Turnaround

Desert Mountain Sports was an underperforming medium-sized company trying its best, it seemed, to become a small one. As the sporting goods market was consolidating—something Brian was all too familiar with—few suitors were lining up to acquire the Reno-based chain. The only offers the DMS board had received were embarrassingly low.

As Rick Simpson became more and more frustrated at his inability to generate interest in DMS, he came to the conclusion that the company needed to be cleaned up before it would be attractive. “Let's put some lipstick on this pig,” he said on more than one occasion, eliciting a pained laugh from his clients.

Though Brian had done significantly more research on DMS than he had before joining Gene and Joe's, no amount of diligence can prepare an incoming CEO for reality. There is just something about becoming an insider that brings with it a whole new perspective.

At his first board meeting, Brian learned that the headcount at the company's Reno headquarters was larger than he had been led to believe. Rather than the thirty-five he had expected, there were actually fifty-five people sitting in the glass building with a view of the city below. “I don't want to jump to any conclusions,” Brian explained to the board that day, “but it seems a little excessive to me that we have twice as many employees here at headquarters as we do stores.”

Heads around the table nodded agreement, as though they had not been part of the oversight, or lack thereof, that had created the problem in the first place.

But a closer look into the financials convinced Brian that cutting or moving jobs was not going to solve the company's problems. Brian had to find a way to increase revenue before he could persuade potential investors to lift a hand. If that didn't happen, all those jobs were bound to be cut anyway, by whomever was willing to take on the lethargic company.

After a series of meetings with his new staff and various senior employees, Brian learned why Rick had recommended the job to him in the first place, aside from the company's proximity to Lake Tahoe.

First, it had a customer service problem. An outside research firm hired by the board had found that Desert Mountain ranked eighth out of eleven sporting goods companies in the western part of the country. Second, and certainly related to the customer issue, it had a problem with employees. Too many were quitting, and the ones who stayed were either unmotivated or untrained.

That news would have been depressing to most CEOs, but to Brian, it was music to his ears.

Recon

After a series of meetings with his direct reports and other staff members at headquarters, Brian eagerly boarded a plane—his first since retiring—for a visit to a few of his largest stores, scattered around the West. Though he valued market research, he wanted to go out and verify that what he had been told was accurate and complete.

Brian was most eager to meet store managers, referred to as GMs, so he could begin thinking about implementing a program similar to the one he'd set up at the restaurant. But what he encountered would make that more difficult than he had imagined.

Ironically, the quality of the half dozen GMs he met greatly exceeded his expectations. At least on paper. They were all college-educated, professional, and had fairly impressive backgrounds. It was their level of enthusiasm that disturbed him.

Though they tried to put on their best face for the new CEO, most of the GMs were fairly open about their levels of frustration and burnout. Unsurprisingly, the employees who worked for them were just as unmotivated, if not more so.

Finding good employees to staff those stores was one of the biggest complaints that Brian heard from the GMs. The guy who ran the Boise store explained the prevailing wisdom best. “It's just hard to find a capable young person—or a retired one either—who is willing to work for ten bucks an hour these days. Either they don't need the money, or they need to make a lot more of it to support their family.” He paused. “Or they aren't smart enough to work a cash register.”

Another GM, this one in Reno, explained her dilemma. “I spend so much of my time recruiting and hiring, and then as soon as I think I'm all set, someone else leaves and I'm back out there working the register again. Between that and all the weekly reports I'm doing, I have no time to think about sales and marketing. I'm just keeping my head above water.”

When Brian asked the GMs why employees were leaving, the answers he received were vague and unconvincing. The Reno GM blamed low pay, though Brian later learned that competitors were paying wages no higher than Desert Mountain, and sometimes lower. The Eugene GM claimed that there wasn't enough opportunity for career advancement. Still another, in Las Vegas, lamented that the school system just wasn't producing enough qualified young people.

Brian wasn't buying any of it. While it was true that some of DMS's competitors had similar turnover problems, others didn't. And those that didn't, as Brian had expected, tended to be the best financial performers.

During his trip, Brian spent hours with each GM, and plenty of time walking the floors of their stores talking to employees. And he personally surveyed more than a handful of customers as they were leaving each of the stores he visited. Wanting to separate problems unique to DMS from those in the industry at large, Brian also stopped by as many of his competitors' stores as possible, and he spoke to their customers too.

By the time he returned from his whirlwind trip, Brian began formulating a plan for what he would do to revive his struggling company. Unsurprisingly, much of his plan was centered around what he had done at the restaurant, which caused him more than a little concern.

Home Front

When her husband came home from the airport, Leslie was up waiting for him. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

Before Brian could say hello, she blurted out: “Lynne got the internship in Tahoe! She's going to be staying with us through the summer!”

Suddenly, any of Brian's concerns about work were gone. Not only was he ecstatic about the thought of having his daughter home for the spring, he was relieved to know that his wife would have company if he needed to travel.

And what Leslie said to him next would give him the confidence that he needed. “And you know why she took the Tahoe job, don't you?”

Brian looked confused. “Well, I'm guessing it had something to do with us living up here.”

Leslie shook her head. “Not really. I'm sure that didn't hurt, but it was the way she compared the various offers she received.”

Still, Brian seemed confused, so his wife stopped being coy.

“Basically, she assessed how they stacked up against relevance and measurement and the anonymity thing. Not exactly in those words, but that's basically how she explained it to me.”

Though he did his best to hide it, Brian was blown away by the fact that his daughter had remembered his theory after so little explanation from him. He was also more than a little pleased that she had used it to avoid finding herself in a miserable job.

After he and Leslie finished figuring out which bedroom their daughter would use, and what they would need to do to prepare for her arrival, Leslie shifted her focus back to Brian.

“So, tell me about your trip.”

Brian told her about the GMs, the employees, the stores, the customers. He was strangely subdued.

“What's wrong?” Leslie asked.

“I don't know. I'm just a little worried about something.”

“At work?”

“Yeah. It's the whole job misery thing.”

“What's the problem?”

“I don't know. I guess I'm kind of worried that I'm going to be force-fitting my theory where it doesn't belong.”

Leslie frowned. “I don't get it.”

“You know that saying, ‘When your only tool is a hammer, everything looks like a nail’?”

She nodded.

“Maybe the theory isn't for everyone. Maybe I'm seeing too many nails.”

Leslie thought about it. “I don't think so. No way.”

“You sound pretty sure.”

“I'm certain. Come on, Brian. Why in the world wouldn't it apply to a sporting goods store? Or any other kind of company, for that matter? And why would any human being be immune to those things? I don't care if you're the Queen of England or a rock star, if you can't measure what you're doing, if you don't think it matters to anyone, and if you feel like no one is interested in who you are, you're going to be miserable at work.”

Brian squinted. “You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“Well, even if I didn't believe it I'd probably say it just to make you feel better.” She smiled. “But in this case, no. I'm convinced. And you should be too.”

Leslie could see that her husband was listening to her. “Now let's go to bed. We've got to get up early and go snowmobiling.”

Drive By

Late Saturday afternoon, Brian couldn't wait to get down to the restaurant. Which, in itself, amazed him.

As he explained to Leslie on the way home from snowmobiling, “I can't believe that I'm so excited about seeing everyone at Gene and Joe's. Who'd have thought?”

Leslie raised her hand. “I would have. It doesn't surprise me a bit.”

“You mean you could have guessed that I'd be doing this? Come on.”

“No, I'm still shocked that you took a job at a restaurant. What doesn't surprise me is how much you like the people there.”

“Really?”

“Really. That's what I love about you.”

“Well, I hope you still love that about me when I come home late tonight.”

By the time Brian arrived at Gene and Joe's, everyone there was preparing to open the place. Though it had been just a week since his last time in the restaurant, the staff greeted him like it had been months.

As much as he enjoyed the informal interchange with the crew, Brian couldn't wait to hear how things were going with the business. He started by sitting down with Joe.

“So, how's everything working out? You're not going to quit on me, are you?”

“You think I'd be wearing this T-shirt if I were going to quit?”

They laughed.

“Things are going pretty well. I've had a few moments here and there, but I'm sticking to the whole measurement thing, and getting used to the fact that my customers are these knuckleheads who work here.” Though the words he used were the same, Brian was certain that Joe now meant it in a largely affectionate way.

When asked specifically about how he was taking a greater interest in his employees as people, Joe seemed a little frustrated. “To be honest, it's harder than I thought.”

Brian braced himself for a feeble excuse but was pleasantly surprised when Joe explained.

“They're all so interested in one another that it's hard for me to break in. Between Joleen and Patty and Migo giving people advice and attention, I'm really not sure they need any of it from me.”

Brian assured Joe that they did and encouraged him to keep trying. He was relieved, and admittedly surprised, to know that his former employees were taking it on themselves to create a culture that would probably survive even if Joe struggled to catch on right away.

Brian went on to talk to various members of the crew, mainly to find out how their measurements were going and what was new in their lives. He decided to spend most of his time, though, with Migo.

“How's Joe doing?” Brian asked pointedly.

Migo hesitated, as though he were being asked to rat out a superior.

Brian clarified. “It's okay to tell me, Migo. This is so I can help him, and you. You're not doing anything wrong by talking to me about this.”

A little more relaxed now, Migo explained. “He's kind of different than he was before. He's working harder, and pushing everyone around the measurement stuff, and being a little nicer and more involved with people.”

Brian was glad to hear that. “How about with you? Is he spending any time teaching you the business?”

Migo initially nodded, though Brian could see he was uncertain. “Yeah, he tries to give me advice here and there.”

Brian hadn't yet explained his plans for Migo, but decided this was as good a time as any. “So are you going to be ready to be the manager of this place in a few months?”

A look of mild surprise came across Migo's face. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

Migo shrugged. “I don't know.” He paused. “Do you think so?”

Brian nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

Later in the evening, as the crowd dwindled and the restaurant got more under control, Brian took Migo for a drive. They went to the Mountain Express, the place where Leslie and Brian had gone after his first night at Gene and Joe's.

Before going inside, Brian asked Migo to observe as much as he could, both good and bad, about the way the restaurant was run.

For the next ninety minutes, they watched, ate pie, drank coffee, and talked. And took notes about everything: the configuration of the restaurant, the way the food was presented, the menu, the processing of credit cards. And of course, the service.

Most of what he saw at the restaurant was pretty good, Migo said, but he went on to point out a few areas where improvements were necessary. Brian found these observations interesting and perceptive, but what he really wanted to see was whether Migo was curious about what was going on and holistic enough in his thinking to see the business beyond the details. On both counts, it was clear to Brian that Migo was on track.

Then Brian asked a question that Migo hadn't expected, but that was important for him to consider. “How do you feel about managing your manager?”

Migo didn't seem to understand. “You mean Joe?”

Brian nodded and explained. “I don't mean manage him as an employee. I mean, manage his behavior. You're going to have to guide him a little, keep him focused on the right things. And that means you might have to challenge him sometimes.” Brian wasn't looking for an answer from Migo, so he continued. “The thing you have to realize about Joe is that he'll let you do pretty much anything you think needs to be done—as long as you're confident and he believes it will help the restaurant. You just can't be intimidated by him because he's the owner.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, Brian and Migo left Mountain Express and drove back to Gene and Joe's, which was already closed down. They went inside, and sat down in the empty dining room.

“So, what do you think?” Brian asked.

“About what?”

“About managing this place.”

Migo looked around for a few long seconds. “I think I could do it.”

The smile on his face told Brian that he meant it. Both of them would look back on that night as a crucial moment for the restaurant, as well as for Migo personally. For Brian, it would alleviate some of his guilt for having to shift even more of his focus to Desert Mountain.

The Report

On Tuesday morning, Brian called a special meeting of his direct reports to give them his assessment of what he had learned during his trip. At ten o'clock, almost the entire executive team was seated around the table in the company's main conference room: the CFO, two of the three regional vice presidents responsible for the stores, and the VPs in charge of customer service, merchandising, and human resources.

Even though this was just his third time with the group—and his first opportunity to really run a meeting—Brian decided to go for broke.

“I'm a believer that first impressions are sometimes your best ones. And so, after spending most of last week out in the field, and having quite a few in-depth conversations with all of you, I thought I should tell you what I think I see out there as soon as possible, before I get completely acclimated here and lose my sense of perspective.”

The executives seemed a little less curious than Brian would have liked.

“Please challenge me or ask me questions. My observations and conclusions are based on conversations I had with six GMs, a few dozen employees, and about that many customers. I don't know that everything I'm about to say is correct.” He paused. “But I'm guessing it's pretty close.”

At that moment, the third regional VP came in, apparently unconcerned about being late. Rather than address the issue there, Brian decided to simply acknowledge him—“good morning, Rob”—to let him know he noticed his entrance. Then he dove in.

“Okay, let me start with a few of the things that surprised me. First, the GMs I met were more,” he paused, searching for the right word, “qualified than I had anticipated. They're experienced. They know their products. And they're pretty good financially.”

Some of the executives in the room nodded their heads, but most seemed surprised by the assessment. Finally, one of the regional guys, a short, muscular guy named Lou, spoke up. “I guess you didn't visit any of my stores.”

The rest of the room chuckled. Brian smiled politely and continued.

“The other thing that surprised me was the quality of our competitors. Or I should say, lack of quality. Given the amount of market share they've been taking from us, and their better financial performance, I was expecting their stores to be bigger and nicer than ours, and their product selection to be greater. But that wasn't the case at all.”

The men and women in the room seemed unsure about whether they should be proud or ashamed.

“What I wasn't surprised by, given the reports I've seen and the conversations I've had with you all, was the,” again, he chose his word carefully, “behavior of the employees in many of our stores. As some of you told me, they seemed generally passive and uninformed.”

“Maybe you did visit my stores.” It was Lou again, but this time it prompted a heartier laugh, even from Brian.

“And so, the conclusion I've come to is that Desert Mountain Sports has a management problem.”

Heads around the table nodded at the generic term. They wouldn't be nodding for long.

“That means we've got some training to do.” Brian waited for a reaction.

After an awkward pause, his CFO, a well-dressed woman in her late forties, raised her hand but started speaking immediately. “I don't know if you're aware of the fact that we did a ton of manager training for GMs last year. And you said yourself, the GMs know their businesses. I spent two days with them myself explaining pricing and cost accounting, and they're doing well.”

Brian didn't want to discourage dissent by disagreeing too quickly. He paused, hoping that someone else might have something to say.

The head of human resources raised her hand and waited for Brian to acknowledge her. “Yes, Suzanne?”

“Six months ago we did a comprehensive training program, part classroom and part online. We covered performance reviews, effective communication, and interviewing. Every GM went through it, and I just don't know that they're going to get a whole lot better with more training.”

She hesitated before continuing. “I think we just have an employment problem. There's a shortage of good people out there. Recruiting is a nightmare.”

Brian waited for her to finish, and took a moment to think about what he was going to say. “Suzanne, I'm going to have to disagree with you. I don't think that we have a shortage of good people.”

She gently challenged him. “But you said just a minute ago that the quality of our employees was poor.”

“No,” he explained. “I said their behavior was poor. The people we're hiring are fine. They're no different from our competitors' employees.”

Most of the executives at the table seemed confused, and Brian felt them collectively wondering if he knew what he was talking about.

“They're just not being managed well. And that's because their managers aren't being managed well.”

It took the group of executives a moment to realize that he was talking about them.

The third regional vice president, a man about the same age as Brian, spoke first. “Excuse me, Brian. I don't want to sound defensive, but you did say you wanted us to challenge you if we thought you were wrong about something.”

Brian nodded. “Absolutely. Fire away, Frank.”

“Okay, it just seems like you're coming to some pretty specific conclusions after relatively little time with the company. Can you really have a high degree of confidence, after just nine days on the job, that we're bad at managing our people?”

Brian shook his head. “No, I can't, Frank. But my confidence is not based solely on my observations of DMS over the past two weeks. It's based on the fact that the vast majority of companies out there are really bad at management. And I don't need to spend six months pumping up soccer balls in Vegas or selling shoes in Eugene to verify that we are too. Our GMs out there are just as lost and miserable as their employees are.”

The room took a moment to digest the new CEO's stark but compelling sermon.

“So what do you want us to do?” It was Rob.

“I want you to go through management training.”

Brian wasn't at all surprised to see a few of his staff members roll their eyes.

The head of merchandising, a big guy named Spencer, spoke for the first time. “I don't know when we're going to be able to do any training before the end of the quarter. I mean, we've got trade shows next week and an Asian purchasing trip to get ready for next month.”

Kelly, the CFO, joined in. “And we're going to be pushed to get the books closed on time. This is a crazy time of year, Brian.”

Suzanne then asked, “When do you want to have this done by?”

Brian looked at his watch. “How about before lunch?

Teaching to Fish

For the next twenty minutes, Brian laid out his theory about job misery. He started with anonymity this time, then covered irrelevance, and finally, immeasurement. When he was finished, he had plenty of questions to answer and resistance to overcome.

Spencer went first, in a slightly sarcastic tone. “Let me get this straight. You're saying that we have to get to know our GMs better as people, tell them that they make a difference in someone's life, and then hold their hands while they come up with a way to measure their success?”

Brian laughed. “Well, you make it sound a little more preschoolish than I was thinking, but yeah, that's pretty much it.”

The rest of the room was stunned. Brian verbalized what they were thinking.

“So, at this point you're all wondering where the board of directors found me, and how long it's going to take you to find another job.”

The room laughed louder than Brian thought they would, which he attributed to the accuracy of his statement. As humorous as it was, it was also a little disconcerting. Brian decided he had to keep pushing.

“What did you guys think I was going to do? Come in here and tell you how to market sporting goods? Or give you a pricing strategy that would somehow spur sales without cutting into our profits?”

It was meant as a rhetorical question, but Rob answered it anyway. “Yeah, I was kind of hoping for that.”

A few of the others laughed.

Brian smiled and shook his head in disbelief. “So, you're telling me that the problem at Desert Mountain is that the people in this room don't know their own market well enough. Is that it? You need someone to come in here with more intelligence than you and tell you how to run this business? Because if that's the case, we are all in big trouble.”

The executives glanced at one another. Brian knew what he was doing.

“Well, no one is going to be able to do that for you. From what I can tell, there is no shortage of intellectual ability or industry knowledge in this room, and yet we're still struggling. I guess that leaves us with two choices. We can either throw in the towel and start looking for our next jobs. Or we can listen to this crazy new CEO who wants us to make our employees' work lives a little more meaningful. You choose.”

Brian leaned back against the wall, and let the situation sink in. Ten long, uncomfortable seconds passed before Kelly spoke up.

Looking at the board where Brian had written his theory, she explained. “Well, I have to admit that this kind of makes sense.”

She paused, hoping someone would break in. They didn't, so she went on. “I mean, we all know that the people in our stores are unhappy. At least the ones who haven't quit are. And even though the managers come in here and talk a good game to us, I get the feeling that when they go back to their regions, they're as frustrated,” she corrected herself, “or maybe I should say miserable, as their employees are.”

Rob nodded. “My GMs are certainly burnt out. I'm just glad that their counterparts at our competitors are miserable too.”

“Well, I have to say that my staff isn't doing that bad.”

It was Spencer, but his comment came without much conviction.

Suzanne winced. “You don't think so?”

Spencer shook his head. “That's not the impression I get.”

The head of HR continued. “Well, according to the data I have, and the things I've been hearing from your people, your group is actually a little lower than average when it comes to turnover and satisfaction.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded gingerly at Spencer, who seemed to accept her assessment.

Brian could see the team was opening up, partly out of desperation, but partly because they were beginning to see the merits of the theory. At least that's what Brian told himself so that he could keep going.

“You guys are going to have to trust me. This is going to work. I've done it before.”

He opted against telling them that the only time he had really tested the complete theory was at a tacky little Italian restaurant just off the highway in Tahoe.

“Whether this alone makes all the difference for us financially, I don't know. But it will have a meaningful impact one way or the other.”

He paused, aware that a few of the executives were still on the other side of the fence. “And we will certainly be looking hard at decisions around products and geography and pricing, but I honestly don't think that is where the big opportunity is. I really don't.”

Brian felt that they might be getting closer to coming around, though still slowly, so he went for the close.

“And now is the part where I get to be a hard-ass.” He smiled. “After you take a little time to give this some thought, I want everyone here to let me know whether you're in or you're out. Because I can't let us do this halfway. It will not work if we're not all on board. And I won't take it personally if someone here decides this isn't for them.”

Brian still wasn't satisfied with his pitch or his audience's reaction to it, so he exhorted them. “Let me say just one more thing. If you guys do this, your careers will never be the same. You'll go home at the end of the day with a greater sense of satisfaction than you've ever known. That I can guarantee you.”

And with that, he turned to erase the board like a professor at the end of a lecture. “I'll be in my office for the rest of the day if anyone wants to come by and talk about this. Because as soon as we know who's in, I can start the process.”

Brian was shocked by what happened next.

On Demand

As the group slowly began to disband, Spencer again spoke up. “Wait a second, everybody.” The room froze. “Why should we wait until later? Let's do this now.”

The silence in the room, and the tone of Spencer's voice, was chilling. To his credit, Spencer continued. “Wow. That sounded a lot more sinister than I intended it to.”

A laugh of relief ensued.

“But if this is a good idea—and I'm still not sure it is—then we should figure it out now. That's certainly going to give me a better idea about whether I want to be here.”

Lou chimed in. “I'll learn more in here than I will sitting alone in my office.”

Brian surveyed the room and decided that the others seemed to agree. “That's fine with me.” The executives moved back toward the table.

Brian had mixed feelings about what was happening. On one hand, the next hour would give him a better chance to win the team over than what he'd get from a series of one-on-one meetings. On the other, if he didn't pull it off, the company would probably implode.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath, “who wants to go first?”

Trial

No one said anything. Finally, Spencer raised his hand. “I'd like to volunteer,” he paused before finishing the sentence, “that Rob go first.”

Everyone laughed. Brian was glad for the levity.

“Seriously, though,” Spencer explained, “I think we ought to start with one of the regions. I'd be glad to go after Rob.”

Heads around the table nodded. Brian got started.

“Okay, Rob. I am your manager, and it is my job to make sure that you feel like I know who you are, that you know how your job matters in someone's life, and that you have an effective way of measuring it. Where should we start?”

“I'll take irrelevance for five hundred, Alex.”

Rob's colleagues chuckled at their team clown. Brian hoped the man would be as open-minded as he was funny.

“Why do you want to start there?”

“I don't know. The anonymity thing seems too silly. And I can't imagine that we have any lack of measurement around here. Have you seen the tracking reports that Kelly does?”

They laughed.

Brian wanted to challenge Rob's assessment of anonymity being silly, but decided to go with the flow.

“Okay then, we'll start with irrelevance. Answer this question for me: do you make a meaningful difference in anybody's life? I'm not talking about your family or friends outside work, but here at Desert Mountain.”

Just as Rob was about to make a joke, Brian headed him off. “And try to be serious about this, even if it seems silly.”

Rob thought hard about it for a few seconds. Finally, he admitted, “Actually, I don't think so. I mean, I can be nice to the people I work with, I suppose. And I can help my GMs hit their targets so they can get their quarterly bonuses. But I'm not sure how meaningful any of that is.” He paused. “I'm guessing that's not the answer you were looking for.”

Brian smiled. “No, not exactly. But I'll take it because it was honest.”

He continued. “Let's take one of your GMs as an example. Who's your youngest or newest GM?”

Rob thought about it. “Probably my guy in Bend, Oregon. Peyton.”

“Okay, tell me about Peyton.”

Rob frowned, trying to recall what he knew about the man. “He started a few months ago. He's about thirty, was in the army for eight years. Two of his employees quit the week he arrived, and his profitability and revenue numbers are both down.”

“Is he frustrated?”

“I certainly hope so. But you wouldn't know it talking to the guy. He always tries to be positive with me. But I'm guessing that he's stressing out quite a bit.”

“Does he have a family?”

Rob thought about it. “Yeah, he's married, and I think he has two or three girls and a boy.”

Already the looks on the faces in the room were changing, as they considered Peyton's plight. Brian pushed on.

“You think this job matters to Peyton?”

“Yeah, sure. He's got to have some pretty big grocery and diaper bills.”

“Beyond that, though. Do you think the level of success he feels, his sense of accomplishment, affects the way he deals with his family, his friends?”

“I don't know. I guess.”

“What do you mean, ‘you guess’?” It was Suzanne now. “Of course it does!”

Rob relented. “Okay, sure, this job is important to Peyton.”

Brian continued his questioning, feeling like a trial lawyer with a witness on the ropes. “How many of his kids are in school?” He didn't wait for an answer. “Do they go to private school? Any medical issues? Do he and his wife own a home? Are they planning on a big family vacation?”

Rob laughed now. “How the hell should I know? I couldn't tell you where my own family is going on vacation this year.”

Brian didn't laugh along with him, which made what he was about to say that much more serious. “Here's the thing, Rob. And I think you probably know this deep down inside. You have an opportunity to make a substantial difference in Peyton's life. And in the lives of the other nine GMs you manage. There is probably no other person in the world right now, other than their spouses, who is going to do as much to determine these people's sense of accomplishment and peace of mind.”

The room was silent. Riveted.

“And that is the definition of relevant, my friend. And if you don't think that is related to how they do their jobs—” Brian didn't feel the need to finish the sentence.

At first, while Brian was lecturing him, Rob looked like he was being scolded. But now he was nodding his head, in a way that made Brian and everyone else in the room know that he got it.

Now Spencer spoke up. “The next time I see Peyton I think I'm going to have to give him a hug.”

The room roared.

Kelly picked up where Brian left off. “So Rob needs to know what's going on with his GMs, and he has to understand that he can impact their lives.”

Brian clarified. “He has to want to make a difference in their lives.”

“Right. What about the measurements?”

“Well, from what I've seen, we have no lack of things that we measure. The question is, are there too many, and is it immediate enough?”

“What do you mean?” the CFO asked, just slightly defensive.

“Well, it's one thing for us to use all the financial and operational data to help us run the company. It would be crazy not to. But Rob can't use that to manage his people every day. There has to be something more regular, more behavioral, that will give Rob a sense of whether they're doing a good job. And he needs them to be able to measure it for themselves.”

“What might that be?” Rob asked.

Brian didn't seem to know the answer. “I'm not sure. It depends on how you can influence your GMs most effectively.”

Lou asked the best question of the day. “Brian, how are you going to measure yourself as Rob's manager?”

Suddenly everyone was eager to hear the answer. Brian didn't have to think about it long. “I'm going to want to know how much Rob is talking to the GMs. I think he ought to be in regular contact with them, beyond sending them e-mail and reports. I'm certainly going to ask you guys to track your interaction with them,” he looked at Frank and Lou.

Brian wasn't finished. “And I'm going to want him to measure how many times he coaches his GMs, either because someone calls him, or because he notices something they need to do better in the stores. The way I see it, if he's doing those things, and taking an interest in what's going on with the GMs, things would have to get better.”

Spencer spoke up again. “Don't you think you should be looking at profitability and inventory?”

Brian didn't mind having to answer the question twice; it was critical that his people understand the concept. “Of course. Just not every day. See, management is an everyday thing. Strategy and financial reporting and planning are not.”

More than one of the executives in the room wrote that down.

“Okay then, when I roll this out in my organization, what should I have my GMs measuring?” It was Rob now, and he seemed eager to have an answer. “I'm guessing it has something to do with how they're dealing with their employees.”

Brian nodded. Lou chimed in.

“I recently came to the conclusion that the best GMs are the ones who spend less time at the register and dealing with customers, and more time giving employees immediate feedback about what they're doing wrong, or right.”

“So why aren't they doing that now?” Brian asked.

Frank hit the nail on the head. “Because we're making them fill out reports all day, and we're not teaching them how to manage their people.”

That was exactly the endorsement Brian was looking for.

Though part of Brian wanted to keep pushing, he could see that his staff was a bit overwhelmed, and that there wasn't much time left until some of the team would have to leave for another meeting.

“Okay, let's talk about this again next week. In the meantime, Rob, I'd appreciate it if you could stick around for a few minutes, we can talk about how to go about testing this in one of your stores.”

After everyone had gone, the two of them spent the next hour coming up with a plan. Brian was surprised at the aggressiveness of Rob's ideas, and how much the class clown seemed to have bought into his program.

One Fell Swoop

The plan called for Brian, Rob, and one of his GMs to meet with all of a store's employees during off-hours for a comprehensive discussion of how they were going to transform the way people were managed, and how they would treat customers.

Brian liked the idea from the beginning, and his enthusiasm only grew after a little personal research at the local store.

Actually, Brian didn't conduct the reconnaissance himself; he asked Leslie to do it for him. She agreed without hesitation. “Besides, I need new sneakers and snow boots anyway.” Her experience at the store proved an interesting one.

First, it wound up taking more than twenty minutes for someone to offer to help her. Second, when she asked for advice about a product, not only was the employee unable to provide an answer, he made no attempt to find one. Finally, though the shoes Leslie bought were on sale, the cashier rang them up at regular price, and when Leslie caught the error, the cashier seemed annoyed that she'd have to redo the transaction.

Based on that information, it wasn't difficult for Brian to convince Rob to use the Tahoe store for their pilot program—what Rob called “the intervention.” The store was a good choice not only because it had serious issues with employee retention and customer service but because its proximity to the Bailey household would make it easier for the CEO to monitor its progress.

On Monday evening, the night before the event, Brian and Rob met with the Tahoe GM, Eric, to explain what they were trying to accomplish and prep him as well as they could for what was about to happen to his business. That he wasn't completely comfortable with the idea didn't concern Brian, who was convinced that making people a little uncomfortable was exactly what the company needed.

By the next morning at eight o'clock, a full two hours before the store would open for business, all fifteen staff members were at work. Eric had created a space for the meeting by taking down a few of the display tents in the camping section and dragging over all of the little benches from the shoe department.

Rob, whom Brian was liking more and more with every day they spent together, kicked off the session with the best introduction Brian had ever heard.

“Thanks for coming in today, everyone. The reason we're here is because our company is in trouble. I'm sure that's not a surprise to you. Our revenue is slowly shrinking. Our competitors are taking away our business, and by that, I mean customers. And some of our best people have left over the past year.”

He paused to let the reality sink in. “Now, that doesn't mean that every store is doing poorly. Some are doing better than others.” He paused again, so that his next point would be particularly clear. “This is not one of those stores.”

Most of the employees, including Eric, who was seated behind Rob, seemed a little less comfortable now. Rob continued.

“And you know whose fault that is?” Rob paused yet again, but didn't wait for an answer. “It's partly yours.” He motioned to his audience. “The service our employees have been giving customers has been poor.”

After letting it sink in, he went on. “But more of the blame falls on Eric.” He turned to the slightly shocked GM. “After all, he's responsible for this store.” Eric tried unsuccessfully to look impassive about the comment, as though he had expected his boss to make the statement.

“But even more than Eric, I'm to blame. After all, I'm responsible for the Nevada stores.”

And then he turned to Brian. “And this guy here. He's our new CEO. Six months from now, if things aren't any better, then it will be his fault. After all, he runs the company.”

After one last pause, Rob finished his sermon. “And so, I don't see why we wouldn't want to listen to what he has to say, and do what he wants us to do. Because when you look at our situation, we don't really have anything to lose. Hell, we're already losing.”

And with that, he turned to his new boss. “Brian?”

The mood in the room was now unsurprisingly melancholy.

“Okay, I want to ask everyone a question. But don't answer right away. Just think about it for a second.” He paused. “Do you think you have a good job?”

Brian let the question sit there. “This job at Desert Mountain, do you think it qualifies as a good job?”

After letting them think about it for a moment, he tried to provoke an answer. “Anyone want to start?”

For the next few minutes, members of the staff shared their answers, ranging from “I don't know” to “maybe” to “yes, I think so.” A woman in her mid-twenties offered the most honest answer.

“I hope I'm not stepping out of line here,” she looked at Eric, “but I don't think this is a particularly good job.”

Brian encouraged her. “No, that's not at all out of line. I want you to be honest. Tell me what you consider to be a good job. Who do you know that has a good job?”

She thought about it. “I think a good job is one where you don't have to work much and you get paid a lot of money.” The other staff members chuckled.

Brian pushed on. “Okay, who do you know that has a job like that?”

“You mean, who do I know personally?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, what kind of job would that be? Who has a job like that?”

“I don't know.” Then something occurred to her. “Maybe a model.”

Brian nodded as though he agreed. “Okay, a fashion model. Some of the famous ones get paid quite a bit and don't seem to have to work too hard. That makes sense.”

The young woman was pleased that the CEO seemed to have confirmed her answer.

“Do you think that most models like their jobs?”

No one answered, so Brian went on. “I mean, it seems to me that a lot of them have eating disorders and relationship issues and drug problems. I don't know about you, but I've never really looked at models and thought, ‘Now, there's a group of people who seem really happy.’”

The staff members demonstrated their agreement with Brian's assessment by laughing and nodding their heads.

Another employee raised his hand. “I think being a professional athlete sounds pretty good.”

Brian was glad to have more participation. “And why is that?”

“Well, they get paid a lot for doing something fun in front of millions of people.”

Brian nodded, but with a frown on his face. “Okay, I guess that some athletes do get paid a lot for having fun. But not too many of them make it to that level. And it seems to me that even many of those that do aren't all that happy. I mean, a lot of them get in trouble for beating their wives or doing drugs, or they end up blowing all their money.”

Now Eric spoke up. “Most of you already know that I played professional baseball. For the Rangers. I made it to Double-A, which is pretty close to the majors. If you can believe it, I didn't make as much money then as I do now, and I wasn't having much fun. The minor leagues are a grind until you get to the top.”

The audience seemed both interested and surprised by what Eric said.

Someone in the back shouted a question. “What about being a CEO? That sounds like a sweet deal to me.”

More laughter among the employees.

Brian smiled. “I'm not going to lie to you. I do like being a CEO. I really do. But many of the CEOs I know aren't all that happy. In fact, I'd say that more of them are unsatisfied in their jobs than are happy. And that's the truth.”

People seemed surprised, if not a little wary, at the comment from their CEO.

Brian continued, “What do you think makes a job a good one? Beyond money, what is it that makes someone like their work?”

Having warmed up a little, more of the employees offered their opinions, ranging from a comfortable environment to a fair boss to the freedom to make their own decisions. One guy gave the most interesting answer when he said, “I just want to win.” Brian took it all in.

“All right. I'm going to stop asking questions now, and tell you what I believe, and what we're going to do. And what I'm about to say may not be what everyone wants to hear, and that's okay, because no one has to work here. I won't hate you if you decide you don't want to be part of our new reality, but I think most of you are going to like it.”

He paused to let a little suspense build. “First, I think people deserve to like their jobs, and that it's up to managers to make that possible. From now on, Eric's job is going to be about working hard to help you like your work. Just like Rob is going to do for him, and I'm going to do for Rob.”

The looks on the employees' faces mixed skepticism and hope.

“Second, I think a company deserves to have its employees care about the business and do their best to make it successful. From now on, people are going to be held accountable for doing what's right for Desert Mountain and our customers.”

He smiled. “It is my sincere hope that in the next few weeks and months, everyone who wants to be here will like coming to work more than they do now, that customers will like shopping here more than they do now, and that our CFO, Kelly, will take longer to count our money than she does now.”

Employees laughed politely.

“And here's how it's going to work.”

Brian then delivered his twenty-minute talk on the dangers of immeasurement and irrelevance. He decided that anonymity was something only Eric needed to hear, and that telling employees about it would only make it seem contrived.

The staff broke out into two groups, led by Brian and Rob, and worked to identify one another's key measurements as well as the people whose lives they impacted. After just over an hour, both Rob and Eric began to feel that the employees seemed to have a slightly new level of energy.

With just fifteen minutes until the doors would open, Brian thanked Eric and his staff for their time and assured them that he would be coming back from time to time to see how they were doing. And even to buy running shoes when his knee healed.

As he left the store with Rob, Brian felt more confident than ever about his theory, and the impact it could have on Desert Mountain Sports.

Rollout

For the next two months, Brian and his regional VPs went to every last one of the company's twenty-four stores, conducting two-hour interventions much like the one in Tahoe. But changing the culture of a sizable organization takes time, and seeing the financial benefits takes even longer.

Some of the stores started off better than others, and some needed a lot of attention from executives at headquarters. A few managers opted out of the experiment and left DMS, but most got on board.

During the rest of the summer, Brian spent much of his time coaching his team on how to go about coaching their people, especially the GMs. He continued traveling to reinforce his program, but never on Mondays or Fridays, as he had promised Leslie.

When he wasn't ridding the company of immeasurement, irrelevance, and anonymity, he seemed to be spending much of his time with investment banks and board members, assuring them that selling the company too soon would be a mistake, and that eventually the company's performance would improve enough to warrant a much higher selling price.

Finally, as his six-month anniversary at Desert Mountain approached, Brian received the news he had been hoping for. It was Kelly, his CFO, who delivered it during one of the team's weekly meetings.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have officially started growing again.” The team burst out into spontaneous applause.

Momentum

Over the course of the next three months, improvement at DMS accelerated. Two stores that had been slated for closure were now being kept open, and a new superstore in Oregon was being discussed at staff meetings.

Of course, the good news meant that the board and investment bankers would be renewing their interest in selling the company. As he prepared for his third quarterly board meeting since taking over as CEO, Brian had mixed feelings.

As usual, he asked his wife to help him sort it out.

“The board thinks I'm a hero, because they're going to get 20 or 25 percent more from a buyer now.”

“Isn't that what they hired you to do?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I think there is more improvement to be made, and that selling out right now would be a mistake. I have a few other ideas.”

Leslie frowned now, but in a playful way. “I was afraid you'd say that.”

That evening at the board meeting, Rick Simpson presented the likely suitors who would be interested in buying DMS at a higher price than before. As he concluded, he turned to Brian and asked for his opinion on which of them he would prefer.

“I'd have to say that Northwest Athletics is my first choice.”

Almost all of the board members were surprised by the answer. So was Rick.

“But they're in a weaker market position than any of the others, and would probably make a lower bid. I don't think selling to them would make sense, Brian.”

“Oh, I agree with you completely,” Brian informed his confused audience. “I wasn't thinking about them buying us. I'm thinking we should buy them.”

The reaction of the board members ranged from shock to curiosity. Rick just smiled. In the end, a decision was made to keep operating Desert Mountain independently for a few months, and then reassess at the beginning of winter.

By the time December arrived, discussion during the board meetings shifted from how to sell the company to how to make it grow. With every month, the finances looked a little stronger, and the competitive landscape began to change. By the new year, Brian and his reenergized executive team were making serious plans to acquire Northwest Athletics as well as a smaller competitor in California, confident they could do for those struggling companies what they had done for DMS.

And then it all came to a screeching halt.

Sucker Punch

At the first board meeting of the new year, as Brian was getting ready to present his plan for acquiring the two companies he and his staff had identified, the chairman of the board announced that he had agreed to sell Desert Mountain to one of the nation's largest retailers for 60 percent more than what they had been expecting less than a year earlier.

Brian couldn't believe it.

None of the other board members, with the exception of Rick Simpson, seemed at all aware of the shock that Brian was feeling. The chairman even went so far as to congratulate his CEO for what he had done to make the deal possible.

After the meeting was over, Rick and Brian went for a beer.

“I tried to talk them out of it, Brian, but it was hard. I mean, the whole reason I'm on the board was to help them do this deal. As much as I would have liked to see them change course, it just wasn't something they wanted to do. They own the company, and they wanted out.”

Though Brian wasn't about to blame Rick, he couldn't help but argue the point. “But we could have found investors and done a buy-out or something. Couldn't we?”

Rick nodded. “Yes, and you could have run the company for the next five years and then sold it to some other bigger company for even more money. And you didn't want to do that, did you?”

Brian thought about it. “No, not if I wanted to stay married. But it just seems like such a shame.”

“Why?”

Brian was just a bit incredulous now. “Because there are people out there in our stores who have worked hard to turn this thing around, and who actually like their jobs for a change. I hate to see that disappear.”

“Who's to say that it will disappear?”

“Come on, Rick. You know what's going to happen. You think that a seventeen-billion-dollar company is going to let them run the stores the way we've been doing it?”

He shook his head. “Probably not. But that's not going to happen for a year or two. And besides, that's not the point, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, those people are going to keep working and managing and they'll take those ideas of yours to the next place they go. Isn't that the point?”

Brian took a drink of his beer. “I guess so. I don't know.”

Déjà Vu

After taking a few weeks to wrap up his stint at DMS, Brian found himself in limbo yet again. He and Leslie faced another decision about the next phase of their retirement, albeit with a slightly different perspective now.

Though they joked about it, there was no way that Brian was going to go back to work at Gene and Joe's again. But he wasn't ready to retire again either. Leslie could see that now. Ideally, Brian wanted to find another adventure, one with equal parts flexibility and challenge.

For a few months, Brian was content to just ski with Leslie, pop in on his friends at the pizza place down the street, and read the Wall Street Journal from time to time without guilt.

And then another call came from Rick Simpson.

Encore

A company in London, an upscale hotel chain, needed consulting help with employee engagement issues that were having a pronounced impact on customers.

“If you can help them cut turnover even a little,” Rick explained, “it could transform their financial position drastically. And it would give you a chance to work your magic on an even larger scale,” he added playfully. “And I'll have you out of there in six months, seven tops.”

Brian and Leslie didn't have to talk about it for long. They had always wanted to live abroad, but could never break away from their children's baseball and basketball and soccer and ballet schedules.

“We would be crazy not to do this!” Leslie declared.

Six weeks later the Baileys were settled into their apartment in Kensington Gardens, in the center of London. For the rest of the year they enjoyed Brian's work more than ever, doing market research in five-star hotels throughout the United Kingdom and across the Continent, with great success.

Brian was thrilled to confirm that his ideas about ending misery at work applied in yet another industry, and outside the boundaries of the United States. But he was even happier about a package he received from the United States one evening.

The postmark was from South Lake Tahoe, and the return address was the restaurant. Standing in the kitchen while Leslie made dinner, he opened the box and discovered what appeared to be two Gene and Joe's T-shirts inside. Pulling them out and unfolding them, Brian found himself speechless as he realized what he was looking at.

Beneath a picture of two smiling faces were the words “Migo and Joe's: Pizza and Pasta. Here, There, Everywhere.”