How to Lead When You're Not in Charge

by Clay Scroggins

  Lucroy weighed the pros and cons of being traded from the Brewers, and in the end he made a decision that was best for his family. Now that’s a pretty admirable statement about family, but it’s also a reminder that putting your stakes in the ground on a decision might not be popular.

  What Lucroy did to the Brewers reminds me of what Maura did to George Costanza on “The Strongbox”3 episode of Seinfeld. George was dead set on breaking up with his girlfriend, Maura, but she was just not going to do it.

  George: Maura, I, uh—I want you to know . . . I-I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m sorry, but . . . we, uh, we have to break up.

  Maura: No.

  George: What’s that?

  Maura: We’re not breaking up.

  George: W-we’re not?

  Maura: No.

  George: (Pauses. Looks at his coffee.) All right.

  How could you not love George Costanza?

  Let’s go back to Jonathan Lucroy, because there is more to his story than what I’ve shared. I want you to hear the rest of it. Because the real story is not the decision Lucroy made in 2016; it’s the story behind that story. It’s the story of a man named Curt Flood.

  Curtis Charles Flood was born in Houston on January 18, 1938, but was raised in Oakland, California. He lived the dream of many young kids, playing professional baseball for fifteen years. He played for the St. Louis Cardinals in the 1960s, made three All-Star teams, won the Gold Glove for fielding for seven consecutive years, and batted over .300 for seven seasons. In 1964, he even led the National League in hits (211).

  Then, in 1969, the St. Louis Cardinals included Flood in a seven-player trade to the Philadelphia Phillies. But Curt Flood said, “No, thank you.” Flood didn’t think he should be treated like a commodity, so he refused. In doing this, Flood became one of the most controversial figures in sports. His refusal created a legal firestorm. The case was eventually heard in front of the US Supreme Court, and it caused an earthquake that shook professional baseball to the core. Flood’s courageous refusal to move challenged the status quo and created what is commonly known today as free agency.

  Here is why Flood’s decision was so controversial. At the time of Flood’s trade refusal, teams owned the rights to players, and players were beholden to the team for life—even if they had fulfilled their contractual obligations. Flood equated this ownership and lack of freedom to slavery, saying, “I do not feel I am a piece of property to be bought and sold irrespective of my wishes. I believe that any system which produces that result violates my basic rights as a citizen and is inconsistent with the laws of the United States.”4 Flood held to his deep beliefs and strong convictions even though it was costly for him. He sat out the entire 1970 season. He received hate mail, death threats, lawsuits, had an IRS lien placed on his mother’s home, and saw the bankruptcy of his business, Curt Flood Associates. Four years after Flood’s refusal, though, the courts ruled in favor of the players and this case became the lynchpin for securing the rights of players, leading to the start of the free agency system.

  Challenging the status quo is no walk in the park. Though few people have experienced the amount of resistance Curt Flood did, many have felt the collateral damage of challenging their boss on things that needed to change. And we know that there is a chasm between seeing a change that needs to be made and having the emotional intelligence to do it in a way that does not limit your career. Even a secure, healthy leader may bite back at you and respond defensively when he or she feels threatened by a challenge. How you handle this delicate issue matters. So why is it so difficult to challenge others well? I see three significant reasons.

  Challenge brings change, and change is inherently challenging.

  In The Leadership Challenge, Kouzes and Posner write, “Leaders must challenge the process precisely because any system will unconsciously conspire to maintain the status quo and prevent change.”5 Any challenge to the current system or process will require change, and the status quo resists change. In fact, healthy systems are often built with this in mind and are predictable in the midst of chaotic circumstances. And many systems can get quite good at withstanding challenges without changing. I’ve even noticed this about myself: the older I get, the more I resist change.

  One of the reasons this is true is that I really like the way I see the world. My friend Rodney is one of the pastors at our church, and he thinks all of us are addicted to the way we see the world. I think he’s right. It’s as if we’re intoxicated by the way we think, the way we do, the way we process. We are all attracted to opinions that validate the way we see life and we resist opinions that disagree with the way we see things. It’s why people are committed to CNN and opposed to Fox News . . . or the other way around. Hearing opinions that differ from the way I see things feels like rejection, which is why I resist change. Hearing that I have a need for change is a form of rejection. You’re telling me that something about me is wrong. It needs to go. And I don’t like that.

  There was a time in my life when change was the norm. I barely even noticed it or thought about it. This was also a time in my life when I didn’t have much to my name. During my college years, I still drove that twenty-year-old white Volvo 240 DL I had picked up in high school. It was a tank. When I left college and headed to graduate school, I could literally fit everything I owned inside that Volvo—a collection of clothes, books, and CDs—remember those? I didn’t own a bed, so I bought one at a garage sale when I arrived at seminary in Dallas. Now I’m in my midthirties, I live on a cul-de-sac, own a minivan, and my most beloved possession is the Charter Club 500-thread-count sheets on our king-size bed. I know what some of you are thinking: I’ve grown soft in my old age. Well, you’re right. I have. And so have my sheets.

  I bring all of that up because it’s worth tucking away in the back of your mind. Challenging someone is threatening because it calls for change. And no matter who you are, change is not easy. All of us are in search of the path of least resistance, and when we find it, we cling to it like a box of Little Debbies. There is nothing wrong with you because you want to challenge the way things are done. It’s quite normal for a leader to feel this drive. But there is nothing wrong with your boss either, just because she seems allergic to change. All of us have a sizeable magnet in us that pulls us toward the way things have always been done. Don’t forget that. Recently, I saw a bumper sticker that said, “There are two things I hate: Change and the way things are.” And your boss was driving the car.

  The more personally your boss relates to his job, the more personally your boss will take your challenge.

  Great leaders don’t get defensive. Put that on your bulletin board. Unfortunately, all of us have been defensive about something we’ve been challenged about. If you haven’t, it’s going to happen. Just know that. And the more passionate and invested you are in the topic or position being challenged, the more personally you take the challenge. If you were to challenge me about the way I organize the files on my computer, I would say to you, “Have at it, homie! Make yourself comfortable. Feel free to sit in the driver’s seat and go ‘Martha Stewart’ on my hard drive.” I don’t take the organization of my hard drive very personally because I’m not passionate about it. It’s a bit of a mess and I’m okay with it. I don’t really care all that much.

  But if you were to challenge the way I parent, or worse, the way my kids are behaving, I would instinctively and immediately, and mentally drop a pin on where I last saw my boxing gloves. I take parenting seriously. Hopefully my desire to learn and grow would kick in and help me listen to what you have to say, but your challenge would immediately put me on the defensive. It’s natural that the more personally we take something, the more personal we’ll be with anyone who challenges it.

  Great leaders don’t get defensive.

  Any change to the present system will be perceived as a criticism of past leadership.

  One of the challenges of changing jobs is watching what your successor does in yo
ur vacated position. If they come in with a baseball bat, taking a swing at everything you put in place, it’s difficult not to take offense to that. When you change something I put in place, it’s easy for me to think, “Who does he think he is? We’ll see how that goes, but I doubt it will work. I kind of hope it doesn’t work.” That’s gross, I know. It’s sinful, and I’m asking God to change this in my heart, but honesty is step one.

  When I stepped into the campus pastor role at Browns Bridge Church, I didn’t know what I was doing. That’s not false humility. That’s just honest truth. I had been in a youth pastor role for the previous five years and before that, I’d been in school for the last twenty years. I had a lot of head knowledge about the Bible and a lot of theories about doing ministry, but I had very little hands-on, practical experience. I was in that campus pastor role for about four years before I moved back to North Point, the original campus, to take a similar position there.

  About a year after I moved into the campus pastor role at North Point, an odd thing happened. Because there had been some significant transitions at Browns Bridge Church over the years, Andy Stanley—my boss—decided to step into the role as their campus pastor. This was the same role I had just held for the previous four years. Now, all of a sudden, my boss is doing my previous job. And he was making a lot of changes. Of course, I watched him make those changes, and I questioned everything I had done. Oh, that’s what I should’ve been doing? I thought. With every move he made, I felt more and more insecure as a leader. Every change felt like an indirect criticism of how I had been leading. Through much processing and inner dialogue, I came to the conclusion that every leader does what seems right to them in the moment. As easy as it was for his changes to feel like criticisms, I couldn’t let his changes be an indictment of what I had done.

  If I felt indirectly criticized by his changes, I’m guessing other leaders I’ve worked for could have felt indirectly criticized by changes I’ve made. When a leader is feeling criticized by change, it doesn’t mean they are a leader driven solely by insecurity. Just know and assume that most leaders struggle with feeling indirectly criticized by change. Put yourself in that position. Wouldn’t you perceive changes to a system you’ve put in place and led for years as a criticism of your past leadership? When you challenge what is, others perceive that as a criticism of who was. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t challenge. It just means you need to understand how it might feel to be challenged, and be sure to communicate with that in mind.

  Knowing that “challenging up” and raising questions about the status quo is difficult does not change the fact that you should do it when necessary. But it may change how you do it. It can inform your timing, the way you approach the topic and present your challenge, and the tone of your voice as you share. Don’t underestimate the power of awareness; it’s first aid for ignorance. Remember what G.I. Joe taught us in the eighties: “Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.”

  THE CHICK-FIL-A MILKSHAKE

  We all have our kryptonite—the thing that, without fail, has our number. For me it’s the milkshake. My favorite milkshake is from Ivanhoes in Upland, Indiana. As The Notorious B.I.G. said, “If you don’t know, now you know.” Upland is in the middle of nowhere, but if you’re ever near it, it’s worth stopping at Ivanhoes. Right up there on my list and slightly more accessible to most people would be the cookies and cream milkshake from Chick-fil-A. As a clergyman and resident of metro Atlanta, I have taken an oath to love Chick-fil-A until I die. But I don’t take that oath as an obligation. It’s an honor and a joy to carry. I really love everything about Chick-fil-A. Our church is better in so many ways simply because of our proximity to the headquarters of one of the most service-minded, open-handed, and successful organizations on planet earth.

  The bread-and-butter of this Monday through Saturday quick-service restaurant is the Chick-fil-A chicken sandwich, but their milkshake is one of the better milkshakes you’ll find. In 2008, just two years after it was launched, the milkshake was the highest rated product on their menu. But did you know that the Chick-fil-A milkshake almost didn’t come to be? It’s crazy, I know. The story of how it came about is a fantastic case study on the power of learning how to “challenge up.”

  Shane Todd was the pioneer of the Chick-fil-A milkshake. A product as significant and as successful as Chick-fil-A’s milkshake can never be credited to a single person. But if you were to ask most people in and around Chick-fil-A, they will gladly credit Shane as the key driver for the innovation and evolution of the milkshake. Shane is a franchise owner and operator in Athens, Georgia. If you’re not familiar with Chick-fil-A’s franchise model, I’ll give you a quick primer. Chick-fil-A uses an unusual, atypical franchise model for fast-food restaurants, where the corporate organization maintains ownership of the store. Because there is such direct corporate involvement, it leads to a healthy tension for someone like Shane. He is both an employee of Chick-fil-A and he has an ownership mindset for his own local store. As a leader, Shane is entrepreneurial, driven, and innovative. He’s not content with just managing a local restaurant but is constantly looking for new ideas in new markets to introduce at his local Chick-fil-A.

  Long before the milkshake was launched nationwide in the spring of 2006, customers were already asking for another dessert option. Shane’s own store was receiving multiple requests for milkshakes. The common thought at Chick-fil-A’s central office was that it would take too long for them to provide a quality product without slowing down the high-quality, quick service the store was committed to providing. According to Woody Faulk, who was the vice president of menu strategy at the time, the milkshake project had been going in circles at headquarters. Things were now at a standstill.

  Despite some red flags from the product development team, Shane began covertly testing a milkshake in his store. He was determined to prove to Woody Faulk and others that this was an offering they could make to improve customer satisfaction, and it could be done quickly. And so the great milkshake experiment began at his store in Athens, Georgia. Shane and his team personally bought the ingredients needed to transform the ice cream that Chick-fil-A was already serving into a quality milkshake that customers liked. After tinkering with the product and training his employees how to prepare it, the team in Athens discovered a creative way to serve a delicious tasting milkshake while keeping the order times short. With very little marketing, word of the milkshake began to spread throughout Athens. Within a few months, Shane’s store was selling hundreds of milkshakes every day. They had avoided setting off any major alarms at the corporate offices, and the Athens store had created an even greater need for a new product. It was clear that customers wanted milkshakes. And Shane’s team had proved it could be done.

  The “make-it-or-break-it” moment for Shane’s team came when Tim Tassopoulos, senior vice president of operations, decided to drop in to see what all the fuss was about. Tim was the decision maker. He could say yes or no to their little trial. But Shane was ready for Tim’s visit. Like an old western gun fast draw, Shane challenged Tim to make two diet cokes faster than he could make a milkshake. If Shane couldn’t make the milkshake fast enough, the trial was over. If he could, Tim would agree to allow the milkshake sales to continue. Guess who won?

  I had the opportunity to talk with both Shane and Woody about this experience, and I’ve summarized a few of the leadership lessons I gleaned from Shane’s attempt to challenge up the Chick-fil-A corporate hierarchy to see his milkshake vision become a reality at every restaurant.

  Great leaders challenge up with the best motives. Shane wasn’t innovating for innovation’s sake. In fact, he wasn’t all that concerned about getting credit for his innovation. His motive for wanting a milkshake on the menu was more altruistic: “At Chick-fil-A, we’re all about serving our customers. If a customer wants a milkshake, I was determined to figure out how to provide one, because I want to serve that customer.”

  Great leaders are keenly aware of w
hat the boss is most interested in. When possible, position your challenge as a step toward a greater solution for the macro-problem your boss is looking to solve. During this season, there was a massive customer service initiative by Chick-fil-A’s president, Dan Cathy, about what they were calling “second-mile service.” Instead of positioning the milkshake as a new product, Shane talked about the milkshake as a way to provide second-mile service to customers.

  Great leaders know what’s core and what’s peripheral. And they police themselves accordingly. Shane seemed well aware of the boundaries of new product development for Chick-fil-A. Shane prefaced our conversation by saying, “If this were a burger, we would have never tried it. We would try sweet potato fries, but we would never try a burger. That’s too far from our core offering. But because we already offered ice cream, this was just a derivation of what we were already providing our customers.”

  Great leaders challenge up quietly, but they are not silent. They know how, when, and with whom to communicate when trying something new. Woody Faulk was quick to compliment Shane on how well he communicated about the experiment he was trying. If Shane had told too many people, the pilot would have been shut down. If Shane had been completely silent, he would not have garnered the favor with key leaders that aided his project. In Woody’s words, Shane wasn’t silent, but he communicated like a submarine. Because of the great relationship Shane had built with Woody early in the process, Woody became an advocate and was able to play interference with some of the leaders within the organization who had doubts about the milkshake.