He handed the paper to Ed and looked around again. Funny, it feels like being back at elementary school. Only everyone here is an A-grader, so everybody is done now with the boring quiz (come on, they were tougher than that in elementary school) and is exchanging glances. Only one student is still working on his answer. What an unusual face. Aristocratic and unpleasant at the same time. He ’s nameless for the moment, since his nameplate is mostly covered by his elbow from this angle. Something that begins with “K.” Okay , now Mr. K is done too. And as he straightens up , he transforms from a k afkian character to ordinary Kevin.
“And now,” Clark announced , straightening the papers, “get ready for some timeless truths. I ’m only going to read the answers. It will be your job to make conclusions. Question number one, as you all know, is , ‘Why did I get into my current position?’ And our first answer reads as follows: ‘Because I am by far the most qualified candidate .’”
A chuckle rolled across the room. Clark remained absolutely serious and took the next piece of paper.
“Because my boss got promoted .”
He took next sheet. “Because I ’m smart .”
The room chortled, this time louder. Clark scratched his chin in thought as if considering making a comment, but kept silent.
The next answer sounded familiar. “Because my manager decided to retire .”
Papers rustled. “Because this is the highest position I could get so far .”
Clark studied the room briefly and resumed reading.
“Because in this position I can be most useful to my company .” Michael thought he saw the unattractive aristocrat smile lightly at this point.
“Because without me this project would be nothing but a piece of shit.” Clark had to stop and wait for the laughter to quiet.
“Wasn’t me . . .” Ross was saying, waiving his hand and struggling with laughing spasms . “Wasn ’t me, but I swear I could ’ve written it !”
Stella gave Robert a brisk questioning look. He shook his head.
Clark, meanwhile , resumed his reading.
“ . . . Because my management values me.” Clark nodded in respect.
“Because somebody has to manage these people. Why not me?”
“Strictly speaking, ” Clark finally broke his oath of silence, “this is not an answer. This is a question. But never mind.”
“Because I like this job and I ’m good at i t.”
“Because when they had to choose among five candidates , they picked me.”
Clark broke off.
“Well,” he said after a brief pause. “No surprises here. Now, let ’s hear our question number two. To make it more interesting, let ’s also do this. You ’re not paying any attention yet, but not to worry . . .”
Having uttered these cryptic words, he scattered the sheets across the table, mixed them quickly and collected them into a pile again.
“Question number two, as you will recall , is, ‘What do I want more than anything when I think about my future career?’ Let ’s hear this out.”
“Success.”
“Quick growth.”
“Promotions.”
“I want to serve my company to the best of my abilities.”
Paul snorted loudly. Clark glanced quickly at him, then continued.
“To run the company one day.” People in the room exchanged glances.
“I want to keep on growing .”
“My future career is highly questionable, considering the number of idiots around me.” This time the snort was collective.
“Again,” sighed Clark, “this is not an answer to the question.”
“I want to rise through the ranks quickly and easily .”
“Manage a large division .”
“Want to have my boss ’s job .”
“Become a VP.”
“Interesting, ” Stella commented quietly. “A VP. Not a CEO or a president. A very specific wish.”
Robert shrugged.
“The guy knows his limits.”
“Comments?” Clark asked the audience, shuffling the papers slowly.
“Someone has too many idiots to deal with, ” Joan’s neighbor offered his observation , flashing a white smile.
“Good point, Chris, ” agreed Clark, glancing over the speaker ’s nameplate. It was impossible to tell whether he was serious or ironic. “Anything else?”
“All the answers are obvious, ” the heavyset mustached man sitting at the leftmost table said dryly.
“Really?” Clark looked intrigued. “And what is so obvious about them? By the way, would you please turn your nameplate to the right? There . Thank you, Brandon . So why did you find these answers obvious?”
“Did you expect to hear anything else?” Brandon asked in reply. “You ’re making it sound like you were looking for some kind of revelation, but what else could you expect to hear?”
“The truth, for instance, ” said Clark. “Can ’t say that I had high hopes to hear it , though. This is not the first class I ’ve taught .”
“The truth?” Brandon ’s voice became considerably appalled. “Did I just hear you say that we ’ve all lied?”
“Not at all.” I f Clark was concerned about Brandon ’s irritation, he didn ’t show it in any way. “I wouldn ’t say that your answers were purposely deceitful ; however , all of them—except, perhaps, one—were superficial. Although some were truly witty and a pleasure to read.”
The explanation didn’t seem to satisfy Brandon .
“I still don ’t get it. My own answers were honest, dead serious, and in no way superficial.”
“Honest and dead serious—yes. Not superficial—allow me to disagree with that one.”
Brandon stroked his mustache .
“You’re welcome to disagree. But please be more specific.”
“Certainly. That ’s why you are here. Let ’s take a look at the first question. What do we have here? I ’m in my place because my boss moved on, because my boss had been moved on, because my management values me, because my management adores me . . . Don ’t you find this superficial?”
“Come on, we ’re all adults here, ” the athlete sitting next to Joan said in a deep, booming voice. “This is how it really works. I hope you ’re not going to preach to us about hard work that pays off, are you? Especially after your , ‘We don ’t care for taboos ’ introduction.”
Clark nodded.
“You’re right, Alex. In order to rise through the ranks, you do need to have management ’s admiration and a free spot to fill. But . . . is this the real reason for your being where you are today? Why don ’t you look back, into your past ? Go back a year, two years, ten years. Go back to the time when your management was trying to fill that entry -level lead ership position, which eventually jumpstarted your career in leading others. Why was it you ? Where did they get the idea that you ’d like to use this chance? There must ’ve been some indication.
“Or consider for a moment what attract ed you to your job? How come you ’re not an engineer, a researcher, a journalist, a lawyer, a salesperson —in other words , not an individual contributor, but a manager? A fast—rising manager. A manager who just six years ago wasn ’t managing anyone . Someone who has never been trained to be a manager . A manager who ’s been moving up much faster than the vast majority of his or her colleagues? A rising star. So what ’s been pushing you up? Whatever it is, it ’s something that has to do with you , and not with your environment. What is it? Think about it. Think.”
He surveyed the faces in the room and repeated sternly , “Think.”
The room plunged into silence.
“Let’s do this, ” Clark offered a minute later. “Take your time to give it enough thought. Then pick up the second copy from your folder and give it another try. This time , try to express the very essence of your wishes and aspirations. Don ’t use many words ; the less the better. In fact, try answering the second question with a single word. Focus on the core, on t
he spirit of what ’s been driving you. What element of being a manager do you really enjoy? What really motivates you? Why do you keep striving to go higher and higher? Think about the core differences—and core similarities—between you and your CEO. Think, think, think . . . I can ’t emphasize this strongly enough. Think! Then write it down. And remember: b e ultimately, brutally honest. This is the only way we can move forward.”
Michael tapped his pen thoughtfully on the paper. Now it was getting more interesting. A tiny little bit, but more interesting. It wasn ’t hard to guess where Clark was going with this, but there were different ways to leverage the answers he was about to get this time. So let’s give him an answer . . .
Too bad he said think . Some of us may be allergic to requests like this. To some of us this may bring up bad memories. Because that ’s where it all begins. That ’s where we all get screwed big time as we grow up. They tell you to think, but they don ’t really mean it. They only want you to think within the boundaries they define. The moment you start thinking for yourself—really thinking—so many things stop making any sense. And if you keep thinking, the whole world just falls apart. Nothing makes sense anymore. Rules, traditions, expectations—they all start looking so fake, so made up. You want to just get rid of all this stuff and make things right. But the moment you say it, they tell you to shut up and be respectful. And eventually you understand that nobody really wants you to think for yourself. But if you still end up developing this bad habit, you need to learn another trick—to keep your mouth shut.
So every time people say think , you wonder, is there some specific conclusion you want me to arrive at ?
A single word . . . A single word . . .
Ed collected the papers, smiling quietly. Clark accepted the thin stack from him, shuffled it like a deck of giant playing cards. Then he took one piece of paper from the middle, put it at the bottom of the stack, and looked around the room again.
“This time I will read both answers. Question number one: ‘Why did I get into . . .’ okay, you remember it by now. Question number two: ‘What do I want more than anything else when I think about my future career?’ And now, on to the answers.
“Why: Because I want to manage others. What do I want: To increase my scope of influence. There ’s something different about these answers, don ’t you think?
“Why: Because you succeed only at the top. What: To get to the top . . .
“Why: Because here I can serve my company in the most productive way.”
Stella smiled ironically.
“What: To grow while serving my company. . .
“Why: I’m a leader, not a follower. What do I want: Control . . . Great! Kudos to the author of this one for finding a single word.
“Why: Because I ’ve always wanted to lead. What: To remain a leader, no matter where I go . Hmm . . . this is good, but . . . never mind.
“Why: Because I ’m smart.”
Clark raised his head to the sound of muffled giggling.
“What: To be in the right place, at the right time . . . Well said.
“Why: More money. What: To get promoted often, what else could it be? This is literally what it says here: ‘What else could it be?’ Somebody just can ’t live without asking questions.
“Why: Because I like to be in charge. What do I want more than anything else when I think about my future career: For starters, to have this career . . .
“Why: Because I ’m good at organizing people. What: To grow without becoming a brownnoser.”
Sharp, well -articulated words were being spouted to the room like a metronome ’s clicks.
“Why: Because I know what I ’m doing and the less clueless bosses I have , the better. What do I want: To work without being sent to places like this.”
The laughter traveled across the room once again.
“Why: I hate being powerless. What do I want: Power .”
Clark looked into the room, which had suddenly fallen into silence.
“Here,” he said, raising the last sheet of paper. “This is why all of you are here today. And this is what the w orkshop is all about.”
“So,” Chris asked cheerfully, carving his Chicken Marsala, “whose company is full of idiots? I think we changed the subject too quickly.”
“Let it go , ” Alex said good-naturedly. “It ’s anonymous after all.”
“It must’ve been you who wrote it , ” suggested Stella. “This is not the first time y ou ’ve brought this up.”
They all felt at ease by now. Lunch started in a subtly tense atmosphere filled with polite questions and cautiously worded comments. But it didn ’t take them long to lose the seriousness, to relax and progress rapidly to light irony and even some friendly teasing. It was hard to say whether it had happened so quickly because of Paul ’s sarcastic observations, Robert ’s tasteful and timely jokes, Michael ’s calm wittiness or Chris ’s boyish vivacity. Whatever the reason, in less than an hour , Brandon remained the only recipient of businesslike tone s . His slightly stern face with the thick mustache s made him look older than everyone else and kept others from crossing the boundaries of a business lunch when talking to him.
“No,” Chris sigh ed sadly, “I can ’t take credit for writing that note. Not that my work environment is free of idiots.”
“You can find them everywhere, ” Ross said with his benevolent smile.
Chris raised his finger.
“The question is , who ’s got more idiots than a healthy company needs?”
“A healthy company needs plain zero. Otherwise you have an unhealthy company.”
“Not so fast. Somebody has to create internal challenges. You lose that and your people get too relaxed.”
“Don’t underestimate the power of stupidity? Something like that?”
“Exactly. Alan, you got it right.”
“Why do you need internal challenges? Don ’t you have enough problems generated by external idiots?”
“The real external problems come from the smart folks, not from morons.”
“Say all you want, but someone is short of internal idiots. Why else would they go and hire all these bozos this poor person has to live with?”
“All right, all right!” Paul ’s voice rose above the chatter. “I wrote it. Happy now? So much for keeping it anonymous.”
“Really?” Charming dimples decorated Joan ’s cheeks. “Now we just need to get your company ’s name out of you. Imagine the market ’s reaction: ‘According to internal sources, the vast majority of PaulSoft ’s workforce are clinical idiots.’”
“They’re not clinical, ” Paul sighed . “That ’s the problem. If it were PaulSoft, they ’d be on the street as soon as I ’m back. By the way, I don ’t remember ever saying that I ’m in the software business.”
“Stop picking on him, ” Brandon proposed pacifyingly. “Let the man rest for a week.”
“Rest for a week? Perhaps you didn ’t listen carefully enough, ” objected Joan, dimples still adorning her cheeks. “We didn ’t come here to rest ; we ’ve gathered here to work. We are those who never rest. We ’re the material . Was that the word he used? Could you please pass me an apple ?”
Brandon reached unhurriedly for the mural vase with fruits.
“There’s work and there ’s work. But what the heck . . . Why are you so polite with me, by the way? I don ’t hear you ‘Could you please’-ing others.”
Joan looked as if she were on the verge of blushing.
“Umm . . . I thought . . . No good reason, actually.”
“Good,” Brandon passed her a bright -red apple. “Then drop it. I ’m not your grandfather, you know.”
Alan listened to this conversation with half an ear. Usually he adhered to a golden rule : Whenever you talk to a potentially useful person, you must make a good impression. The Rule of Charm , as he called it. There were other rules , too. The Rule of Silence : Don ’t speak too much. The Rule of Speech : Don ’t speak too little. The Rule of
Stupid Promise : Never promise what you can ’t possibly accomplish. The Rule of Rock : To promise is to deliver. The Rule of Open Eye : Don ’t let a single opportunity to sneak by you.
And many more—a total of thirty -six. He came up with this set of rules back in school, some in collaboration with Larry and Tim, but mostly on his own. And although the times of misguided youth, as he liked to refer to that period, were gone for good, he still held on to this set, not letting it go ; like an old, chipped, but robust and battle-tested weapon. Sometimes he made fun of this prolonged habit, sometimes he thought the rules sounded childish —but nevertheless he kept using them day after day. And he believed firmly that his success to date was in part grounded in this comprehensive internal code of laws and his unconditional observance of its every rule.
But at this particular moment, The Rule of Charm was being completely defeated in its hopeless struggle with a tsunami-like wave of uncontrollable thoughts. The information that this confidently speaking man had poured out on them this morning was too shattering, too overwhelming for any rules to hold their ground. It was as if the sweet languishing dream—that ambition -filled dazzling dream he had been dreaming all his adult life—had suddenly come true. The words that Clark spoke so intensely this morning bloomed in his mind like exotic tropical trees, covered by unimaginable flowers.
He knew, of course, that some day success—real success—would come to him. But never did he expect this success to come so soon and to be so intoxicating.
“ . . . You are the material from which the lords of the corporations are made. You are those who some years later will replace today ’s rulers of the business world. You are those who at some point in the future will steer the global economy. It won ’t be the Ivy League and Oxbridge graduates. It won ’t be the inheritors of old money. It won ’t be your current bosses.
“It will be you —those who ’ve been obsessively seeking power—who sooner or later will manage and control thousands and thousands of people. This is what makes you truly different . This is what doesn ’t let you stop . This is what has been driving, pushing, dragging you forward. You may like or dislike the business you ’re in . You may be an expert or mediocre specialist . You may or may not realize why you ’ve been striving to get ahead. But whether you realize it or not, you were gifted with something that one day will elevate you very high, to those levels of the social pyramid that only few, very, very few ever reach . . .”
Awakening, 2nd edition Page 7
