Mary Walton and Don Bascom were daily reminders that leaders had agendas which rarely coincided with the interests of the people they led. Don wanted his systems running smoothly and Mary wanted her clients staying happy, and neither seemed to care a morsel for any of the people in their employ. And if Don and Mary’s example wasn’t convincing, then all you had to do was look out into the ranks of the volunteer leadership in our client organizations. There you would see even starker examples—opportunists like Eleanor Rumford, for whom you were just a tool for advancing her own career—or worse yet, predators like Wes Howard, who used people to satisfy even baser desires.
Every organization had people like these—small-minded operators like Mary and Don, and major manipulators like Eleanor and Wes—and everyone knew why people like that rose to become leaders. No one but them would ever have as much drive or ambition. A deep collective understanding had penetrated the consciousness of all who did not have their corrupting aspiration to lead, who only wanted to do their jobs to the best of their abilities and contribute in their own small way to the overall success of the organization. All leaders, they knew, were tyrants, and they each were only interested in their selfish and self-absorbed objectives.
So I couldn’t lead this revolt. If I tried, no one would trust me, seeing in me the same power-mad behavior that had burned them so many times before. But I could help the revolt happen because I had been given a weapon like no other in the company. My position was unique, remember, residing below Mary and Don, but ambiguously above everyone else, such that no one quite understood the limits of my authority. I knew I could start testing those limits by taking liberties, by consciously erring on the side of action, and seeing bit by bit what Mary would allow. And it was that strategy, coupled with the mandate Mary herself had given me to reinvent the way in which the company reviewed and hired talent, which created this unbelievable opportunity to start pushing against the castle walls and see if any of them could be toppled.
Acting alone, or as the visible leader of a movement, would only isolate me and make me easier to destroy. But by turning my special weapon over to the people and letting them decide how to use it, I thought we just might be able to slay the dragon and move back into the keep she had stolen from us.
And that’s exactly what Bethany and I decided we had to do at that afternoon’s staff meeting. Together we had come up with a way to deal with the ninety-nine behaviors, something that could make them manageable and easy to implement within the company—and most importantly, something that everyone would have a stake in. At its root the idea was based on a brainstorming technique Bethany had read about in one of the trade magazines that were always piling up in her office. It was something called an “affinity diagram.”
“A what?” Michael said as soon as I mentioned it around our afternoon meeting table. There was a sneer on his face and a dash of disdain in his voice, as if it couldn’t possibly be useful for brainstorming if he hadn’t heard of it before.
“It’s a way of taking a long list of things—things like these behaviors—and having a group organize them into similar themes and categories.”
“Well, what good will that do?” Michael snapped.
“Let just try it and see,” I said, and began passing around packs of fluorescent yellow Post-it Notes and black Sharpie markers. I had already distributed copies of the ninety-nine behaviors, and now I asked everyone to help me transfer them to ninety-nine different Post-It Notes. I got a few skeptical looks but no open rebellion, and in a few minutes the table was covered in yellow flags, each with an observable behavior written on it in black ink.
Next I stood up and began transferring the Notes from the table to a large open section of the conference room wall. To keep them from getting stuck together, I could only do three or four at a time, but Bethany got up to help, and when it became clear what we were doing, several of the others pitched in as well. Scott helped, and I thought that was a good sign. So did Peggy, Angie, and Jurgis. Michael and Gerald were the only two who didn’t budge.
“Okay,” I said, turning to face them all with the Notes scattered on the wall behind me. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ve got a lot of ideas here, but there’s too many and they’re too interrelated for them to do what we want—succinctly describe the qualities of an ideal staff person. So we’re all going to come over to this wall—Michael and Gerald; you, too—and together we’re going to move the Post-It Notes around until the behaviors are grouped into the categories that make the most sense.”
“Categories?” Angie said, looking at the wall behind me as if expecting to see more information there. “What categories?”
“I don’t know,” I said calmly. “I’m going to let the group decide that. Oh, and we’re going to do this grouping of behaviors without talking to each other.”
“What!?”
Michael had risen from his seat but had not moved away from the table.
“You heard me right, Michael. No talking.”
“But how are we going to decide on the categories if we can’t talk about them first?”
I saw the anxiety in his eyes. “I don’t know,” I said, perhaps too smugly, quietly happy to see him squirm. “Why don’t we give it a try and see what happens.”
Michael looked around the room, his eyes searching for an ally. Only he and Gerald remained near the conference table—Gerald sitting quietly and Michael standing beside him. Everyone else was already gathered with me near the wall of Post-it Notes, staring back at him and waiting to see what he would do.
Suddenly Gerald rose to his feet. Michael looked at him with relief, but then with growing concern as Gerald slowly made his way around the conference table. The cluster of us parted to give him room to leave if that was what he planned to do—and part of me feared he would. If there was anyone in the room who was going to see through my clumsy attempt at team building, it was Gerald—because Gerald was not a team player. But to everyone’s surprise, Gerald did not leave the room. Instead, he gave me an odd sort of satisfied look and then began rearranging Post-It Notes on Mary’s white wall.
All eyes were suddenly on me. Eyes surrounded by happy faces, and no face more happy than Bethany’s. She positively beamed at me.
“Well, go on,” I told them. “Don’t just stand there. Take a look at what Gerald is doing. Do you agree with how he’s grouping them? If not, move them around. That’s another one of the rules. Anybody can move any behavior to another group or to a new group at any time. We’ll keep going until no one wants to make any more moves. And remember—no talking!”
Then they all fell in, lining up along the wall on either side of Gerald and paying close attention to what he was doing. I waited until several had begun to touch the Post-It Notes, creating their own groupings and even pulling Notes out of the groups Gerald was building, before turning to face Michael.
He still stood on the other side of the table, his lower lip protruding like a kid who hadn’t been picked by either playground team. I didn’t know what his hang-up was, but I told myself to go easy on him as I slowly made my way over to his side of the table.
“Michael, come on, just give it a try,” I said as softly as I could, not realizing how much my voice would carry in the silent room. It was odd to have that much activity and for there to be no sound but the papery shush of sticky Post-It Notes coming off the wall. “We need your input. This isn’t going to work unless everyone participates.”
He gave me an ornery look and seemed ready to say something, but then held it back.
“What?” I asked him, whispering because I could tell by his darting eyes that he was concerned about us being overheard.
“Nothing,” he said softly through clenched teeth. “It’s nothing.”
That was a lie if I ever heard one. Something was boiling away under Michael’s collar, but I wasn’t likely to hear about it now. Later he might come storming into my office to complain, or worse yet he’d bitch to a group of junior staff and it would be morphed into next week’s office gossip, but he wasn’t going to tell me now—not now, when I could actually do something about it. And suddenly I thought, you know what—screw it. I’m doing the best I can with this, and if Michael wants to get his undies all twisted up, then he’ll just have to straighten them out by himself. I’d lost my patience for his melodrama.
“Fine,” I said directly. “Then how about acting like a grown up and joining the others in this little exercise?”
Michael gave me a searing look, and I knew I was going to pay for that remark later, but I held firm and eventually he went over and joined the group. I watched him as he stood there unmoving for a while, a dead insect lost and forgotten on the outskirts of the colony, but I could tell by his posture that he was paying close attention to what everyone else was doing.
“No, not there!” he said suddenly, his deep voice echoing off the vast white wall with all its fluttering yellow flags. He rushed forward, ripping a Note off the wall, one that Angie had just moved from one group to another. “These are all about problem solving,” he said angrily, making a big circular motion with his hand. “This,” he said, holding the single Note up in front of Angie’s nose, “is about showing initiative. It belongs over here.” He slapped the Note on the wall where he thought it belonged, and then turned back to the group, a smug and confident smile on his face.
I felt like running over there and smacking the arrogant prick on the head, but I held myself back, waiting to see how the others would handle it. It pleased me to see the confidence drain out of Michael’s face as he was met by the scowls and frowns of the other department heads.
“Michael,” Bethany said gently. “It’s okay if you want to move that behavior to a new group, but you’re not supposed to talk about it.”
“Well, why not?” Michael complained. “How are we supposed to get the groups right if we don’t talk about them and decide what they should be?”
“We were doing just fine before you opened your mouth,” Scott said peevishly. It was the first thing he had said in the whole meeting. “Did you not know that group was for problem solving and this one was for showing initiative?”
“Well, yeah,” Michael said reluctantly. “But if that was so clear to everyone, why did Angie put that behavior in the wrong group?”
“Maybe I did put it in the wrong group,” Angie allowed. “But maybe I didn’t. Maybe I see a different pattern and that behavior belongs in that group.”
“Maybe,” Michael said skeptically, looking back at the wall. “But how are we supposed to know that unless you tell us about it?”
“Michael,” Gerald said with great diplomacy. “We don’t want to talk about it. If we talk about it, it’ll turn into an argument, and if it’s an argument then someone will want to win it, and that’ll likely be the person who complains the most. We’re not trying to win an argument here. We’re looking for a consensus, and the best way to find one is to give everyone equal authority in the process. That means no squeaky wheels. Just actions the group is free to accept or reject.”
Michael shook his head. “This is fucking crazy.”
“Just try it, okay?” Peggy said, clasping Michael’s arm. “If you just be patient and watch, I think you’ll find that this process is working.”
It was good to see the group policing itself like this, and especially satisfying to see Gerald expressing such support, but a little alarm bell went off in my head when Michael yanked his arm out of Peggy’s gentle grasp. He looked ready to bite her, but he partially composed himself when he saw her shocked look.
“I’ll watch,” Michael said tersely. “But I’m not going be quiet if I see you guys doing something wrong.”
“Then get out of their way, Michael,” I said irritably. “You can play by the rules or you can sit on the sidelines. You decide.”
Michael gave me another venomous look, and I thought he might go storming out of there, like he had the week before when I hadn’t taken his complaints about Gerald seriously. I really didn’t want him to leave. Everyone needed to be a part of this if it was going to work, but I also couldn’t have him disrupting the process. Supportive looks from the rest of the team gave me the sense I was handling him right, and I returned his stare with equal vehemence.
“Okay,” Michael said, plopping himself like a pouting child into one of the conference room chairs and crossing his powerful arms across his chest. “I’ll watch and be quiet. But I don’t think this is getting us anywhere.”
It was the best I was going to get. The others turned back to the wall of Post-It Notes. I kept my attention on the back of Michael’s thick head for a while, but as he maintained his promised silence my eyes were drawn towards the work of the others.
It was fascinating to watch. For twenty minutes they worked in silence, moving yellow behaviors around on a great white canvas, creating something none of them could individually articulate. There was a lot of back and forth—the same two people often moving the same behavior between the same two groups, but without the ability to argue, one of them would eventually take a step back and look at the larger pattern that was being created. Sometimes they would acquiesce and allow the contested behavior to stay in the other person’s group, and sometimes they would dive in with fresh inspiration and rearrange several other behaviors into new groupings altogether. Once, when Jurgis did this, the others stood back and examined the new arrangement, and then burst into spontaneous laughter, Gerald even going so far as to give Jurgis a congratulatory slap on the back. They couldn’t say anything, but they needed to express their satisfaction, nodding positively to each other and smiling with their mouths open.
I found it inspiring. The only shadow on the production was Michael, who sat unmoving in his chair the entire time. As the group came to their final consensus, the whisper of moving Post-It Notes slowing and eventually stopping like the sound of microwave popcorn, I was determined to find some way to get him engaged.
“Alan.”
I looked up. It was Bethany, standing amidst the others, smiling broadly.
“What?”
“We’re done.”
“You are?” I said, stepping quickly around the conference table to join them beside the wall. It was still covered with yellow Post-It Notes, but now they were all neatly arranged into eleven distinct groups. “Are you sure?” I asked, running my eyes over the black writing on each one. “No one wants to make any more changes?”
“No,” Gerald said. “We’re done.”
I’m not sure I ever saw Gerald smile before, but he was smiling now. They all were. Gerald and Bethany and Jurgis and Angie and Scott and Peggy—all smiling at me like I had given them some precious gift, some magical talisman that they had used to create something both beautiful and sublime.
And now, in this triumphant moment, I took a pack of blue Post-It Notes out of my pocket and tossed them to Michael. He flinched awkwardly as they landed in his lap, and then clutched at them to keep them from sliding off his thigh.
“Michael,” I said gently. “Why don’t you put a title on each of these groups.”
He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. “What?”
“With those,” I said, indicating the blue Post-Its Notes. “Grab a Sharpie and put a title over each group the rest of the team has assembled. I don’t think anyone will mind.”
Then I saw the understanding come like a blush over his face, followed quickly by a scowl, and for a moment I thought he was going to rebuff me—thought he was going to throw the Post-It Notes back at me and tell me where to stick them. But then the others started to encourage him. Bethany first, then Peggy in her wholesome way, and then everyone, even Gerald, beckoning Michael forward and asking him to join their team. And where he might have rejected me, I saw, there was no way he could reject them all.
So like a star pupil called on to solve a difficult problem, Michael rose out of his chair and silently approached the wall. With the blue Post-Its I had given him and the black Sharpie he had taken from the table, he gave each grouping a title, writing each in his strong hand while the rest of the team looked on approvingly.
Thrives in a team environment, was the first one Michael wrote and stuck on the wall, followed by Shows initiative and Anticipates challenges. He stood and thought for a while with the next grouping, eventually settling on Creatively applies resources to solve problems, and then fired off Maintains positive relationships and Shows respect for others in quick succession. Supports the mission of the organization was an easy one, as was Practices a healthy work/life balance and Mentors others. An actual buzz of excitement began to rise in the room as Michael wrote and affixed Values professional development, culminating in an actual round of applause when Is visionary rounded out the group of eleven.
There were no surprises—not for me nor for anyone else in the room. Bethany’s affinity diagramming had worked so well that any one of us could have done what Michael did and we would have wound up using the same or very similar words. In one hour we had done what had seemed impossible the week before—we had described the characteristics of the ideal staff person and, for each trait, we had a list of observable behaviors. The mechanism to generate the interview questions that would help hire new staff, and to reframe the performance evaluation to better determine rewards and incentives, was there on the wall before us. We had succeeded far beyond anyone’s expectations and we had done it by working together as a team. As Michael turned away from the wall, a transformed look of satisfaction and pride on his face, I felt like there wasn’t anything that team couldn’t do.
+ + +
“Dragons” is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. For more information, go here.
This post first appeared on Eric Lanke's blog, an association executive and author. You can follow him on Twitter @ericlanke or contact him at eric.lanke@gmail.com.
Image Source
http://lres.com/heres-why-amcs-need-to-pay-close-attention-to-looming-regulatory-changes/businessman-in-the-middle-of-a-labyrinth/
No comments:
Post a Comment