For 10 years, Tom Peters wrote a syndicated column—"On
Excellence"—for the Tribune Media Services. It was carried by over a
hundred papers—the flagship carrier was the Chicago Tribune. After Steve Jobs'
death, one of his old columns surfaced—on Jobs. It appeared on 8 November 1993,
when Steve was still "in the wilderness"—before his subsequently
triumphant return to Apple.
Herewith, in full ...
‘On Excellence
Marathoners call it "hitting the wall." You get to
a point where you can't go on. But you do. And, miraculously, you come out the
other side and finish the race.
Truth is, damn little of merit, in a profession or a hobby,
is accomplished without running through a wall or two.
I got to thinking about that while reading Fortune's recent
cover story, "America's Toughest Bosses." Some turn "beet
red." Others "scream." Some engage in "sadistic"
behavior and use tactics that amount to "psychological oppression."
While I hardly countenance "Jack Attacks," the tirades by Jack
Connors, head of the ad agency Hill Holliday, I also don't believe the best
bosses are sweethearts.
The best leaders take their firms and followers to places
they've never been before-and, more important, places they never imagined they
would reach. The chief's voice may be subdued or, more likely, strident at
times. The reason, Fortune acknowledges, is the incredible demands these
honchos place, first and foremost, on themselves.
Take Steve Jobs, one of Fortune's seven nasties. I've seen
him, in his days at Apple, lose his cool on occasion. Not a particularly pretty
sight.
Yet I was thoroughly taken aback by one of Jobs'
"excesses," as chronicled by Fortune. A subordinate at Next Computer
was showing Jobs shades of green for the company's logo. More precisely, she
produced some 37 shades of green before coming upon one that pleased the
master. "Oh, come on," the minion recalled thinking, "green is
green."
Oh, no, it isn't!
Almost every step Jobs took at Apple (and Next) broke the
mold; moreover, it defied industry tradition as set by the all-powerful, undisputed
master of the universe (IBM). To say Jobs was fighting an uphill battle is to
suggest that Charles Lindbergh's historic flight across the Atlantic was
"challenging." Jobs was reviled and ridiculed. Yet he reinvented the
computer world, in a way that makes Bill Gates' more recent contributions at
Microsoft seem meager by comparison.
How did Jobs do it? By worrying about which shade of green
was "right." He triumphed with the Apple II. Then the Macintosh. It
was precisely his stratospheric standards ("insanely great" was a
common Jobsism in days past) that allowed him and his enormously spirited teams
to push past the existing frontier time and time again.
No, sir. Green is not green. Not if you're reinventing the
planet. Which is not to applaud his tirades. But it is to suggest that for
every disaffected Apple or Next employee burned by Jobs, there are probably 10
who by age 28 achieved Neil Armstrong-like lifetime highs at his side. Perhaps
the bitterness of some stems from the subliminal realization they'll never soar
so high again. It's a nightmare for a 28-year-old software designer, just as it
is for 30-year-old Michael Jordan.
My two best bosses were my two toughest bosses. Neither was
a screamer, although one came reasonably close. Both practiced psychological
terrorism-though neither knew he was doing so. Both set mercilessly high standards for themselves. And
neither believed in barriers to achievement, including acts of God (which were
seen simply as opportunities to demonstrate one's mettle as never before). Both sent me home screaming. I recall literally a year of
just about non-stop headaches in one case.
It doesn't jibe with the perfectly balanced life. But I'll
tell you, I learned more, faster, from these two than ever before or since.
The perfect boss is, of course, aware of individual
differences and knows exactly how far to push each individual to "attain
maximum performance," or some such ideal.
Except I very much doubt bosses like that exist. Those with
shockingly high standards undoubtedly cause casualties among their followers.
Yet without these outrageous pioneers, we wouldn't get anywhere.
Am I callous? Yes and no. To countenance, under any circumstances, the infliction of pain is callous. But to fail to understand that no epic bridge or dam has ever been built, or fighter aircraft tested, without casualties is to fail to comprehend the real world of high-performance anything.
Fortune quotes experts who say these executive thugs suffer
from low self-awareness. I'm sure that's true, and perhaps the toughies would
benefit from counseling by a trusted peer (unlikely) or elder (slightly more
likely) who would clue them in on the havoc they've left in their wake.
But, let's face it. If these chiefs were thoroughly
self-aware they would probably not realize how insane (literally) their
towering quests are. And the world would be a poorer place for it.’
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