The Ten-Cent Cup of Coffee I Shared with Sam Walton

By Steve Shaner

Sometimes the most memorable leadership lessons appear when you least expect them. One of mine happened during a simple errand that turned into an unforgettable encounter with Sam Walton.

At the time, in the fall of 1986, I was the Director of Public Relations for The University of the Ozarks, a small university tucked away in the hills of Arkansas. It wasn’t exactly the center of the universe. But the school did have one rather notable connection: the chairperson of our Board of Trustees was Helen Walton—an alumna of the university and the wife of Sam Walton.
Mrs. Walton had a deep affection for the university and was passionate about helping it grow. Because of that, she took a keen interest in how the school communicated with alumni and donors. As Director of Public Relations, I occasionally found myself working and meeting with her on projects, something that wasn’t typical for a board chair at most universities. But when your largest donor takes an interest in communications, you let her do what she wanted to do.

One day our office was preparing materials for a fundraising campaign and needed a black-and-white portrait of Mrs. Walton for a brochure. This was long before digital photography or email attachments. If you wanted a photograph, you needed an actual print—or better yet, a negative—from which you could make more prints.

After digging through our files, we came up empty.

So my supervisor decided to call Mrs. Walton to see if she had a recent headshot we could use. Now, my supervisor was the kind of person who liked being able to say things like, “Yeah, I had to call Mrs. Walton this week.” He clearly enjoyed the perceived importance of the moment.

During the call he offered for us to come see her so I could take a new photograph if necessary. I suggested she might already have a professional portrait in her files—which, of course, she did.

“Oh, I already have some of those,” she said cheerfully. “Just come on up and get them.”
My supervisor’s eyes lit up at the thought of a visit to the Waltons’ home. But Mrs. Walton quickly clarified.

“Oh no, no, no… they’re actually at the publicity office at the Walmart home office. Just stop by there and I’ll let Sam know you’re coming. I’ll ask him to leave them at the front desk.”

Just like that, I knew my role shifted from Director of Public Relations to errand boy.

Bentonville was about a two-hour drive away and two hours back, but I didn’t mind. A half-day road trip sounded a lot better than sitting in the office.

When I arrived at Walmart’s headquarters in Bentonville, I was impressed. Even in the mid-1980s, the place was massive. I found the front desk, introduced myself, and explained that I was there to pick up some photos of Mrs. Walton. The receptionist searched around but couldn’t find an envelope with my name on it. She made a phone call—presumably to Mr. Walton’s administrative assistant.

“There’s a man here looking for some photos of Mrs. Walton,” she said into the phone. “They were supposed to be left at the front desk, but I don’t see them.” After a short pause she hung up and turned back to me.

“Someone will be right up to help you. You may have a seat.”

So I sat down and waited. A few minutes later I noticed someone walking toward me down the hallway, smiling and waving for me to come along. It was Sam Walton himself!

I had expected a junior assistant carrying an envelope. Instead, the richest man in the world at the time was personally coming to retrieve me.

“You’re Steve, right?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” I replied, still a bit stunned. “Do you remember me?”

“Oh sure,” he said casually. “You were at our house a few weeks ago.”

He explained that he had asked the publicity office to send the photographs down to his office.
“Come on back,” he said, motioning over his shoulder as he started down the hallway. I followed him like a puppy, still trying to process what was happening.

When we reached his office, he gestured toward a chair.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

I mumbled something like, “Uh… yeah, sure.”

Now, I assumed that meant he would buzz an assistant or ask someone to bring us coffee. After all, this was Sam Walton.

But instead, he said, “Well come on.”

We stepped out of his office and walked down the hall. Eventually we ended up in the employee break room. Mr. Walton walked over to the coffee vending machine, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a dime. Clink… clink… clink… I heard that coin bounce all the way down the machine before the cup dropped into place. A moment later the coffee finished pouring. He grabbed the cup, turned around, and handed it to me.

“There you go, young man.”

I stood there holding that cup and thinking about what I had just witnessed. Here was a man whose company probably sold more coffee makers than almost anyone in the world. A man who could have had a dozen assistants bringing him anything he wanted. And yet he walked down to the same break room as everyone else, dropped a dime in the machine, and bought me a cup of coffee.

That simple moment told me more about his character than any business article ever could.
I eventually received the photographs and drove back to campus that afternoon. But I carried something more valuable with me than the pictures. In that small moment at Walmart headquarters, I saw firsthand that real leadership isn’t about status, wealth, or titles. It’s about humility, authenticity, and treating people like people.

And to this day, it remains the best ten-cent cup of coffee I’ve ever had—and a lesson that the greatest salespeople, like Sam Walton, understand that relationships are always more valuable than transactions.