All posts by Jim

Bugs Bunny’s Real Problem

Of all of my business leadership columns, this one will always be my favorite. It ran in three newspapers during my career. The last was as a column in my “Minding Your Own Business” columns for The Lebanon Democrat. i liked it even more when JB Leftwich praised it for being an excellent column.

Bugs Bunny’s Real Problem

Several thousand years ago, Aesop created the fable “The Hare and the Tortoise,” probably the most well known fable of them all.

Aesop made a star out of Bugs Bunny.

In an early Bugs cartoon, the fable was told with Bugs as the hare.  He is undone by overconfidence and underestimating the ability of his competition.  He loses the race to the tortoise.

Bugs acquired a new agent after that cartoon, and now he always wins over the likes of Elmer Fudd, Yosemite Sam, Daffy Duck, the Tasmanian Devil, and a whole host of other bumbling, though lovable doofuses.

My father at 96, occasionally still watches and enjoys Bugs’ cartoons.  My daughter, at 21, puts Bugs right at the top of her “to-watch” list.  My grandson at three received a “Looney Tunes” DVD for Christmas and loves Bugs and all of his buddies.  And I, somewhere in amongst the three of them, am among Bugs’ greatest fans.

Bugs’ Confidence

Bugs, after the agent change somewhere back in the ’30’s or ’40’s, succeeds in his cartoon quests in large part because of his confidence, which is also embodied in successful people in the business world.  Confidence in being right gives Bugs the power to uneven the playing field, to change the rules to his advantage.  But, as we learned in that old, scratchy rerun of Aesop’s tale, there is a thin line between confidence and arrogance.

As a facilitator in Leadership Excellence while in the Navy and later as a consultant in Organization Improvement, I have studied traits, behaviors and attitudes of successful business people: bosses, managers, leaders.  I have discussed principles, which delineate between successful businesses and those that are not successful.  I have discussed the difference between success and failure at length with many associates, colleagues and friends.  The discussions always generate high energy.  Success and failure come in many packages, but I have never met a successful leader of any organization who did not exude confidence, confidence he or she is right

Confidence or Arrogance

One can be successful even crossing the line between confidence and arrogance.  In assessing the long line of bosses I have observed, worked with, worked for, or provided services to, a number were arrogant.  That is to say, I could not tell them anything because either it was something they claimed they already knew or considered it bad information.  Yet they succeeded because they believed they were on the right track and stuck to it.  In the short run, it gave them post-tortoise Bugs’ power.

When a boss crosses the line from confidence to arrogance, it may not affect the success of his or her business in the short run.  Yet it could be disastrous immediately and the probability for dysfunction is even greater for the long haul.  Arrogance inserts an imbalance into the equation.  Arrogance has no tolerance for listening to other possibilities of right answers. Unlike confidence, arrogance is blind and deaf.

Nearly every comment I have heard or read about Ray Kroc has been high praise. Ray’s success can be attributed to many factors.  The empire which has become MacDonald’s is a complicated, sophisticated, and overwhelming success, rising from the confident leadership of Ray Kroc.

Ray’s confidence was legendary.  He preached his mantra, “Quality, Service, Cleanliness, Value,” with the assurance of being absolutely correct.  There is no question his confidence was a major, if not the primary factor in his success.  Ray Kroc possessed Bugs’ kind of confidence. He was not often, if ever arrogant.

Confidence Wins

Bugs learned a lot from the tortoise (and perhaps the tortoise’s agent).  He now assesses his competition and the situation before confidently entering the event du jour.  When he is arrogant, he stumbles, but being Bugs and a cartoon character at that, he pulls through and always wins.

For me and the rest of you business leaders, owners, and managers out there, the connection is clear.  Avoid arrogance: get as much information as you can about the situation and the competition.  Then, move forward with confidence.

The next time you relax for a bit of television and settle back to watch Bugs take on another adversary, remember Bugs rose to fame because he learned the difference between confidence and arrogance.

“That’s all, folks.”

-30-

Football, a Legacy Gone South

i’ve been posting all sorts of stuff about all sorts of things here on this website for some time now. That is me enjoying me, but i kept feeling like i was missing something that once was here. In case you haven’t noticed, i love to write. Consequently, i can just go bananas and forget some things i meant to always be a part of this column, like an extension of writing “Notes from the Southwest Corner” as a weekly column for The Lebanon Democrat just shy of ten years.

Then for the last several days, Tick Bryan’s post on the “If You Grew Up in Lebanon, You Remember…” of the Tastee  Freeze shop made me realize what has been missing here: memories of Lebanon, Tennessee.

An integral part of my memories, was, of course, four years at Castle Heights. Although i did okay in Academics and so-so in the military side (ironic, isn’t it?), my focus was on sports. Sports dominated my thoughts (okay, okay, girls were pretty high in those thoughts as well) from when i can remember until i realized i wasn’t going to play any sport at the intercollegiate level. Football was my driver. The below is a column, i wrote for The Democrat in 2008 about those memories about football and Lebanon.

Football, a Legacy Gone South

SAN DIEGO – On my second birthday, after my father returned from the war, my uncle, Alvin “Snooks” Hall, gave me a football. In my mother’s albums, there is a snapshot of me at four in my cowboy hat standing beside a little red wagon. In the middle of the wagon bed is the football.

Even though I played other sports, football was my passion. I played imaginary games in the yard. On Saturdays, I could hear the Castle Heights announcer calling the Saturday afternoon games. I was Doak Walker, the Heisman award winner from Southern Methodist University; the triple threat star Bob Waterfield of the Los Angeles Rams, who was also married to Jane Russell (my aspirations were high); and Bobby Lane, the feisty quarterback of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

My father took me to the Lebanon High games at the juncture of Fairfield Avenue, South Greenwood Street, and East High Street, urging me to scream the entire game.

We would watch the Sunday games on the black and white television. Red Grange, the “Galloping Ghost.” announced the games. On the radio, I listened to the Commodores and the Vols as well as the Tennessee Tech and Middle Tennessee Thanksgiving games. Occasionally, we would go to Nashville and watch Vanderbilt play at Dudley Field.

At Lebanon Junior High, I played two years with one loss in 16 games. It was my acme in football. but I continued to play with some notoriety as “Mighty Mouse” at Castle Heights (Mike Dixon, The Cavalier sports editor gave me that moniker) while my friends were having the Blue Devil magic undefeated season in 1961.

As a junior, five-six, 135 pounds, I incongruously played blocking back and linebacker. We traveled to Baylor, just outside of Chattanooga for an afternoon game. My aunt and uncle, who lived there, arrived at half-time. I suspect Coach Jimmy Allen saw them waving to me. Regardless, I was sent in on defense in the third quarter.

A signal from the sidelines directed us from our normal “6-2” defense into a “7-1” alignment, seven down linemen and one linebacker. Using the same reasoning which got me in trouble most of my life, I volunteered and stepped into a defensive guard position.

I split their right guard and tackle. Both were all-conference for two years. The guard weighed 240 pounds, the tackle topped off at 265.

I think I saw the quarterback licking his lips. As he called an audible, I rationally concluded they were going to run straight at me, deciding my only chance was to “submarine.” That meant I would dive low and hopefully split through the two mammoths in front of me.

Good idea. Unfortunately, the two giants in front of me also figured that out. They double- flopped on me, trapping me under more than 500 pounds of flesh and gear. I was spread eagle on the ground.

I squirmed and waved my arms as much as I could to breathe and to get the lummoxes off.

The halfback cut next to the massive pile with this puny linebacker underneath. As he cut, he tripped over my frantically waving left hand, falling forward for a one-yard gain.

As I retreated to the sideline, teammates pounded me on the back. Reaching the sideline, Coach Frank North rubbed my helmet. I could see my aunt and uncle smiling and cheering.

I thought, “If they only knew…but I won’t tell them.”

Yesterday, the San Diego Chargers played the Indianapolis Colts. As I write, the game has yet to be played. Amidst the hoopla, gauntlet of commercials, and incessant inane analysis, there will be some good football played.

The playoff game was in a dome, filled with fanatic, costumed crazies whooping as much to get on camera as to root for their team. The majority of the players far outweighed the two behemoths who flattened me 47 years ago. There will be more coaches and staff for each team than the players we had on the 1960 Tigers. The game was played in mid-January.

I will think how much more fun it was to get crunched by offensive linemen on a  perfect autumn afternoon with a sparse crowd in Tennessee than it will have been watching the NFL extravaganza.

Of course, I will watch. Somewhere in the course of the game, I will think, “If they only knew…but I won’t tell them.”

A Rant

i just collected our mail.

There were ten pieces of mail. One was a flyer from our neighborhood grocery store. One was an ad for a local hospital. The rest were various political ads for candidates or propositions.

i’m not upset about these yahoos sending me political advertisements. i don’t like them, but that is their right. What pisses me off — i was trying to come up with a more polite term but this one is just perfect — is i still don’t have a clue as to what the candidates are really for or against, what sets them apart from their competition and what the risks and benefits really are for any of the propositions.

It’s all bullshit PR — there i go again. i guess there is some statistics somewhere that claim these damn things get more votes, but i’m thinking if someone decides to vote on what i get in the mail, then they are a lot dumber than me.

Maybe back a long time ago, i.e. my time, political campaigns stressed positions, issues, etc. Maybe not. But quite frankly, i don’t give a damn about sales pitches. i want to make an intelligent vote for people and issues i believe in. To quote Nick Canepa in a column the other day, quoting Vin Scully, “Statistics are like a lamp post being leaned on by a drunk: They are for support, not illumination.”

Dammit, stop filling up my mailbox with crap. And that ain’t even beginning a rant about television commercials and news (sic) programs.

The Right Tool at the Right Time

After about a year of writing my “Notes from the Southwest Corner,” i began a second weekly column entitled “Minding Your Own Business” in 2009. Amelia Hipps, the editor at the time, was kind enough to take on both columns in the Lebanon Democrat. i wrote 296 of those columns. New management decided $50 a week was too expensive and that column was stopped. It was probably a good thing because i was beginning to make things up.

The idea was generated when JD Waits and i co-wrote The Pretty Good Management Book in the early 1990’s. The manuscript remains above my desk.

In the middle 1990’s, i wrote a similar column for The Independent Community Post, a small local paper in Bonita, which only lasted for less than two years. That editor came up with the title “Minding Your Own Business.” i will include the Democrat columns here under JD’s and my title of “Pretty Good Management” because of the source.

We began writing our book with the idea most high end consultants try to sell a perfect system to make an organization run smoothly with minimal management and leadership. That, of course, never happens. JD pointed out his and my mothers would pay one of their highest compliments to anything with the term “pretty good,” as in leaving a fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and fresh tomatoes supper and commenting, “That was a pretty good meal.” We figured we weren’t going to blow smoke and promise perfection, but that the principles we brought forward would allow a leader/manager to run a pretty good outfit.

i thought about the genre where the column fit and made up my on term: business leadership. The below was the introductory column for The Democrat.

Using the Right Tool at the Right Time

In forty-plus years of observing people and organizations working toward success, I frequently have been amazed at how bollixed up we can get.

Nearly all of us seem to have a pretty good idea of how we would like our business to work. Most of us have good intentions and pretty high ethical standards. Generally, we display a pride in our work and believe in our service or product. In most cases, the skills, intelligence, and common sense are sufficient to produce success are in place.

This seems to be true for nearly every kind of organization: profit or non-profit, product or service, large or small, technical and non-technical, government or commercial.

Invariably, a large number of businesses don’t fare as well as they should. We work hard but the rewards are elusive.

Why Are There Failures?

I continue to ask myself, “Why do people and businesses not succeed when they appear to be capable?

“Why do numerous people and businesses, which have initial success, have such a difficult time staying at the highest level of success?”

I do not have THE answer. Even more sadly, I haven’t seen anyone, any theory, any program, or any process which provides THE answer.

This suggests I too may never find the answer.

I refuse to believe this.

A Right Answer For You

Yet there is hope. Although there’s no single right answer, there is A right answer for you. Getting to your right answer is not easy. It wasn’t meant to be. If it becomes easy, it is about to change in a way you will not like.

Making lives and businesses work like we want them to work requires dedication and hard work. But it can be done, and this is enough to give us hope.

When I go out in my garage on the weekend to pursue some project, it is an amazing process. The garage is in disarray. I have a number of tools and materials in that garage, but finding them is a different matter. I normally can’t find the right ones. I become frustrated and head for Home Depot to buy new tools and materials.

I love this part. Wandering around a Home Depot is like visiting a wonderland of human nature and great gadgets. This fun part lasts until dark, delaying the project until the next day. And so it goes through the weekend. The project doesn’t get done, but I have lots of fun.

I can afford to do that with my garage, but neither you nor I can afford to do that with our work.

To succeed in our work, we must be organized. We must have tools and we must know how and when to use the right tools. It requires application, what our parents recognized and called “hard work.”

The good news, as I have discovered through my varied and lengthy experience, is doing it right can be mostly fun, especially if the hard work is done correctly and leads to success. It took me a long time to realize hard work can be fun.

POA&M

Success doesn’t require genius or some special tool, process or some consultant selling tools and processes (although getting unbiased help and outside skilled facilitation is often a necessary assistance). Succeeding in business can be accomplished by knowing where you want to go, knowing how you want to get there, and making it happen.

This Plan of Action and Milestones (POA&M) includes:

  • Taking care of your customers (and every business has customers)
  • Taking care of your people
  • Taking care of your finances
  • Being aware of your business environment
  • Doing what makes good business sense
  • Realistically assessing how you are doing in all of the above
  • Modifying what you are doing based on assessment
  • Working hard at all of the above

My plan is to write articles about what to consider in your quest for continual business success. The considerations will be around the basics I’ve listed above. This article is, hopefully, the first of many for you to use at your discretion.

My goal is to give you some ideas about how you want to conduct your business, not what you think I want you to do. I plan to work hard and have fun. I hope you do too.

Why Navy?

In 2008 , i wrote this for my weekly column for The Lebanon Democrat. i don’t know if anyone will really understand my love/passion for a life at sea. My father after his day at sea with me came as close as anyone i know.

SAN DIEGO – As the new year ramps up, I am back in the Southwest corner considering why I made the Navy my career.

My father also has wondered why a boy from Middle Tennessee would choose the sea for his livelihood. Others have wondered the same thing.

The sea called me during my midshipman cruise on the U.S.S. Lloyd Thomas (DD 694) in 1963. We steamed from Newport, RI, to Sydney, Nova Scotia; to Bermuda; and back to Newport as part of the U.S.S. Intrepid (CVA 11) battle group.

My last four weeks were in engineering with two watches and normal work requiring 16-hour work days. Having no more sense than now, I went from my last watch to the crew’s movie in the Drone Anti-Submarine Helicopter (DASH) hangar – “DASH” was a weapon which did not last long. Sailors called it “CRASH” instead of “DASH.” But its hanger on the 02 level just aft of amidships was perfect for showing movies.

This night, I watched “The Quiet Man” for the first time. As I left the theater and traversed the torpedo deck, I walked to the port side and gazed at the full moon.

The ship was making 15 knots. The moon’s reflection cut a wide, rippling, reflective path straight to me. The boilers roared through the forward stack. The bow wave was white, curling from the side and swishing its whisper as the ship cut through the water. “Darken ship” allowed no lights except those for navigation. At least a billion stars blanketed the black sky.

The sea grabbed me. She came down that path from the full moon, wafted across the bow wave, and reached deep inside. I felt her grab my heart and take it away.

I have loved her in her fury of the winter Atlantic, when she tossed a 500-foot ship around like a cork, ripping off protruding metal like dandelion bristles, and tossing sailors around the ship like matchsticks. Her intense fury blanketed the sea surface with froth.

I have loved her in the doldrums of the South China Sea where not a breath of wind existed, and the sea surface was glass for a week. I saw my first “green flash” then.

In the summer of 1973, steaming in the operating areas off of Newport, Rhode Island, my father saw why I went to sea. My ship, the U.S.S. Luce (DLG 7), was undergoing a major inspection. My Commanding Officer learned of my father visiting and invited him to ride during our underway day.

As a lieutenant, I was the sea detail officer of the deck. My father was by my side as I had the “conn” while the ship stood out of Narragansett Bay. As soon as we reached the operating area, we went to 25 knots for rudder tests, rapidly shifting the rudder to max angles both ways. The commanding officer and I went into a frantic dance, running in opposite directions across the bridge to hang over each wing checking for small craft in the dramatic turns.

After the rudder tests, I took my father into the bowels of the ship to our anti-submarine warfare spaces. My father stood behind me as I directed prosecution of a submarine contact. In the darkened spaces with sonar pings resounding, he watched as we tracked the sub on our fire control screen and simulated firing a torpedo.

After lunch, we set general quarters and ran through engineering drills. Finally, we transited back to Newport.

With mooring complete, the captain gave my father a ship’s plaque. My wife and mother were waiting on the pier when we debarked from the ship’s quarterdeck. As we walked the brow to the pier, my father said to me, “Son, I understand why you would want to make this a career.”

I did. Somewhere in the latter stages of that career, I met a woman, a native of San Diego, and we got married. After a brief taste of being a Navy officer’s wife, she and I returned to San Diego for my “twilight” tour, the last four years on shore duty.

So now when I walk up our hill to raise and lower the flag, I look out to sea and check to see how many ships are pierside at the Naval Station.

And that, my friends, is why I made the Navy career and live in the Southwest corner, far from my home in Tennessee.