You're Awesome

The Big Bearded Ginger was born

In 2018, at an industry event in Indianapolis, Marc Bradburry was scheduled to give a technical talk. As he mingled with attendees from across the country, he observed that many recognized him not by name, but simply as the “big bearded guy from Texas.” While it was flattering that his work preceded him, Marc felt a tinge of disappointment that his name wasn’t as memorable.

Deciding to embrace this persona, when it came time for his presentation, Marc introduced himself in a unique way. “Hello everyone, and thank you for coming to see me speak. I am Marc Bradburry, but I know that is hard for some to remember, so you can just call me The Big Bearded Ginger,” he announced, pausing to allow for laughter. From that moment, “The Big Bearded Ginger” was not just a nickname but became an integral part of his identity.

Marc’s journey to this point wasn’t unique, but it was distinctly his own. He had once been the epitome of youthful arrogance, believing himself unteachable, thinking he knew it all. However, life, with its relentless lessons, had other plans. Through trials and errors, Marc learned humility and the value of being open to learning, shaping him into the figure who could stand before an audience and introduce himself with a mix of humor and self-awareness

My Path Here; A Summarized Reflection

After leaving the army in 2008, I found myself trying to live in Hawaii as a hazardous waste technician. It was still one of my favorite jobs; every day was an adventure. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to realize that the salary wasn’t enough to maintain a comfortable lifestyle in Hawaii. I then found an opportunity in Texarkana, working for Waste Management Upstream at the Cooper Tire plant, where my in-laws resided, offering an easier transition back into civilian life in the States.

I took a union person’s position, and the first months were absolute hell. Everyone made it a point to ensure it stayed that way. I went through two managers and ended up doing two jobs — mine and the supervisor’s. Feeling undervalued yet confident, I demanded the supervisor’s position, believing I knew everything and could do everything needed. A wiser man than I told me I wasn’t qualified, and I took it to heart, giving an ultimatum: promote me or I would quit. Convinced of my own value, I was disheartened when they disagreed, so I left and ventured into car sales.

I was charismatic, eager, loved wearing ties, and could sell water to a fish, but the economic crunch of 2009 hit, and there wasn’t much business to go around.

Shortly after, my family and I lost everything. We found ourselves sleeping at a rest stop in Arkansas with what remained of our belongings, trying to figure out our next move. We sold everything we had to afford a dilapidated single-wide mobile home next to a paper mill. Without income, I couldn’t register or insure my car, so I walked to Walmart and McDonald’s seeking work but was repeatedly told I was “overqualified.”

Job hunting turned into food begging as we began to starve. I remember going door-to-door, asking for rice or eggs to feed my oldest son. We lived without electricity, fetching water from the stream behind our home for bathing and cooking on a propane cooktop. The workforce center offered assistance, helping us get electricity in exchange for 40 hours of “on-the-job training” at the courthouse, where I essentially did maintenance work, akin to community service.

Realizing this wouldn’t lead anywhere, I sought further assistance. A VA advocate at the courthouse connected me with the community college, where I took a part-time janitor job for some income and enrolled in classes. There, I also took the CDL course, earned my Class A CDL, and immediately secured a job at a local ready-mix concrete company, driving a front discharge concrete truck. This marked the beginning of a new chapter, one where I could leverage my skills and determination to rebuild our lives.

I worked both jobs for a year while my wife was pregnant with our third child. While out on a job, my wife went into early labor. I’ll never forget getting the call on the radio from dispatch who told me just to take the truck and they would come get it; I remember having to park at the hospital in my concrete truck and running into the emergency room with my steel-toe rubber boots loudly clapping on the tiles beneath my feet. Luckily, we had made friends that were able to watch our two older children, as my wife had broken several ribs during the emergency C-section and had to stay several nights in the hospital. Both jobs were extremely accommodating, however, I could not afford to miss much. So I had to balance going back to work and checking on my wife, then visiting my son who spent a month in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit). It was one of the longest months of my life.

Shortly after our third child was born, we knew we could not live in this dilapidated home anymore. We chose to move somewhere that had more opportunity and was around a dear friend of my wife, in Bowie, TX, 240 miles away. Unable to sell the home for anything other than scrap, we didn’t have any equity and lived hand to mouth, so moving was a large task. So I took a tax return and paid to rent a trailer in Bowie. I could not go until I had a job, so I slept on a friend’s couch and drove 4 hours one way on the weekends to see my family. I started taking Fridays off to go job hunting, and it was not how I thought it would go.

So many businesses were looking for CDL drivers, and I could line up half a dozen interviews on a single day, but it did not go well. Many water hauling companies were running barely legal trucks, and when I started to do my walk-around inspection before my driving interview, they would say, “We don’t do that here.” Looking at the trucks, I could see why, but I didn’t need a job that badly. I had one man laugh at me for dressing nicely and said I’d probably get scared just driving a 5th wheel, so he wouldn’t bother interviewing me. Finally, I found a Ready Mix company a little further from where we were moving than I would like, but a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

Now that I was living with my family, we bought our first home; it was another “needs work” house, but it was ours. Unfortunately, the utilities in the city were very high, gas prices were high, and without guaranteed hours, there were weeks where I wouldn’t get hours due to weather. Although I loved pouring concrete, it was not providing for my family because I could make less with guaranteed hours and less of a commute and come out ahead. While mentioning my predicament while making a payment on my rent-to-own refrigerator, they told me they had a position and gave me a Wonderlic test; after passing, they gave me the job.

Rent To Own was my rise to power; it didn’t take long for me to move up. I was good at sales, great at collections, and even better at making profit. I learned how to work on appliances to save repair costs and managed employee hours to get the most coverage with the least financial impact. It was a “what have you done for me lately” company; one bad week could be the end of your employment. It was a thrill to be on the edge, or at least I thought it was. It consumed me; I had to be the best and needed that six-figure salary. I chased the money to another company and made it a point to be the best; everyone knew who I was because they were calling me to work their stores, and I could work anywhere I wanted, but at what cost? My family was eroding, and even though I was home every night, I missed my youngest child’s first steps. I realized I was so enamored with work that I missed almost the entire first year of my fourth child’s life. My marriage on the rocks and my family missing their father, I had forgotten why I worked so hard. One morning on the way to work, I vomited blood, a lot of it, and ended up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer that needed to be cauterized.

While in the hospital, I was told I still needed to run my store. So I laid in the hospital bed for 5 days, ferociously micro-managing everything I could not be there to see. The doctor told me he would stitch my thumbs to my hands if it kept me from my phone because that was likely what was killing me. He said, “What is the point of employees if you can’t trust them to do what you pay them to do?” and that statement took too long to resonate, but I say this is a point that started my leadership journey. Shortly after, I gave my resignation with a 90-day notice, because I knew it would take time to transition, and I did not want my work to dissolve after I left. I remember being told I would not make the money I am around my house, and I responded, “It’s not about the money,” which I would have been better off speaking gibberish because that statement confounded them. They didn’t believe me; I sent it again at 60 days, 30 days, and 2 weeks. They finally took it seriously and tried again to talk me out of it, but I had already gotten a job closer to home and was committed to making the change.

The plastic pipe manufacturing plant was a vacation; for the first time in years, I was working in an environment without sales quotas, weekly calls, and monthly meetings. All I had to do was my job, and it ended when I clocked out. I picked up extra shifts and then made lead relatively quickly, which came with a little bump in pay. Although on paper, I was making less money compared to my last job, my life was immensely better. I took an active participation in safety and learned everything I could; unfortunately, I felt like I had little value to the company. It wasn’t about a paycheck; it was the behaviors allowed by coworkers. I had an instance where someone, who I asked to get off a forklift while I banded because I didn’t want them to hit anything, refused and got my hand in between two large pipes. After the accident investigation, the most important thing to address was my use of the F-word during the incident. Nothing happened to the employee, because he had a baby on the way. After this incident, this employee felt like I was singling him out and made a point every day to say something. I brought it up to the supervisor, and he said he couldn’t do anything. After the employee squared up to me and told me I needed to respect him after he showed up late again and I didn’t do his work, I asked the supervisor if he was going to do anything; he said, “no.” Knowing they fire people who put in their two weeks notice, I still asked if I could put in my notice and was told, “you know our policy,” so I quit.

It didn’t take long to land at an Industrial Supplier down the road; I was eager to learn something new and utilize my plethora of sales skills. The site took care of 5 rock quarries, and due to high turnover, the accounts were struggling. I stepped in and wrote out a weekly schedule and route to ensure repeatable coverage of their needs. Also, I worked with the account managers to fix PO issues and get a 90-day-plus and six figures worth of invoices settled. I learned from each site from walking their process and sitting and listening to their complaints and needs. I wrote them down, strategized, and did everything I could to make them successful. I learned so much about different industrial supplies, processes, and applications; it was enjoyable to go meet these people daily. It was a good balance of industry and business and kept my innovative spirit alive.

On the weekends, I would take the kids, and we’d just drive somewhere, just explore and go see outside. On one of these journeys, we drove by a huge construction site, and we stopped to observe it. I looked over to my wife and told her, “I don’t know what this is, but I’m going to work here.” Everything in me told me I needed to be there. I found out a friend of a friend worked there, and I got his number. I got the information on where to apply and got a supervisor’s number. I called and lined up an interview, and in January 2016, I started at the newly built brick plant.

It was like an episode of “How It’s Made,” robots moving in sequence and large conveyors stopping and starting. We mined the material on-site, so my knowledge of MSHA and rock crushers came immediately into play. Then the extruder behaved similarly to the plastic ones I had worked with, so I understood the mechanics of it. From dealing with the mechanics and maintenance staff at different quarries and plants, I had a decent idea of things needed and what commonly went wrong. Everything I had done in my adult life was coming into play, and I was hitting my stride. The plant was being built by predominantly German contractors; my Opa (grandpa) had come from Germany, and I still have family in Germany, which made it easy to connect and communicate with them. I took the opportunity to learn from them; they were reluctant at first but realized that I could help. So for the six months they were there finishing their install, I would come in on my own time to learn.

They taught me how to read electrical diagrams, troubleshoot PLCs, and make adjustments to the robots. I quickly became the response team for downed equipment, allowing the contractors to focus on the new installations. Shortly after the plant was commissioned, the packaging supervisor moved back to North Carolina, and I was offered his position. I felt like I was molded for this position and took it with great eagerness. It wasn’t just about knowing what to do; it was remembering how bad it felt to be an employee sometimes. I was tough but fair and shared every bit of knowledge I had. I empowered my team to be the best they could be, and they were the best; together we did what the people who built the machine said was impossible. We were the DeHackers.

Soon I was asked to apply what I did in my department to the rest of the plant, and I accepted. I approached it with the same tenacity as I did as a supervisor, but it did not work. I had people fight change, but also, I was not involving supervisors; I was doing it on my own, and it wasn’t working. This is when I sought knowledge and started to read and watch videos. I came across several Ted Talks that led me to buy books by Simon Sinek and Rory Sutherland. “Start With Why” was probably the biggest impact on my approach. Instead of trying to expect people to do what I want, I started to ask why should they care? Then that led to how do I make them care? Everyone works for different reasons, and change is hard for most, so a blanket approach usually doesn’t work. So I started small; I made it a point to see people; I would wave and say good morning, catch people doing the right things, and thank them for doing it. I supported them when they needed it; they knew if they called me, I would answer and solve their problem. By leading with action, I got action. That’s also where I got serious about safety.

We had an injury that was rooted in an ultimately unnecessary feeling of hitting production goals. We had built such a culture of accomplishment that we forgot to see how we were accomplishing it. We were proud of our safety compliance and the appearance of safety, but some people were making bad decisions, and it ended up with someone getting stitches. I promised that was the last LTI we would have. Safety is not common sense; in retrospect, it is easy to say that the danger was apparent and someone made a bad choice, but the bad choice is usually rooted in what the person believes is honestly best for the company. Every accident can be prevented, and you cannot rely on PPE to stop them. I delved deeply into safety and safety culture and spent my final 2 years at the brick plant completely and genuinely accident-free.

In the search for safety and productivity, I came across 3D Printing. It started with dealing with hard-to-get and expensive wear parts, then went to how to keep people out of dangerous situations by fixing issues with innovative design. I thrived on the impossible; people who told me it can’t be done made me want to show them how to get it done. This is when my notoriety started to rise. People from around the world, from Poland, South Africa, and Australia, would walk through the plant and just compliment our accomplishments. Then I was called to give talks around the country about what I had done. I learned most of what I did at the brick plant, and they empowered me to get into 3D printing, so I owed them my thanks and acknowledgment. In discussions with leadership, we came to an understanding that what I was doing was independent of the company as a whole, so my company was born.

I worked in tandem, improving the plant, company, and people, as well as giving support to other companies through my own. I designed parts for pharmaceutical manufacturers and developed training programs for sales and manufacturing companies. It came to a crossroads, and I had to choose between the company where I grew so much, and growing my business. With a mutual understanding, I decided to take on my business full time and started to travel the country, helping many industries with their many issues.

I’ve had a career’s worth of exposure to industries in just a short few years, but it just feels empty. I have designs, reports, and invoices to show my involvement, but I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished anything. I miss being part of a team, growing people, and seeing their growth, initiating and fostering change, making an impact on a daily basis. Now it’s time to find the team that will allow me to take part in my mission for the rest of my career.