Fred Smith

Sometimes the smartest strategy is walking away.

Sure, it hurts the ego, but it saves the company.

Federal Express pulled back to what it knew, moving packages between America and the world, not within Europe.

Let local companies handle local delivery.

FedEx would be the bridge.

The lesson matters.

Admitting failure isn't weakness, it's intelligence.

Smith could have thrown more and more and more money at Europe trying to prove that he was right.

Instead, he admitted that he was wrong and saved the company.

As 1992 ended, Federal Express looked wounded, the stock price was battered, international dreams scaled back, the founder who'd built an industry was being questioned.

But Fred Smith had survived worse.

The bone disease that should have crippled him, the car accident that killed his friend, Vietnam, the Vegas gamble.

Each crisis taught him the same lesson, adapt or die.

Federal Express wasn't really about planes or packages, it was about trust.

And trust, unlike Flying Tigers or European hubs, couldn't be bought.

It had to be earned, package by package, night by night, promise by promise.

The boy who couldn't walk had built a company that moved in the world.

He'd made mistakes, expensive ones, sure.

But he'd also done something more important.

He'd proved that impossible was just another problem to solve.