Start With Why (26 page)

If those outside the megaphone share your WHY and if you are able to clearly communicate that belief in everything you say and do, trust emerges and value is perceived. When that happens, loyal buyers will always rationalize the premium they pay or the inconvenience they suffer to get that feeling. To them, the sacrifice of time or money is worth it. They will try to explain that their feeling of value comes from quality or features or some other easy-to-point-to element, but it doesn’t. Those are external factors and the
feeling
they get comes completely from inside them. When people can point to a company and clearly articulate what the company believes and use words unrelated to price, quality, service and features, that is proof the company has successfully navigated the split. When people describe the value they perceive with visceral, excited words like “love,” that is a sure sign that a clear sense of WHY exists.

There were three words missing from Bill Gates’s goodbye speech when he officially left Microsoft in June 2008. They are three words he probably doesn’t even realize need to be there.

“I’ll be back.”

Though Gates abdicated his role as CEO of Microsoft to Steve Ballmer in 2000 to lend more time and energy to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, he still maintained a role and a presence at the Microsoft headquarters in Redmond, Washington. His plan was always to completely leave the company in the care of others, but like a lot of founders, Gates forgot to do one thing that would allow his plan to work. This one oversight could have a devastating impact on Microsoft and may even require him to come back someday to right the ship he built.

Bill Gates is special. Not just because of his brain or his management style. Though important, those two things alone are not the formula for building a $60 billion corporation from scratch. Like all visionary leaders, Bill Gates is special because he embodies what he believes. He is the personification of Microsoft’s WHY. And for that reason, he serves as a physical beacon, a reminder of WHY everyone comes to work.

When Gates founded Microsoft with Paul Allen in 1975, he did so to advance a higher cause: if you give people the right tools, and make them more productive, then everyone, no matter their lot in life, will have an opportunity to achieve their real potential. “A PC in every home and on every desk,” he envisioned; remarkable from a company that didn’t even make PCs. He saw the PC as the great equalizer. Microsoft’s most successful software, Windows, allowed anyone to have access to powerful technology. Tools like Word, Excel and PowerPoint gave everyone the power to realize the promise of the new technology—to become more efficient and productive. Small businesses, for example, could look and act like big businesses. Microsoft’s software helped Gates advance his cause to empower the “everyman.”

Make no mistake, Microsoft has done more to change the world than Apple. Though we are drawn to Apple’s well-deserved reputation for innovation and challenging the business models of more than one industry, it is Microsoft that was responsible for the advancement of the personal computer. Gates put a PC on every desk and in doing so he changed the world. As the physical embodiment of the company’s WHY, the “everyman” who fulfilled an amazing potential, what happens now that he’s gone?

Gates himself has always held that he receives a “disproportionate” amount of attention for his role at Microsoft, much of it, of course, due to his exceptional wealth. Like all inspired leaders, he recognizes that his role is to lead the cause, but it is others who will be physically responsible for bringing that cause to life. Martin Luther King Jr. could not have changed America walking across a bridge in Selma, Alabama, with five prominent civil rights leaders. It took the thousands of people marching behind them to spur change. Gates recognizes the need for people to produce real change, but he neglected to remember that any effective movement, social or business, needs a leader to march in the front, preaching the vision and reminding people WHY they showed up in the first place. Though King needed to cross the bridge from Selma on his march to Montgomery, it was what it meant to cross the bridge that mattered. Likewise in business, though profit and shareholder value are valid and essential destinations, they do not inspire people to come to work.

Although Microsoft went through the split years ago, changing from a company that intended to change the world into a company that makes software, having Gates hanging around helped Microsoft maintain at least a loose sense of WHY they existed. With Gates gone, Microsoft does not have sufficient systems to measure and preach their WHY anymore. This is an issue that will have an exponential impact as time passes.

Such a departure as Gates’s is not without precedent among companies with equally visionary leaders. Steve Jobs, the physical embodiment of the rabble-rousing revolutionary, a man who also personifies his company’s WHY, left Apple in 1985 after a legendary power struggle with Apple’s president, John Sculley, and the Apple board of directors. The impact on Apple was profound.

Originally hired by Jobs in 1983, Sculley was a perfectly capable executive with a proven track record. He know WHAT to do and HOW to do things. He was considered one of the most talented marketing executives around, having risen quickly through the ranks of PepsiCo. At Pepsi, he created the wildly successful Pepsi Challenge taste test advertising campaign, leading Pepsi to overtake Coca-Cola for the first time. But the problem was, Sculley was a bad fit at Apple. He ran the company as a business and was not there to lead the cause.

It is worth considering how such a bad fit as Sculley even got the job at Apple in the first place. Simple—he was manipulated. Sculley did not approach Jobs and ask to be a part of Apple’s cause. The way the real story unfolded made the fallout almost predictable. Jobs knew he needed help. He knew he needed a HOW guy to help him scale his vision. He approached Sculley, a man with a solid résumé, and said, “Do you want to sell sugar water your whole life or do you want to change the world?” Playing off Sculley’s ego, aspirations and fears, Jobs completed a perfectly executed manipulation. And with it, Jobs was ousted from his own company a few years later.

Apple thrived on Steve Jobs’s fumes for a few years as businesses started buying up Macintoshes and software developers continued to create new software. But it wouldn’t be long until the company would begin to falter. Apple just wasn’t what it used to be. It had gone through the split and ignored it. The WHY was getting fuzzier and fuzzier with each passing year. The inspiration was gone. Literally.

With a capable executive like Sculley running the business, there was no one to lead the cause. New products would be “less revolutionary and more evolutionary,” reported
FORTUNE
magazine at the time, “some people might even call them dull.” Weary of Apple’s “right brain” ways, Sculley reorganized the company repeatedly, each time trying to get back what Apple clearly had lost. He brought in a new executive staff to help. But all they were doing was trying to manage HOW the company worked when it was the WHY that needed attention. Needless to say, morale was dismal. It wasn’t until Jobs returned in 1997 that everyone inside and outside the company was reminded WHY Apple existed. With clarity back, the company quickly reestablished its power for innovation, for thinking different and, once again, for redefining industries. With Jobs at the helm again, the culture for challenging the status quo, for empowering the individual, returned. Every decision was filtered through the WHY, and it worked. Like most inspiring leaders, Jobs trusted his gut over outside advice. He was regularly criticized for not making mass-market decisions, such as letting people clone the Mac. He couldn’t; those actions violated what he believed. They failed the Celery Test.

When the person who personifies the WHY departs without clearly articulating WHY the company was founded in the first place, they leave no clear cause for their successor to lead. The new CEO will come aboard to run the company and will focus attention on the growth of WHAT with little attention to WHY. Worse, they may try to implement their own vision without considering the cause that originally inspired most people to show up in the first place. In these cases, the leader can work against the culture of the company instead of leading or building upon it. The result is diminished morale, mass exodus, poor performance and a slow and steady transition to a culture of mistrust and every-man-for-himself.

It happened at Dell. Michael Dell, too, had a cause when he started his company. From the start, he focused on efficiency as a way of getting more computing power into more hands. Unfortunately, it was a cause that he too forgot, and then didn’t communicate well enough before he stepped down as CEO of Dell Corp. in July 2004. After the company started to weaken—customer service, for one, plummeted—he came back in less than three years.

Michael Dell recognized that without him present to keep energy focused on the reason Dell Corp. was founded, the company became more obsessed with WHAT at the expense of WHY. “The company was too focused on the short term, and the balance of priorities was way too leaning toward things that deliver short-term results—that was the major root cause,” Dell told the
New York Times
in September 2007. The company had in fact become so dysfunctional that some managers were compelled to falsify earnings reports between 2003 and 2006 in order to meet sales targets, suggesting a corporate culture that put undue pressure on managers to meet bottom-line targets. In the meantime, the company had missed significant market shifts, most notably the potential of the consumer market, and lost its edge with component suppliers as well. And in 2006, Hewlett-Packard swept past Dell as the largest seller of PCs worldwide. Dell had gone through the split and failed to recognize the reason it wasn’t the company it used to be.

Starbucks is another good example. In 2000, Howard Schultz resigned as CEO of Starbucks, and for the first time in its history and despite 50 million customers per week, the company started to crack.

If you look back at the history of Starbucks, it thrived not because of its coffee but because of the experience it offered to customers. It was Schultz who brought that WHY to the company when he arrived in 1982, ten years after Gordon Bowker, Jerry Baldwin and Zev Siegl first started selling coffee beans in Seattle. In the early days it was about the coffee. Schultz, frustrated that the founders of Starbucks couldn’t see the larger vision, set out to put the company on a new course, the course that ultimately turned Starbucks into the company we know today. Schultz had been enamored of the espresso bars of Italy, and it was his vision of building a comfortable environment between work and home, the “third space,” as he called it, that allowed Starbucks to single-handedly create a coffee-shop culture in the United States that had until then only existed on college campuses.

That was the time when Starbucks stood for something. It reflected an underlying belief about the world. It was that idea that people bought, not the coffee. And it was inspiring. But Starbucks, like so many before it, went through the inevitable split. They, too, forgot about WHY the company was founded and started focusing on the results and the products. There was a time when Starbucks offered the option to sip your coffee out of a ceramic cup and eat your Danish off a ceramic plate. Two perfect details that helped bring the company’s belief to life in the place between work and home. But ceramic crockery is expensive to maintain and Starbucks did away with it, favoring the more efficient paper cups. Though it saved money, it came at a cost: the erosion of trust. Nothing says to a customer “We love you, now get out” like a paper cup. It was no longer about the third space. It had become about the coffee. Starbucks’s WHY was going fuzzy. Thankfully, Schultz was there, the physical embodiment of the WHY, to remind people of the higher cause. But in 2000 he left, and things got worse.

The company had grown from fewer than 1,000 stores to 13,000 in only ten years. Eight years and two CEOs later, the company was dangerously overextended just as it was facing an onslaught of competition from McDonald’s, Dunkin’ Donuts and other unexpected places. In a now famous memo that Schultz wrote to his successor, Jim Donald, just months before returning to take the helm, he implored Donald to “make the changes necessary to evoke the heritage, the tradition and the passion that we all have for the true Starbucks experience.” The reason the company was floundering was not that it grew too fast, but that Schultz had not properly infused his WHY into the organization so that the organization could manage the WHY without him. In early 2008, Schultz replaced Donald with a leader who could better steer the company back to a time before the split: himself.

None of these executives are considered God’s gift to management. Steve Jobs’s paranoia, for example, is well documented, and Bill Gates is socially awkward. Their companies are thousands of people deep and they alone can’t pull all the strings or push all the buttons to make everything work properly. They rely on the brains and the management skills of teams of people to help them build their megaphones. They rely on people who share their cause. In this respect, they are no different from other executives. But what they all have in common, something that not all CEOs possess, is that they physically embody the cause around which they built their companies. Their physical presence reminds every executive and every employee WHY they show up to work. Put simply: they inspire. Yet, like Bill Gates, these inspired leaders have all failed to properly articulate their cause in words that others could rally around in their absence. Failing to put the movement into hard words leaves them as the only ones who can lead the movement. What happens when Jobs or Dell or Schultz leave again?

For companies of any size, success is the greatest challenge. As Microsoft grew, Gates stopped talking about what he believed and how he was going to change the world and started talking about what the company was doing. Microsoft changed. Founded as a company that believed in making people more productive so they could achieve their highest potential, Microsoft became a company that simply made software products. Such a seemingly subtle change affects behaviors. It alters decisions. And it impacts how a company structures itself for the future. Though Microsoft had changed since its founding, the impact was never as dramatic because at least Bill Gates was there, the physical embodiment of the cause that inspired his executives and employees.