I try not to get too philosophical in this blog, but I found myself feeling that way when reading about the death this week of Irvine Robbins, one of the founders of the Baskin-Robbins chain of ice cream stores. He died in Rancho Mirage, California, at the ripe old age of 90.

The story of how he named the business he started with his brother-in-law, Burton Baskin, is uniquely American. As The New York Times recalled today in an obituary, “Although it was Mr. Robbins who opened the first store, at the intersection of Adams and Palmer Streets in Glendale, California, on December 7, 1945, and it was three years more before he and Mr. Baskin became partners, they took a carefully familial approach to deciding who would come first in the name of what eventually became a vast international enterprise. They flipped a coin.”

More important, in my book, is how the two brothers-in-law managed the company. “They worked closely on everything,” according to Robbins’ daughter, Marsha Veit. “They would come up with ideas for flavors based on what was happening at the time, like Cocoa a Go-Go, when go-go dancers were popular. They would sit in the kitchen tasting, making sure the best ingredients were used.”

Read enough of the obituaries of Irvine Robbins (such as this one in the Los Angeles Times ), and you can’t help but come away with the feeling that his legacy will be about the great innovation and fun-loving spirit he brought to his work. I’m not sure Robbins ever spent a lot of time worrying about that, but it got me to thinking: Do any of us spend much time considering what we will leave behind when our days as managers or executives come to an end?

For example, I spend a lot of time here writing about memorable good, bad and crazy workforce management practices. But on a more personal level, what do I want people to remember about me as a manager?

I don’t have a glib answer for that. What I always say when people ask me about my management style is this: Ask the people I’ve worked with. In fact, I’ve done this in job interviews. I tell the interviewer to phone any company I’ve worked at and simply ask for someone who remembers working with me. I’m confident that whatever they say will be a good reflection on who I am and what I do. If that’s my legacy, it’s one I’m happy with.

So, what is your legacy as a manager? What would you like for people to say about you after you’re gone? I’d love to hear what you have to say—either as a comment at the end of this post or as an e-mail sent to me directly at jhollon@workforce.com. I’ll share the best in a future blog post.