Ray Sawyer ’13 delivered a SEVEN Talk at the 2025 Alumni Forum in Chapel Hill on October 19. Ray is the chief innovation officer at Primo Partners.
Ray Sawyer ’13 delivered a SEVEN Talk at the 2025 Alumni Forum in Chapel Hill on October 19. Ray is the chief innovation officer at Primo Partners.
About SEVEN Talks
Every class of Morehead-Cain Scholars connects with seven others: the three classes ahead, its own, and the three that follow. The idea of SEVEN is to strengthen connections across generations of Morehead-Cains.
The Alumni Forum embodies this spirit through SEVEN Talks—seven alumni and scholars on Saturday, and seven more on Sunday—each sharing seven minutes of wisdom with the Morehead-Cain community.
How to listen
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So, Ray, tell me about Ms. Shannon.
Imagine me—a high school senior in my church suit, white shirt, blue tie that I borrowed from my pops. Bald head, if you can believe it. No facial hair. So just the eyebrows, basically—sitting across the table from my Morehead-Cain interview panel.
That was their opening question to me.
Ms. Shannon had been two lines in my application, so my first thought was,Wow, they really did read that thing.My second thought was,How much time do we have?
While my answer back then was good enough to help me win the scholarship, it didn’t do Ms. Shannon justice. So today, I’m calling a mulligan.
I grew up on a two-lane country road in Camden, North Carolina, with a notorious curve just outside our front door. Well—”notorious” might be an understatement. It had tainted the driving records of folks young and old. Dozens of people ended up in the ditch because they took that turn too fast. A lot of cars upside down in the front yard. It even claimed a few lives.
And Ms. Shannon was the only reason I was allowed to cross that street unaccompanied—to take her the mail.
See, my mama’s mama died when I was real young, and Ms. Shannon served as our surrogate grandmother. But me and my eight siblings still called her Ms. Shannon that day.
At the interview, I told them about her, about the mail, about the street, and about the role she played in my life.
But I didn’t tell them about the first time I introduced Ms. Shannon to my girlfriend, Quaneisha. (Hey, baby.)
I had coached Quaneisha on how to cross the street safely. So we darted across, rang the doorbell, and walked through the screen door—you all know about that?
A few minutes later, Ms. Shannon pulled me from her tiny living room into her tiny kitchen. I didn’t know what was happening. She leaned in and said, “I like her, man.”
You could’ve seen my smile from the next county over.
A few years later, the morning before my wedding day, I braved that street again to take Ms. Shannon her mail. Her health wouldn’t allow her to come to the wedding ceremony, but I couldn’t have such a significant event without seeing her first.
When I walked in, she was in her favorite chair, surrounded by all those photos of her grandkids from over the years.The Price Is Rightwas on the television.
As usual, my goal was just to hug her neck and then make my way up to Virginia Beach for the ceremony. Ms. Shannon’s daughter had just brought in her breakfast of eggs and toast, so I said, “Yeah, I really need to get up out the way before your food gets cold.”
I was talking a mile a minute—”I love you, Ms. Shannon. I’m going to be a great husband. All right, I’ll get out the way. I don’t want your food to get cold.”
And then she stopped me cold.
Her voice and hands were usually shaky from old age, but at that moment, all of that disappeared. She said, “Don’t talk so fast. The food can wait. This is important.”
With the sternness and love that only a grandmother could wield, she told me that if I had any chance at all of a successful marriage, I had to be quiet. She said I needed not to talk so fast. I needed to listen. I needed to learn before feeling like I had to answer.
I didn’t feel like a groom-to-be. I was standing there like a third grader, looking her in the face but wanting to turn my head away because I felt the tears welling up. I wanted to be out that screen door, across the street, hiding under the bed—because I had disappointed Ms. Shannon.
I thought I’d always been a good listener. But in that moment, she told me I had to step my game up.
And that was hard, because I didn’t even know where to start.
So I found some help.
I found this coach. And she started our relationship by telling me a story.
She said, “Ray, there’s a man. The man has a gun. He holds up his gun and he shoots. People are running as fast as they can away from the man with the gun. And now there are people runningtowardthe man with the gun.
“Ray, what’s happening?”
And I’m over here—my heartbeat racing—like,Oh my goodness, it’s a mass shooting! People are trying to get away, first responders are on the scene, they’re trying to protect the public.
And she looks at me calmly and says, “Ray, it’s a track meet.”
At what point in the story did you make your conclusion?
Information without context can be misleading.
So the first lesson I learned from Ms. Shannon was: Don’t talk so fast. I needed to listen to understand—not to react or respond.
But the second lesson I learned from Ms. Shannon was: Speak up when it matters.
She could have easily eaten her breakfast and gone on with her day. But she let her eggs and toast get cold so she could help me be a better man. She took the time to listen, but she recognized when it was time to act.
But how do we know when to listen versus when to speak?
There’s an inherent tension between the two—and that’s exactly why it works.
Take a piano. Underneath that lid are strings, and each of those strings is under tremendous tension. But the tension is different for each string—and that’s what creates the different notes that make beautiful music.
Cousins, we are those strings. Each of us is experiencing that tension between how we listen and how we speak. And it’s important for us to stay in tune with who we are.
I’ve already seen great examples of that within this community.
Take Steve Tobin, who you’ll hear later—he’s a premier practitioner of asking open questions to get more information.
You all know David Greer, who’s world-class at the art of making an introduction and then stepping back to watch the magic happen.
How about the fan favorite, J’Nour McDuffie—who, nine times out of ten, isn’t even going to listen for the full context before she chimes in with the power of an encouraging word.
Or my friend Jess Jolly, who isn’t going to say much—but you can bet she’s behind the scenes working to create something incredible.
After these talks today, come find me. For real—come find me—because I’ve got dozens of other examples of people contributing to this harmonic background we know as the Morehead-Cain.
And if you’ve ever talked to me and thought I listened well, you can thank Ms. Shannon for that.
What’s your note? That’s a good one.
How will you tune yourself between what you need to hear and what you know must be said—between listening and speaking up?
Ms. Shannon’s not here anymore.
But you are.
So—what now?