This is a story (not a parable) we like to retell at VIM Executive Coaching about a 62-year-old executive leader who escaped a mountain with his life. What could have been a tragedy turned out to be a positive outcome. However, the story does speak to ego over common sense, and posturing over authenticity.
The Ravioli Man
The executive in question was a highly successful man who built an empire on ravioli; indeed, all manner of pasta and frozen pizza. He followed the hard-charging life of an entrepreneur who saw an opportunity and seized it. He was relentless in his pursuit of success, especially after his modest manufacturing company began a campaign of acquiring Chicago-area manufacturers and a pasta sauce organization in Central Texas.
Our executive was not a rags-to-riches immigrant, in case you were wondering, and in fact he wasn’t even Italian. Insofar as he knew, his parents were of German and Irish extract but he did love Italy and Italian food! In any case, armed with an MBA from a prestigious school, he felt he could conquer the pasta world.
In his relentless pursuit for excellence, his company had all sorts of people who wanted to take his organization public, but he resisted. That decision and subsequent discussion might be best set aside for a finance blog however, as his company grew and his gray hair sprouted, what was once a solid company had become an organization worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
No Rest, No Mercy
He paid his people well, our executive. To his credit, he was just as predisposed to hire women for important positions as men, and he often had a habit (literally) of interviewing top candidates with “his eyes closed.” He did not care about race, religion, or sexual orientation. But what he expected was an impossible excellence. And access. Woe to the executive who failed to pick up the phone on a Saturday evening or Sunday morning. His motto was simple:
“If I can do it, so can you.”
He pushed his people as he had pushed himself. If five hours of sleep was enough for him, it was enough “for you.” If you were the head of a department, he expected you to be well-read on every aspect of every nuance of your area of responsibility. If you accepted an assignment with a deadline, he did not care how much overtime it took, but that it got done.
That aside, he was not a “bad” person. He was certainly not despised; he had given many of them chances that other companies would not have given them.
He didn’t go into meetings screaming or yelling. Instead, he cut through employee “border wars,” or difficulties with a quiet, forceful, laser-like accuracy. He did not want to hear complaints. He did not accept defeat. He never accepted excuses. If he did not allow vulnerability of himself, he would not tolerate it from those who worked for him.
That was his problem. As he accepted no vulnerability to problems, from production to sales, he could never allow himself to be vulnerable. No one, except for executive assistants got overly close to him.
It was one year, at the annual party, as he was approaching his 62nd year that he offered his executive team a hiking trip to the Rockies after they had achieved an excellent sales record. It sounded like fun and several accepted.
He was always in decent shape, but not at altitude, not hiking a 14,000-foot mountain. Several executives asked him, respectfully, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
His motto failed him that day. As several on his executive team passed him, his chest started pounding and then the tightness took over. He had to be airlifted off the mountain as the park rangers and his team were terrified, he would die.
He was terrified as well. He was vulnerable in front of people he had pushed. He looked at his team at the hospital as they surrounded his bed. They cared for him more than he had cared for them on a human level. He admitted that his ego had gotten the best of him. That he had always tried to be strong for them so they could be strong for themselves.
“I understand,” said his vice president of manufacturing, “but maybe it’s OK to be weak. Maybe it’s OK to admit you can’t be superman.”
They all watched, in silence, as a single tear trickled down his face.
He understood it was possible to be vulnerable and to still be a leader. He eventually turned over the reins of his company to his management team allowing that the burden of leadership had to be shared. In his renewed authenticity, he became a more effective leader.