Corporate Management Group (CMG) was founded by Marv Sawyer in 1987. After 15 years in the world of Fortune 500 companies, Marv wanted to use his expertise to partner with companies to strategically help them save time and money on freight, distribution and transportation issues.
CMG has now been in business for over 32 years, manages $350 million in freight annually, and serves clients from California to the Carolinas, with 31% of clients headquartered internationally.
CMG partners with companies to help “insource” freight management and stay on top of ever-changing freight rates. Clients retain all the savings, an average of 26% and a range of 8%-43%. CMG is not a logistics company or an asset-based provider and requires no contracts for its expertise and services.
The CMG Team is made up of our leadership team, market business development partners and regional operational directors.
Take a moment to be inspired.
Recently I had a truly once in a lifetime experience. I attended my 50th high school reunion. Even though I took the time to study classmates’ pictures in my 12th grade yearbook prior to the event, in many cases it was not until I heard the name or saw it on a nametag that I saw that 12th grade face hiding inside their cheekbones. Between pounds, gray hair, and no hair, Father Time had brought about many changes. Some classmates could have been in a one-person lineup and I still would not have been able to pick them out successfully.
April is here, and with it comes more and more evidences that Spring has sprung and that Easter is not far away. With Easter approaching I was reminded of an experience I had on Good Friday morning several years ago. As I awoke that morning my mind was on the events which had occurred roughly 2000 years earlier. When I sat down for my morning devotion, I decided to read through the biblical account of the Easter narrative. I wanted to be reminded afresh of every detail regarding all that Jesus had experienced on my behalf on that day which for Him was anything but good.
In his book, It’s Your Call, Gary Barkalow shares the description a Boeing 757 airline pilot gave of a critical step the pilot always had to take between flights if he did not want to jeopardize his plane’s ability to fly accurately on its next flight. Between flights his Boeing 757 needed to sit motionless for at least ten minutes so its computer could reestablish true north. The navigational computer had to clear the maps and coordinates of the previous flight in order to recalibrate to the geographical North Pole. Failure to pause for that length of time would cause the plane’s orientation to be dangerously inaccurate.
Back in the 1980’s my family lived in Columbia, SC, where I served on the ministry staff of Shandon Baptist Church. Our family lived next to a couple in their mid-70’s. His name was Charlie. One spring day while Charlie was mowing his grass, a rake-like attachment on the front of his lawnmower caught my attention. Out of curiosity I walked over and asked him about the attachment. He explained that it was a device designed to dethatch his centipede lawn.
In a sermon my pastor recently preached, he mentioned a man named Viktor Frankl, an Austrian neurologist and psychiatrist who survived the German Holocaust. Though Frankl survived, he lost several of his immediate family members to death by gas chamber, including his wife. From that and other life circumstances, Frankl wrote Man’s Search for Meaning. In it he made an interesting observation—especially coming from a man who had lost so much: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Death has a way of sucking life out of living—especially at Christmas.
It was two weeks before Christmas 2000. Around midnight I walked out of St. Luke’s Hospital in Columbus, NC, not far from where I was serving as Senior Pastor of First Baptist Church Landrum, SC. I had just left the hospital room of a church member who was not expected to live through the night. Earlier in the evening I had been in a hospital room in Spartanburg (SC) Regional Hospital with another church member who had just been told there was nothing his doctors could do except make him comfortable as death approached. Meanwhile, lying in Mary Black Hospital across town in Spartanburg was a third church member also at death’s door.