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A few weeks ago, while standing in a busy investor room and holding my wife’s bag and shoes as she moved gracefully from conversation to conversation, my phone rang. The name on the screen belonged to someone I had not spoken to in almost a decade. I stepped aside, found a quiet corner, and we began to catch up on life. Then a name surfaced in our conversation. A name that still carries weight in my heart. Richmond Dayo Johnson. RDJ.
For those who never met him, RDJ was my former boss. But the word boss does not do justice to who he was. To me, he was the father I never truly had. We lost him about five years ago, and even now, the pain of that loss remains close. Some people leave memories. He left transformation.
As my old friend and I continued talking, she shared how RDJ had changed her life. She knew him for only two years, yet he became a father figure and a mentor who shifted her entire path. I found myself struck by the familiarity of her story. I had known him for only a short time as well, yet he transformed my life in ways I still feel today.
That is the part that continues to amaze me. How did one man manage to transform so many lives in such a short time. How is it that I meet people in different parts of the world and when his name comes up, they speak with the same gratitude, the same reverence, and the same sense of personal impact.
What kind of leader does that? What kind of human being leaves that kind of imprint.
I often wish I had more time with him. More time to study him. More time to understand the source of his intentionality. More time to learn how he saw people not only as they were but as they could become. Because RDJ was intentional. Deeply intentional.
I remember one of our one on one meetings. He told me that he wanted to help each of his drivers move up the corporate ladder within two years. Not one driver. Not the most promising ones. Every single one. Guess what, he did it. Three drivers who began behind the wheel were soon wearing shirts and ties and stepping into new roles within the organization. He bought them clothes. He coached them. He challenged them to carry themselves differently. He pushed them to apply for better opportunities. He prepared them for the interviews. He did not simply give advice. He invested in people.
That was the kind of man he was.
Maybe he sensed that his time would be short. Maybe he was simply gifted with an extraordinary ability to see potential. Maybe he believed that every person he encountered deserved to leave him better than they came. Whatever the reason, he lived with a level of purpose that is rare.
When I joined the company at an entry level role, he immediately began working on me. He asked about my goals. Not the polite version of the question, but the kind that forces you to think deeply about your future. Every two weeks, we sat down to review those goals. He held me accountable. He stretched me. He believed in me long before I believed in myself.
I still remember the day I showed up to work poorly dressed. He walked up to me quietly and whispered in my ear, “Is this how a future Vice President of an organization dresses.” I was embarrassed, but I never forgot it. From that day on, I never showed up looking anything less than prepared. Sometimes I still catch myself straightening my clothes, half expecting him to appear and correct me again.
I will never forget the day I got my first management role. I walked into his office to tell him, and this strong, brilliant, larger than life man cried. Tears of pride. Tears of fulfillment. Tears that said this is why I do what I do.
That moment changed me.
It also left me with a question that has followed me ever since. What are we doing to become better leaders? Not leaders by title. Not leaders by position. Leaders by impact.
John Maxwell describes five levels of leadership. Most people never move past Level One, where people follow you simply because of your title. It is the weakest form of leadership, yet the one many cling to the most.
RDJ lived in Level Four and Level Five. Level Four is where leadership stops being about personal performance and becomes about permanent impact. Maxwell calls it the Reproduction Level. It is the stage where leaders do not simply develop people. They reproduce leadership itself. They create leaders who go on to create more leaders.
That was RDJ. He did not just teach skills. He built capacity. He did not just motivate. He transformed. He did not just lead, he multiplied.
That is why, years after his passing (6 years now), I still meet people who speak about him with reverence. People who say he changed their lives. People who carry his lessons into their own leadership journeys.
We live in a world that is obsessed with speed, titles, and visibility. RDJ taught me that the true measure of leadership is not how high you climb. It is how many people rise because you existed.
He taught me that leadership is not accidental. It is intentional. It is deliberate. It is sacrificial. It is deeply human.
My hope is that we all become more intentional about making the people around us better. That we stop measuring leadership by how many people serve us and start measuring it by how many people grow because of us.
One day, I hope I become even half the man he was. Half the leader. Half the father and Half the light.
Until then, I carry his lessons, his example and I carry the responsibility to multiply others the way he multiplied me.
If one man could transform so many lives in such a short time, imagine what could happen if more of us chose to lead like that.
Let me end with this, who is becoming better because of us.
• Owodunni is City Councilor of Kitchener, Ontario, Canada
