Many managers thrive on overseeing budgets and paperwork, but they're intimidated when it comes to communicating, listening, and being diplomatic. These skills are often seen as side dishes to the real meat of business, but in private, veteran managers will tell you that these "soft-side" skills matter the most. William D. Mayo, who served his country in the U.S. Navy for nine years before spending almost thirty years at Caterpillar Inc., helps you master soft-side skills that will boost results at your business or organization. Learn how to: - achieve more while experiencing less stress; - speak the truth without apology--especially when dealing with employees; and - deploy a people-centric philosophy rooted in courage, service, love, and authenticity to unleash the power of people. Mayo weaves in lessons from his experiences as an executive officer of a ship, a battalion commander for more than nine hundred recruits and senior noncommissioned officers, and an executive at one of America's industrial giants and most admired companies so you can master soft-side skills that will boost performance.

Why Is the Soft Side the Hardest Part?

Reflections of an Executive PhilosopherBy William D. Mayo

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 William D. Mayo
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-7440-9

Contents

INTRODUCTION...................................................ixChapter 1: We Gotta Get Out of This Place......................1Chapter 2: Cruel To Be Kind....................................11Chapter 3: Elusive Butterfly...................................18Chapter 4: Can't Buy Me Love...................................25Chapter 5: Who'll Stop the Rain?...............................36Chapter 6: Upside Down.........................................46Chapter 7: I Love You Just the Way You Are.....................57Chapter 8: Big Yellow Taxi.....................................67Chapter 9: When You Say Nothing At All.........................78Chapter 10: Fame...............................................90Chapter 11: What's It All About, Alfie?........................100Epilogue: A Final Nugget.......................................110

Chapter One

We Gotta Get Out of This Place

Watch my daddy in bed a-dyin' Watched his hair been turnin' grey He's been workin' and slavin' his life away Oh yes I know it He's been workin' so hard, yeah I've been workin' too, baby, yeah Every night and day, yeah We gotta get out of this place If it's the last thing we ever do We gotta get out of this place Cause girl, there's a better life for me and you. Words and music by Barry Mann & Cynthia Weil (1965)

The '60s were a time for questioning everything. Religion, war, politics, ethnic equality, patriotism, love, and even business were called into question. It was a time of burgeoning social revolution. Eric Burdon and the Animals recorded "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" in 1965, and it quickly became an anthem for the movement. Popular with armed forces personnel, it also became the theme song for Vietnam and those protesting the war.

Today corporate America is in its own battleground. A lack of confidence in business leaders, contempt for corporate greed, and the perception of ethics lost plagues enterprise today, even to the point of blaming the current economic crisis on these prevalent factors. The Animals' recording is yet today a fitting clarion call for a leadership philosophy focused on the soft side.

We need to win back the hearts of our people. Truly, business needs to get out of the place it is mired in today. But the management thinking that got us into this position won't lead us out. It will take a new approach—one that puts people above revenue targets, stock price, and the incessant counting of the corporate beans. And to that point, remember this little ditty from childhood?

Beans, beans ... the musical fruit. The more you eat, the more you toot. The more you toot, the better you feel. So let's have beans for every meal!

As kids, we'd recite it and laugh at the invariable flatulence that followed a diet of those musical morsels. Many managers I've known are big advocates of beans, or at least bean counting. They apparently have the lyrics committed to memory as their mantra, fervently submitting to the religious dogma of more and more "bean counting." I'm not a numbers zealot. They have their place, but it seems to me that in many businesses today, managers are metric-crazed. Too many metrics merely create clutter and clatter, reminiscent of a runaway train. In my company, we never met a metric we didn't like. The more we had, the better we felt. So we had metrics for everything—a steady diet of metrics. Unfortunately, much like that musical fruit, they tended to be more gaseous than substantive.

During one overseas assignment, I worked for a talented manager who was insatiably hungry for the beans. He actually believed we needed to manage 116 top-tier metrics—116! And those were just the top tier of our runaway metrics train. The monthly staff meetings became a monotonous parade, if not charade, of metrics. So much so that many times, that's all we had time to cover. Numbers. We didn't talk about employees. We didn't talk about customers. We talked about numbers. I found my eyes glazing over as chart after chart of "Red/Yellow/Green" scorecards and the attendant rationalizations droned on. In my mind, those scorecards were an incessant assault against what was important—things like culture, people, and customers.

I would often argue, though unsuccessfully, that the Creator gave me only ten fingers. Perhaps that would be a good maximum number of key metrics to track. However, this manager's need to control—or unfortunately his illusion of control—kept the focus on numbers and incessant metrics. He would always quip, "What gets measured gets done." But guess what? All those metrics did not improve results. As divisions go, his was the poorest performing marketing unit within the firm. I guess what got done was not what got measured, was it? As a European colleague and I would muse, "Ouzan ou gaz"—which literally means—"emitting a gaseous air." It may have been funny, but it's actually more than a little sad; a sad commentary on management's obsession with numbers at the expense of people.

This manager's mantra was trumped by the simple reality that all the scorekeeping in the world wouldn't improve the health of his division. All it did was drive tedious administrivia and score keeping—and it kept our accountants gainfully, if not productively, employed. Furthermore, every staff meeting could devolve into a tense gathering where managers found themselves gloating or sweating. They would sit there, unengaged at best, or gloating at worst—when their metrics were green—while the "red" guys were sweating in the hot seat, hoping for cover from some other poor sot whose red was even redder than his. Talk about a gaseous waste of resources and valuable time together! We could have been talking about the business, but instead we made love to the numbers.

Many managers fall victim to his type of thinking. Rampant metrics mania only creates a cloud of confusion, not clarity. And it also creates a certain "gotcha" culture that causes employees to seek cover from red scores, or worse yet, to become complacent and take solace from those that are green. Think about it this way: The whole red/yellow/green thing implies traffic control. The law. But it's control gone amuck, and it isn't leadership. Although I certainly realize that not all metrics are bad, the trick is to track only the right metrics and not become seduced by all possible measures.

Philosophically, how do metrics relate to the soft side? And what leadership approach should be used to keep score? Here's the deal: philosophically, numbers matter, but people matter more. You can create all kinds of ways to count the score. But leaders avoid the seduction of chasing numbers that seems to entrap many an otherwise good manager. Good leaders learn how to integrate the numbers with the soft side. After all, leaders do know how to count, but they should know that people count more. My philosophy? If we take care of people—employees, colleagues, and customers—the numbers will take care of themselves. People make the business run, and they (like you) want to know what's going on too. So finding the right metrics serves not only the leader but also the employees, and I would argue that it helps customers as well. We do need to evaluate whether or not we're hitting the mark, are making progress, or are exceeding the business plan. That information is just as important to your employees as it is to you, your superiors, and your shareholders. The key is creating a culture where everyone not only knows the score but also knows how their personal contributions impact the score.

I stumbled into my metrics philosophy by accident. Years ago, I read an article in INC Magazine. It was the April 1989 issue, to be precise. It was entitled "Dream Team" and was similar in concept to a baseball draft for a fantasy league. INC unapologetically published their "Dream Team" of managers to run a fantasy new start-up. I was impressed with their selection for chief operating officer—a young man (forty years old at the time) by the name of Jack Stack. Jack was cofounder and CEO of Springfield Remanufacturing Center Corp., a forty million dollar former division of International Harvester.

INC labeled Stack a "revolutionary." Being a closet rebel myself and already beginning to realize that I was a bit of a square philosophical peg in a round corporate hole, I was intrigued. Stack was credited with an uncanny ability to engage a work force. He termed it "management by the numbers." When I read that, however, my initial reaction was to roll my eyes, fearing that here again was a numbers freak. But his unique way of engaging employees from shop sweepers to managers fascinated me. I read on. His approach was simply to convert employees at every level into businesspeople. INC Magazine stated, "His philosophy was certainly not anti-metrics. In fact, his philosophy was to publish the critical few metrics to the business for every employee to see."

Jack understood that people not only wanted to know the score but also wanted to know how their individual performance contributed to the key metrics for success. With his practical and transparent approach, people across the firm understood the business, knew which metrics were important to define success, and more importantly, knew how they individually contributed to that success. I also took note that Stack's culture allowed metrics to be set by the team. The desired targets were not established behind closed doors. Transparency in setting the targets and transparency in sharing the rewards comprised his approach. That philosophical approach resonated with me, and I made a pledge right then to lead with that philosophy going forward.

The second key point regarding metrics comes not from some leading-edge managerial theory but from the edgy humor of cartoonist Gary Larson. It's not scholarly perhaps, but it is brilliant. And it illustrates my philosophy of establishing vision, metrics, and rewards. The cartoon depicts two spiders sitting atop a child's sliding board railing. They've spun a web across the bottom of the slide, intended to catch their prey as it swooshes down the sliding board gleefully unaware of the spider's trap below. The caption depicts one spider's comment to the other: "If we pull this off, we'll eat like kings!" These cartoon spiders provide a poignant lesson for business leaders. Be bold, have clear, outcome-based metrics, and help people understand the reward for achieving those goals.

As famed Chicago architect Daniel Burnham said, "Make no small plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood." Metrics should not only be the right measures, but they should also be bold, with a clear line of sight as to how everyone wins and shares in the rewards of achievement. The focus should be on the culture and the people so that they see what's in it for them. Again, if you take care of people, the numbers will take care of themselves. And when people understand the endgame, they'll self motivate to achieve it.

Unfortunately, businesses too often get sidetracked by measuring the trivial many. In the cartoon, as an example, a typical metric set might include 1) the time to construct the web, 2) the productivity of the spiders spinning the silk, 3) the thickness of the silk that ensures maximum retentive hold on the captive, 4) the rate of ascent and descent of the target, 5) the angle of the sun to ensure the web does not glisten. And so on and so on and so on. My philosophy is to keep it simple and focus on the outcome we want to achieve, not all the myriad methodologies to get there. I'll never forget a poster-child example of getting sidetracked by metrics mania.

Here's the context: Caterpillar dealers are legendary for providing outstanding customer support. With over 50,000 employees in the North American network of nearly sixty dealers, well over 75 percent of those employees are in the product-support side of the business. Caterpillar's dealer network is the envy of competitors. These dealers employ twice the capital in the business as the top four competitive distributor networks combined. We had a saying within the firm that the sales department sells the first machine but the product support department sells the rest. Clearly, Cat dealers set a world-class benchmark for providing outstanding customer service.

Yet my company once launched a dealer service excellence program aptly named "Images of Excellence." It was just that—an image. None of the methodology metrics contained in the program actually had any statistical correlation to what the customer wanted, such as service problems fixed on time, correctly the first time, and for a reasonable cost. That's what our customers told us they valued. But rather than simply measure a score of dealer excellence tied to those criteria, we also had a plethora of "how to" metrics—getting so detailed as to specify how we wanted the dealer to achieve the outcome. It was part of a comprehensive (if not invasive) factory program to measure everything from lines being painted on the service bay floors to outlined tool storage pegboards to the size of the customer waiting room, the mechanics' break room, and even whether or not coffee and refreshments were available. Don't get me wrong. These things might be nice to have, but excellence, as defined by the customer, had nothing to do with these prescribed methods. It was solely about fixing the service problem the first time, on time, and for a reasonable cost. From our desks incorporate, we apparently saw excellence differently and as a result got swept away in a tidal wave of metric foam. As author John le Carré wrote, "From behind the desk is a dangerous place from which to view the world." We even went so far as to specify the level of foot-candles of light in the repair bay. I'll never forget it. Seventy-five foot candles of light! As if mistakes aren't made in good lighting? Get real!

It's reminiscent of the Hawthorne Works productivity studies of the mid-1920s in Cicero, Illinois. At this manufacturing plant, lighting intensity was altered to examine its effect on worker productivity. The findings were not significant. It seemed as if the workers actually tried harder when the lights went dim, just because they knew that they were in an experiment and being observed. This phenomenon came to be known as the Hawthorne Effect. Simply stated, it said short-term productivity could be improved with "concerned management observation." In other words, people will behave differently when they are being watched. Duh!

But rather than prescribing how to perform every little aspect of a service repair, imagine if we had defined excellence in the same terms as the customer defined excellence and published those measures for everyone on the shop floor to see! I am convinced that it would have achieved the desired outcome far better and more sustainably than our short-lived Images program. That program died, thankfully, in short order, suffocated by the weight of too many prescriptive methodologies and assigned metrics. Paradoxically, the actual image in the eyes of those dealers attempting to deploy it was that it was just one more lame idea from corporate that passed like so much gaseous vapor.

My Soft-Side Philosophical Nugget:

Why is the soft side the hardest part when it comes to metrics? We make it harder than it has to be when we take our eye off the ball of what is really important. Leaders never chase numbers at the expense of people. We as leaders have to get out of the place where metrics and numbers count more than people. The leader's focus should be on liberating people to achieve extraordinary results, not limiting them by excessive management control. If you take care of people, the numbers will take care of themselves. Leaders must involve people in the target setting, focusing on outcomes and the few key metrics that are relevant. Don't chase methodologies; but rather specify desired outcomes. And certainly don't constrain the innovation and creativity of your people in pursuing the desired outcomes of your vision. Be bold. Stir people's imagination and paint a picture that illustrates how their individual performance contributes to success and to serving the customer better. Be transparent, and share the rewards. And remember—get out of the place that creates excessive metrics as an illusion of control. There is a better place out there for you and your people where their contributions and their emotional discretionary commitment are clearly tied to the significant few metrics that matter for success for the business.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Why Is the Soft Side the Hardest Part?by William D. Mayo Copyright © 2011 by William D. Mayo. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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