Business Stripped Bare

by Richard Branson

  After all, we only live once, and most of our time is spent at work, so it's vital that we are allowed to feel good about what we do. Throwing yourself into a job you enjoy is one of life's greatest pleasures – but it's one that some leaders of industry seem determined to stamp out at all costs.

  Enjoyment at work begins where all other enjoyments begin: in good health. I write this with no small twinge of conscience, as I do get unfit from time to time. Week after week goes by and I hardly seem to leave the air or airports. I think of Nelson Mandela: during his years in captivity, he kept himself fit with press-ups and sit-ups. He kept his brain alive with a daily routine of exercises. Recently I spent about four months travelling back and forth to Australia, and I could have done with some of Mandela's spirit. I think I only managed an hour's surfing during a one-night stop-off in Bali; at least the buzz from that kept me going for days.

  There is no denying, it's easier to stay fit in pleasant surroundings. Our Virgin health clubs make the experience as pleasant as possible, but it's a lot easier to spend an hour chasing rays in the shallows off Necker than it is to slog up and down in a swimming pool. Still, exercise is a bullet worth biting, whatever your surroundings and whatever the pressures of the day. The more energy we can bring to our working days, the better.

  It's important, if you see someone overdoing it, to say, 'Go on a holiday.' If someone has lost a family member, let them take as much time off as they need. There's no point in having people working under unmanageable stress. You've got to give people time to mend. It's the decent thing to do, it makes practical sense and, when you're in the kind of business we're in, it may even, one day, save a life. Remember, we run airlines. We run train companies. We take people's money and in return we hurtle them about the globe at hundreds of miles an hour. Our chief engineers need to ensure that their engineers are contented, fulfilled and enjoying their work. This is the only surefire method we know of inculcating a culture of safety and routine excellence – and Virgin's safety record is, as a result, second to none.

  While we're on the subject, I might as well mention another one of our safety measures. You've probably noticed that all our trains and planes have names. By giving these huge, powerful, potentially lethal machines names, we help our people remember where they were working yesterday, or last week, or last month. We help them recall specific problems and gripes with individual engines, coaches or aisles. We make communication easier. People don't have to reach for their diaries every time they're asked about some niggling detail. We never forget that our engineers and flight crew are people, and we'd much sooner personalise our machinery than mechanise our staff.

  I find it extraordinary that so many managers pay no attention to the fabric of their workplaces. How are people supposed to believe in your company when all they see of it, day after day, is a couple of dying pot plants and a fire extinguisher? At Virgin, we give people the tools they need to do their job properly. How else are they ever going to feel pride in where they work? Virgin people have told me that at the end of a tiring day, when they are off duty, having a drink in the pub, or a meal, they're occasionally asked where they work. When they say, 'With Virgin,' the enquirer usually replies, 'Lucky you! That must be a great place to work.'

  Our staff usually agree.

  For many of our companies, the work environment is also public space. On our planes, for example, we make sure that our seats are the most comfortable in the air, the food is excellent, the uniforms are the best and the planes are modern, safe and efficient. On board a plane, customer service and staff satisfaction are pretty much the same issue. They should be handled as one.

  But a concern for surroundings is part of the general Virgin philosophy. It runs through all of our businesses, whether or not they deal directly with the public. We're not talking about glitz or vast expense. We're talking about providing people with the right tools for the job. Do that, and your employees will approach every day with freshness and enthusiasm. If you file and forget them in some kind of stationery museum, the keenest heart will wilt.

  It occurs to me that so far in this chapter, I've been giving you a lot of 'don'ts'. Don't micromanage. Don't ignore people's needs. There's a better way of looking at the manager's role, and I can best express it by telling you about the first time I met Gordon McCallum.

  Virgin Atlantic's inaugural flight landed in San Francisco in 1996. As we celebrated, I was buttonholed by an extremely vivacious Irish marketing executive who worked for McKinsey & Co. She invited me to talk to a group of the company's analysts and consultants at their California Street offices.

  McKinsey's consultants spend most of the working week in the offices of their client companies. As a consequence, they don't get much time with each other. So they have made Friday lunchtime their chance to get together: a bonding session over a brown-bag lunch of chicken-mayo subs and fruit juices. Usually, they have a guest to talk about business. Now it was my turn. I got my invitation on the Wednesday; I turned up on the Friday.

  Was I prepared? I was not. I cannot for the life of me remember what I said. Whatever it was, though, Gordon made the effort to keep in touch. Years later, I asked him what I said at the meeting that had hit a nerve with the McKinsey people.

  'No idea.'

  'Really?'

  'Not a clue.'

  'So why did you stay in touch?'

  Gordon shrugged. 'You turned up with a sandwich and a fruit juice,' he said. 'You made time for us.'

  When I was twenty-one, someone described Virgin as an 'unprofessional professional organisation', which for my money is just about the best backhanded compliment anyone in business could ever receive. We run our companies professionally and we make sure that everyone does their job to the highest standards. But the way we make sure is to see that people are having fun. Fun is not about acting stupid. It's the feeling you get when you're on top of things. We try to make sure that the people who come into contact with a Virgin business end up with a smile on their face (not always easy).

  Formality has its place when it simplifies things: when it lets people know what's going on and what to do. We can't be continually reinventing the wheel every time three people meet in a room. That said, I dislike formality. For every time it oils the wheels of business, I can point to fifty more occasions when it gummed things up, made people feel miserable and stifled communication. It says something about the state of business when people are surprised that I walk into a room and eat a sandwich with them.

  The best Virgin manager is someone who cares about people and who is genuinely interested and wants to bring out the best in them. A manager should basically be a considerate person who is as interested in the switchboard operator and the person who cleans the lavatories as he or she is in the fellow managers. In my view, a boss who is willing to party with all of their people – and pay attention to their personal concerns – has the makings of a great leader.

  They will earn their colleagues' loyalty and trust, for a start. But just as important, they will make friends. Remember what I said earlier, about business being, first and foremost, about concern? Business is not something you can stand away from. So it hardly surprises me that, over the years, I've befriended the people I've worked with, and found business to do with my friends.

  It saddens me how rare it is that people want to go on holiday with the people they work with. When I work with people, I really want to get to know them personally. I want to meet their families, their children, I want to know their weaknesses and their strengths, and above all I want them to know mine. That way, we can do more together.

  It can go wrong. I remember there was one situation many, many years ago when a very close friend came to run a division of Virgin. We were both so happy about it. Then, a little while later, his life was thrown into turmoil and some of the other managers were coming to me to say that he wasn't working out. I had to persuade him that he was trying to deal with too much and that he should step down. It was a real
ly difficult moment, and it put a massive strain on our friendship. But the fact is we were friends, we dealt with the problem the way friends do, and we stayed close. Attending the twenty-first birthday of his triplets, I felt thankful that, at Virgin, we had found a way to factor friendship and decency into our internal dealings, which had saved this friendship. I know it makes us happier; and I believe strongly that it benefits our work.

  Across the whole Virgin Group, we encourage people to take ownership of the issues that they confront in their working lives. In a service-led industry especially, this kind of attitude pays huge dividends. I think if people are properly and regularly recognised for their initiative, then the business has to flourish. Why? Because it's their business; an extension of their personality. They have a stake in its success.

  Herb Kelleher of Southwest Airlines in the US once said: 'It's difficult to change someone's attitude – so hire for attitude and train for skill.' I've talked a little bit about what I look for in people, but there's one key quality I haven't mentioned yet, and this might surprise some people: it's discipline.

  In his book Good to Great, the business guru Jim Collins says all companies have a culture but few have 'a culture of discipline'. This doesn't mean that people are tied to a tree and whipped if they don't work well, or have their wages docked if they're five minutes late. It's not that kind of discipline I'm talking about. It is to do with having disciplined people. And we have disciplined people right across our Virgin businesses. After all, if you're going to let people get on with and even develop their jobs, you need people you can trust.

  Some people are a bit startled when I sing the praises of self-discipline, and I think it's because they associate self-discipline with formality, with rigid thinking – with a slave-like, machine-like devotion to duty.

  They have in mind an airline pilot. The pilot sits down in the cockpit surrounded by an array of complicated computers and gauges. Step by step, the pilot and his co-pilot begin their preflight checks. It is disciplined and methodical. Then, before take-off, the pilot speaks to air traffic control, and, following precise instructions, proceeds to the runway. The pilot then waits to be cleared for takeoff, keeping in contact with the control tower. After approval, the pilot decides how the plane should take off. Once airborne, the pilot does everything needed to keep the aircraft, passengers and crew safe and then, when it approaches its destination, brings the aircraft down – often in foul conditions – into the airport. The pilot operates with great discipline within a very strict and highly regulated system. Pilots are not expected to be creative or entrepreneurial. They mustn't do anything out of the ordinary. Right?

  Well, not quite.

  It's 5 November 1997. Bonfire Night – when people in the UK traditionally have bonfires and firework parties. At Heathrow, staff are awaiting the arrival of Virgin Atlantic's A340-300 Airbus, Maiden Tokyo, from Los Angeles. I'm here waiting to board a flight to Boston on this windy and blustery morning when I get the call. Only one set of wheels had dropped down from the landing gear of Flight VS024.

  Maiden Tokyo is coming in for an emergency landing.

  At the helm is Captain Tim Barnby – a very modest person and one of the best and most experienced pilots in the UK. On board are 114 people – 98 passengers and 16 crew. I'm listening in on my mobile, keeping my mouth firmly shut as the operations crew and Tim run through their options. It doesn't sound good. A four-engined Airbus landing on one set of wheels in strong crosswinds has all the makings of a major incident.

  Tim can't see if the landing gear is down or not so he flies the plane low over the tower of air traffic control to help them visually assess the situation. It just gets worse and worse: not only are the left set of wheels not down – the undercarriage door hasn't opened, either.

  Four people now stand between a plane full of people and disaster: Tim, and his two co-pilots, Andrew Morley and Craig Matheson – and our own chief pilot Robin Cox on the ground talking them in.

  Tim and his colleagues brought the plane down the runway on one set of wheels. Then right at the end of the runway, he gently dropped the wing on to the ground. Fire crews sprayed the plane with foam and passengers used the emergency chutes to get out on to the tarmac. Nine people were treated for minor injuries but all the passengers got off safely. And the plane? Tim landed it so gently, so carefully, that a month later it was back in the air.

  I use this example because it is more dramatic, but the lesson I want to draw from it could just as well apply to a train driver, a customer-service operator, or indeed anyone throughout our business. A self-disciplined employee will have the patience to conduct routine business routinely, the talent to respond exceptionally to exceptional circumstances, and the wisdom to know the difference between the two. In some settings, this is easy to do. For airline pilots, it is incredibly, even crushingly difficult. Pilots operate according to a strict framework, but they cannot afford this strict routine to dull their senses or flatten their reactions.

  After the emergency landing, I invited Tim and the whole crew to Necker, our private island in the British Virgin Islands, to say thank you. I'm pretty sure they had a good time, and I'm pretty sure that working for Virgin is more rewarding than flying for other carriers. In the end, though, we can only rely on Tim and pilots like him to look after themselves: to handle the tedium of routine long-haul flying and still be able to react brilliantly when things pack in around them.

  For Virgin, it is fundamentally important to give people with the right temperament the freedom and responsibility to do their jobs properly – and Bonfire Night 1997 confirmed our decision only ever to hire the best pilots we could find.

  Virgin Atlantic doesn't take on pilots from scratch. We make sure that they have a long track record of experience in military or commercial flying – often up to ten years' flying with a short-haul airline. Tim's CV is longer than most: among the planes he's flown are Spitfires and B17 bombers. We don't require that all our flight crew are Britain's number-one leading aerobatical display pilot in their spare time – but it helps! It's also one reason why we are now able to recruit spaceship pilots from Virgin Atlantic and Virgin America and so easily find the test piloting and supersonic experience that we need for the unique Virgin Galactic mission.

  When I started Virgin Atlantic Airways I appointed as our chief executive Roy Gardner, who had been chief engineer at British Caledonian, a highly respected airline. This emphasised our commitment to having someone at the helm who knew about the planes and was committed to safety. And at the time of writing this (I am never complacent because I understand the nature of mass transportation) Virgin Atlantic and all our other airlines have been in operation for twenty-five years without a major incident and without loss of life. I (like all involved in running an airline) hope I have another twenty-five years of being able to say the same thing.

  Remembering who you are: it's the biggest challenge an expanding business ever has to face. Virgin Atlantic is now a quarter of a century old and has worked hard to keep its original essence. I recall at the time, looking around on the very first day, wondering if we would ever be able to keep this up – all this enthusiasm, all this laughter. I wondered if we'd get the chance to be truly different.

  Then I remembered Herb Kelleher.

  Herb set up Southwest Airlines in Texas in the 1970s, and for nearly forty years his airline has set the benchmark for successful no-frills aviation in the United States. Southwest built its business around two innovations: low fares, and outstanding customer service. Considering the woeful record of many of America's other airlines, this has always impressed me. Looking back, I think Kelleher's thinking made a big difference to how we approached things at our airlines, and particularly in Australia with Virgin Blue.

  From day one, Herb and his executive colleague Colleen Barrett focused on developing the company's culture – a way of doing things that would sustain its founding values as the years went by.

  We've already m
et Herb's dictum about hiring for attitude and training for skill. His other 'primary attitudes' are also Virgin's and my attitudes, through and through:

  1. Employees are number one. The way you treat your employees is the way they will treat your customers.

  2. Think small to grow big.

  3. Manage in the good times for the bad times.

  4. Irreverence is OK.

  5. It's OK to be yourself.