As previously indicated, I lead a number of concurrent lives.  However, among other things, I teach formalized "Continuing Education" (...or CE) classes to Insurance Industry veterans (...as required by our beneficent overlord, the Texas Dept. of Insurance).

While my other classes are well rehearsed recitals, my CE classes are more like elaborate improvisations.  ...Often verging on a cross between stand-up comedy and religious camp-meeting.  My ego is such that, I've convinced myself that I remain interesting (...although, truth-be-told, without the "club" of the TDI,  I might not be quite so ...spellbinding).

Of all of my classes, my least favorite is "Ethics."   Interestingly, this is also my most favorite class.  To expect me to teach a relevant class in industry-related Ethics within a span of four hours is ludicrous.   Greater minds than mine have spent lifetimes wrestling with the question, "What is Ethical?"

However, the class invites robust classroom participation.  Everybody feels obligated to drop an opinion about things that are, patently, unethical.  This is a good thing.

(A brief aside; I leave work every day, and work out at my local YMCA.   It is, admittedly, mind-bogglingly upscale, but still a YMCA.   The sign over the door reads: "The Ken Lay Memorial YMCA."  That's right.... that Ken Lay; ...Mr. Enron!   Don't tell me that ethics has to be obscure!)

Yet, part of our discussion focuses on what is proper.   What is ethical.  And, incidentally how good ethics almost always translates to good customer service.  

In each class, I ask for examples of various Companies that are known for stellar customer service.  Invariably, I am given two stalwarts; Apple and McDonalds.  However, recently I asked for these examples and was greeted with a moment of silence.  Then, slowly, a hand went up in the back of the room.  An elderly woman stood up and gave a one-word response that brought both laughter and applause from the entire class...

Meekly, she said: "...Buc-ee's!"

For those of you who are not from Texas, Buc-ee's may be an unknown.

Buc-ee's is a simple gas station.

Well, maybe not so simple.  Buc-ee's has parlayed the most basic of human needs into an empire.  These needs are to 1.) get a tankful of gas, 2.) grab a hot cup of coffee and 3.) most importantly, the need to go to the bathroom.

In the early 1980's a few friends opened a small gas station in Lake Jackson, Texas.  In order to compensate for the extremely low gas prices of the day (...yes, there was a time when gas was cheap!), they decided to sell sandwiches and baked goods from the store.  Additionally, they convinced themselves that it just might add to their marketing impact if they could point to "...cleaner than average restrooms."

Today, there are perhaps 10 to 15 Buc-ee's locations across Texas, with the Flagship located equidistant between Houston, San Antonio and Austin (in obscure Luling, Texas). It is the size of a small airport.

Whoever runs marketing for Buc-ee's is underpaid.  Their billboards are ubiquitous. Starting only a few miles out of Houston, the billboards are equally spaced every mile for the next 100 miles and run from the "clever" to "borderline risque."  And each features the visage of the trademark cartoon Buc-ee Beaver.

I have heard it said that, on a typical summer day, the Buc-ee's in Lulling is the 10th largest city in Texas by population (with over 100,000 visitors a day). They boast over 50 gas pumps, enough parking for 300 cars (not to mention scores of Tour Buses) and enough road-food to feed a third world country.

But there are other contenders in this arena. What sets Buc-ee's apart is, well, the bathroom.  

As one enters Buc-ee's, you are astounded with the cleanliness, the variety and the excitement of the place.  However, as you approach the restrooms, you notice "Out-of-State" Moms exiting in the other direction mumbling things like "I can't believe it!" or "Now I get it!"

Buc-ee's has raised the bar for bathroom cleanliness from superb to ludicrous.  They have moved the simple process of ...bodily elimination to a religious event.  Their restrooms border on the surgically clean with the warmth of a family restraunt.  To take a leak in a Buc-ee's leaves one humbled; sad that you couldn't do any better.

Once you manage to stumble out of the bathroom (after you've been handed a warmed pre-moistened towelette by a fawning attendant), you are confronted with the monstrosity of the facility itself; the 28 flavors of fudge, the 17 varieties of kolaches, the 8 different type of barbeque, the made-to-order burger bar, the 50 ft. long deli counter, the mounds of "Beaver nuggets," the ice cream boutique etc. etc. etc.

And then there are the kiosks.  You're presented with the opportunity to buy an endless supply of Texiana; from cookbooks to stuffed armadillos to cowboy hats.

But primarily there are the souvenirs.  Buc-ee's (like Disney before them) realized that one of the best forms of advertisement is for patrons to wear their trademark apparel as proof to the world that "I've visited Buc-ee's!"  (And, not incidentally, to have the patrons pay for the privilege!)   Since I travel quite a bit throughout Texas, my children each have a minimum of 10 Buc-ee's tee-shirts or shorts or mugs or beach towels or hats or stuffed animals or ...well, you get it.  It's not unusual for me to spend $50 to fill my car with gas, and then spend an additional $100 for shirts and coffee.

My children have a game, where they will sit in a mall, or street corner and count the number of Buc-ee's tee-shirts that walk past in a given time frame.

I, like my student, am reminded often of how a seemingly mundane routine can be glimpsed through the eyes of the entrepreneur and turned into something magical.  How "...a cup of coffee and a bathroom pit-stop" can be transformed into the focal-point of your journey.  And, once again, I'm forced to shake my head and laugh: Only in America, Only in Texas.