Author: Tom Terez

    TO: All Employees
    FROM: The CEO
    RE: Suggestion Box
As we work to turn our company into a true world-class organization, we needto leverage the know-how and creativity of all employees. Beginning next week, you will find suggestion boxes located in all major work areas. Please take oneof the accompanying suggestion cards, document your improvement idea per theprinted instructions, and place the card inside the box. Thank you in advancefor helping us work smarter.

Three weeks and zero suggestions later
    TO: All Employees
    FROM: The CEO
    RE: “Big Prizes for Big Ideas”
    To encourage greater participation, we are launching the “Big Prizes forBig Ideas” program. At the end of each week, one of the submitted suggestioncards will be randomly selected, and the winner will receive a free gift fromthe “Big Prizes for Big Ideas” gift catalog. This is a wonderful chance towin a canned ham, a desk fan, a large wooden block that appears to be apaperweight, and many other exciting prizes. Remember, there’s no such thingas a dumb idea.

One week and 100 suggestions later
    TO: All Employees
    FROM: The CEO
    RE: Suggestion Quality
    Apparently, there is such a thing as a dumb idea. While we have received manyworthwhile suggestions through our Big Prizes for Big Ideas (BPBI) initiative,or at least some worthwhile suggestions, many haven’t been up to par. It won’tbe possible to have a three-day workweek. Nor will we institute a “CEO for aday” program. To improve the quality of the submitted ideas, I haveestablished a BPBI Steering Committee. This group will make recommendations onhow to increase the effectiveness of the BPBI program.

One month and zero suggestions later
    TO: The CEO
    FROM: The Chair of the BPBI Committee
    RE: Improvements to the Suggestion Program
    As you know, the past four weeks have seen a drop-off in the number ofsubmitted suggestions. We have chartered a subcommittee to analyze the situationand determine the types of extrinsic rewards that would be most appealing to ourworkforce; they will be submitting a recommendation report within six weeks. Inaddition, there is a strong consensus among committee members that employeesmust be held accountable for the number and quality of their suggestions. Eachemployee should be expected to submit at least one high-qualitysuggestion per quarter. This expectation should be clearlyexplained in a memo from you, and enforced through employee reviews andevaluations.

Two weeks and 50 suggestions later, after the CEO hasannounced the one-idea-per-quarter quota
    TO: All Employees
    FROM: The Custodian
    RE: “Suggestions”
    As the employee who maintains the cleanliness of our work environment, I amwriting to suggest that people refrain from depositing trash and variousunidentified substances into the suggestion boxes. Having to use a biohazardsuit is especially unpleasant for me.

One week and five unidentified substances later
    TO: All Employees
    FROM: The CEO
    RE: Electronic Submissions
    To ensure that we have a 21st-century suggestion system that makes full useof the latest technology, all suggestion boxes will be removed Friday. BeginningMonday, you will submit your quarterly idea by clicking on the “Submit or Else”button on our intranet. We’ve received many interesting anonymous submissions.Thanks to intranet technology, we will now be able todetermine their source.

Submitted on the last day of the suggestion box
    TO: The CEO
    FROM: An Anonymous Employee
    RE: Employee Suggestions
    I’m supposed to provide one suggestion per quarter, right? Let me do a year’sworth and submit four ideas on this one card. (1) Stop the bribes (canned hams)and the forced accountability. (2) Let employees get together to develop betterapproaches. To do this, we need time away from the task treadmill. (3) Nurture asense of ownership among employees. Open the books. Involve us in goal-setting.Treat us as equals, not as equipment. (4) Give the custodian a substantialraise. 

Workforce, May 2003, p. 24 — Subscribe Now!

Other columns by Tom:

• A Burning Sense of Misson
• Change (Gasp!) Can (Gasp!) Be Fun
• The Power of Nice
• Recapturing an Interrupted Dream
• Some Choice Words on Management by Slogan

Early in my career, I had a boss whose IQ seemed positively stratospheric. Heflew through college, acing courses like Advanced Statistics IV. He taughthimself how to play several musical instruments. He wrote computer programs as ahobby. He was the kind of person who had fun fiddling with Rubik’s Cube, andaccording to the office chatter, he could solve it.

He also was a teacher, though not in the formal sense. Watching Jim inaction, I learned that there’s a fine line between intelligence andintellectual arrogance.

My crash course began about six months into my job as a junior associate at amanagement consulting firm. “I’d like you to read this,” Jim said, handingme an article titled “Hunters vs. Farmers.” “I’m curious whether youthink we should be hunters or farmers.” Then he walked away.

I was a newbie in the work world, eager to please. So I read that articleagain and again and again. I studied it like a monk studying the Bible. I parsedphrases, searched for themes, struggled to comprehend. And I prayed that myanswer would be right.

My boss was the head of the small firm–and by “head,” I truly mean thebrains. He was a walking strategic plan, customer database, andperformance-management system all wrapped up in one. He was also a nice guy–notthe type to go around cracking jokes and giving high-fives, but a friendly sortwith a ready smile and kind word.

The day came for our conversation about the hunters vs. farmers article. Isat up straight and tried to look like the person with The Right Answer. Jim satback with assurance and cut to the chase: “So what do you think?”

“Well,” I began, “the article was very interesting. The examples werefascinating.”

“Yeah, but what do you think? Should we be hunters or farmers?”

The article had described two models for a consulting firm. The hunter firmwas made up of independent sorts who pursued clients and projects much like thehunters of the prehistoric age. Each was rewarded according to individualresults. The farmer firm was more collaborative, with the consultants workingtogether to plant seeds and slowly but steadily nurture the business. Rewardswere a collective proposition.

“Both sides have merit,” I said, sounding like someone giving testimonyto a grand jury. “It’s a tough call. But overall, I’d say that the farmermodel makes more sense.”

Jim wasted no time in responding. He sat up in his chair, smiled slightly,engaged his massive brain, and went on to tell me why the hunter model was theright answer. He talked and talked, citing the merits of healthy competition,extolling the virtues of personal initiative, droning on about self-sufficiency.

The more he talked, the less I absorbed. All I could hear was my own internalvoice, and it was blaring like a car alarm: know-it-all, know-it-all,know-it-all! I waited for his lips to stop moving, then I agreed profusely witheverything he had said.

“Let’s have some more chats like this,” he said.

“Sounds good,” I responded. Yeah, uh-huh.

Returning to my cubicle, I resolved never to get suckered into anotherone-way conversation. I remained friendly with my boss, yet distant. I stoppedasking questions and playing the devil’s advocate. I did exactly as I wastold, to the point of turning off my brain.

And ever since, my ears have been extra-sensitive to know-it-alls. I’vecome to appreciate the sharp difference between taking a stand and closing yourmind. Between having an answer and believing that you have the answer.

Time and again I’ve seen how know-it-alls shut down dialogue. People feelthat if they take different points of view, their all-knowing colleague willjust refill the bellows and emit more verbal air. Good decisions requiregive-and-take. Know-it-alls just take.

If you’re dealing with your own know-it-all boss or coworker and feelinclined to hunker down as I did, don’t. There are better approaches. At therisk of sounding like a know-it-all myself, let me list a few:

•  Don’t be too quick to dismiss the know-it-all’s ideas. Even thoughher single-minded approach can be grating and degrading, she just might have theknowledge or information you’re seeking. (Hey, who knows, maybe the huntermodel was the right answer!)

  
  

• Make sure you have an ample supply of data when engaging one inconversation. Guesswork, assumptions, estimates, and hunches won’t be enoughto hold the know-it-all’s attention, let alone to convince him of anything.

  
  

• If you’re seeking information, frame your questions carefully. Bespecific about what you’re asking. Otherwise, the person might go off ontangents-intelligent tangents, but tangents nonetheless-which are frustratingand counterproductive.

  
  

• If you’re in a group setting with a know-it-all, and you want to getinput from participants, go round-robin, with each person given an equal amountof “airtime” to share his or her views.

  
  

• Avoid directly challenging a know-it-all’s facts or interpretation ofthe facts. Instead, try posing a question that can open her thinking. Example ofwhat not to say: “Your data from last quarter can’t be right.” Better: “Whatare the sources of that data?” Better still: “What do you think we can do tomake sure our quarterly data is accurate and relevant?”

  
  

• Don’t question or criticize the person’s credentials. Even though youmight have good reason to do so–and it might feel good in the short term–he’slikely to get angry, defensive, and even more difficult to work with in the longterm.

  
  

I could end this column right here, leaving you with a tidy list ofstrategies. But in the process of writing the above, I’ve started to ask sometough questions. Do I come across as a know-it-all? Am I encouraging dialogue orshutting it down? Are my ears and mind as open as my mouth? These are questionswe should all be asking ourselves.

Workforce, November 2002, pp. 24-26 — Subscribe Now!

Other columns by Tom:

• Some Choice Words on Management by Slogan
• My Dad’s Legacy
• A Lesson from Mongolia: Do What You Can
• The Business of Storytelling
• The Case for Slowing Down

Whenever I flick on a light these days, I think about invention and pride. Ifind myself asking questions like, “What have I created today?” “What haveI done that’s meaningful?” “What am I leaving behind?”

    It’s all because of my father, Clarence Terez. He’s 82 years old now,shaky from a stroke he had 10 years ago. But for 43 years, until his retirementin 1983, he worked as a mechanical engineer and machine designer for GE’s lampdivision. He and his colleagues invented machines that produced incandescentlight bulbs that brought light to homes and offices throughout the world.

    My father’s house—the house he bought with my mother in 1953, the home Igrew up in—is going on the market next week. I’ve just made a final tripthere, walking through empty rooms. The place had been stuffed with itemsaccumulated from more than half a century, but my father chose to keep just ahandful of mementos. Among them: his official documents from the U.S. PatentOffice.

    You can see them yourself at the Patent Office’s Web site. There’s PatentNo. 2,997,186, Lamp Transfer Mechanism, invented by Clarence S. Terez, issued on August 22, 1961. There’s Patent No. 3,046,635, Lamp Base and BulbAssembly Apparatus, July 31, 1962. There are two other patented inventionsdeveloped with a colleague: No. 2,711,760, Top Wire Positioning Mechanism, June28, 1955; and No. 2,910,166, Electric Lamp Making Machine, October 27, 1959.

    The official “inventor’s copies” of these patents are now tucked awayin a business folder. My dad has them at the assisted-living facility where henow lives. If you visit him, it’s almost certain that he’ll pull out thefolder and show you the prized designs. The stroke took away two-thirds of hisvocabulary, but his pride remains fully intact.

    Most folks call him Terry—a nickname derived from his last name because henever was keen on his first name. He still has all of his hair, and most of it’sstill black, combed back with a small daily dab of Groom & Clean. He stillhas brown plastic-rim bifocals, the kind that make smart people look smarter.But his most prominent characteristics are a ready smile and warm personality.Long gone are the R.G. Dun Admiral cigars (he often started the day with astogie at breakfast), the pocket protector, and the well-sharpened pencil tuckedon top of his ear.

    Terry was born in 1920 in the Polish neighborhood of Cleveland. TheDepression punctuated his early teen years, and he got a job picking vegetables,handing over a few coins each day to his mother. While the other kids kickedcans and played stickball, his idea of fun was building things. Give him severalpieces of scrap lumber, a few junk wheels, and soon he’d be coasting along ona scooter.

    One time he built a complete boxing ring. He began it in the colder months,doing his pounding and sawing on the top floor of the family home. By summer,with school over, kids were ready to box—but the top-floor location made forsweltering conditions, and Terry’s mother wasn’t keen on having youngfighters traipsing in and out of the house. So he took it apart, sent it throughthe window piece by piece, and reassembled it outside.

    In a high-school shop class, Terry’s creative mind and natural skillscaught his teacher’s eye. “You could get a job doing this,” the teachertold him one day. “Tomorrow after school I’m going to take you to GeneralElectric.”

    The next day, the two drove together to a nearby GE plant in Cleveland. Terrystayed in the car while his shop teacher went inside, paving the way. Fifteenminutes later the teacher returned and invited him in.

    Terry met a shop foreman, learned about an apprentice opportunity, and saidall the right things. Ten minutes later the teacher drove away, taking home GE’snewest employee.

    When war came, Terry enlisted in the Army, where he worked as a mechanicaldesigner. After his discharge, he went back to work at GE in the lamp division,beginning a career designing machines to make incandescent light bulbs. Heattended college classes, but never got a degree.

    He was always exercising his creativity, always building, ever sketching inthe pad he kept on a nightstand.

    In 1955, Terry attended a GE-sponsored invention workshop. He still has hisdesigns and typed-up notes, all in perfect condition. There’s the sketch ofhis proposed baby-food-warming dish—a plug-in bowl perfect for all thosepostwar babies. And there’s his idea to equip mixers with a wire-bristleattachment—great for cleaning baby bottles in the days before dishwashers.Yes, Terry had kids on his mind. His first of four children had just been born.

    After retiring from GE nearly 20 years ago, my father continued building. Hetook up clock-making, fashioning desk-size replicas of clock towers atNorthwestern University and the University of Michigan—two of his children’salma maters.

    Lately, I’ve been thinking about his long-ago shop teacher, the one who sawthe builder in my father and led him to GE. I’ve been thinking about hismother, who by most accounts was a demanding woman of few words, but whononetheless indulged her son’s early creativity. I’ve been thinking aboutthat invention seminar my father attended in 1955—a little opportunity thatleft a big impression, big enough that he saved the notes for 47 years. I’vebeen thinking about all the young engineers my father coached over the years—theones who secured their first patents thanks to him.

   I’ve been thinking about the pride my dad took in his work, pride thatstill glows like a high-wattage light bulb. And I’m left asking: What have Icreated today? What have I done that’s meaningful? What am I leaving behind?

Other columns by Tom:

• A Lesson from Mongolia: Do What You Can
• The Business of Storytelling
• The Case for Slowing Down
• Build a Case for HR’s Bottom-Line Impact
• Eager for a Paradigm Shift? Not So Fast!

Spit! Splat!

Kevin heard it day after day, hour after hour. In his workplace. Compliments of his boss.

Spit! Splat!

The boss owned the company, and he loved to chew tobacco. During the day. All day.

According to Kevin, the boss was a raging control freak who had all sorts of rules to govern employees’ behavior. Among the decrees: no personal items like photos allowed in the office.

The rules applied to everyone — except the boss. And he’d chew throughout the day, depositing spent tobacco wherever he found a convenient receptacle. Including Kevin’s wastebasket.

Spit! Another wad would take flight. Splat! Into the can.

No personal items in the office, eh? A glob of chaw sounds pretty personal. But hypocrisy was the least of it. Kevin said that by day’s end, the workplace would literally stink from all that spitting.

Ah, if only Kevin could work for Larry Fisher.

Fisher is assistant administrator of the Oklahoma Office of Personnel Management. Joyce Smith is one of the fortunate employees who report to him. She coordinates the Oklahoma state government’s quality initiative.

“Larry’s most outstanding leadership trait is that he trusts us,” Smith says. “He gives us the responsibility of determining the work we need to do along with the authority to get the job done.”

When it came time to redesign the state’s Quality Oklahoma Awards Program, Smith served as the point person. It was a blue-chip assignment with high visibility — the kind that compels control-freak bosses to hover over employees’ shoulders.

Smith teamed up with others and proceeded to get the job done. Fisher kept his distance, but he remained accessible — to provide support, remove barriers, or simply lend an ear if and when needed. Not once did he spit tobacco in Smith’s wastebasket.

If it sounds like these two bosses should be enshrined in some sort of gallery of bad and best managers, well, they are. They and 94 others are showcased in the Awesome & Awful Boss Hall of Fame, at MeaningfulWorkplace.com. All the inductees were nominated by their employees.

The Awful Bosses are aptly named. One of them found it hard to believe that an employee deserved sick days for emergency surgery — and asked to see the incision. Another kept an employee in an all-day meeting even though the employee’s mother was on her deathbed. A third was a chronic yeller who used an employee as a go-between with his ex-wife.

Bad bosses make for interesting reading, and talking about them probably has some therapeutic value. But if you want guidance on how to be a great boss, go to the great bosses.

Back at the Oklahoma Office of Personnel Management, Larry Fisher’s top trait is trust. Asked about the time he so completely empowered Joyce Smith to improve the state quality award, he says simply, “I had no anxiety at all. I work with great people, and if they need me, I’m here.”

But there’s more. Hire the very best people in the first place, Fisher says. Provide plenty of learning opportunities. Work with employees to co-create specific objectives. Keep the communication lines wide open at all times. And take time to celebrate good work and results.

Then there’s Michael Pergola, chief knowledge officer of internal audit for First Union Corporation. Ann Swain is among those who report to him. “Michael creates an open and trusting team environment,” she says. “Everyone has a chance to contribute and jump in freely to help each other. We can learn, make mistakes, and learn again, without fear or blame.”

Great bosses have a knack for knowing the big picture while also focusing on the individual. Consider Denise Scholl-Serrett at Cendant Corporation. Jason Pettigrew is among her employees. “Denise has seen my potential and been the mentor that I was looking for,” he says. “She not only has an excellent business sense, but also is a boss who cares about her employees’ personal lives.”

Comb through all these examples and many others, and you’ll find that great bosses have five big attributes in common: They give employees ownership of their work, support them as necessary, show sincere respect, provide meaningful development opportunities, and nurture open dialogue.

What about you? Where do you stand when it comes to these five factors?

If you’re feeling brave, circulate the following mini-assessment to your employees. Have them respond with a “yes,” “no,” or “sometimes,” and ask them to add written comments. If you think they’ll balk at full disclosure, keep the assessment in paper form, and have them do it anonymously. Otherwise, use the following prompts for an open conversation at your next employee gathering.

• I have the authority to gather necessary information, collaborate with others, make decisions, and determine the best way to do my work.

• My manager provides support when I need it. (Support can be as simple as an open door and an open ear. Or it can involve guidance regarding the work itself, or help in removing barriers.)

• I get genuine respect from my manager. (This can take many forms: a thank-you, a hallway hello, a casual conversation, a request for input.)

• My work and workplace give me opportunities to learn and grow. I can develop new skills, acquire more knowledge, and pursue deep interests in the course of my work.

• Honest dialogue unfolds each day. My coworkers and I have opportunities to get together, openly share ideas, and work collectively.

Give yourself 20 points for each “yes” response and 10 for “sometimes.” If you rate in the 70-100 range, you’re pretty darn awesome. If you’ve been spitting tobacco throughout the workplace during the past two weeks, subtract 100 from your point total.

Workforce, December 2001, pp. 24-25 — Subscribe Now!

When you want to effect change in the workplace, what do you do? Some peoplecraft vision and mission statements. Others set measurable goals. Still othershead to a retreat site for fresh thinking.

Then there are the people who tell stories.

Storytelling has been around for thousands of years, and it’s arguably yourmost powerful (and least used) tool for sharing information, building community,capturing the imagination, and exerting influence. By telling the right kinds ofstories, we can bring about profound change, says Annette Simmons, author of TheStory Factor: Secrets of Influence from the Art of Storytelling.

Simmons hadn’t thought much about stories until 1991, when she attended herfirst storytelling festival. Sitting in a big tent among 400 people, she kepther eyes, ears, and mind wide open. An African-American storyteller took to thestage — and that’s when Simmons heard a man seated behind her mutter then-word. She looked at him, and his arms were tightly crossed, his face hard withprejudice.

The storyteller recalled the 1960s, when he and his friends were activists inthe struggle for freedom. He told about being terrified to march in Mississippi,and about one late evening when he was sitting around a campfire with severalfellow civil-rights marchers. As darkness crept in, so did fear. Would someonecome after them? Then one of the men began singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”A second man joined in, then another.

“As he told his story, we felt like we were at that campfire,” Simmonsrelates. “There was something soothing and touching in what he was saying. Hestarted singing, and pretty soon we in the audience were singing. I turnedaround, and that man who had so much hate just moments before had uncrossed hisarms. He was singing too, and his face was soft, and I felt a connection withhim.”

This is the stuff that stirs our emotions. And that’s why stories are sopowerful. Think about it. Would a logical, reasoned argument against racialhatred have moved this person? When it comes to changing age-old beliefs, canfactual information make a difference?

What about the workplace? Can stories wield influence in an environment wherefactual information often reigns supreme? Let me answer by way of a story.

Ten years ago, the newly elected governor of Ohio vowed to improve stategovernment services. He promised shorter waits in licensing lines, greateraccuracy in requested information, more bang for the taxpayer buck. And hepromised that this would not be another management-driven program. Theinitiative would be created and guided by a partnership involving union leadersand managers, and employees would get the training and authority needed toeffect their own changes in the workplace.

Partnership. Empowerment. Training. You’d expect real enthusiasm from thestate’s 63,000 employees. But most just yawned or rolled their eyes. Challengethe culture? Change the system? Do it with employees instead of to them?

Then came the governor’s fateful trip to Rochester, New York, just a fewmonths into his new administration. He joined 10 agency directors and key unionleaders at Xerox headquarters for a firsthand look at quality improvement andunion-management partnership.

The Ohio delegation expected a just-the-facts presentation from managementand a separate presentation from the unions, perhaps followed by acobbled-together vision of how the two sides were teaming up. Instead, inmeetings and informal conversations throughout the day, the visitors heard asingle message of people working together as true partners. There was so muchunity that the Ohioans even had trouble distinguishing managers from unionleaders.

Late that evening, as they talked on the plane heading back to Columbus, thegovernor and others experienced a classic aha moment. They all agreed that theoriginal name for their effort — total quality management — now seemedflat-out wrong. If a union/management partnership was central to everything, thename had to say so. And so at 30,000 feet they made their first decision as asingle team. The effort would be called “Quality Services Through Partnership.”

Thus was born The Story. In many of his future speeches on the workings ofstate government, then-Gov. George V. Voinovich would tell about the visit toXerox, the airborne name change, and what it all meant. The union leaders begantelling it, too. So did managers and front-line workers. The Story is stillbeing told, and it continues to win over skeptics who think that qualityimprovement in state government is just another management program.

Anyone can use stories to exert influence in the workplace. Unfortunately,Simmons says, most stories accentuate the negative. She notices a glut of “griping,groaning stories about how ignorant senior leadership is, how useless it is totry to do a really good job, and how you just can’t win.

“Pay attention to the stories you’re telling,” Simmons says. “Askyourself, Are these stories meaningful to me? Are they creating the sort ofworkplace I want to be in? And are they making me feel better?”

If you’re tired of internal competition, for instance, and you hear a storyabout people from different departments who left their silos to team up on aproject, start telling it and retelling it. If you want to nurture greaterrisk-taking, tell a story about an employee who tried a new approach to an oldprocess, failed, tried again, failed again, then finally succeeded. If you wantpeople to be more open with each other, get things started by telling a storyabout yourself — like that saga from your teen years, when your first boss atyour first job had to leave for an afternoon and put you in charge of the wholeoperation.

“When you begin to talk in stories,” Simmons says, “yourblack-and-white words turn into color. Your drab requests turn into a mission.People find you to be more compelling. And once that happens, others will seethat stories work, and they’ll start telling stories, too.”

So what are you waiting for? Start telling.

Workforce, May 2002, pp. 22,24 — Subscribe Now!

Other columns by Tom:

• The Case for Slowing Down
• Build a Case for HR’s Bottom-Line Impact
• Eager for a Paradigm Shift? Not So Fast!
• Remember, They’re Human Resources
• You Could Just Spit: Tales of Bad Bosses

The next time you’re looking for a training video about human resources,workplace culture, and the bottom line, drive to your nearest video-rental storeand pick up a copy of Jerry Maguire. That’s right, skip the usual stuff aboutparadigms and fish markets, and get the 1996 release starring Tom Cruise, ReneeZellweger, and Cuba Gooding Jr.

In the movie, Cruise plays Maguire, a high-flying sports agent who startsfeeling that his work is too self-serving. Am I “just another shark in a suit?”he asks. Things reach a crisis point while he’s out of town on business. Hestays up all night, thinking, agonizing, sucking down coffee — and writing amulti-page mission statement titled, “The Things We Think and Do Not Say: TheFuture of Our Business.”

It’s an on-paper liberation, and Maguire makes copies for his 110colleagues. They politely take it, read it, and gulp hard. The “statement”takes shots at their business and calls for people to be more caring, morehumane. All of his coworkers (except Zellweger, who goes on to team up with him)begin to ostracize him. Eventually he gets his walking papers, and is left withjust one client, a wide receiver named Rod Tidwell (Gooding).

Tidwell has no shortage of self-confidence and couldn’t care less aboutemotion-laden mission statements. What he wants from Maguire is a bettercontract and a fatter paycheck. In fact, his guiding mantra is just four words:”Show me the money!” He says it on the phone. He says it in the shower. Hesays it while dancing. He practically grabs Maguire by the collar and says, “It’sall about the bottom line, stupid.” Show me the money!

In all of my years working with organizations, I’ve never seen CEOs, CFOs,or accountants dancing on their desks shouting, “Show me the money!” But I’vehad the sense that they’re saying it inside, and some have grabbed me by thefigurative collar and said, “That stuff about improving the workplace cultureis all well and good, but how will it help our bottom line?” I’ve often feltlike Maguire, full of mission, pitted against the Rod Tidwells of the world.

For change agents who have a Maguire-like missionary zeal, it’s tempting topull away and let the money-minded people live in their own world. But nothingis more self-defeating. In most cases, change agents do have to show the money.It’s a necessary step in winning over fence-sitters and skeptics.

Fortunately, there are plenty of studies showing that investments to improvehuman resources end up increasing the overall worth of an organization. You’reprobably familiar with Fortune magazine’s annual list of the “Best Companiesto Work For.” A group of number-crunchers took the 1999 list, sorted out the55 companies whose stocks had been publicly traded for at least five years, andcompared the results to those of the Russell 3000. (The comprehensive Russell3000 Index of U.S. stocks includes companies that are comparable to those on the”best” list.) Over the same five-year period, Fortune’s 55 best companieshad an average annual appreciation of 25 percent — well ahead of the 19 percentgain by the Russell index.

In a similar study, consulting firm Hewitt Associates teamed up with theUniversity of Wisconsin and Vanderbilt University to analyze the average stockreturns from the “best companies to work for.” Their findings made it clearthat people-friendly practices benefit the bottom line. During a measurementperiod of seven years, the data showed that companies on a 1993 “best” listoutpaced a broad market index by 87 percentage points. The top 1998 Fortunecompanies bested their index counterparts by 56 percentage points, over fouryears.

Watson Wyatt surveyed 405 publicly traded companies of all types, posing 72wide-ranging questions on everything from training to workplace culture tocommunications. In order to come up with a so-called Human Capital Index (HCI)score for each company, a statistical formula was applied. Then the subjectcompanies were sorted into three HCI-rating categories: low, medium, and high.The companies in the high-HCI group delivered a 103 percent total return toshareholders over a five-year period, compared to 53 percent for low-HCI and 88percent for medium-HCI companies.

So when someone asks you to show them the money, graciously accept theirinvitation and share one of the above studies. And if they respond with moreskepticism, mention the Malcolm Baldrige National Quality Award, which waslaunched in 1988 and is regarded by many business leaders as the top award fororganizational performance. Its criteria cover seven areas: human resources,leadership, strategic planning, customer and market focus, information andanalysis, process management, and business results. Baldrige winners haveconsistently outperformed the S&P 500 — by a margin of 4.4 to 1, accordingto an April 2001 analysis.

Of course, these are by no means the only studies. What I’d like to do iscall this column Part One of a two-part series. If you’re aware of otherevidence that builds a case for enriching the workplace, send me theinformation. I’m interested in big research findings like the ones describedabove as well as organization-specific measures that can be publicly shared. (Anexample of the latter would be data showing how investments in training anddevelopment at a company have increased customer satisfaction and retention.) I’llsift through everything you send and feature the highlights in June.

Also, you might want to rent Jerry Maguire. Check out Rod Tidwell’s jig to”Show Me the Money.” I guarantee that when you’re equipped with severalsolid studies showing the bottom-line impact of culture change in the workplace,you’ll be dancing, too.

Workforce, March 2002, pp. 22-24 — Subscribe Now!

Other columns by Tom:

• Eagerfor a Paradigm Shift? Not So Fast!
• Remember,They’re Human Resources
• YouCould Just Spit: Tales of Bad Bosses
• RefreshingLessons in Empowerment
• Thingsto Do: Learn From LaRue

Did you see all those rats?”

    My friend John had just watched a new TV show calledFear Factor. In it, contestants face a series of nerve-rattling, stomach-turningactivities. The one person who can hack it walks off with $50,000.

    John couldn’t get over the rat scene. “Each persongot strapped in a pit and had to stay there for four minutes with hundreds ofcrawling, nibbling rats. It was terrible.” He started laughing nervously.

    “That’s how I feel when I’m at work, like I’min a rat pit,” he said. “It’s that scary.”

    Over the years, John has told me all about the organizationwhere he works. It’s a market-research firm known for its high-IQ workforce,but among insiders, it’s seen as a place where threats and punishment are routinelyused by managers to “get things done.”

    There was the time John got scolded, grade-school style,for taking a devil’s advocate look at the boss’s suggested methodology for anupcoming project. There was the time he and several coworkers got a month ofsilent treatment from their manager after collaborating with people on anotherproject team. There was the time they were told to meet an outlandish deadline,”or else.” There was the time — well, let’s just say there have beenlots of times.

    John has way too much company. In my ongoing focusgroups and informal conversations, I hear countless stories about fear-filledworkplaces.

    One person called his boss Freddy — as in Freddy Krueger,from A Nightmare on Elm Street. Mr. Krueger had slashed his way to a seniormanagement position, and he used his new authority to stick his least-favoriteemployees with dead-end assignments. When people saw the boss approaching, theywould announce, “He’s baaaack.” It was their one way to lighten upan otherwise oppressive situation.

    Another person described the fear in her workplaceby quoting from Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” She and her colleaguesdid their best to keep away from several key (and apparently raven-like) managers.It was a closed-door culture. Suddenly there came a tapping . . . at my chamberdoor. . . .I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting . . .

    This is no way to have a totally engaged and productiveworkforce, that’s for sure.

    According to the American Institute of Stress, 40 percentof worker turnover is the result of job stress, and some one million workersare absent each workday because of stress-related complaints. Sure, some ofthe stress is unrelated to work or workplace fear, but cut these numbers inhalf and they’re still staggering.

    Psychologists have long known the impact of positiveand negative “affect,” or mood. A positive affect has been shown topump up creativity, while a negative affect stifles it and leads to mistrust,cynicism, isolation, and competition. Not exactly the stuff we want in our high-performanceorganizations, is it?

    Fear also writes its own version of reality. At data-drivencompanies where fear runs rampant, spreadsheets routinely get tweaked and twistedinto “acceptable” shape. I’ve heard all about this in my interviewswith well-meaning people who will do just about anything to escape the boss’swrath.

    So how do you stamp out fear?

    Well, first let’s come to grips with reality. Thereare some fear-mongering types who are awfully hard to work with no matter whatyou do. The best approach is to try to understand why they are that way, anduse any insights from this to manage the relationship accordingly.

    A bit of empathy, for example, can go a long way. Ifthe boss is under chronic deadline pressure and you are too, perhaps you cancommiserate. If you’re both frustrated with edicts from on high, again, tryventing together. This isn’t about coddling or caving in; it’s about findingcommon ground.

    If you think the fear relates to a lack of communication– say, you and your colleagues are fearful of some impending and unspoken change,or you’re concerned about certain goals and fear the consequences of fallingshort — open a dialogue with a manager who likely knows the scoop. You’ll haveto initiate it, and it might feel as comfortable as an emergency visit to thedentist. But the right questions might yield information that allays fears,and again, you might achieve some common ground. Ideally, try to make the dialoguean ongoing process.

    This is especially important when rumors are swirlingaround the organization. We’ve all played that grade-school game where someonesecretly decides on a phrase and whispers it to the next person, and the next,and the next. Reality gets pretty distorted, doesn’t it? Don’t settle for thelatest version of the story. Approach people who might know the facts, and aska few questions to get at the truth.

    Managers have to be especially mindful of what theirverbal and nonverbal messages are saying. If key managers declare a strong commitmentto work/life balance, yet the only people being promoted are those who workendless hours, there’s liable to be a low-grade fear among people who don’t.Don’t cover up reality with misleading rhetoric, just because you think it’swhat people want to hear.

    When analyzing problems, developing ideas and improvements,and making decisions, involve more people. There’s no better way to preventunfounded fears. Co-creators can become a sort of “truth squad.”

    Last, the most challenging of all: Look at how yourorganization is ultimately managed. Is there a quest for control based on allsorts of rules and decrees? Do managers play “gotcha” with employees,eagerly catching them when a rule is broken? Are performance evaluations andpromotions used to reward people who are simply good at pleasing the boss? Andare you doing any of these things?

    If so, heed these words from Edmund Burke: “Nopassion so effectively robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoningas does fear.”

Workforce, August 2001, pp.— SubscribeNow!

Other columns by Tom:

• An Ageless Question from Kindergarten
• The Blossoming of a Workplace Drone
• In Praise of Workplace Cynicism
• Is Boss a Four-Letter Word?
• Competition: As American as Apple Pie?

Several months ago, I did something I haven’t done in 33 years: I went to kindergarten. That’s right, I sat down with 20 five-year-olds and did my best to absorb the day’s activities.

No, I wasn’t there for a refresher course on colors and letters. As the parent of a soon-to-be kindergartner, I was checking the place out.

Truth be told, I arrived fully expecting to enroll my child in this school. It was just five minutes from our house. How perfect can you get?

Well, it was anything but perfect. From the moment I arrived until the moment I practically ran out, the classroom was an exercise in behavior control. At every turn, kids were given firm instructions on what to do and what not to do. Even art projects came with step-by-step decrees on how to color, what to cut, and where to glue. Loud voices were quickly quelled. Even an “aha” brought on by a learning moment prompted a rebuke from the teacher.

Then it was time to move from one room to another. The kids formed what appeared to be a pretty organized single file, but the teacher, who seemed to mistake this group for a troop of Marine Corps recruits, wanted something better.

“John, get behind Susan. Susan, stop looking around. Chris, go and put that book away.” John, Susan, Chris, and their classmates all had that glazed look that comes from being told too many times to do this and do that and please can you hurry up?

As I drove those five quick minutes back to our house, I decided that my child would never attend that school. And I felt so bad for those 20 kids who were in the process of having their creativity and curiosity drilled out of them.

I went on to visit several other kindergartens. Not all of them were so focused on rules and behavior, but overall, it seemed as if the top priority was to keep the kids in line. One teacher told me she was against small-group activities because then “I can’t control what’s happening.”

These visits reminded me of the hundreds of interviews I’ve conducted with employees from all walks of life. Over the years, so many people have told me about workplaces that are all about managing behavior and, seemingly, constraining curiosity and enthusiasm. As one person put it: “My company is rule-driven. We should be mission-driven.”

Are organizations this way because people love rules and behavior control? Is it because we really think this is the best way to manage a complex enterprise? Is it because we have some innate desire to keep things tightly organized?

Or is it because of how we are nurtured in our early years?

In some areas of India, elephants are trained in a very traditional way. When they’re still babies, they’re tied to a thick tree with a heavy chain. Over time, the chain is replaced with something lighter, and the tree might give way to a stake in the ground. Then the chain is replaced with a thin rope tied to a post. Pretty soon, the elephant no longer tries to move beyond the length of the rope. The behavior-control system has become its own self-inflicted prison.

Of course, there’s no comparison between the brain capacity of an elephant and that of a human being. But science abounds with studies that show how early experiences create paths — ruts, in some cases — that lead us through the rest of our lives.

My search for a kindergarten eventually took me across town to another school district. I entered with a hard shell of cynicism and took a seat in the back of the room.

Then I noticed that things here were different. With a bit of facilitative guidance from the teacher, the kids went to work in groups of three or four, creating their own buildings out of modeling clay.

From group to group, the creations that took shape were wonderfully different. A hum of excited conversation floated through the room. Occasionally a child from one group would visit another for ideas. You could almost feel the electrical charges in these young minds as they exerted their creative powers. They were so engaged that no one seemed interested in getting “out of line.”

Part of this school’s mission is to foster passionate curiosity and a love of learning. And that day, I watched as their mission came alive. It was the same day that my search for a kindergarten reached a successful end.

We have just sold our house and bought a new one, and we’re getting ready for the character-building endeavor of moving an entire family. In our own way, we’re trying to stay mission-driven.

But I’m still thinking about how this applies to workplaces. And I’m starting to appreciate just how profoundly our early management training — very early, as in kindergarten — shapes the way in which we manage and lead.

So what about it? Are so many organizations so rule-bound because we have a deep fondness for policies and behavior control? Nope. Do we really think that rules and controls are the best way to manage a complex enterprise? To get compliance, maybe, but certainly not to stir commitment among employees. Do humans possess some deep desire to keep things always under their thumb — a “control” gene of sorts? Hardly.

Every workday, tens of thousands of managers wrestle with what and how questions. “What products should we launch in the next sales cycle?” “What new policy will prevent this problem?” “How can we reduce turnover?” “How can we increase customer satisfaction?”

Given all of the above, perhaps the most critical questions begin with a why. Why are we organized the way we are? Why are our systems designed the way they are? Why do we manage and supervise the way we do? As you explore these questions, be sure to go back far enough — at least to kindergarten.

Workforce, June 2001, pp. 26-27 — Subscribe Now!

Other columns by Tom:

Seeking a pleasant pause recently, I sat down with a cup of coffee and my daily newspaper. What a mistake. I ran smack into three sad reminders of our national obsession with competition.

First was a front-page picture of six little-leaguers. They were maybe ten years old, and all were hanging their heads and wearing looks of utter rejection. The caption reported that these teammates had been enjoying a winning season — until they lost the “big game.” Someone had snapped the picture moments afterward.

Several pages later, I encountered Ann Landers. A letter-writer was telling her about his Tae Kwan Do meet. He had won a series of matches and ended up in the final championship. He wanted to win so badly — but he didn’t. And his letter gushed with disappointment as he told Ann how he now felt like a big loser.

I hurried to the comics, hoping for relief. But I saw another photo. Two people were holding up their freshly baked apple pies. These were the two finalists in the pie bake-off, and it looked to me as if one of the bakers was a bit distressed. The caption confirmed it: The person with that forced smile had come in second place.

Grade school is where I started learning the dynamics of competition. Then came high school, with its endless contests on the field, the court, the diamond, and in the classroom. But the sheer force of it hit me when we had our first child — and I could look at the world through her new eyes.

We recently went to her five-year-old friend’s house for a birthday party. The kids were having a great time on their own when an adult stepped in to orchestrate a game of musical chairs. After a minute’s worth of instructions, the music and motion began. Around and around they went, dutifully following the shouted instructions.

Then the music stopped, the kids clamored for the chairs, and guess what? My daughter remained standing, looking lost, trying to figure out what the heck had happened. “Okay, move to the side,” the musical-chairs expert told her. She did as she was told, but she wore the same expression as those “loser” little-leaguers.

Okay, I confess, I’m an overly sensitive dad. Surely she’s not scarred by coming up one chair short at a birthday party. And we know she’s going to face competitive situations nearly every day as she grows up and moves into adulthood. I understand reality.

But I don’t entirely accept it. Why create systems — at birthday parties, in schools, on fields, in workplaces — that pit people against one another? Why turn winning into a mutually exclusive proposition? Is there any reason we have to guarantee a certain number of losers? Let’s be honest here: Does this really bring out the best in people?

My daughter received another birthday party invitation soon after the chairs ordeal. I went to this one too, and it seemed so different. In one of the games, each child received a home-made cardboard puzzle piece. The group of five-year-olds huddled on the floor, working together to make the puzzle whole.

Once they did, a series of pictures tipped them off to the location of a secret treasure. These kids worked hard, they joined forces, they had a ton of fun, and they shared the joy of “winning.”

In our organizations, we talk a lot about teamwork. Let’s make sure we’re not playing musical chairs.

Other columns by Tom Terez:

The Wustum Museum of Fine Arts didn’t start out as a museum at all. For its first eighty-five years, the Italianate farmhouse in Racine, Wisconsin, served as a private home. It wasn’t until 1941 that the house was converted into gallery space.

Yet even now, there’s a family feel among the people who work there. The kitchen serves as the nerve center, bring-your-dog-to-work day happens much more often than once a year, and every birthday prompts a celebration. The eight people who work there have even been known to call it “home.”

The fact is, they just don’t have time for formality and rules and protocol. The museum has six to eight exhibitions each year and a permanent collection and active education programs for children and adults. Nearly 50,000 people pass through each year.

The flexibility has allowed each staffer to find a niche. For Pat Kardas, it’s marketing and communications. But she’s quick to point out that she and her colleagues are constantly stepping back to look at the big picture. Weekly meetings help. They use the time to evaluate exhibits and sessions, to plan new ones, to figure out who does what as the week unfolds, and simply to touch base. It’s a lot like a healthy conversation around the dining room table.

With such a workload, what keeps them going? For Kardas, it’s all about reaching people. “We’ll have visitors who come in and say, ‘Wow, this exhibit is incredible!’ Or we’ll be working with children, watching them get so excited about creativity. We can see the joy on their faces.” Talk about validation. Wustum Museum’s small group of staffers has 50,000 opportunities to see that their work makes a difference.

According to museum director Bruce Pepich, the family of employees is now facing a tough question: How can their workplace remain flexible if the number of exhibits, visitors, and program participants continues its upward trend?

They’re taking a few measured steps, evaluating each as they go — simple stuff like using written agendas at their meetings. What’s clear is that this family won’t let bureaucracy move in anytime soon.

From the book “22 Keys to Creating a Meaningful Workplace.”