The Little Big Things

by Thomas J Peters

  I’m not suggesting false sincerity here, as I fully buy the argument that “If you aren’t sincere, it’ll come through as if you were using a megaphone.” I nonetheless urge you to develop some similar ritual. Moreover, I urge you to start it in the next couple of weeks, then get into the New Year’s Habit.

  Think ADRE. Twelve months a year!

  Flash!

  Flash!

  Flash!

  For immediate action!

  For immediate action!

  For immediate action!

  New Year’s resolution that works any day of the year!

  Call (C-A-L-L!) (NOT EMAIL!) 25 to 50 people … IN THE NEXT FIVE DAYS … to thank them for their support in the last 90 days or six months! Then, establish this, like Paulson, as a December 20 habit—25 to 50 calls in a three- or four-day period before Christmas.* **

  (*Trust me: This is fun!!)

  (**Trust me: This “works.”)

  (Two small addenda: [1] Of course, the person on the other end of the line will know what you’re up to; doesn’t matter—the fact that you made the effort is the big deal! [2] Call or, perhaps better yet, send a handwritten note. Not email—and that goes for twentysomethings as well as us old buggers.)

  Attitude

  37. Put the “Eye-Sparkle Factor” on Your Menu.

  Some people’s eyes have an engaging, infectious “sparkle.” Some don’t. Hire (only???) those who “have it.”

  Consider:

  I gave a lecture in Switzerland on “talent selection”—and the use of “unconventional” (emotional, mostly) measures for so doing. At a break I had an exchange with a youthful participant, who wondered aloud why I would go on and on and on … and then on … about the likes of “vivacity”:

  “Suppose you and I were opening the restaurant of our dreams,” I said to her. “We’d both put in $75,000 … effectively, our life’s savings. We were ‘betting the farm.’ We were dead certain we had a great idea, and we’d bargained our way into a very good location—and through our networking even lassoed a terrific chef. Now the time had come to hire ‘the others’—e.g., waiters and waitresses and busboys.

  “Numerous applicants had satisfactory ‘restaurant experience.’

  “But several didn’t.

  “One young woman/man in particular was a rank amateur—but had the most compelling ‘sparkle’ in her/his eye. The sort about which we Americans say ‘lit up the room.’ How would that ‘sparkle’ that ‘lit up the room’ rank in our hire-no hire consideration? Remember, we’ve bet our entire stake on the restaurant.”

  She reluctantly agreed, lesser Swiss emotionalism notwithstanding, that the “sparkle” pretty much ruled.

  In reality, the participant in question ran not a restaurant, but a 30-person unit in an IS/IT department. And my real goal was to urge her to think about how the “Eye-sparkle Factor” should play as big a role in IS/IT hiring decisions (or any field, for that matter) as it does in the hospitality industry! The fact is, most IS/IT projects fall way, way short of their potential—and in 9.8 out of 10 cases, they do so because of unenthusiastic users, not inferior software. Hence, as always, it is a “people thing,” a “sales thing,” a “soft skills thing” that derails even the most technical “internal” projects.

  Message: So-called soft factors—which are the true “hard factors”—rule! For scientists who must convince others to spend money to support their research. For IS/IT bosses who only succeed if users become enthusiasts. And for those “betting the farm” on the restaurant of their dreams. Maybe you don’t go so far as to take a pass on anyone with a less-than-overwhelming “eye-sparkle quotient,” but you damn well ought to consider it 100 percent of the time! (And for “big bosses,” insist that HR folks put these “soft factors” at the top of the quals list for every job!)

  38. Pleasant, Caring, Engaged—at 6 A.M.!

  There is a little bistro about 100 yards from my Boston house where you’ll find me at 6:00 A.M. sharp when I’m in the city. The coffee is good to great (and 100 times better than my own), the croissants a pure delight.

  And, yes, they open at 6:00 A.M.

  No small thing for an early riser.

  And coffee addict.

  But that’s not the point of this riff. Rather, I want to say a few words about a woman I dote on but whose name I don’t know. And the tragedy of her leaving me for good.

  Here’s the story:

  (1) While she worked at the bistro, she would come in about 4:00 A.M. each day to get things ready.

  (2) She appeared to be very efficient at what she did.

  (3) She lit up my life for a moment or two, no more, rain or snow, sleet or hail, gloomy or sunny, 90°F or–5°F.

  Her style would not be described as “chirpy.” (I’d guess she’s 45, an age by which chirpiness is highly suspect, by my lights.) But she seemed to enjoy what she did, and when we’d exchange a few pleasant sentences, she brought along a good (good, not “great”) attitude day in and day out.

  I emphasize “good but not great” because, at 6:00 A.M., I’m not looking for “Let’s go out and kick ass, guys.” I’m looking for solid and engaged and sociable-friendly and gettin’ the job done with everyday pleasure.

  Her solidness and spirit were just the tonic I needed—as much as the caffeine. And she provided it again and again and then again.

  She’s gone now. And I miss her terribly, and I didn’t know her name. That’s not all bad either, in a funny way. It’s not that “Mary’s gone—alas.” It’s that “this person” whose name I don’t know who, in a solid-quiet way, launched my days on a sound (not giddy) basis is not in situ anymore.

  Message to you as shop owner or office boss: Look for, desperately pursue, settle for nothing less than such folks—they are surely not a dime, or even a dollar, a dozen. But they are out there, and if you take the trouble to seek them out and show your occasional appreciation for what they do, Excellence, I predict, will be within your grasp. (And quite possibly a bushel of profit to go along with it.)

  The fact is, the workplace to a great extent is “where we live.” We need star accountants. Boffo saleswomen. Over-the-top creatives in marketing and new product development. And so on. But, since we’re effectively talking about “where we live,” we would in general benefit mightily—including on the P&L—if we insisted on, in 100 percent of positions:

  “Pleasant.”

  “Caring.”

  “Engaged.”

  So, let’s put this … Big Three … in the hiring practices manual. Let’s put the Big Three in every evaluation and in every promotion decision.

  Let’s get pleasant-caring-engaged people in every department. (Hint: If we look for “it” in accounting as much as in, say, sales and publicity, we’ll have gone a long way toward making … all-important … cross-functional coordination more or less automatic—yes, “automatic.”)

  Start now.

  39. Hire “Cheerful”— Or: That Damned AV Guy!

  Giving a seminar.

  Everything went wrong!

  Small sins.

  Big sins!

  Unprofessional!

  Unforgivable!

  And I was in a deservedly, as I saw it, foul, foul mood about it all. (No way to go into a speech.)

  And then I did my last stop before Showtime … my AV check.

  That damned AV guy!

  I was in a foul mood.

  I savored … self-righteously … my Foul Mood.

  That damned AV guy!

  He was in a Great Mood!

  Happy with the World!

  Humming!

  Can you believe it … HUMMING!

  And, in spite of the blackness of the thundercloud between my ears, my damned mood started to improve. We started joking about this or that, talkin’ shop, even laughin’ about the mess-ups, and in short order I was bordering on … CHEERFUL.

  You get the point, I’m sure: Despite one’s Very Best Efforts to Harbor a Grudge for Various Inj
ustices … another’s Cheerfulness acts as a Contagion!

  That damned AV guy.

  He saved my speech.

  He saved my neck.

  Cheerful people will do that.

  (Message I: HIRE CHEERFUL!)

  (Message II: Avoid-Dismiss FMCs … Foul Mood Carriers. THEY SCREW YOU UP! AND 100 PEOPLE WHO SURROUND THEM.)

  (Message III: All Hail “that damned AV guy”!)

  (Message IV: One “damned AV guy” can change the mood of a battalion!)

  40. Which “Flag” Are You Waving?

  I have some fear that you’ll read this and accuse me of playing “holier than thou.” Alas, I suppose I must say, “So be it.”

  I had gone into town to do some errands. On the way, I was delayed by a crew doing some roadside tree trimming. One lane of Vermont Route 30 was closed—and there was, naturally, a flagman at each end of the work area.

  As is my habit, I waved to the flagman—not some big full-body “Yo, my man,” just a little flick of the wrist. It ain’t a great job, and a dollop of recognition can’t hurt—right?

  The guy on the front end waved back—a similar flick of the wrist, and perhaps a little nod. But as I approached the other end, I almost cringed. The flagman there had as sour-grim an expression as I’ve seen in a long time. Not aggressively, attack-dog sour, just sour-sour. (Presumably you know what I mean.) I waved anyway, but as expected received no response whatsoever.

  Maybe Flagman #2 was fired from a two-hundred-thou-a-year job at Lehman. Maybe Walmart laid him off. Maybe his wife is pissed off at him. Maybe he has a nasty head cold. Any of those things is possible, or a hundred others—plus the job’s not exactly a major career step.

  Or is it?

  (More accurately, could it be?)

  I use a lot of quotes in my speeches; but the fact is that I commit very few to memory. But one that is etched indelibly into my synapses comes from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.:

  “If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”

  I’m sure there are multiple interpretations of this, and for a while I had a touch of trouble with the quote: Did it mean that our street sweeper should aspire to no more than street sweeping? I decided not necessarily. To my mind, the quote means that whatever you are doing at the moment for whatever reason can be (ought to be, per Dr. King) turned into a Work of High Art and Full-blown Commitment.

  I remember, on a visit to Rome at Easter a couple of years ago, racing at one point to catch a glimpse of a world-famous (!!-true) cop who stood in the center of a mid-city roundabout directing traffic with the same style-vigor-artistry with which Leonard Bernstein conducted a symphony orchestra or John Madden coached from the Oakland Raiders’ football sidelines.

  It’s a truism, as I see it, that a Flagman’s job, per Dr. King and our Grand Roman Traffic-circle Cop, could indeed be turned into High Art. Or at least the work could be performed with a positive-vigorous-engaged attitude.

  My sour flagman made me sad—mostly for him, but it also put a wee dent in my day. We are in the midst of difficult economic times. Some readers are doubtless doing something “less” than they were a couple of years ago—perhaps both their ego and wallet have been dented.

  But no one but no one but no one can rob you of your attitude. It’s all yours, and only yours, to shape and put on parade.

  Maybe tough times make it tough to sport a grin. But tough times are especially good times in their own fashion, the true measure of who we are, an opportunity (correct word), even a “golden opportunity,” to stand out for your Spirit & Determination & Engagement & Comradeship, and, yes, your Unswerving Commitment to EXCELLENCE in All You Do.

  Flagman, 7-Eleven clerk, or bank teller, there’s always a promotion right around the corner—or at least something close to a short-term employment guarantee—if you live by the words of Martin Luther King Jr. And if the Great Attitude is still not enough, at least you retain your self-respect—which is no small thing (in fact, is a Very Big Thing).

  The “bastids” can’t steal your attitude!

  (No matter how hard they may advertently or inadvertently try.)

  Your attitude is all yours!

  Are you Flagman #2?

  Or Dr. King’s street sweeper?

  Today?

  Right now?

  Performance

  41. It’s Showtime! All the Time!

  Joe Pine and Jim Gilmore gave us a great gift of a book. The Experience Economy: Work Is Theater & Every Business a Stage. Oh, how I love that title! As well as their Fundamental Hypothesis:

  “Experiences are as distinct from services as services are from goods.”

  (NB: “Experiences” are as distinct from “services” as services are from “goods”: A “service” is a … transaction … that gets the job done. An “experience” is/can be/should be a … “memorable moment” … no matter how apparently trivial—e.g., the receptionist greeting a Client with panache at 7:45 A.M.)

  Or, relative to you and me, courtesy David D’Alessandro’s unequivocal words in Career Warfare:

  “It’s always show time!”

  “Showtime” for me =

  Every speech!

  Every PowerPoint presentation!

  Every individual slide!

  Every CLIENT phone call!

  EVERY INTERCHANGE WITH A “FOURTH-LEVEL” CLIENT “ADMIN ASSISTANT” (who may make a negative—or positive!—comment to her boss’s boss—who signs my check!—about an off-the-cuff comment I hastily made).

  EVERY EMPLOYEE INTERACTION … especially when I’m stressed and/or grouchy.

  Every post at tompeters.com!

  Every tweet at Twitter!

  Every SEVEN-SECOND EYE CONTACT with someone who asks me to sign a book!

  And so on.

  And on.

  And on.

  Am I hopelessly uptight-demanding-ridiculous-absurd about all this?

  Absolutely.

  But no, too; “it” (being “on”) has become a way of life, as natural as breathing. (My wife says it takes me two or three days, after I’ve been on the road, to quit “preaching to 4,000 people.”)

  Is this “no way to live”?

  Hell, no!

  I am … Desperate to … Make a Difference!

  I hope you are, too.

  (That’s what leadership is all about!)

  (And “life,” too—remember “that damned AV guy.”)

  If you are indeed “desperate” to make your team a World Cup IS/IT winner, remember:

  It’s showtime … all the time.

  (Every interaction, like my life, is with a potentially vociferous ally—or foe or foot-dragger.)

  THIS TIME, IT’S “PERSONA”

  Successful performers, for good and (sometimes) for ill, know how to play a role. They don a “persona”—a mask of leadership (for the Greeks, it literally was a mask) that commands others to follow.

  Case #1: In the winter of 1776, the Continental Army was on its last legs. The British went to General George Washington’s HQ in Cambridge, Massachusetts, to ask for his surrender. They confronted a man who presented himself in every way as a serious commander in chief. Bearing. Grace. Decisiveness. Uniform design. Horse. Horse’s livery. It was 98 percent Dress-for-Success and Theater and Great Design that sent the British away believing they confronted a Formidable Foe—not a ragtag band of ill-equipped farmers itching to go home, and with no legal ties that prevented them from so doing.

  Case #2: No one, experts report to a man, has more carefully crafted every aspect of his persona than the unlikely 44th President of the United States of America … Barack Obama. Talk about Insanely Great Design! (It may not all be to your liking—but he parlayed it into White House residence, no mean feat!)

 
; Case #3: And then there’s Bernie Madoff. If you’re sane, you think he’s a horrid human. Nonetheless, one stands in awe of his ability to bilk so many truly brilliant people for so long—make no mistake, it was a product of a very carefully concocted persona acted out without let-up or slip-up for decades. Talk about a design story with punch! Talk about “It’s always showtime!”

  42. Work (Like a Demon) on Your First Impressions.

  First impressions are your and my personal-career keys, and the keys to the likes of a company’s customer service report card. We both get that. (Of course.) And yet … I feel quite sure that we need Constant Reminding, reminding not just of the Power of First Impressions, but that there is a full-blown … Science and Art of the Construction and Execution and Maintenance of Fantastic Beginnings.

  For example, my wife rags on me semiconstantly for not looking people directly in the eye when I’m introduced. At first, I thought she was nuts, especially as I get paid sometimes to attend post-speech “G & G” (Grip and Grin) sessions with Client execs or top salespeople or key customers. But after a short course of self-observation, I belatedly had to admit that she’s mostly right—I think it’s my soul-deep shyness. (No baloney; a lot of people who sparkle at a podium are withdrawn in more intimate settings—and vice versa.) Upshot: At age 67 I’m working on that eye contact—and conscious work it is, but well worth it.

  Back to the overall issue. Fox News über-spin doctor Roger Ailes claims that I/you/we all have … 7 seconds … to make a first impression. And he gives us this advice: