| |

|
| |
Don’t Be Bossy
If You’re Not the Boss
October 9, 2004
Pamela, you know how to get the job done. You talk to the point, and you are fearless in making a decision and running with it. You know how to run the show. Your mistake, the one that cost you the job, was that you thought you were Boss. Don’t get me wrong. You were the project manager this week, and it was your job to lead the team. People expected that. People even demanded that. The women wanted you to whip them in shape. They desperately wanted to rise about all the petty crap and win. Yes, win! Willing and able, they were ready to follow you. They listened to you; they put their differences temporarily aside and set their minds on the task at hand. For the first time ever, they seemed to pull together like co-workers with a common goal rather than sorority sisters in a catfight. The change was remarkable. It was as if you had used your product, “It works!” on your team and it had magically erased the errors of their ways from the weeks before. How did you do it? You became Boss.
You outright told them, “I am gonna be bossy.” You meant it. You weren’t going to put up with any crap; people were going to listen; everyone was going to do their job. You bossed them around like there was no tomorrow. You were a drill sergeant, and you demanded that everyone drop down and give you twenty. No one argued. No one gave you any gripe. They dropped down and did it. See, was that so hard? You vested yourself with the title of Project Manager and took no prisoners. When someone didn’t give you an answer you liked, you cut them to the bone. You kept at them, didn’t let them slide, and forced them to do a better job. When they couldn’t hack it, you trimmed the fat and scaled back their responsibilities. You did it with Stacy Rotner when she couldn’t make a definitive decision on a price, and you did it with Maria Boren when you sidelined her for the more camera-friendly Jennifer Massey right before air. You took the show’s maxim as your creed. “It’s not personal. It’s Business.”
| |
| advertisement |
 |
|
| |
| |
You were merciless. You didn’t care whose feelings you hurt. You even said it. “I don’t know the personalities. I don’t know what’s happened in the past. I don’t ***** care. I don’t care!” You knew, from hard-earned experience no doubt, that to be an effective leader, sometimes you have to be a hard ass. You have to play the parent, the teacher, and the cop. When you’re dealing with children, you have to set the ground rules; you have to lecture them; and you have to punish them. You have to be Boss.
People hate the Boss. Did you hear me, Pamela? People positively hate the Boss. That goes for even the best of them. No two ways about it. People don’t like to be told what to do; they don’t like to be told they’re not doing a good job; they don’t like to be held accountable—they simply don’t like to work. That’s why it’s called work. What you lost sight of—what cost you your job—was the fact that you weren’t their Boss. If you were really their Boss, they could have cried all they wanted to because it wouldn’t have mattered. The real Boss has power. The real Boss can fire you. People put up with the Boss, not because they like him but because they feel they have to. Their livelihood depends upon them towing the line and doing their job. They need to do it.
Your problem was that you weren’t their Boss. You didn’t have the Power. You didn’t have any leverage over them. They didn’t need to put up with you. The only time that people like the Boss is when it’s paycheck time. When the money rains down, they positively love the Boss. They thank God for their job every time the spigot opens and the greenbacks flow. People live for their bonus. They go mad for it. They even forget—for a split second—just how much they hate their Boss. If you had bossed your team to victory, all would have been forgiven. You would have been their rainmaker, and they would have tossed aside everything that they put up with to get there. You would have been lauded for your merciless crack-the-whip leadership. Donald Trump would have knighted you as the savior of an unsavable team. Pamela, you would have been unstoppable. People like people who get the job done.
|
|