But the origin of May's ideas is actually beside the point: suffice it to say that some components were borrowed and tailored to fit, others homemade, and a few key pieces were contributed by outsiders. The trendy words that litter May's conversation--from "neural networking" to the heavily enforced use of "associates"--aren't his invention either. May doesn't pretend they are, which is actually part of the intelligence he brings to maintaining a distinctive, and effective, corporate culture.
To construct such an environment, May seems to be saying, what matters isn't each individual strand; too many CEOs get hung up trying to be unique, along the way losing track of any meaningful end result. May's astounding originality is in how he works to weave each strand together, ensuring that together those strands reinforce the kind of company he wants Empower to be. He's earnest about it, but not serious. Everyone at Empower can recite the company's 21-word mission statement: "To become number one or number three in all markets we serve and to make this company fun, fast, and fulfilling." Ask May why number one or three, rather than one or two, the way General Electric CEO Jack Welch, from whom he borrowed the idea, wrote it, and he'll tell you: Because you should never settle for second best. And besides, you need a place to sit when you're getting ready to go after number one.
May can readily explain Empower's many rituals, even the strangest ones, because he's thought it all through. More typically, a CEO might decide that teamwork matters most (this week anyway) and then search for a way to give it top billing. That can work as long as the person on top keeps pushing, perhaps at the expense of previously established priorities. (Some CEOs even import a culture wholesale; see "Outsourcing Your Company's Persona," below.) May, on the other hand, owns the culture at Empower in a way few CEOs could, simply by knowing exactly what he needs it for.
Borrowing language he learned from Visa's Hock, among others, May wants Empower to be a "neural networked" organization--a fancy way of describing a flat, fast entity that mimics the brain, receiving information from everywhere in the system, with no clunky hierarchy interfering. That is why no business unit can grow larger than 50 people; if it does, it splits. Business-unit leaders are encouraged to build leadership depth fast; they can earn bonuses for nurturing associates who can then create new businesses.
May has been collecting cultural string for a long time. While he worked for Perot, for instance, he learned to dress for success, EDS-style, in a whiter-than-white shirt that was starched within an inch of its life. He loved bow ties. And he never dreamed of getting up from his desk unless he was wearing a coat. Still, "I respected the organization Ross built. He was very smart, he picked bright people, and then trained the crud out of them" in a boot-camp program that lasted four to six weeks. He admired the way Perot took training seriously.
There's one role model May hoists above even the Jug-Eared One. It's Kauffman ("Mr. K" to you and me), whose Marion Labs grew to become a $3-billion health-care-products company named Marion Merrell Dow. (Now called Hoechst Marion Roussel, it's one of Empower's customers.) Mr. K liked to create "happy commotion" around his company, as detailed in his biography, Prescription for Success. May regards the tome as must-reading.
Kauffman would likely feel very at home at Empower. Marion Labs had associates, not employees (who toil in a depressing superior-subordinate relationship). There was also a pay-for-performance plan, through which many of the early associates dedicated their time in exchange for Mr. K's promise that they would eventually be rewarded handsomely through profit sharing and stock options.
Another key part of the Marion culture was quarterly all-associate communication forums, called "Marion on the Move." At Mr. K's last one, more than 2,500 associates showed up at the Kansas City Municipal Auditorium. May, too, holds massive Q&A sessions, offering to answer any question, no matter how personal. "I like it when people don't sugarcoat stuff and just tell us what they're worried about," insists May, who figures his personal life is grist for the mill because he and Caroline own 97% of the company's stock. Once, when Empower OD'd on meetings, the company experimented with skipping the sessions. When they started up again, the first one lasted five hours.
In addition to Kauffman's techniques, May added to the mix something he'd picked up on his first job as an engineer at a company called Sunrise Systems. As a specialist in robotics and plant automation, May once supervised a machine that made cardboard lids for ice- cream cartons. "It ran 'em off so fast," he recalls, "it blew them all over the floor; we had to go run and pick 'em up. But I absolutely loved those days; we built fun, fun systems."
Lesson learned: To be successful, first and foremost, business should be fun.
Everybody agrees that sparkle debuted during a meeting at Lake Tahoe about five years ago, when there were only 22 associates. They'd hit a significant revenue target, and to celebrate they trekked west to the Sierra Nevadas and took a breather.
The company had been growing at such speed--from $55,000 in 1991 to $207,000 in 1992 to $655,000 in 1993--that people were particularly worried about losing what made Empower distinctive and successful.
