Bo Burlingham

Necessary Losses

 

I needed someone whom I knew extremely well and trusted completely, whose thought process I both understood and respected. A major part of this person's job, after all, was going to involve dealing with me. I was very anxious about the whole process. My company is my baby. Other people helped raise it, but it began as a sparkle in my eye. So I had to have complete confidence in whomever I hired to take it to the next level.

In the end, I was lucky; one of my best friends was perfectly qualified for the job. His name is Sam, and he's a world-class manager who has built and sold seven businesses in seven different industries. He agreed to take me on.

The second challenge I faced was to find something else for me to do in the company. I mean, if I wasn't going to be running the business anymore, how was I going to spend my time? I have many outside interests, and I put a lot of effort into them, but I couldn't just walk away from my company. I still loved it. I loved the concept. And the company earns a lot of money. I wanted to stay involved.

And yet I realized as well that I had to get out of the way. I knew I wasn't going to enjoy my reduced role. I've always had a hard time not being the guy who provides the final answer. I want to be included in every decision, and I have trouble accepting that people can make decisions without me. I have even more trouble going along with decisions that aren't the same as the ones I would have made.

So what was I going to do? Sit alone in my office with the door closed, biting my tongue and grinding my teeth? Or fall back on old habits and undermine the entire process?

I've learned over the years that the best way to break a bad habit is to replace it with a good habit. So I asked myself, "What are the best jobs for me?" One of them is sales, no question. I enjoy selling. I'm good at it. And I have a lifetime of contacts to draw on. I'm also pretty good at negotiating deals and overseeing projects. As it happens, we're in the final stages of putting together the financing for a new facility we're building next to our present warehouse.

I have my work cut out for me. For the next two years, I'm going to divide my time between making sales calls and supervising the construction of the new building. Those two jobs will keep me involved with the business--and out of everybody's hair. I'll stay away from the office as much as possible. I won't attend staff meetings. I'll let my managers make their own decisions and do my best to abide by them.

But old habits die hard.

Which brings me to the third challenge: sticking with the process. There are moments, I confess, when I wonder how long I can keep this up and how far I can go. My goal is to turn 100% of my authority over to my management team. I figure I'm about 70% of the way there. I still have the final say on some issues---major financial commitments, for example, or adding new positions. Not that we've spelled out the areas I'm holding on to, but I think the boundaries are pretty clear to my managers. Occasionally, they'll ask me what I want to do about something. I try to make as few decisions as possible.

Sam tells me that I shouldn't have to make any decisions at all. As long as the managers stay within the budget and meet the financial goals, why should I care how they do it? In theory, he's right, but I still have a lot of growing to do before I can practice what he's preaching. I just hope I can stay the course.

Don't get me wrong. I like the results so far. I can see a tremendous difference in the company already. Our employee turnover is way down, mainly, I think, because we're doing much better at hiring. Under the new procedures, we now require that two people interview every job candidate. To me, that rule was a luxury. But what can I say? It works.

Meanwhile, my accounting department has done a complete turnaround. Before, I could never get enough information when I wanted it. Now I'm getting more than I need--from the same people. The funny thing is, I'd always blamed the head of the department for the problem, but it turned out that I was the real culprit. She reported to me. All she needed was more structure and a new boss, and she became a star.

In fact, most of our employees are thriving under the new regime. Morale is higher than ever. Why? I can think of only one reason: people want structure. They want to know what the rules are, and they want the same rules applied evenhandedly across the board. They don't want us to deal with each case individually, as I used to do. They actually work better when they think everybody is getting equal treatment. If you'd told me that a year ago, I'd have said you were crazy, but I can't deny what I see with my own eyes.

Of course, we're nowhere near the end of this process, and the hardest part lies ahead. I still have to relinquish final control. That means accepting the fact that I'm really not needed to run the company anymore.

I remind myself, though, that there's a big payoff if we're successful. For openers, I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that my business is in good hands and will continue to grow without my direct involvement. Also, I won't have to try to be the "manager" of a steady, viable, established business--a role I hated so much that part of me always kept trying to prevent the company from reaching that stage and forcing me into that role. And last, I'll be free to spend more of my time doing what I love most in the world: starting my own businesses and helping other people start theirs.

But in a way, the payoff is beside the point. I didn't really have a choice about stepping away from my business. If I'd continued to run it, my management-by-crisis style would have done it in. I know that. I also know that I wouldn't have been happy changing my style (even if I could). Here's the bottom line: I may prefer chaos, but what I prefer doesn't count now. My company has reached the stage where what it needs is more important than what I need. Besides, it can't give me what I need anymore. So letting go was my only smart choice.

The trouble is, no matter how inevitable and healthy that choice is for my business, my employees, and in many ways even for me, I won't soon forget how much it hurts.

Norm Brodsky is a veteran entrepreneur whose six businesses include a former Inc. 100 company and a three-time Inc. 500 company. Bo Burlingham is an editor at large at Inc.

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Bo Burlingham: Burlingham joined Inc. in 1983. An editor at large, he is the author of Small Giants: Companies That Choose to Be Great Instead of Big. The book was a finalist for the Financial Times/Goldman Sachs Business Book of the Year Award in 2006. Burlingham is also the co-author with Norm Brodsky of The Knack; and the co-author with Jack Stack of The Great Game of Business and A Stake in the Outcome. @boburlingham