Real Results.

Some ideas arrive in boardrooms.

Mine arrived over breakfast.

As I write this today, I can’t help but think about my friend Tom Johnson—better known to all of us by his fraternity nickname, “Nuggets.”

Tom passed away in 2017, and not a week goes by that I don’t think about him. This story is one of the reasons why.

We met in the fall of 1986 in a history class at Ithaca College.

We were both Eagle Scouts.

Both only children.

Both Resident Assistants.

Both sons of alcoholic parents.

For whatever reason, we connected almost immediately, and that friendship carried well beyond college into our professional lives.

Years later, Tom landed what most people would consider a dream opportunity.

He joined Apple’s original iPhone team.

It was exciting.

It was intimidating.

And like so many professionals stepping into a large organization, he had one big question:

Who do I need to know?

One Saturday morning, we met for breakfast at a diner in New Haven.

Tom began describing the people inside Apple.

Who reported to whom.

Who influenced decisions.

Who actually got things done.

As he talked, I instinctively reached for whatever was sitting on the table.

A pink Sweet’N Low packet.

A white sugar packet.

A blue Equal packet.

Soon the table was covered with packets.

Different colors represented different people.

When someone led a team, I’d stack matching packets underneath them.

If someone carried unusual influence, I’d rotate the packet slightly.

At one point I even used the silverware to represent relationships that didn’t fit neatly into the organizational chart.

It wasn’t artistic.

It certainly wasn’t scientific.

But somehow…

It made perfect sense.

As we rearranged packets across the table, something unexpected happened.

A pattern began to emerge.

The goal wasn’t simply to understand the organizational chart.

The goal was to identify the relationships that mattered.

By the end of breakfast, we weren’t talking about titles anymore.

We were talking about people.

Who Tom needed to meet.

Who could open doors.

Who influenced whom.

And what path would give him the greatest chance of building meaningful relationships inside Apple.

Neither of us realized it at the time, but that breakfast became the foundation for what would eventually become the “Who Do You Need to Meet?” exercise that I’ve taught to thousands of professionals over the years.

The funny part?

It wasn’t a one-time thing.

Years later, another Eagle Scout and close friend, Jeff Herman, sat across from me at another diner table. This time we were mapping relationships inside Frito-Lay to help him think through his next career move.

Apparently, Eagle Scouts think better with sugar packets.

I’ve recreated that exercise countless times over the years.

The packets have changed.

Sometimes they’re napkins.

Sometimes sticky notes.

Sometimes whiteboards.

But the principle has never changed.

Every organization is really a network of people.

When you understand the relationships—not just the reporting structure—you begin to see opportunities that everyone else misses.

That morning, over coffee and sugar packets, I wasn’t creating a framework.

I was simply helping a friend.

Only years later did I realize we had built the first version of the Rob Thomas Method together.

And every time I teach it, I think of Nuggets. His friendship, his curiosity, and one ordinary breakfast that turned into something neither of us could have imagined.

People ask me all the time whether handwritten thank-you notes still work.

My answer is always the same.

Only because almost nobody sends them anymore.

One of my favorite examples involves my fraternity brother of more than thirty years, Marty.

In 2019, Marty was hired by Amazon Web Services (AWS). One of his top priorities was building stronger relationships with several of his business accounts, including Fox Business, Fox News, and Fox Sports.

He was scheduled to travel to Boston to meet with the leadership team at one of those offices. Before he left, I gave him some simple advice.

“Don’t worry about handing out business cards. Just learn people’s names, pay attention, and make genuine connections.”

He did exactly that.

The meeting went well, and as he began the drive home to New Jersey, he called me.

“So… now what, Coach?”

I told him to write a handwritten thank-you note to the leader of the office.

He immediately pushed back.

He thought the idea was outdated.

In true fraternity-brother fashion, he told me he’d do it but only because he was paying me and wanted to prove that the whole handwritten-note thing was a myth.

So he wrote the note, dropped it in the mail, and went back to work.

About six weeks later, Marty called the Boston office to schedule a follow-up meeting to continue discussions about AWS’s products and services.

The receptionist transferred him to the executive he’d met with.

The first thing the executive said wasn’t about AWS. It wasn’t about cloud services.

It wasn’t even about scheduling another meeting.

Instead, he asked,

“Is this the same Marty from AWS who sent me the handwritten thank-you note?”

Marty said yes.

The executive replied,

“Get up here. I have something I want to show you.”

A week later, Marty returned to Boston.

The executive greeted him, walked him into his office, and pointed to the wall.

There, professionally matted and framed, hung Marty’s handwritten thank-you note.

The executive smiled and said,

“I’ve never received a handwritten thank-you note after a meeting. I honestly thought nobody did that anymore. From now on, every new employee who joins this office comes in here so I can show them this note. I want them to understand what exceptional customer service looks like.”

As Marty drove home that afternoon, my phone rang again.

He didn’t waste any time.

“I can’t believe it actually worked,” he said. “I stand corrected. I honestly thought the handwritten note was a myth.”

That one simple gesture didn’t replace good products, good service, or good follow-up.

But it did something equally important.

It made Marty memorable.

It demonstrated respect.

It showed that he valued the relationship enough to do something almost no one else was willing to do.

Over time, Marty and his team earned the trust that led AWS to secure the entire account, and that relationship remains strong today.

That’s why I still believe in handwritten thank-you notes.

Not because they’re old-fashioned.

Because they’re unforgettable.

Never underestimate the power of a handwritten thank-you note.

Long before I officially launched my business, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be a better way to build professional relationships.

I had spent years watching people walk into networking events, hand out business cards, pitch themselves to anyone who would listen, and leave wondering why nothing happened.

I believed there was a better way.

The problem was, I hadn’t fully proven it to myself yet.

That opportunity came in 2015 at a Greater New Haven Chamber event.

There was one person I wanted to meet: Roger Joyce, Executive Vice President of The BILCO Company.

The question wasn’t whether I wanted to meet him.

The question was…

How do you meet someone at that level?

I started where real networking always starts.

With relationships.

I asked my former boss and networking mentor, Tony Rescigno, then President and CEO of the Greater New Haven Chamber of Commerce, if he would introduce us. Tony and Roger had worked together for years, so the introduction was natural.

Not long afterward, I received a message from Roger.

“I hear you want to meet me.”

I certainly did.

We scheduled lunch at Mory’s, the historic Yale dining club in New Haven.

Before we met, I did my homework.

Roger wasn’t on LinkedIn, and there wasn’t much information available online, so I dug through everything I could find about him and BILCO. I wrote down three meaningful observations and a handful of questions on the back of one of my business cards.

Not because I wanted to interrogate him.

Because I wanted to make sure I stayed focused on learning about him before talking about myself.

When we sat down for lunch, I placed the card beside my napkin where only I could see it.

It kept me disciplined.

I asked about his career.

His leadership.

His experiences.

About thirty minutes into the conversation, Roger stopped me.

He pointed at the card.

“What’s that?”

I smiled and explained.

“It’s my reminder to stay curious. I want to understand the other person first instead of talking about myself.”

Roger leaned back, smiled, and said something I’ll never forget.

“After more than thirty years in executive management, this is the most productive lunch I’ve ever had. Please… continue.”

In that moment, something clicked.

Without forcing it…

Without trying to “transition into my pitch…”

The conversation naturally shifted.

Roger began asking thoughtful questions about me.

I never had to sell myself.

I never had to force the conversation.

The relationship developed because I had earned the right to have it.

That lunch proved something I’d believed for years but had never fully tested.

People don’t want to be impressed.

They want to be understood.

Ask thoughtful questions.

Listen longer than feels comfortable.

Be genuinely curious.

When you do that, something remarkable happens.

The conversation eventually comes back to you—naturally.

You don’t have to take it there.

And that’s the day I knew the Rob Thomas Method wasn’t just an idea.

It worked.

Some conversations stay with you.

This one changed my life.

Brian Diamond and I first met around 2000 while I was working for Iron Mountain in Connecticut. We were introduced through a networking event. Someone thought we should meet because I was an Eagle Scout and Brian’s son was active in Scouting. Funny enough, neither Brian nor his son ever became Eagle Scouts, but that introduction turned into something much more important.

Over the years, Brian became one of those people I trusted. We did business together, became friends, and stayed connected through every chapter of our careers.

In 2005, he even hired me to sell Citrix licensing services for his company. It ultimately wasn’t the right fit, and after about eight months I made the difficult decision to move on. I worried that I was disappointing a friend.

Fortunately, our friendship was stronger than the business.

We kept meeting for breakfast every year or so, catching up on work, family, and life.

Then, in 2014, everything changed.

I had just partnered with a friend to launch a marketing business and invited Brian to breakfast at a diner in Milford, Connecticut. I was excited. I couldn’t wait to tell him about this new venture.

We sat down, ordered coffee, and before I could say a word, Brian smiled and asked:

“Okay, Rob… what are you selling me today?”

I laughed.

Breakfast continued.But that question followed me the rest of the day.

I couldn’t shake it.

It bothered me far more than I wanted to admit.

That evening I called my coach and mentor, Paul, and told him what Brian had said.

Instead of sympathizing, Paul laughed.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“You’ve finally arrived.”

“Arrived where?” I asked.

“To the realization that you don’t want to be that sales guy anymore.”

He explained that if Brian’s comment bothered me that deeply, it meant something had already changed inside me.

For years, I had walked into rooms trying to impress people before I ever understood them.

I was talking before I was listening.

Selling before I was serving.

Showing up… and throwing up.

Paul told me that chapter of my career was over.

He was right.

That conversation became the turning point that eventually led to the Rob Thomas Method™.

It forced me to rethink everything I believed about networking.

Instead of asking:

“Who can buy from me?”

I started asking:

“Who is this person?”

“How can I help?”

That’s where FORM began to take shape.

Not as a script.

Not as a sales technique.

As a better way to build relationships.

To this day, Brian and I still laugh about that breakfast.

He had no idea that one simple, slightly snarky question would change the way I approach business and life.

Sometimes the conversations that change us aren’t the deep ones.

They’re the ones that make us uncomfortable enough to grow.