Listen to Your Customer

Almost ten years ago, I was invited to speak at a dementia support group. Everyone in the room was caring for a spouse or significant other who had been diagnosed with dementia.

I had been invited not as an expert in dementia, but simply because someone in the group knew me and knew I worked in senior living.

They opened the conversation with a statement I didn’t expect: “As a group, we’ve been talking over the last few meetings, and we don’t think the senior living industry has what we’re looking for to support us.”

That sentence stopped me cold. Instead of defending the industry or explaining what already existed, I asked a simple question: “What are you looking for?”

What they described was thoughtful, specific, and deeply human. They envisioned something that looked and felt like a senior-friendly independent living home—inside and out. But attached to the back of that home would be an apartment that could either connect to, or be secured from, the independent living space.

I told them honestly that while I didn’t know everything available across the country, I wasn’t aware of anyone doing exactly what they were describing. Then I asked what life looked like for them right now. Two stories from that evening have never left me.

The first man told me about his morning. He had planned to go golfing, but his wife refused to let the scheduled caregiver into the house. Voices were raised. He started yelling. She started yelling. Eventually, they were both crying. He never made it to the golf course.

The second man had already moved his wife into a state-of-the-art community. They had been married for 67 years and had two habits that never changed: they always dined together, and they held hands before falling asleep. With a tear running down his cheek, he said, “As beautiful as the place is where my wife is staying, we can’t do either one of those things anymore.”

That night challenged me. I realized that we weren’t just failing to meet expectations—we were unintentionally breaking lifelong rituals that defined love, partnership, and identity. I eventually lost touch with the group, but I never lost their idea.

Years later, after moving to North Carolina to take on a CEO role, I finally had the acreage and resources available. Working with a local architectural firm, we began translating their vision into something tangible. The final design is circular, with apartments opening into a shared, secure indoor and outdoor space—creating connection without sacrificing safety.

This journey reinforced several leadership lessons for me. First: listen to your customer—especially when what they’re asking for doesn’t fit your existing model. This was a radical departure from traditional design, and that’s exactly why it mattered.

Second: be patient, but persistent. Regulatory hurdles and slow starts to fundraising all threatened to stall momentum. Without a clear focus on the need, it would have been far easier to pivot to something conventional.

Third: never underestimate the power of a story. Those two men stayed with me. Sharing their stories helped others see beyond spreadsheets to the human cost of inaction.

And finally: leadership isn’t always about having the answers. Sometimes it’s about holding onto a question long enough for the right moment to arrive. What would it look like if we truly designed care around love, not just logistics?

~ Reed Vanderslik

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