A Ceo's Confession Jun 07 Version D

ADVICE TO THE YOUNG – A CEO’S FORMULA FOR CERTAIN SUCCESS It has become the fashion for retiring chief executive officers to share the secrets of their success with an avid audience of readers who are searching for the magic road to riches, power, and celebrity. In hopes that all statues of limitation have expired, I am now ready to reveal the secrets of my time as a CEO. As my achievements were small, a book length treatise seems excessive. A page will do. I was a CEO (chief executive officer). It was easy. Every morning my wife sent me off to work with the plaintive plea that I avoid doing something that would leave us destitute by evening. Upon arriving at the office, I reported to my secretary. Looking me in the eye like a drill sergeant, she would tell me to straighten my tie, polish my shoes the next time I came in, and then with a commanding voice instruct me: “Put a smile on your face. Hold your head erect. Now, get out there among the troops, and act like you know what is going on. If they ask you any questions, just tell them you would like to think about it, and then you come right back here, and I will tell you what to do.” At the end of the day, my faithful secretary would critique my performance, suggest areas in which I could use further improvement, and then send me home with instructions not to stop along the way. My sweet wife would greet me, reward me with a hug for having followed faithfully her instructions, and put me to bed in hopes of restoring my strength for another rigorous day at the office. I retired just before the board of directors could prove what they had long suspected – and that my fellow workers had long known – namely that my management practices would never pass scrutiny by the American Management Association, nor stand any chance of endorsement by a reputable business school -- or for that matter, any business school. This small liability was partially masked by programmed business behaviors that my former employer had, at great expense and with immense patience, drilled into my ever resistant head. I feel that my deficit in management skills should be excused because I came by them honestly. Most CEOs, many of whom are graduates of the famed and revered business schools, have as their heroes and mentors world famous business leaders such as Tom Watson of IBM and Jack Welch of GE fame. Unfortunately, as I did not attend a business school, and being liberal arts major, I had a different set of heroes. My exemplars were Professor Harold Hill of the Broadway musical THE MUSIC MAN, a lovable, irrepressible, snake oil salesman; Don Quixote, Cervantes’s resolute knight errant, slayer of windmills and ill-starred swain of the winsome Dulcinea – that is to say, an unrepentant romantic and fervent champion of lost causes; and Jonathan Swift, eighteenth century satirist, whose essay A Modest Proposal is a paragon of clear-headed, results oriented business thinking, offering, as it does, a most cost effective solution to a worrisome social issue of his day (he ironically proposed that to reduce overpopulation the children of the poor be fattened to feed the rich.) With these three as my role models, it should not be surprising that my view of leadership was somewhat idiosyncratic. Well, OK, if you want to be precise, somewhat eccentric.

Fortunately, with capable directors above me and supported by competent and dedicated colleagues around me, my deficit in managerial brilliance was hidden from public view. But, incompetent or not, and in keeping with highly regarded CEO management theory, I did have a management strategy. My secret was that I am a Darwinist. My strategy was to simply nod my head in agreement to any and all suggestions of the directors and my fellow workers, believing that out of the chaos of scores of competing programs, only the best would survive. Because everyone thought I was backing their program, they would work cheerfully and tirelessly to achieve a grand success. While making for a somewhat hectic and totally disorganized work environment, this practice kept everyone happy – especially me, for I treasured a happy work place. Because there were so many programs, everyone understood that I could not possibly be responsible for understanding any one of them, thus freeing me to pursue my hobbies with an uncluttered and unburdened mind. As everyone else actually did the work, I had only to keep score and sweep the lost causes from the field. Naturally, I took credit for all the successes and attributed the failures to the pernicious actions of malevolent competitors, an incompetent government, the Communists, the feminist movement, the gnomes of Zurich, poor advice from my astrologer, and acts of God. The only danger to my managerial theory was that I was susceptible to the infamous CEO’s Disease; namely, a sudden, overwhelming belief in one’s omniscience and omnipotence. This disease, marked by an irresistible compulsion to pontificate and dangerous illusions of youth – supported by dyed hair, maniacal exercise, and young girl friends, can lead to catastrophic business ventures that, while brilliantly conceived by the CEO, are poorly understood and incapable of execution by mere mortals. I was saved from contracting this plague thanks to my children, who would often query me: “Dad, do you really understand what you are doing?” Upon due reflection, I could see their point. I, therefore, reverted to my proven strategy of letting everyone else make the decisions. Bless my children. I have tried to convince schools of business to incorporate my management techniques in their curriculum, but, strangely, no one will talk to me. I attribute their indifference to the fact that I was liberal arts major and believe in corporate biorhythms. But, in spite of the disapproval of my management practices by the mavens of management theory, I am pleased to report that during my years at the helm my fly fishing skills improved noticeably, I mastered the basics of golf, I read hundreds of the world’s greatest books, explored the world’s museums and concert halls, and without much effort on my part, the company flourished, the employees prospered, the shareholders profited, and I retired in comfort. Darwin was right! Based on my experience, I would highly recommend to young people that they consider becoming a CEO.