want this nail that is above the door frame. See it there, sticking out a bit?” The new buyer barely noticed it but soon saw the nail the former owner wanted.
“Sure! It’s yours!” the excited new owner said. And with that, they shook hands and the former owner turned to leave.
“Aren’t you going to take the nail out?” the new owner asked.
“Oh no,” the former owner said. “It’s mine and I can do with it what I want. It stays.”
The new owner, by now realizing just how eccentric the former owner was, felt confused, but rolled his eyes as the man walked away. After all, what’s one nail? And an inconspicuous one at that?
Three weeks passed. The new owner had already made the house a home with new paint on the inside, heirloom rugs from his grandparents, a grill out back and photos of memories on nearly every wall. As he was prepping for dinner one evening, he thought he heard the sound of someone coming up the front steps on the porch.
It was the former owner. In his hand was a rotting possum. Roadkill.
The former owner raised up the dead animal and hung it on his nail.
The new owner came outside, as confused as ever but also furious. “What are you doing?!” he screamed. “Get that off my porch! Why are you here? Take that away from here - it’s disgusting!”
The old owner, with no expression, simply said, “No. It’s my nail. I can do what I want with it.”
And with that he turned away and left. The new owner was exasperated, but a deal was a deal.
The carcass stayed on the nail and continued to rot, attracting bugs and parasites and scavengers. He could no longer use the front porch due to the sight and smell. Neighbors crossed the road to avoid walking in front of the house. Embarrassed, little by little the new owner began to care less and less for his house until he eventually moved out. The entire house at that point had become unlivable.
And when he did, the former owner moved back in, removed the dead animal, cleaned things up, and put a “For Sale” sign out front.
Beware who and what you let in your life, your organization, or your plans. Giving the wrong person even the slightest glimpse, foothold, or opportunity can wreck everything.
Excellence requires vigilance, and nothing less.
