Two, it has to be something that could be as valid 100 years from now as it is today.
Three, it should help you think expansively about what you could do but aren't doing.
Four, it should help you decide what not to do.
Last, your expression of what you stand for has to be truly authentic to your company. Companies that fail on this count are often the ones that really don't stand for anything and never will.
FORGET STRATEGY. BUILD MECHANISMS INSTEAD
To put your core purpose to work, you need mechanisms--the practices that bring what you stand for to life and stimulate change. Mechanisms force things to happen that reinforce your company's core purpose, converting that purpose into action.
Mechanisms aren't strategies; describing the difference helps explain them. In my own personal company of one, for example, my core purpose is "to contribute through learning and teaching." With that in mind, my strategy could be to maximize my contribution at every company I see when I'm consulting. But that's only an intention. Most strategies are intentions. If I have a mechanism, I don't need the intention, because the mechanism will make things happen even when I'm not focused on them.
I've tried to create mechanisms that promote my purpose. For instance, I don't allow myself to spend more than 25% of my time on anything resembling consulting, a limit that ensures that I have time for research, for learning. I've prohibited myself from hiring a permanent full-time employee, which ensures that I won't spend too much time being a manager. And then there's a mechanism I call "the four-day rule." It stipulates that no matter how big or lucrative a client company is, I will spend no more than four days with it in a given year.
Now, that last mechanism drives all sorts of things. It ensures that I can't get drawn into managing or helping to implement ideas or decisions. You can't change AT&T in four days; all you can hope to do is teach, so the mechanism forces me to be in teaching mode. Furthermore, it almost guarantees that I'll make a contribution, because it turns me into a scarce resource. When some multibillion-dollar company has already used three days and the CEO says, "Jim, we'd like you to come give a talk," I can say, "Well, you have only one day left. Are you sure that's how you want to spend it?" It forces a dialogue about how I can best contribute and what the company needs most.
Another mechanism requires the chief executives I work with to spend part of their time coming to see me in Colorado. Think of the effect that has. Instead of trying to get their attention by sending an immorally large bill--which wouldn't incur any psychological pain, because they just have to send a check, and there's always more money--I'm now asking them to give up the one thing they can't get more of: their time. And that commitment means I don't have to worry about developing a strategy for getting them to hear what I'll say. The mechanism virtually guarantees that they'll listen, just because of what they've sacrificed to get there. It maximizes the likelihood that I'll make a significant contribution even though it doesn't prescribe what the meeting will be about or what the result will be.
How to build a mechanism and spot a good one when you see it
There are two ways in which powerful mechanisms come about. One is organic; I'd call it the try-a-lot-of-stuff-and-keep-what-works school of mechanisms. That's how 3M's famous 15% rule came about. About 40 years ago there was a meeting headed by William McKnight, who was the real architect of 3M, and a guy raised his hand and said: "You know, you're always encouraging us to use our creativity and initiative, but I'm pretty busy just doing the stuff we're already working on. Would it be OK with you if I used the lab during my breaks to play with things I just want to explore?" And McKnight said: "Sure, great idea. But don't take your break time. Take 15% of your day anytime you like and work on whatever you want." That's not pursuing a strategy, that's building a mechanism that will lead toward innovation.
The other way that mechanisms come about is that an executive simply imposes them.
When Granite Rock Co. established its "short pay" policy, it wasn't a consensus decision. It was CEO Bruce Woolpert's saying, "We've got to put something dramatic in place that will force us to pay attention when we're not meeting the standards that we have for ourselves and that a customer should expect from us." So, now, printed at the bottom of every Granite Rock invoice is the instruction: If you're not satisfied with something, don't pay us for it. Simply scratch out the related line item... and send your check for the remaining balance.
Now, it's one thing to adopt a strategy calling for great customer service. It's another to devise a mechanism that invites unhappy customers to pay less than the amount on the invoice. That will get your attention. It's concrete. It's measurable. And pretty soon the whole company is trying to figure out how to perform so it doesn't happen.
Mechanisms like that change the psychology of a company. And they're like electroshock therapy--they need someone to administer them.
The invention of a mechanism
Often you build mechanisms in response to a specific problem. Here's one I invented to solve a problem in my classroom.
One of my goals for my classroom is to make it an environment where people will be actively involved in their own learning. I genuinely believe that each student can contribute as much to the learning process as the teacher does, if not more. With 66 students in my business-school class, plus me, that's 67 teachers in the room. Anytime that a student has something really important to contribute as we explore a case--a key challenge or a question--I want to hear it. I tell my class that all the time.
