What Part of the Alphabet Are You?
The different stages of a firm’s life cycle require different leadership. Start-
up, growth, maturity, and decline require (crudely speaking) an entrepreneur,
visionary, operator, and pragmatist, respectively. Surprisingly, the hardest to
find are the pragmatists. The entrepreneur is the storyteller/salesperson who
convinces people to join or invest in a company before it really exists. At the
outset, no company makes sense, or it would already exist. The visionary
does the same thing with the company’s first, unproven, products or services
—even though there is no evidence the company will survive long enough to
support those products.
I’ve started several firms. That makes me, in Silicon Valley’s terms, a
serial entrepreneur. Serial entrepreneurs share three qualities:
a higher tolerance for risk
can sell
too stupid to know they are going to fail
Rinse and repeat, over and over again.
Highly rational and intelligent people are usually not good entrepreneurs,
especially serial entrepreneurs, as they can clearly see the risks.
Once a firm has momentum and access to capital, it is better served by a
visionary who can turn this momentum into a somewhat dumbed-down,
scalable, and repeatable process and gain access to cheaper and cheaper
capital. Entrepreneurs are usually enamored with the preciousness of their
product vs. something that can scale. Like the entrepreneur, the visionary
needs to sell the story, but it’s now a narrative a few chapters in. A visionary
may not have the crazy genius of the entrepreneur, but they make up for it
with a feel for the organization, specifically the hard work of building an
organization that can scale the idea. Once we get to a hundred people, I’ve
always brought in an “organizational” person, as I don’t have these skills.
The operator is long on business maturity and reeks of integrity. He or she
must be highly competent at dealing with employees who increasingly
choose job security over risk, and who prefer salaries over stock. This is the
CEO who travels 250 days a year visiting far-flung divisions, deals with
angry shareholders, and is always on the hunt for the next corporate
acquisition. People who envy high-paid corporate CEOs don’t know what
they are talking about (other than the tens of millions in comp); it’s one of the
shittiest jobs in corporate life, which is why certain sociopaths thrive at it.
If the employees and shareholders of an aging and declining firm are
lucky, they get a pragmatist in the chief executive’s chair. The pragmatist
CEO has no romantic notions about the company’s glory days (mostly
because he or she wasn’t there) and
never
falls in love with the firm. Rather,
the pragmatist CEO recognizes that the firm is in decline and harvests the
cash flows, cuts costs faster than revenue declines, sells off still-valuable
assets to mature company CEOs (never to visionary CEOs, who don’t want
the stink of death on their companies), and then fire-sales the rest.
A productive exercise for one’s own career is to ask: Where do I thrive in
the alphabet? Think of companies and products having a life cycle, A–Z. Are
you happiest at start-ups where you’re expected to wear a number of different
hats (A–D), the inception/visionary stage (E–H), good at managing, scaling,
and reinventing (I–P) … or can you manage a firm/product in decline, and do
so profitably (Q–Z)? Few people are good across more than several letters.
This exercise should help guide the firms and projects you work for and
pursue.
Few CEOs are suited for more than two of the stages. Most CEOs got to
the position by being founders, visionaries, or operators, not pragmatists. You
can probably count the number of CEOs in American business history who
have effectively led their firms (or wanted to) across the entire alphabet.
After all, who wants to lead into death the great company they founded
decades before?
Kids born today in advanced nations have a life expectancy of one
hundred. Of the Dow 100, only eleven are more than one hundred years old
—89 percent mortality rate. That means our kids will outlive almost all the
firms you know today. Look at the list of the ten largest firms in Silicon
Valley for each decade of the last sixty years. It’s a rare firm that makes the
list twice.
A more likely fate is that of Yahoo—a one-time superstar sold for a
fraction of its value a decade ago. Yahoo! (that exclamation point now seems
more ironic than descriptive) is stuck in the age of display advertising—and
has demonstrated no evidence it is able to do anything else. With a pragmatist
running the firm, it could have aged gracefully, reducing the number of
employees and divesting noncore assets, producing gobs of cash for loyal
investors. When a profitable firm starts reducing expenses versus reinvesting
in growth, it can become massively cash generative. Oath is now the property
of an old-economy firm, a gray if not a white flag.
Botox
People who received a great deal of attention for their looks at a young age
are more likely to opt for cosmetic procedures when older. It’s the same in
business. Firms that garnered most of their confidence (valuation) from the
fact they were at one time “hot” opt for the equivalent of expensive Botox
procedures and eyebrow lifts—acquisition of dubious start-ups (like Yahoo’s
billion-dollar bet on Tumblr), delusional strategies in mobile computing,
hiring expensive talent from younger firms who, like gigolos, take their
money and quickly move on—in the doomed hope of recapturing their lost
youth. The result is a freakish-looking internet company hopped up on Botox
and fillers. Firms in old-economy or niche sectors seem to have an easier
time coming to grips with aging and aren’t as susceptible to the kind of
midlife crises that are expensive and create a great deal of misery for
stakeholders.
It’s difficult to find pragmatists to run these companies at the end of the
alphabet, but they are out there. They can be activist shareholders or partners
in private equity firms who have seen firms die and realize that there are
worse things than death—specifically a slow death where shareholders are
bankrupted trying to give Pop-Pop just one more day. Pragmatists can make
unemotional, even cold, decisions to move Nana home and enjoy her last
days (that is, return a shitload of cash to investors).
David Carey, CEO of Hearst Magazines, is one of the few CEOs I’ve seen
make the transition from visionary to operator to pragmatist. It’s not a
shocker that magazines are in structural decline. David hasn’t given up hope
and regularly launches (surprisingly successful) new titles and has developed
profitable digital channels. However, this is pushing a rock up a hill, and he
knows it. Much of the innovation David brings to Hearst is around cost-
cutting to return cash to the mother ship: for example, putting one editor in
charge of multiple titles, leveraging the scale of the organization, recycling
content through multiple channels and titles, and demonstrating discipline
concerning head count.
The result? Hearst titles steal back share from digital marauders, and David
rides
Cosmopolitan
(a big Hearst title) off into the sunset. Right? Well, no.
Hearst Magazines will likely be a shadow of the shadow it is now in ten
years. However, Hearst will be fine, as it finds and retains managers who
understand the business life cycle. They know how to harvest so they can
plant new trees—which they will harvest well before they become mature.
On a risk-adjusted basis, you are better off bringing an entrepreneurial
mind-set to a company that has already survived its birth pains (think not A–
C, but D–F). That’s because the infant mortality of new tech start-ups
(basically, before the Series A venture round) is greater than 75 percent. Sure,
your plucky start-up might find its lane and make you rich, but it probably
won’t. This denial is key to our economy, as some of this crazy turns to crazy
successful and fuels key parts of our economy.
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