If ‘some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them,’ what is your response when the needed thing just needs doing?
Too long ago to count, I studied strategy under Dr. Arvind Bhambri at USC’s Marshall School of Business. A newly minted Harvard DBA, Bhambri favored the case method and brought with him the story of my still favorite anti-leader, a character named Tony Sardo.
In the days before the American 40-hour work week, employees were often required to come in early and work late, especially during cycles when demand for finished goods was in an upturn. Employers managed spikes the old-fashioned way by throwing bodies at each critical order. To manage the unpredictability of large orders, it was not uncommon for management to require workers to clock in at 6 AM and stay on the job, ‘just in case’ until 8 PM. But not Tony Sardo. He worked it out that to stay at work those fourteen hours, he and his crew were being paid far less than shops whose employees were asked to work overtime only when the demand spike actually materialized. His solution? If the crew heard through the grapevine that work on a given day was going to be light, Sardo rotated one crew member to come in at 6 AM to punch timecards for the rest of the crew. The remnant would then surreptitiously show up for work about 5 minutes ahead of the foreman, who arrived like clockwork at 8 AM sharp. 5 minutes after the foreman clocked out at 6 PM, the crew would close up shop and go home, leaving the second designated puncher to handle the back end of the timecard scam at 8 PM.
The Harvard case method is organized to dole out information piecemeal, initially leaving students in semidarkness to debate the case based on incomplete information. Professor Bhambri opened the discussion after the ‘timecard scam’ was revealed but before we knew Sardo’s ethical rationale for committing mass fraud against his employer. Once we had, by turns, repudiated Sardo for being a thug and a crook and, by turns, accused his employer of breaking enough labor laws to justify Sardo’s connivery, Bhambri handed out Parts 2, 3, and 4 of the case, calling for renewed debate between each traunch of fresh information. The cumulative effect was addicting for its ability to whipsaw hearts and minds with each new revelation. By the time we finished the case, Tony Sardo would become my all-time management hero.
Except that Sardo was not the crew’s manager. That would be the foreman who worked bankers’ hours pretending not to know what was going on behind his back. If Sardo’s shenanigans were an actual conspiracy, we learned as the case played out that everyone, from the foreman up to company ownership, was in on it. No whistles were blown because, in exchange for flexibility, Sardo generated extreme company loyalty by reasoning that by fudging their hours (and their paychecks), the crew was self-obliged to work late, into the wee hours if necessary, to fulfill lucrative orders when they spiked. Not until the foreman was reassigned and his replacement never got the memo did the conspiracy collapse and the company with it. As soon as the new guy insisted the full crew be physically onsite 14 hours of every workday, voluntary overtime dried up, and the company could no longer compete for big jobs.
Sardo was what Bhambri termed the team’s informal leader. He wasn’t called to serve or given a pay raise for holding the company’s fortunes together. He was a self-ordained, self-styled servant leader who did what his human instincts required of him to make things work. My personal characterization goes further and includes phrases like anti-leader, leading from behind, stirring success from within, and never barking orders from the top. Not constrained by the management playbook, Tony was free to make up new plays that successfully balanced orthodoxy with common sense, goodwill, and a little fun to exceed the expectations of his formal chain of command. The result was a win-win virtuous cycle, at least until orthodoxy re-asserted itself unchallenged.
If Tony Sardo is my favorite informal leader, the Old Testament general Gideon is my model for what I call reluctant leadership. With apologies to anyone offended by co-opting the Bible as a management text, Gideon’s uneasy rise to power ought to be required reading in business school. Major General James Taylor once told me he had written pages and pages on Gideon’s approach to strategy to sharpen his own battle tactics. But unlike Tony, Gideon didn’t take power into his own hands. His ascension to lead Israel’s mighty army came only after it was obvious the universe needed something done. But was that not the path Tony took as well?
Were I to dole out Gideon’s incremental call to serve, I would begin with his refusal to, what’s that expression, ‘run if nominated, serve if elected.’ In my abridged (if irreverent) telling, Gideon is minding his own business when God tells him he is to be the Israelite general who delivers his people from an army whose cavalry of camels alone (think battle horses) is too vast to be numbered. Gideon isn’t so sure about God’s plans for him and devises what he considers a foolproof test.
“If I place my fleece outside the tent,” he tells himself and whoever might be listening from the other side of the veil, “and wake up to dry thresh but wet wool, only then will I trust God’s vision of this leadership thing.”
But the next day, after squeezing enough morning water to fill a bowl resting on dry ground, Gideon refines his proof because, you know, morning dew.
“If tomorrow my fleece is wet and the ground dry,” he pivots, “I will have a more sure proof and accept God’s commission.”
You see where this case is going. When Gideon’s second proof fails fast, Heaven bypasses Gideon’s pseudo-scientific method and sends a dream to a fellow soldier, signaling Gideon to answer the phone.
“I’m still waiting,” Heaven seems to be saying. “I’ve been calling your name so loud that even your soliders can’t sleep.”
As Parts 3, 4, and 5 of Gideon’s case get curiouser and curiouser (see for yourself beginning with Judges 6:36 through chapter 7), General Taylor’s recommendation that strategists study its gets and puts becomes clearer and clearer.
So what’s it going to be? When common sense, the cosmos, or even—heaven forbid—senior management themselves ask you for informal, even reluctant leadership, will you be a Tony? A Gideon? Or just yourself, giving either implicit or deliberate consideration to the request? You were, after all, and like the rest of us, born to answer.
This post is from a LinkedIn Newsletter called Human Changing. You can access the entire series here.
