Execute Violently
by Margaret Heffernan

The first company I ever ran enjoyed a history typical of most small businesses. It had evolved gradually, in response to market growth and some very smart initiatives of the part of my gifted predecessor. People and functions were added when customers demanded them and cash flow could fund them. There was never a strategic plan, an org chart or job descriptions and we were rather proud of being able to do without all that HR mumbo jumbo.

Until we decided to merge with another company - a decision that brought with it a need to harmonize pay scales and delineate responsibilities. Suddenly having no structure made every person a special case. Since this was my first company, I was idealistic and keen to prove how highly I valued my employees who were, mostly, excellent. I was determined to demonstrate that I really meant it when I said our people were our greatest asset - and to do so by hours of hand holding and one-on-one negotiation. I scheduled appointments with each individual, sent them draft copies of their contracts, and encouraged them to be raise with me any concerns they might have.

What a fiasco. Instead of appreciating my love and attention, every single employee saw an opportunity to renegotiate everything: season tickets, desk size, lunch breaks, the brand of drinking water the office supplied, the person they sat next to, time off in lieu of overtime, the colour of the company logo, how many friends they could bring to the office party. Way too late I realized that the more leeway I gave them to negotiate, the more they took. Far from appreciating the attention, they took the opportunity to vent every conceivable complaint about their job, the company, their coworkers and their lives. I had opened the floodgates.

That's how I learned that, sometimes, running a small company can be a lot tougher than a big one. I'd never have made this mistake in a large organization because it would not have been physically possible to do so. The great pleasure and competitive advantage of small businesses is everyone knowing each other so well. It's the great drawback too. Quite quickly everything can get too personal, the line between friend and manager irrevocably blurred. I talk to lots of Managing Directors who struggle with this issue - worried that they so easily morph from boss to friend to parent or sibling. This is quite pleasant when things are going well - but when hard decisions need to be taken, it can be brutal.

What should I have done? Now that I've run several companies, of varying sizes, I see that my heart was in the right place but I got the sequence wrong. I should have consulted widely and deeply. Taken input, listened, made sure everyone got their word in. That part was right. But I should have drawn up a plan and implemented it fast. I should have given myself an escape hatch called a review - a period some 9 or 12 months later in which I'd address consolidated grievances and inequities. And given time for everyone to cool off and settle down.

Many of the companies I now work with encounter these same issues. Nowadays, the debate usually focuses on the pace of change: how quickly should we implement new structures and pay deals? Like removing plasters, some favour a very slow pace in the hope that no one will feel anything; others like to get it over with fast and move on. I used to belong to the first group, thinking that by giving endless time and attention, I could make the change slow, gentle, painless. Today, I see that I was treating my employees like children - and, predictably, that's exactly how they responded. Behaving like children, they taught me what every parent knows - how important it is to explain what's happening, live up to it and establish clear boundaries.

Now I tend to think that speed is better - and kinder. Implementing change on a fast and explicit timetable means that everyone can see what is happening, see how long the pain will last, and pace themselves accordingly. It treats employees as adults which increases the likelihood that that is how they will respond. And it gets you out of the cycle of endless negotiation so you can move on and get back to doing business.

Shortly after our badly mangled merger, I left the company. I suspect some of my employees have never forgiven me for the mess. Certainly, I never forgot the lesson - at least insofar as I never repeated it. I still try to steer clear of HR mumbo jumbo and love living without bureaucracy. But the experience has seared into my brain a mantra from Marjorie Scardino. She may run a multinational but her advice, I think, has value to every entrepreneur I know: Have a plan - and execute it violently.

This article was originally published in Real Business magazine

© Margaret Heffernan, 2004

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