I got a call today from Julie, a former colleague.

"We finally got rid of Steve," she said, referring to one of her least-favorite ex-supervisors.  "He's gone to _______ [a competing firm].

"And you'll never guess what he'll be doing."

I bit.  "Tell me."

"He's going to manage their office," she said. "Can you believe it?"

Now, Steve's a good enough guy.  But he's indecisive, exclusively detail-oriented, and is not what you'd call a "people person."  Plus, from what I'd observed, Steve seemed to have weak communication skills, and I couldn't imagine him as an effective office manager. 

So, I had to be honest with Julie. 

"Yes," I said.  "I can absolutely believe it."

The State We're In
You see, Steve's the beneficiary of an alarming trend.  We've all seen how markets, revenues, and profits have been tightening in recent years.  Over time, many firms have sought an edge not by generating bigger ideas, but by thinking more narrowly. 

Through such initiatives as cost cutting, reorganizing, downsizing, mergers, and acquisitions, companies strive for a variety of outcomes.  But they all wind up doing the same thing: irreparably altering organizational orientation and culture.  Rather than stay focused on external customer needs, employees start fixating on internal concerns. 

Even the most savvy of organizations can become paralyzed by the politics of appearances.  And, instead of looking through lenses fixed on markets and customers, employees simply stare at the mirror, straining to see how their actions "play" to various internal audiences.

Major change initiatives let people like Board members, shareholders, and Wall Street analysts, know the company is serious about improving performance or expanding marketshare.  But these approaches have a short shelf-life.  Once the hype dies down, it's like what Gertrude Stein once said about Oakland: "There's no there there."  In this case, there's no improvement, market expansion (in fact, these companies usually lose business), or sustainable competitive advantage. 

Just a lot of deflated hoopla,

Which is why managers like Steve are so valuable.

Management Myopia
Though never what you'd call a star, Steve's at least had the experience of supervising people.  He's also familiar with the so-called "core" business.  This background gives the leadership team a sense of continuity and comfort. 

As office manager, Steve gets to play an important, and highly visible, role.  He's grateful for the opportunity, and loyal to those who provided it.  The company knows, in turn, that Steve will implement their policies without question — and, as corporate cheerleader, will squeeze what acquiescence he can from a dispirited staff.

To his new employers, Steve's more than just a guy who won't rock the boat.  He'll also steer it, gladly, wherever his bosses want it to go.

Ultimately, with things under control on the local front, leadership can address more important issues — like integrating departments, streamlining operations, and, of course, corporate governance.  Best of all, they can focus on the most critical concern of all. 

Turf.  

Meanwhile, the local office can be left alone.  It can swim, in which case senior management takes the credit.  Or it can sink (goodbye Steve).

Welcome to the standard operating procedure at firms with dead-end strategies, but ambitious expectations.

My friend Julie was glad to see Steve go, but amazed someone would actually put him in charge.  I can't share her sense of wonder.

I'm just surprised they didn't put Steve on the Board.


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For more on the effects of Management by Mediocrity, see "Reorganize THIS!"