Trains and Lost Paychecks

While family visits like a trip with my dad provided wonderful breaks, my daily focus was centered on my new role as Payroll Manager. On one memorable visit from California, my dad—a former train mechanic and absolute expert on steam engines—took us out to Promontory Point, Utah. It was a wonderful chance to see where the golden spike connected the rails from the East and West. Dad struck up a conversation with the engineer, and we were even invited inside to see exactly how the locomotive operated. The boys absolutely loved it.

A few months into my job, my former boss from Samoa requested a special payroll concession as he was relocating to another country. Only the Payroll Manager had the authority to grant this favor, and he was sent directly to my office. I am so glad this happened because it forced me to assess my true feelings. I decided right then to let God, not me, judge what had happened in Samoa. I chose to forgive and move on. Forgiveness felt good, and because of that choice, the memories of my service in Samoa have remained sweet.

Shortly after, I experienced a true crisis. Paychecks were printed at an off-site technology center about a block away. An employee from the treasury department and I would check out a fleet car, drive to the tech center, and use a unique signature plate to manually “sign” thousands of employee paychecks. One afternoon, we packed up the signed checks into the back of a fleet station wagon, and the treasury representative checked the car back into fleet services before we had unloaded it.

I stepped a few feet away, and someone immediately hopped into the car and drove off with all the paychecks in the back. The new driver had no idea what he was transporting; he was just headed out of town on business, and there were no cell phones to reach him.

I took the problem to my boss, who set a lifelong example for me on how to manage a crisis. He immediately called his supervisors together to focus entirely on exploring recovery plans and replacement options. Fortunately, the paychecks surfaced when the driver stopped outside Salt Lake City, looked into the cargo area, and realized what he had. He immediately drove back to fleet services. Once the checks were safely recovered, my boss called another meeting to implement a new procedure to ensure it could never happen again. There was never a single effort made to point fingers or assign fault—only a focus on solving today’s problem and preventing tomorrow’s. Finding blame is a waste of time, and that has been my management style ever since.

Opportunities and Technology

While serving as Payroll Manager, I was given another unique, deeply personal assignment. Elder Yoshihiko Kikuchi was called as a General Authority Seventy and was moving his family from Japan to Salt Lake City. I was asked to meet with him weekly for several months to help orient him to life in the United States and assist with his paperwork. Every single week I visited, he treated me like an honored guest; to him, it was a privilege to see me. Once, months later, he spotted me across a crowded hardware store, waved enthusiastically, and came over to introduce his wife to Kathy and me. He had become a true friend, and that orientation role remains a special privilege in my memory.

Professionally, the momentum kept building. In 1983, the Church became an early adopter of direct deposit payments for its employees, which was a massive undertaking given the size of the payroll. A significant operational issue was that direct deposit would eliminate the check “float” the Church experienced with physical checks, where cash remained in the Church’s bank accounts for weeks until employees cleared them. With direct deposit, the funds leave the account instantly on payday.

The top leadership concluded that because it was the employees’ money, keeping the float was just a windfall to the organization, and ensuring employees were paid promptly was the right priority. When they decided to move ahead, I was put in charge of promoting the program. Because so many employees lived outside of Utah, direct deposit alleviated the massive logistical pressure of delivering paper checks on time worldwide.

My goal was to achieve a 70% employee participation rate. I made presentations to groups of several hundred employees at a time in Salt Lake City and designed flyers for those stationed elsewhere. Participation quickly blew past 70% and eventually settled in the 90% range. I reported our progress weekly using charts and graphs, and it was thrilling to be at the forefront of something so modern. And really, who doesn’t choose direct deposit now?

Moving On

Following these events, Kathy and I began planning to construct a solar-heated home in Alpine, Utah—a very early, energy-efficient design. The blueprints were drawn, but life took us in a different direction before we could close on the lot.

Kathy’s mother and my father were both living alone now and facing mounting health problems. Dad had recently suffered a fall and lay on the floor for two days before anyone discovered him. We realized we needed to change our priorities, choosing to move to Southern California to be closer to them.

This was a major career sacrifice. At the time, I was being groomed to run the entire Church accounting system, and my bosses were deeply disappointed when I requested the transfer. To this day, I still occasionally wonder if I made the right decision, but family had to come first.