When You Do Things Right

The real test of a person's character is what they do when no one is watching.

I've always been drawn to moments of unexpected wisdom in unlikely places.

There's this episode of Futurama called "Godfellas" where Bender, everybody’s lovable foul-mouthed robot, accidentally becomes a god to a tiny civilization living on his body. He tries being a benevolent deity, then a vengeful one, and ultimately watches as the civilization destroys itself despite his best efforts. Later, adrift in space, Bender encounters a cosmic entity that might be God (or might just be a highly evolved computer).

This entity delivers one of my favorite quotes of all time: "When you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all."

The first time I heard this, I laughed. It seemed like classic Futurama wrapping profound ideas in cartoon packaging. But over the years, this line has followed me through every phase of my life, becoming a touchstone for how I approach my responsibilities to others.

Those four years I spent in the Marine Corps from ages 17 to 21 came at a formative time in my life. One principle that was hammered into us was "integrity is doing the right thing even when no one is looking." At that age, when many are still figuring out who they are, I was learning fundamental values (Honor, Courage, Commitment) that would become the foundation for everything that followed. These weren't abstract concepts; they were standards we lived by daily, and they stuck with me long after I hung up the uniform.

Through college, my MBA program, and throughout my career, I've found myself returning to these principles again and again. They've shaped my approach to leadership, fatherhood, and now, building my own company.

One particular instance stands out. Years ago, I was in a leadership role when I noticed that a woman on our team was struggling. Her direct supervisor was, frankly, a horrible manager (and even worse leader) who provided neither guidance nor support. During a meeting with ownership, her name came up as a potential cut. Nobody else in the company knew that I spent the next hour advocating for her, explaining that her performance issues weren't a reflection of her capabilities but of the leadership vacuum she was working in.

"Give me six months," I told them. "Let me help her get on track."

They agreed, reluctantly. I drafted a Performance Improvement Plan (PIP) to help her. Not one of those PIPs that companies create as a first step towards the paper trail of death, but rather a genuinely tailored guide to truly help her right things that were not her fault. Over the next several months, I worked quietly to provide the coaching and resources she needed while making sure she had opportunities to demonstrate her value. Six months later, she was thriving. To this day, she has no idea that her job was ever in jeopardy or that someone had fought for her chance to prove herself. And that's okay.

That's the thing about doing right when no one's looking: the impact often ripples outward in ways you can't measure or track. Would her career path have been completely different if I hadn't spoken up in that moment? Would she have carried the weight of a termination that had more to do with her manager's failings than her own? I'll never know. But I do know that doing the right thing in that moment aligned with the person I want to be.

This principle has guided countless decisions throughout my career. I've advocated for team members in private conversations they'll never hear about, sometimes to my detriment. I've fixed problems that no one would have traced back to me if left unaddressed. I've given credit to others when I could have easily claimed it for myself. Not because I'm some paragon of virtue, but because those early Marine Corps lessons about integrity became part of my DNA.

What I've come to understand is that doing the right thing when no one is looking isn't about building up secret good karma or setting yourself up for eventual recognition. It's about building a life of integrity from the inside out. It's about knowing that the person you are in those private moments, when there's nothing to gain from your choices, is the truest reflection of your character.

Some people might call this approach naive in today's world of personal branding and public achievement. And lord knows, I’ve been burned plenty, but I've found that this quiet integrity creates its own kind of impact. People may not attribute specific actions to you, but they sense the steadiness of your character. They feel the safety of your consistency. They trust you not because of what you claim, but because of who you've proven yourself to be when nothing was at stake.

As that cosmic entity told Bender, the greatest accomplishment can sometimes be that people don't realize you've done anything at all. Not because you're invisible, but because you've helped create a world where the right thing happens naturally, without fanfare or crisis.

I'm curious; what principles guide your actions when no one's watching? Have you experienced moments where doing the right thing went completely unnoticed, yet still mattered deeply? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.