The lights on the train flashed on, off, and then on again, and the train began to move forward slowly.

Andrew sighed. “Finally.” He checked his watch and immediately realized that he might have made Charlie feel that he wanted to end the conversation, which wasn’t his intention at all. So he encouraged the old man to continue.

“What is temptation number three, Charlie?”

Charlie wasn’t convinced that he really wanted to know. “I don’t want to bore you with any of this. I better let you get back to your work.”

Andrew responded kindly, and just a little patronizingly. “Don’t stop now, Charlie. I need to know why I don’t feel comfortable holding people accountable. You can’t just leave me here with the first two temptations. I need to know the other three.”

Charlie sensed the condescension in Andrew’s voice, so he said politely, “I’m sure you’ll be fine. It sounds like you’ve got it figured out for yourself.”

But Andrew was more curious than he wanted to admit. The prospect of not finding out the rest of the old man’s advice was troubling. In a more genuine tone he said, “I’d really like to hear what you have to say.”

Charlie paused. “Okay. If I’m not troubling you too much.”

“Not at all. What is temptation number three?”

“It’s the temptation to ensure that your decisions are correct.”

Andrew looked confused, so Charlie clarified.

“It’s the temptation to choose certainty over clarity. Some executives fear being wrong so much that they wait until they’re absolutely certain about something before they make a decision. That makes it impossible to hold people accountable.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“It’s simple. You can’t hold people accountable for things that aren’t clear. If you’re unwilling to make decisions with limited information, you can’t achieve clarity.”

“Okay. I get it. But what kind of things are you talking about?”

“Simple things. Important things. Like why the company is in business. Its goals. The roles and responsibilities of people in the organization to meet those goals. The consequences for success and failure. All that stuff.”

Andrew nodded. “Vision, mission, values, goals. Business-school stuff. Don’t take this wrong, Charlie, but none of this is new.”

“Of course not. People talk about this all the time.” Charlie paused for effect. “So then, what is your vision of the future for Trinity?”

Andrew frowned and scratched his shoulder like a kid trying to avoid a scolding.

Charlie was surprised. “Don’t you know?”

“Yeah, it’s just we’re having a hard time settling on the right way to explain it. In fact, we’ll probably discuss it again tomorrow at the board meeting.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

Andrew squirmed a little, trying to come up with an answer, so Charlie prompted him. “A month? Two?”

Andrew finally admitted: “Eight months.”

Charlie was genuinely surprised. “Eight months?! What in God’s name is taking so long?”

“Well, it’s just that the market is changing and we’re trying to figure out whether our current business is going to be able to sustain—”

Charlie interrupted. “I’m sorry, Andy, but this is ridiculous. And please excuse me for saying this, because I haven’t known you very long, but not having a vision is no one’s fault but your own.”

The truth hit Andrew hard. He wanted to defend himself, but before he could get the words out of his mouth, Charlie beat him to it. “And don’t tell me it’s more complicated than that.”

Andrew deflated in his seat as Charlie took away his only response. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed, and his eyes were glazing over. “It’s not that simple.”

Charlie leaned forward. “Stay with me here, Andy. I’m going to ask you some tough questions.”

“You mean they haven’t been tough so far?”

Charlie ignored the humor. “Are you up to this?”

Slowly, Andrew sat up, like one of his sons about to be grounded. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Okay. What is preventing you from coming to some conclusions on something as big and important as your company’s vision?”

“I wish I knew.”

“You do know, Andy. It’s just that you have to admit it to yourself. Face your fears. You must have some idea about what the future of your company should look like.”

“Sure I do.”

“So why haven’t you put it on paper, announced it to the company, and used it to guide the decisions you make?”

After a long pause, Andrew slowly, quietly responded, “Because I’m not sure it’s right yet.”

Silence. The sentence just hung there, until Charlie asked “Were you ever in the military?”

He shook his head.

“Well, in the military, they teach you that any decision is better than no decision.”

“I’ve heard that before, but this is different.”

“You’re right. This is completely different. No one’s lives are on the line in your company.”

Andrew struggled for relief. “I’ll tell you what, Charlie. I think the whole vision, mission thing is overrated.”

“I agree. I think that having a great vision and mission is only important if you know how to execute. I’ll take a well-executing company over a visionary one any day.”

“Exactly.” Andrew thought he had found relief when Charlie agreed with him. Until the old man asked the next question.

“So, what are your goals for the next three months?”

“Me personally?”

“No. The company. What needs to get done so that you can say it was a successful period?”

“We’ve got to make more money. We need to grow our market share.”

“By how much? And what needs to happen for you to get there?”

Andrew was frustrated to the point of anger now. “I’ll tell you what, Charlie. I’ve just about had it with your folksy preaching. It’s easy for you to ask all these questions in a vacuum, and it’s easy to be smug about—”

Charlie looked hurt by the remark, but he interrupted Andrew kindly. “Do you think I’m being smug?”

“No, it’s just that it’s too easy to sit outside and drill me here like an attorney, because there are no easy answers.”

For the first time, Charlie became emotional. “There aren’t supposed to be easy answers, Andy. That’s why you get paid so much. But you have to come up with answers. Otherwise, there is no accountability. And without accountability, results are a matter of luck.” He paused for a breath, but couldn’t quite calm himself enough to stop from asking the next question. “How could you fire Terry and not know what he should have been doing?”

Andrew just sat there shaking his head.

Charlie moved forward in his seat. “I think you’re afraid to be criticized. To look bad.”

“No one likes to look bad.”

“Of course they don’t. But the price for you is too high. You’re driving your company into the ground, whether the board of directors realizes it or not.”

That came out of nowhere to Andrew, and he shouted at Charlie. “I’m not afraid to be criticized! And I’m not driving the company—”

Charlie interrupted Andrew and shouted back at him. “Then where is your vision, Andy? Where are your goals? Make a darn call on something. What are you waiting for?” Suddenly the train ground to a halt, and the lights flickered and went out again. The two angry men just sat there in the dark for five minutes. A full five minutes.

Then the flashlight went on, but this time Andrew was holding it. Calmly, he spoke. “So what is my problem here, Charlie?”

Charlie responded kindly, barely above a whisper. “Let me tell you something. From what I can tell, many CEOs have the same problems. They finally get the job they’ve always wanted, and they become afraid to lose their status. Or they don’t want to hold people accountable because they’re afraid to be unpopular. And even if they aren’t afraid to be unpopular, they don’t hold people accountable because they haven’t bothered to be clear about what they expect from people because—”

Andrew finished the rest of the lesson. “Because they’re afraid to be wrong.”

“Exactly.” Charlie let Andrew digest the message. Then: “My father used to say that there were three words which were the most powerful thing a CEO could say. Do you know what those are?”

Andrew shook his head.

“‘I-WAS-WRONG.’ But the thing is, he didn’t say those words apologetically. He said them like he was proud of them. He knew that if he couldn’t be comfortable being wrong, he wouldn’t make tough decisions with limited information.”

Andrew was now ready for help. “So he must have made a lot of bad decisions.”

“Sure he did. And he owned those decisions. But he never felt guilty about them because he knew that you can’t move forward in the face of uncertainty if you aren’t willing to make mistakes. And gradually, he made fewer and fewer mistakes. In fact, people said he developed an amazing ability to make good decisions without enough information. They thought he was really smart.”

Partly out of respect, partly because he meant it, Andrew offered, “He seems pretty smart to me.”

Charlie smiled. “As much as I hate to say it, my father wasn’t really any more intelligent than the average person. In fact, he used to say that the key to his success was hiring people who were smarter than him.”

“So how did he learn to make such great decisions?”

“Well, he avoided temptation number four.”