On Leading with Greatness

Picture this scene.

You walk into a local fast-food chain franchise for lunch. You know, the one in which the burger is king. The teenaged automaton behind the counter mechanically asks what you will have. On the menu board you see there is a new item listed: the IllusoryBurger™️. You are trying to watch your weight, and this IllusoryBurger™️ is advertised with surprisingly few calories. So, in the spirit of culinary adventurism, you announce boldly, “I wanna try that new IllusoryBurger™️.”

A while back I wrote about imposter syndrome and how, when allowed to run rampant, it can hinder progress and encourage bad behaviors. As pervasive and damaging as it is, though, imposter syndrome is not nearly as insidious and debilitating as self-doubt, which can rapidly harden into regressive and persistent habit.

Since then, I have embarked on an ambitious journey to make a quantum leap, an exponential advance in my development as a person and as a professional. These essays I publish every week are a small part of that effort.

Lately, though, I have been plagued with self-doubt. How could I, little ol’ me, do anything of great value?

Decades ago, my wife was a social worker advocating for nursing home residents. One resident she got to know well was Mr. Foley, who took a liking to this vibrant, pretty, young professional, who in turn found him to be wise and kindly. At some point in their acquaintance, he told her his life’s tale, which had all the makings of an O. Henry story. His experience would subsequently impact the life she and I have led.

Do you remember that kid in the playground? You know, the one who had to be the winner every time no matter what. This is the kid who cheated at tag, who pushed the other kids off the monkey bars, who boasted — in the absence of all evidence — about zipping down the sliding board faster than anyone … ever. This is the kid who altered the rules and lied constantly for nothing more than bragging rights. Perhaps you lost a race or two to the nearest tree with this kid when you didn’t even know you were racing. You know the kid. Maybe you were that kid. Maybe I was that kid. Someone was.

Those of you who regularly read my essays will know that I can be a wee bit cynical about bosses and the general state of bossing in our world. It is not that I think all bosses are bad — after all, I spent many years as a boss — but over decades I have had a series of bosses that ran from utterly mediocre to galactically bad with one major exception. It just doesn’t have to be this way.

Because of the holiday season, I am reposting this revised version of an essay from December 31st, 2020. It encourages you to commit the act of egocide over and over again.

Because of the holiday season, I am reposting this revised version of an essay from December 24th, 2020. It addresses the theme of human decency and demonstrates that decency can be, in its simplest form, superhuman.

Goodhart's law states that “When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.” Put another way, when we set a performance measure as a goal or a bar to hit, people and organizations tend to find ways to achieve that measure without regard for whether their performance or production is truly effective, beneficial, or even desirable. Goodhart’s law has to do with unintended consequences.

The other day I went to visit my father in St. Agonistes Hospital about five hours from my home, where I got to witness a clear manifestation of BCD or Bureaucratic Compulsive Disorder, an affliction that compels organizations to do irrational things for their own sake. My dad has unfortunately been at St. Agonistes a lot in the past year, so I am familiar with their Covid protocols for visitors, which apparently have not changed much in the face of changes in our understanding of the virus and its treatment, such as the vaccine.

The sheer quantity of articles and quotations on the subject of leadership is impressive. Lots of people over lots of years have offered lots of advice — in the form of adages, axioms, and maxims — but, as with any human endeavor, the results are decidedly mixed. Some leadership aphorisms are wise and pithy while most are banal or overwrought. More than a few are outright stupid or misleading.

Frankly, I have been feeling a bit left out of the leadership aphorism party that seems to take place all over the interwebs, so I have decided to contribute one myself:

Leaders relate.