Ego Free Leadership

by Brandon Black

  The team decision to “stop the slow poison of sarcasm” was a great first step, but the underlying issues remained unaddressed. In the coming months, with the safety valve of making fun of each other gone, perceptions and judgments at Encore piled up. Relationships on the team actually became more uncomfortable.

  In this situation, who among them would be willing to let go of their desired and dreaded images and put their performance and behavioral issues on the table? Almost nobody, including Brandon. The level of transparency of the most senior leader in any organization directly influences how safe it is for others to open up. Brandon was dictating but not demonstrating. And since he was the boss, his lack of honesty and transparency made it extra difficult for his team to progress.

  Recognizing When We Are Triggered

  BRANDON

  When we got back to San Diego, we kept our commitment regarding sarcasm. Sadly, it was like putting a Band-Aid on a hemorrhage. While we didn’t tell people their ideas were stupid, judgments were still made. I felt annoyed, but didn’t communicate it, at least not verbally. Beneath the surface, tension continued to build.

  An ongoing, divisive issue was whether or not to continue our relationship with LaL. We had contracted to attend three additional seminars in 2006: February, May, and September. The majority of Encore’s executives wanted no part of the February seminar. I was tired of fighting about it, so I allowed them to delay their participation until a similar program was held in July. It still wasn’t optional. I found it ironic that I was pushing for a program I so disliked.

  Our arguments about participating with LaL were symptomatic of a growing division within the management team. The business was increasingly challenged and the early returns of our new initiatives weren’t positive. Our stock price, which traded at over $20 per share at the beginning of 2005, had dropped below $15 and would continue falling through May to a low of around $9. The newly hired leaders were defensive about the lack of progress, and the legacy executives pointed at each other when problems arose.

  More and more I found myself looking to Paul and Sharon for guidance. As a threesome, we tried to identify problems and develop solutions. We spent time examining each leader and his or her team. I didn’t anticipate any negative reaction from team members who were not invited to these inner-circle meetings and I didn’t feel the need to be transparent about the goals of the conversations. By the middle of February, however, many of the other executives were whining to me about how they were upset that we were “talking behind their backs.” Annoyed by their pettiness, I defended my process and my two confidants.

  I thought all the unrest would blow over. In the spring, however, two of our most experienced executives quit, one to start a consulting practice, the other to join a fledgling company. I couldn’t believe they were leaving without having a discussion with me. I had always prided myself on being somebody people wanted to work for and hadn’t experienced any real turnover. Now we were forced to find new executives during a tremendously challenging time.

  “Why didn’t you come talk to me?” I asked one of the departing executives during his exit interview.

  “I tried talking about my concerns,” he said, “but you dismiss anything you don’t want to hear.”

  I wanted to tell him that wasn’t true but bit my tongue.

  “You’ve relied on me less and less, and lately it hasn’t felt like you even want me on your team,” he continued. “I want to work where I’m valued, not taken for granted.”

  His last statement gnawed at me, and my mind fought over who was to blame. Was he a quitter—or did I fail as a leader?

  I didn’t have time to think this through or to deal with individual concerns, even my own. I was steering the ship in the middle of a hurricane and needed all hands on deck. We had bigger problems to overcome.

  Mid-spring, given our weak stock price, our board decided we should “pursue strategic alternatives”—either take Encore private or merge with another company—in order to ensure the greatest value for Encore’s shareholders. While I understood the logic, the timing was awful. Short two key executives, we were scrambling to get an international site off the ground, deal with an unprofitable core business, and fully assimilate our acquisition.

  On the personal front, Dana and I were expecting our first child in July. It was an amazing gift, and I knew Dana would be a fantastic mother. It gave me something positive to focus on outside of work. I had a lot of guilt about seeing Trevor only 50 percent of the time. I marveled at his ability to go back and forth between two households without complaining. I wanted to emulate his happiness, spend more quality time with him, and treasure the arrival of my second son.

  Instead, the board’s strategic alternative mandate was consuming most of my and Paul’s time. It seemed too much to handle. Dana’s due date was forty-five days away, and my travel was increasing by the week. I felt helpless in my efforts to be present with Trevor. Dana didn’t like my absences and was afraid I’d lose my job if we merged with a larger company. That hadn’t even occurred to me.

  SHAYNE

  Our work with Encore was stalling. Four different coaches were working with the extended management team. The cliques and mistrust Encore’s executives had previously identified stayed firmly entrenched and finger-pointing crisscrossed the organization. Poor performance, ulterior motives, egregious behaviors, general incompetence—much of the frustration seemed to be surfacing in coaching calls, and often two descriptions of the same event bore little resemblance. Suggestions for how the team might engage each other in direct communication went unheeded. Brandon frequently rescheduled our calls, and when we did speak, he was more interested in fixing other people’s behavior than reflecting on his own.

  Much of their blame for what wasn’t working kept coming back at us, the ones poking the lion in the eye. I began doubting whether we should continue bringing these issues to the surface. Brandon wasn’t working on his judgments or examining his contribution to the team’s dynamics. It was logical that his team didn’t feel enough trust to disclose their weaknesses to him. Should we really be encouraging them to do so?

  As frustrated as I was with Brandon and his team, I understood how they felt. Many of the executives were caught in a kaleidoscope of unwanted circumstances. Business conditions had worsened, along with the value of their stock options; Brandon felt the pressure of delivering seemingly unreachable results; people on the team doubted Brandon’s trustworthiness, and the closed-door meetings with Paul and Sharon only made it worse; several executives were grappling with difficult personal circumstances, including a divorce.

  The experience Encore’s leadership team was having is a familiar one to many of us, myself included. There are moments in life when we feel that external circumstances or people are dictating our experience. The emotions we feel in these instances are typically negative: resentful, frustrated, powerless, agitated, afraid, stressed, angry, and trapped. At LaL, we describe this experience as feeling “at the mercy” of these unwanted people or circumstances—feeling bad because they are doing this or that circumstance is to blame.

  We can feel at the mercy acutely, like how Brandon felt when the two executives left Encore without warning, or chronically, like how we feel about work demands, difficult relationships, or others’ or our own personality traits.

  For some of us, feeling this way is so common we don’t even notice it. Over the past decade, I have asked hundreds of leaders to identify what portion of their work life they spend feeling at the mercy. Most estimate being in this unwanted state of mind 95 to 98 percent of the time. A more upbeat minority sees itself as being at the mercy 70 percent, with a few outliers at 50 percent. My data aren’t scientifi c, but these diverse groups come from all industries and walks of life.

  It is neither good nor bad to be at the mercy—it is just a term to describe an experience we all have. Learning to recognize when we are in this state is very useful, however, because it is an indication
that we are reacting to our environment, not proactively influencing it.

  AT THE MERCY

  1.My attention is on myself

  2.My experience is dependent on external people or circumstances

  3.I have a win–lose mindset “It’s me against others”

  Being at the mercy is a sign that we believe people or circumstances are threatening our success, comfort, well-being, and value. In this state we believe that if the external situation could just change, everything would be better; so, we strive to “fi x” whatever seems to be causing our distress. Th is might seem logical, but it’s frequently counterproductive. The problem is that our egosystem distorts our assessment of any threat. We read criticism, abandonment, judgment, competitiveness, and aggression into a situation where it may or may not exist. We overreact, no longer guided by the internal clarity of our authentic intentions but by fear or agitation.

  Although it can seem like it, we don’t always feel at the mercy. We all experience moments of calm and focus; that is, when our full attention is devoted to the task at hand and we are tapping into our full potential. Our energy and attention flow from us toward the world, regardless of external circumstances or stimuli. We call this state of mind “at the source.”

  However infrequently we may experience it in adulthood, at the source is actually our “natural” state—think of the simple joy of children. Unfortunately for many of us, at the mercy has become our “habitual” state. A more productive at the source mindset is always within you, even if external circumstances don’t change. Getting there begins by recognizing when you’re feeling at the mercy.

  AT THE SOURCE

  1.My attention is on what I want to create

  2.It starts with me

  3.The outcome is sustainable for me and others

  Brandon and I were both feeling at the mercy of our collaboration during the spring of 2006. I felt caught between two undesirable choices: continue to encourage and cajole Brandon into working on himself—to no apparent eff ect—or to express my growing frustrations and risk displeasing him and losing Encore as a client. I was caught in a “damned if I do, damned if I don’t” paradigm of thinking.

  Brandon was in a similar lose–lose mindset. He could force his team to attend our programs, knowing he would encounter their mounting rebellion. Or he could stop the partnership, only to fi nd himself alone with the performance and leadership issues hampering his team. Neither option seemed likely to succeed.

  CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING AT THE MERCY OR AT THE SOURCE

  Below are some common characteristics of how we experience being “at the mercy” and “at the source.” If you have even one of the feelings in the ATM column, it is a sign that your egosystem is triggered, and you are reacting to a perceived threat to your well-being, sense of safety, or (most frequently) your sense of value/worth.

  AT THE MERCY

  AT THE SOURCE

  Angry Authentic/Accepting vulnerability

  Being right or wrong Centered/Calm

  Confused Clarity

  Defiant/Defensive/Doubtful Empathetic

  (toward self or others) Energy/Enthusiasm

  Fear Engaged/Committed

  Guilt Enlarged vision

  In control Flow/In the zone

  Inferior/Superior Giving

  Judging/Fearing judgment Good for me & others

  Me, me, me! In a learning space

  Numb/Not present In reality/Accepting “what is” (as my starting point)

  Obligation/”Have to”/Should In touch with essentials

  Obsessed with getting outcome Intention

  Pride Joy

  Reactive Letting go of outcome/expectations

  Regret/Replaying the past Present (for ourselves/others)

  Righteous Reliable/Responsible

  Sense of luck Supporting others

  Win at all costs Trust

  This sense of being in a no-win situation is a defining characteristic of being at the mercy. It seems we have limited options, none of them good. We don’t allow ourselves to explore other responses to the situation because, in some way or another, they threaten our ego’s sense of worth and comfort. This trade-off is unconscious, until we address it directly.

  My team and I convened a meeting to take stock of our progress with Encore, and all my fears and frustrations came out. I didn’t want to irritate Brandon, so I was acquiescing to his tactics and smart rejoinders. I didn’t want to appear incompetent or ineffective to my teammates, so I hadn’t been talking about my struggles. One of them pushed me to acknowledge how I was taking Encore’s negative aggression toward us personally.

  I saw that I wasn’t doing everything in my power to support Brandon and Encore to make the changes necessary for their business. Confronting Brandon on his behavior worried me, but it was exactly what he needed. Accepting that I could lose what was at stake for me—my image in his eyes and our business relationship with Encore—allowed me to be guided by what I wanted for Brandon and his team. They needed to address their gaps and step up to their challenges, if not with us, then with someone else.

  I felt lighter and calmer when I flew down to see Brandon a few days later. Nothing had changed at the company, but I felt different on the inside. Nonetheless, when I told him we should stop working together unless he engaged differently in our partnership, I fully expected to lose Encore as a client.

  BRANDON

  I needed a life preserver and hoped Shayne would provide me with one when he paid me a visit in early July. Finally, somebody who would listen to my challenges and help me keep things together. Instead, he told me he and his team were fed up with our lack of adherence to our developmental goals and commitments. They had seen enough apathy and finger-pointing and wanted out of the relationship. Personally, he was tired of my convenient excuses for missing coaching appointments.

  I wanted to throw him out of my office.

  “Well, that was helpful,” I said. “If you leave now, you can still catch an earlier flight home.”

  “Look,” Shayne began, ignoring my sarcasm, “almost nobody on your team wants to come to our seminar next week. They feel forced by you.”

  “They need it! We’re facing serious challenges, and they have gaps.”

  “You know that, and I know that. But they don’t—and it can’t be our job to tell them. We’ve become a distraction because we’re pushing people to look at developmental issues they don’t want to acknowledge and you’re not willing to bring up.”

  I didn’t have an answer for that.

  “Which brings us to you.”

  We stared at each other across the conference table in my office. He wasn’t angry. I didn’t even read judgment on his face. If anything, he looked anxious.

  “If you want change, you need to lead it. That means, first and foremost, that you work on yourself. You must acknowledge and address your own behaviors and look for your responsibility in these dynamics. If the CEO doesn’t commit, the management team will not.”

  “Who are you to accuse me of not being committed?” I asked him.

  “Are you?”

  I had been at Encore for six years. Right now, I was holding the company together. Without me, what would happen? And yet … my divorce, my lack of reliability, my judgments. Maybe I was just committed on my terms?

  Shayne was holding up a mirror to my denial as well as my insecurities. I didn’t like his message, but I sensed it was true. I intellectually knew that change came from the top, but I hadn’t been willing to talk about, much less actively work on, my critical shortcomings. I was afraid that if I acknowledged my flaws, the management team would lose faith in me and the board would find somebody else to be CEO. I knew there was a case to be made for hiring a new leader. Our stock was down 50 percent, the new ventures weren’t taking off, the international site wasn’t getting any traction, and the pricing for assets remained at all-time highs. We were heading toward a crisis, and I needed to try something different.


  “OK,” I said, “I’m in. Where do we start?”

  With nothing to lose, I began truly partnering with LaL to work on myself. I committed to biweekly coaching calls and a full day meeting with Shayne each quarter. At his suggestion, I also agreed to attend their seminar again in November. Like repeating a course you flunked— except it felt energizing instead of remedial. It was a pivotal moment in my career.

  CHAPTER 2

  NO, IT’S NOT JUST YOUR PERSONALITY

  We Learned to Behave This Way

  BRANDON

  After my conversation with Shayne, I went home and spoke with Dana. Over a glass of wine, I told her what an impactful meeting I had earlier that day. I was excited about my commitment to make real improvement in my leadership gaps and help Encore achieve its full potential.

  “Are you flipping serious?” Dana said to me. “You’ve had the past eight months to work on these issues and now you want to get serious? Can’t you think of anybody but yourself?”

  When I signed up for four additional weeks of travel on top of my current commitments, I hadn’t considered one important variable: her due date was less than ten days away. When she finished lambasting me, I told her it would be fine. “I’ll find a way to balance everything.”

  I slept on the couch that night.

  Dana was right, of course. I was focused on myself. I was obsessed with finding a way to navigate the mounting challenges at Encore. Pricing for new portfolios continued to increase. For every dollar we collected, we spent fifty-five cents in operating expenses. To be consistently profitable, that needed to drop by 20 percent.

  Complicating everything was the strategic review process initiated by the board in May. Instead of focusing on running the business, Paul and I spent significant time meeting with private equity groups and other potential suitors, including our competitors. In one memorable meeting, the chairman of another public company explained that his company had the formula for long-term success and we would benefit from being part of their team. Paul and I were shocked. We thought they would be one of the first to fail and we had the enduring model. But our recent results didn’t back up our assessment. Were we completely wrong? Was it possible that an inferior competitor could acquire us? It would be months before these questions would be resolved. In the meantime, I needed to concentrate on delivering results for our shareholders and improving my team’s leadership abilities.