ON AN APRIL MORNING at Walmart’s headquarters, Doug McMillon was getting the Ryan Gosling treatment.
The occasion was a meeting to celebrate about 150 of Walmart’s long-tenured employees; the giant retailer holds a few such gatherings every year at its campus in Bentonville, Ark. The employees, whose badges identified them by years of service—20, 30, even 50—were the honorees. But McMillon was the one being mobbed like a movie star, as coworkers rushed up to ask for autographs or get a selfie with their photogenic CEO.
McMillon, at 6-foot-2, was easy to spot, and it took a while for him to work the room. When he finally hit the stage, he invited the guest-of-honor cashiers, forklift drivers, and merchants to share stories about their decades at the company. He also invited them to register complaints if so inclined. “If you want to ask for anything, now is a good time,” McMillon joked. And some did just that. One asked for the company to provide health insurance for retirees. Another called for more predictable scheduling, citing the pain that variable hours can cause for parents and caregivers. “We’ll see if we can make it better,” McMillon said softly; later, he instructed Walmart’s head of U.S. stores to look into the matter.
McMillon, 57, has an approach-ability that would make any politician jealous, a gift for holding eye contact and making an interlocutor feel like they’re the only person in the universe. And in his 10 years as leader of America’s largest company, he’s needed every iota of it. McMillon took the reins in 2014 with a mandate to reinvent a tradition-bound giant whose sales had grown stagnant, a retailer facing obsolescence in the face of the e-commerce revolution. It has taken diplomacy, empathy, and persistence to rally managers and rank-and-file workers worldwide around
