Insufflation

On a recent conference call, one of my colleagues stops me early in my kick-off remarks to ask who else is on the phone and whether we all know each other.  A super friendly guy; I forget that he often starts meetings in this way. I’m a little embarrassed that I don’t always think to lead with such basic pleasantries.  I’ve grown up in the workplace as strictly business; operating for years under the assumption that I need a sternly professional demeanor in order to be creditable.  But as I’ve progressed in my career, I’ve also come to believe this truth:  Businesses don’t exist without the human element; businesses are the people who run them.

As so it just makes sense to me that business theory can apply to what’s human in all of us.  I devour books chronicling the stories of leaders, their successes and failures, on the lookout for the visceral humanity, for this is where our sameness lives and parallels lie, waiting to be drawn. My latest conquest, “How the Mighty Fall” by Jim Collins, does not disappoint.  It explains the research project Collins undertook identifying distinct stages of decline businesses fall through, evoking visions of the graphic AMC’s Mad Men repeats with each episode:  The silhouette of a businessman tumbling precariously down the side of a New York City skyscraper.

Collins outlines the intensifying signs of distress through case studies of well-known companies ailing early in the new millennium. He illustrates how success and profitability cause leaders to become fat, happy and eager for more.  The thirst to become bigger pulls resources away from the core business, and the careful vetting of talent falls by the wayside as rapid growth opens the hiring sluice.  As companies stray from the products and services that make them great, margins in the core business begin to erode. Without thoughtful consideration around expansion that honors the company’s values and strengths; ventures fail. When the writing starts to appear on the wall, many leaders refuse to see it until it’s too late, viewing questionable data through rose-colored glasses.  By the time they are willing to admit the problems are real, the business has sunk to hadal depths, disaster is looming and decision makers flail in careless, panicked, last ditch efforts to recover quickly. Many don’t.

Not exactly a happy story, but as I read, I am excited about this book as preventative medicine on so many business levels.  It doesn’t need to apply only to an entire company battling an aggressive disease, but the health of a frail client account, or the low grade fever a massive independent project can’t seem to shake.  Knowing what decline looks like can help us take steps toward recovery before it’s too late.

And what if we apply this to our relationships?  If couples read this book will they develop awareness, before apathy sets in, of the invisible erosion so many long-term unions suffer?  I like to think yes.  And if so, the prescription for a good healthy relationship might look like this:

Believe it could happen to you.  When things are good, we find it impossible to fathom we may fall prey to decline:  It happens to everyone else, not us.  Much like the infancy of a start-up, solid relationships are born from the passion two people feel and the blood, sweat and tears they invest getting to really know each other. The relationship becomes great because of this level of commitment; if you take this for granted it could happen to you. 

Keep focus on each other and what makes you great together. This is your core business. As you open your relationship up to friends, family and children, new priorities steal your attention. While the needs of these so-called outside ventures may feel pressing, balancing them with focus on each other builds a solid base upon which everything else draws strength. 

Pay attention to signs of trouble. Full and stressful days pass with lightning speed; it’s easy to miss or explain away the knell of distress, easy to listen with only one ear, especially when you’re busy growing other parts of your life. Any good business employs measures to gauge its health.  Doing the same with your relationship is paramount to its success.  Asking each other if you’re okay and being brave enough to have the difficult conversations when you’re not keeps you solid.  

When things get really bad take convalescence seriously.  Insidious problems can lurk in the background for an inordinate amount of time before rising to the surface. Fixing them requires patience and an understanding that the road to recovery will likely be slow if it is to be sustained.  If you’re going to escape inurnment you need to give the same time and passion to rebuilding as you did to the start-up.

I love that Collins also gives more than a nod to lady luck in this book.  We all like to think we control everything, but the happiest people acknowledge that luck has a permanent seat at the table.  She keeps us honest, making it impossible to overestimate our abilities and merit, and easy to ignore the temptation to rest on our laurels.

The sage leaders behind businesses that operate on the premise of “What have you done for me lately?” inoculate themselves against decline.  We can do the same in our relationships too.  Humility, not hubris, keeps the mighty on top.  I say love more and often.