Leadership Short Story #1 | Be the Change
This month's short story is a reminder to leaders that they still need to walk their talk even—or especially—when their people are not watching.
MARTIN KNEW just how he was going to handle things. He would be honest, and take ownership—and he would invite the others to do the same. That was, after all, the best policy, right? Even for something as serious as this. In fact, nothing could be more serious than this, he told himself as he walked out and around the corner to head back to the train. His route took him around the ovoid building where Helen, the CEO, had her office. It was the most sparkly of sparkling new buildings in the commercial zone. Its diamond-shaped, alternating blue and gold panels gave it the look of a casino more than of an insurance company headquarters.
The report was damning. One of his people had deliberately defrauded the business of millions, and nobody had picked it up. On the face of it, there had to have been complicity. Yet, he mused as he encountered the hot blast of the building’s air-conditioner fans and skipped forward to escape it, he was sure there was not. He went through them all one by one in his mind and could not imagine any of them being involved. Though, to Helen’s point, nobody could believe it of the main culprit either. Victor had always appeared as above board as anybody.
Yes, he decided as he stepped onto the escalator and descended into the station, he would lead the way by demonstrating the behaviour he was asking for. Which was Leadership 101 after all. What was the phrase that Bonnie, his coach, had used? Be the change you want to see. She had credited Gandhi for those words, and pointed out ways in which the Indian sage had done that—by being nonviolent in the face of violence, demanding love to deal with hate—and how his followers, attempting to gather salt, had done the same. Now he, Martin, was going to have to do his own version—be his own version—of Gandhi. He was not sure if he had it in him.
Bonnie had been in the meeting; her camera was on, and he had sensed her disapproval. He knew why. Only two weeks before, the shoe had been on another foot.
He recalled the last time he had faced something similar—the time when Bonnie had shared the pithy Gandhi maxim. It had not gone well. He had thought about it often. It was the time when he had been given his first round of 360 feedback while in this role. It had come back that he was too focused on the detail, micromanaging, and not allowing people to just get on with it; he was too much the teller and the doer, and not enough the big picture person, not enough the manager of people in so senior a role. Was it that he was still young, younger than most of his new line reports, the debriefer had asked. Did he feel insecure as a result?
He had defended himself instead. He had tried to go into the detail of who might have said that and why; and why they were wrong. Bonnie had been in the meeting; her camera was on, and he had sensed her disapproval. He knew why. Only two weeks before, the shoe had been on another foot. One of his line reports had been similarly in a 360 and he, sitting in as their leader, had said how they should not look for who said what, but rather treat the feedback as if it might be true. And if it was true, then what?
He had brought this up with Bonnie in their subsequent session. “Why do my team feel the need to do that? Why are they so automatically defensive?” he asked.
“Shall we look at what you are doing to foster a culture of openness and honesty?” was her reply. “What are you doing to make it safe for them to have faults, to take it on the chin without feeling the need to justify themselves?”
“I encourage it all the time,” said Martin. “I’m sure I say that at least once a week, if not more.”
“Sure, and to what extent do you embody it?”
“What do you mean by that?” shot back Martin, then he paused. “Oh, you mean do I walk my talk?” Bonnie sat, impassive, in the way he had seen coaches do. “I like to believe I do,” he went on.
“Can you give some examples?” she asked.
“I mean … I mean … I can’t think of one right now, but I’m sure there is one.”
She waited. “Can you think of any times when you haven’t?”
“Haven’t walked my talk, you mean?”
“Yes. When you might have done what you’re asking them not to do.”
When you behave a certain way, it’s like you store that way of being in your body, and people can pick it up.
Martin smiled. “OK, you’ve got me there. That one comes to mind a lot quicker. I can think of an example recently, only yesterday in fact.” He paused. “But that wasn’t in front of them. That was on the exco. I was with two of my colleagues and some of the C-suite. One of the execs challenged the way I had presented my numbers. He said the way I’d sliced them lacked relevance, and I tried to defend myself.” Martin paused and reflected, then went on. “After a while, Helen just said, quite gently, Martin, no need to defend yourself, maybe just take what Rahim has said and reflect on it. I was so embarrassed.”
Bonnie continued her silent sit. After a while she said, “And where does that leave you?”
“It leaves me still feeling embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed about what exactly?”
“Well, embarrassed about the numbers, and embarrassed about how I tried to defend myself and then being put down like that.”
“So, what are you seeing now?” asked Bonnie.
“I’m not sure,” said Martin, “I mean I know I did that, but I didn’t do it in front of my team, so it’s not like I set a bad example for them.”
“Does it matter?” asked Bonnie.
Martin shrugged, and that was when Bonnie gave the Gandhi example, then shared what sounded like a bit of hocus-pocus about nonverbal communication: when you behave a certain way, it’s like you store that way of being in your body, and people can pick it up. If you’re always on time, for example, no matter what or when, then people can pick that up. They sense that you are reliable. It’s precognitive. Then she asked him what conclusion he could draw from that.
“I can see it,” he said. “If I want them to not be defensive, I need to not be defensive regardless of who the audience is.”
As he settled in on the train, Martin felt a little twinge of regret at how he’d just behaved in front of Helen.