No individual is an isolated entity. Everyone that you deal with is being reinforced by those around them. From your banker to your boss, they are receiving encouragement to maintain their current position. Even the so-called leaders, whether a head of state or the head of a household, have an organization behind them shaping their decisions. In fact, leadership is often the ratification of decisions that were already made.
Assume that you need your boss’s permission to get something you want. In trying to persuade him, you have come to the conclusion that he is stubborn beyond belief. You mutter to yourself, “This guy is unbelievable, inhuman. Talking to him is like talking into a dead phone. Maybe there’s something wrong with his genes!”
The solution to this problem may not be docile submission to authority, getting him to take a genetic examination, or even a continuance of the frontal attack. The answer may lie in finding out who’s important to the boss and getting those people to help you influence him. Gaining the commitment of these people to your idea will do wonders—even with the most obstinate boss.
Excepting hermits and recluses, everyone has an organization. It’s true of your boss, and it’s true of you. If I see you in context, you are connected to a web of relationships. These are the people that you listen to and talk to—on the job and at home. You have friends, subordinates, associates, peers, and acquaintances whose opinions you value and respect—those you care about; individuals who carry weight because you might need them in the future. This network comprises your organization. You may be the hub or core, but the bodies rotating about you influence your behavior.
If I can somehow sway your organization, their movement may divert you from your original course. Think about it for a moment. Why do you do certain things? Why do you live where you live? Why do you drive a particular model car? Were these decisions yours alone, or did your organization, whatever its constituency, influence your behavior? If you’re leveling with yourself, you’ll concede that many of your choices were already made—at least in part—by others. You may often lead, as I often lead, by following in front.
Emerson once said, “Things are in the saddle and they ride mankind.” Let me give you an episode from my own experience, where I exercised leadership very much like a wooden figurehead on a Norse ship:
Several years ago I lived in a rustic community in northern Illinois called Libertyville. I had five acres of rolling land, tall oak trees, and a nine-room custom-built home. I thought I was really happy there—until my wife explained to me one morning that we weren’t that happy. She said, “The value system here isn’t right for us. There’s no public transportation. What’s more, the children aren’t being properly educated in the local schools.” I rubbed my chin and finished my coffee, and we decided to move.
Since I was away from home a great deal, the house-hunting responsibility fell on my wife’s shoulders. They slumped when she realized, first hand, how the real estate market had changed in seven years. It’s one thing to read about skyrocketing prices; it’s something else to confront them personally.
Though despondent, my wife continued the futile search for two months. Throughout her ordeal I remained cheerful—since I was not looking. During the weekends, to raise her spirits, I said such things as, “Keep up the good work! All of your efforts will eventually pay off,” and “A stitch in time saves nine!”
Somehow these aphorisms didn’t help our relationship. As a reaction to my attitude, she decided that I required sensitivity training. To sensitize me to the realities of the marketplace, she involved me, weekends, in looking at rejected homes.
I’d come home late each Friday night and collapse in bed, hoping to get some needed sleep. It wasn’t in the cards. My wife awakened me at dawn, gave me a cup of coffee, then trotted me around all day Saturday examining homes. She repeated the process on Sunday, until it was time for me to leave for the airport. I suffered through this schedule three weekends in a row.
Finally, footsore and exasperated, I blurted, “Look—you claim you want self-actualization, self-fulfillment, and more responsibility. You’re a liberated woman! Why don’t you buy the house? And when you buy it, you let me know. You send me a memo, and I’ll be happy to move in with you and the children!” I paused, reflected, then continued, “In fact, I don’t even know why I’m looking at all, because I don’t even live at home that much.” In other words, I “put the ball in her court”!
During the next couple of weeks I knew she was looking. It didn’t bother me that she was—because I wasn’t. That is, until that fateful week.
When I’m on the road, which is most of the time, I call home every night. Admittedly, I’m not a creative telephone conversationalist. Over the years, I have fallen into a rut in my phone discussions. My standard opener is always the same, “Hi—how’s everything?” And my preferred answer is always “Fine!” I then follow that with, “What’s new?” and my preferred answer is always “Nothing!”
Now we come to the portentous week. My broken-record dialogue was repeated on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday evenings—all with the standard questions and the preferred responses. On Thursday evening, I phoned and once again asked, “Hi—how’s everything?”
My wife replied, “Fine.”
“What’s new?” I continued. (What could be new? I just talked to her last night.)
She replied, “I bought a house.”
“What? Say that again.”
“Oh, I bought a house,” she said casually.
“Look,” I interjected, “I believe you are semantically incorrect. What you meant to say was that you saw a house that you liked.”
“Right,” she said. “And I bought it.”
A lump was forming in my throat. “No, no, you mean that you saw a house that you liked and you made an offer on the house that you liked.”
“Right,” she said. “And they accepted it, and we got it.”
I swallowed hard. “You b-b-b-bought a house? A whole house? You couldn’t have!”
“Oh yes,” she stated matter-of-factly. “It was really easy…. You’ll love it. It’s an English Tudor style. Sixteen rooms. Fifty-five years old. It overlooks Lake Michigan.”
A pain shot through my shoulder and down my left arm. I stammered, over and over, “You b-b-b-bought a house.”
“Yes!” emphasized my partner.
Finally, realizing I was under stress, she lowered her voice and added, “I did write on the contract that the purchase is subject to your approval.”
The pain in my left arm subsided somewhat. “You mean, if I don’t approve, you can get out of it?”
“Of course,” my wife assured me. “We have till ten o’clock Saturday morning. If you really dislike the set-up, we can get out of it. It just means I have to start looking all over again.”
I arrived home late Friday night and got up nice and early. The wife and I were going to see this home that she thought she might have bought. However, it was I, the alleged technical titular leader of the household, who was personally going to the scene to make the command decision. We both moved out smartly into the “command car,” technical titular leader at the wheel, my associate beside me.
We drove along, and I said to my wife, “By the way, does anybody know about this house you almost bought?”
“Oh yes,” she said.
“Who could possibly know? It just happened!”
“Many people,” she responded.
“Who?” I persisted.
“Well, all our neighbors and friends know, for starters. In fact, they are throwing us a gala farewell party tonight.”
My jaw muscles tightened. “What do you mean for starters? Who else could know?”
“Well, our families know—your family and my family. In fact, my mother has already ordered custom-made drapes for the living room. I called in the measurements to her.”
While my stomach knotted I wheeled around a corner.
“Who else knows?”
“Well, the children know. They told their friends, they told their teachers; they selected the bedrooms they want. Sharon and Steven have even ordered furniture for their new rooms from a department store.”
“What about our dog?” I asked, trying to prevent a vein on my forehead from throbbing.
“Oh, Fluffy’s been there, sniffing around as only Fluffy can. She likes the neighborhood’s fire hydrants, and a cute male dog down the block caught her eye.”
What was happening here? The organization was moving away from the leader, that’s what! It was the Zig Zag Theory of Organizational Behavior. As you know, all organizations start down the road, shoulder-to-shoulder. Everyone’s in lock step—everyone’s together. When suddenly, without warning, the troops all abruptly zig and then zag.
When that happens, the leader is left stranded in left field, muttering, “What happened? Where’d they all go? Where is everyone?” This phenomenon is known as loneliness—without a cigarette.
In my case, the alleged technical titular leader was now lonely in the zig, with his organization having zagged away. What do you think the alleged technical titular—now lonely—leader did under these circumstances? You’re so right. He ratified a decision that was already made, to keep the title of alleged technical titular leader.
It often seems that my wife knows more about negotiations than I do. She understands that when the body moves, the head is inclined to follow.
What my spouse did was obtain commitment to her decision from the people who are important to me. She put into practice the old saying that “it is often easier to ask forgiveness than permission.” She presented me with a fait accompli, an accomplished fact. To sustain the appearance—even the self-concept—of leadership, I followed in front. In putting my signature on the agreement, I merely ratified a decision that was already made by my wife, our children, our families, our friends and neighbors, and of course our dog, Fluffy.
Never see anyone as an isolated unit. See those whom you wish to persuade in context, as a central core around which others move. Get the support of those others and you will influence the position and movement of the core.