JSN: Who benefits from that decision?
Me: What do you mean?
JSN: Do I benefit from it?
Me: No, I admitted.
JSN: Do our customers benefit from it?
Me: No.
JSN: Does he benefit from it?
Me: Well, yes. I guess. He gets to keep working here.
JSN: So, he gets to keep doing a substandard job. And you are going to have to keep correcting his mistakes and making him miserable. No, I don’t think he benefits from it. I think he’d be better off somewhere else.
Me: Maybe you are right. Nobody benefits.
JSN: Actually, there is someone that benefits. You! By keeping him on, you are putting your feelings of guilt and embarrassment ahead of everyone and everything else. But in the long run, it will hurt you. Because it will make me think less of you as a manager.
Thus, I learned that I should not care about the feelings of my employees. And that meant – or so I believed at the time – that I had to shut off my mind and heart from those feelings. I had to train myself to think about something else the moment an employee began talking to me about their problems. I had ample opportunity to practice the art of not caring. And I eventually got to the point where my response to someone complaining or falling apart or even getting defensive was not empathy but irritation. In retrospect, this was counterproductive in terms of advancing what should have been my managerial priority: motivating my employees to work harder and smarter. I got away with it because… well, because I was the boss. And because it was a small company, everyone knew me, knew that I was new at this, and (I think) gave me a pass for being a little rough around the edges. But in my second incarnation in business, I was involved in growing a much larger business. And what had been working for me no longer did. I was offending people right and left – people I hardly knew and who hardly knew me. This is one of the many problems with growing a business too big. All of the corporate crap you promised yourself you were never going to get involved in at $10 million or even $100 million becomes unavoidable at $500 million or $1 billion. Like it or not, civility matters. I am still learning this lesson. I recently ran into a problem with one of the best people I work with. He is very smart, very skilled, and bound for glory. I made some comment – I don’t even remember what it was – that offended him. (He told me so later.) And because it offended him, he pushed back on the idea I was advancing. That wasted time and it diminished an opportunity. Had I any idea he would react that way, I would have happily phrased my comment differently. Here’s the thing: I don’t think I should care about his feelings so much that I should compromise my critique. I believe his response was wrong. It was egocentric and immature. But I do think I should have been sensitive enough to his immaturity to realize I had to be careful about how I stated my case. I don’t have to say that this problem of dealing with emotional immaturity is a real one today. Kids are different. A college graduate is no longer an eager beaver, happy to take on whatever challenge is thrown his way. He’s spent four years being told that his feelings matter. And that making someone feel bad is a kind of violence. This sort of brain damage takes a while to recover from. So that’s my thought for today: If you want to build something big and ambitious, you must hire good and great people. And since you will be hiring and working with sensitive people, you have to learn to be sensitive to their feelings – immature or not – and consider them in your dealings with them. But don’t let those feelings dictate your decisions. Care about feelings enough to be aware of them. But put your true care into how your customers feel about their experience with your business.