Three signs of a miserable job pdf

The Three Signs of a

Miserable Job A FA B L E F O R M A N AG E R S

( A N D T H E I R E M P L OY E E S )

Patrick Lencioni

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The Three Signs of a

Miserable Job A FA B L E F O R M A N AG E R S

( A N D T H E I R E M P L OY E E S )

Patrick Lencioni

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Also by Patrick Lencioni

Leadership Fables

The Five Temptations of a CEO

The Four Obsessions of an Extraordinary Executive

The Five Dysfunctions of a Team

Death by Meeting

Silos, Politics, and Turf Wars

Field Guide

Overcoming the Five Dysfunctions of a Team

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Copyright © 2007 by Patrick Lencioni.

Published by Jossey-Bass A Wiley Imprint 989 Market Street, San Francisco, CA 94103-1741 www.josseybass.com

Wiley Bicentennial logo: Richard J. Pacifico

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written permission of the publisher, or authoriza- tion through payment of the appropriate per-copy fee to the Copyright Clearance Center, Inc., 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923, 978-750-8400, fax 978-646-8600, or on the Web at www.copyright.com. Requests to the publisher for permission should be addressed to the Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 111 River Street, Hoboken, NJ 07030, 201-748-6011, fax 201-748-6008, or online at www.wiley.com/go/permissions.

All people, companies, and events in this fable are fictitious, except that Nike, Inc., is a real company, used here to represent a recognizable sporting goods and apparel company.

Readers should be aware that Internet Web sites offered as citations and/or sources for fur- ther information may have changed or disappeared between the time this was written and when it is read.

Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: While the publisher and author have used their best efforts in preparing this book, they make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. No warranty may be created or extended by sales representatives or written sales materials. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be suitable for your situation. You should consult with a professional where appropriate. Neither the publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damages, including but not limited to special, inci- dental, consequential, or other damages.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Lencioni, Patrick. The three signs of a miserable job : a fable for managers (and their employees) /

Patrick Lencioni. p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7879-9531-7 (cloth) 1. Job satisfaction. 2. Career development. 3. Employee motivation. I. Title. HF5549.5.J63L46 2007 658.3'128—dc22

2007021305

Printed in the United States of America FIRST EDITION

HB Printing 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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www.josseybass.com
v

Introduction vii

The Fable Shock 3

Part One: The Manager 5

Part Two: Retirement 21

Part Three: The Experiment 59

Part Four: Going Live 167

The Model The Miserable Job 217

The Cost of Misery 219

The Three Signs 221

The Benefits and Obstacles of Managing for Job Fulfillment 224

Exploring and Addressing the Causes of Job Misery 229

Case Studies 239

Taking Action 250

The Ministry of Management 253

Acknowledgments 255

About the Author 259

CONTENTS

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For my sons, Michael, Casey, Connor, and Matthew.

May the jobs you have in life be purposeful and fulfilling.

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W INTRODUCTION

ork has always fascinated me, though I must admit, some- times in a slightly morbid way.

I remember as a youngster being stunned and disturbed when I first learned that adults like my dad worked eight hours or more every day at their jobs. That was more time than I spent at school, and I could barely manage that!

And when I was told that many of those adults didn’t really like their jobs, I was dumbfounded, unable to com- prehend why people would spend so much time away from family and friends and not be happy about what they were doing. I suppose I also feared being in the same sit- uation myself one day.

My fascination with jobs only grew when I too joined the workforce at the age of thirteen. As a summertime bus- boy at a large restaurant, I worked with waitresses and dishwashers and cooks and bartenders, most of whom were career employees. Later, during college, I spent my summers working as a bank teller, again with full-timers. In both of these jobs, I always found myself wondering whether my coworkers enjoyed their work, and over time I came to the inescapable conclusion that many of them did not.

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Introduction

Which continued to bother me. My obsession with work reached a whole new level

when I graduated from college and landed my first full-time job as a management consultant. That’s when I learned about—and experienced for myself—something called the Sunday Blues.

The Sunday Blues are those awful feelings of dread and depression that many people get toward the end of their weekend as they contemplate going back to work the next day. I must admit that there were times toward the begin- ning of my career when the Sunday Blues began to take hold of me as early as Saturday night.

What was particularly troubling for me then was not just that I dreaded going to work, but that I felt like I should have enjoyed what I was doing. After all, I had landed one of the most sought-after, highest-paying jobs of anyone in my graduating class. I certainly wasn’t in the kitchen of a restaurant shoveling other people’s food into doggy bags, or standing alone in a bank vault counting cashier’s checks. I was doing work that was interesting to me, and I was doing it in an upscale office with breathtaking views of the San Francisco Bay.

That’s when I decided that the Sunday Blues just didn’t make any sense.

You see, until then I had maintained a theory that elim- inating dissatisfaction at work was all about finding the right job. A bad job was one that involved doing menial, bor- ing work for low wages in an unattractive environment. And so I decided that the key to fulfillment was as simple

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Introduction

as finding interesting work that paid well and kept me in- doors. But even after having satisfied all those criteria, I was still miserable, which made me wonder if maybe I didn’t really like consulting after all.

So I changed careers. And was no happier than I had been before.

My theory about job satisfaction was eroding quickly, especially as I met more and more people with supposedly great jobs who, like me, dreaded going to work. These were engineers and executives and teachers, highly edu- cated people who carefully chose their careers based on their true passions and interests. And yet they were un- doubtedly miserable.

The theory crumbled completely when I came across other people with less obviously attractive jobs who seemed to find fulfillment in their work—gardeners and waitresses and hotel housekeepers. And so it became apparent to me that there must be more to job fulfillment than I had thought. I wanted to figure out what it was so I could help put an end to the senseless tragedy of job misery, both for myself and for others.

And calling it a tragedy is not hyperbole. Scores of people suffer—really suffer—every day as they

trudge off from their families and friends to jobs that only make them more cynical, unhappy, and frustrated than they were when they left. Over time, this dull pain can erode the self-confidence and passion of even the strongest peo- ple, which in turn affects their spouses and children and friends in subtle but profound ways. Of course, in some

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Introduction

cases the impact of job misery is not subtle at all; it leads to serious depression, drug and alcohol abuse, and even vi- olence at work and at home.

Beyond the human misery caused by this phenomenon, the impact on organizations is undeniably huge. Though it may be difficult to quantify, the dissatisfaction of em- ployees has a direct impact on productivity, turnover, and morale, all of which eventually hit a company’s bottom line hard.

What makes all this so absurd is that there is indeed an effective remedy out there, one that is barely being used. It has no direct cost and can provide almost immediate ben- efits for employees, managers, and customers, thus giving companies who use it a powerful and unique competitive advantage.

But let me be very clear about something; the remedy I propose here is going to seem ridiculously simple and ob- vious at first glance. I am aware of that, and I must admit a little apprehensive about it. But when I consider how many managers fail to put these ideas into practice, and how many people continue to suffer through miserable jobs as a result, I come to the conclusion that perhaps simplicity and obviousness are exactly what is needed right now. In fact, I am convinced of it.

As the eighteenth-century author Samuel Johnson once wrote, “People need to be reminded more often than they need to be instructed.” I sincerely hope that this little book is a simple and powerful reminder, one that helps you make someone’s job—maybe your own—more fulfilling and rewarding.

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The Three Signs of a

Miserable Job

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The Fable

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B SHOCK

rian Bailey never saw it coming.

After seventeen years of serving as CEO of JMJ Fitness Ma-

chines, he could not have guessed that it could all be over,

without warning, in just nineteen days. Nineteen days!

But over it was. And though he was better off financially

than he had been at any time in his life, he suddenly felt as

aimless as he had when he dropped out of college.

What he didn’t know was that it was going to get a lot

worse before it got better.

3

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PART ONE

❖

The Manager

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E BRIAN

arly in his career, Brian Bailey came to an inescapable con-

clusion: he loved being a manager.

Every aspect of it fascinated him. Whether he was doing

strategic planning and budgeting or counseling and perfor-

mance appraisals, Brian felt like he had been created to man-

age. And as he experienced more and more success as a

relatively young leader, he quickly came to the realization that

his decision to forgo college made him no less qualified than

his peers who had been to business school.

But then again, he hadn’t had much choice about leav-

ing school. Brian’s family, being lower middle class to begin

with, fell on particularly hard times when the Bailey walnut

orchards in northern California were hit two years in a row by

crippling frosts.

Being the oldest of five kids and the only one out of the

house, Brian felt a sense of responsibility not to drain the fam-

ily resources. Even with the financial aid programs offered at

St. Mary’s College, keeping him in school would have been

a serious burden for the Baileys. And Brian’s academic focus

on theology and psychology didn’t make the economic justi-

fication for staying in school any easier.

7

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

So, answering an ad in the newspaper, Brian took a line

manager position in a Del Monte packing plant, and spent the

next two years on a factory floor, ensuring that tomatoes and

green beans and fruit cocktail were stuffed into cans as effi-

ciently as possible. Brian liked to joke with his employees that

he had always wanted to visit a “fruit cocktail farm.”

As his father’s orchard rebounded and the family’s finan-

cial situation improved, Brian had a decision to make. He

could go back to school and finish his degree—or continue to

work at Del Monte, where he was on a fast-track to promo-

tion and a possible shot at running his own plant one day. To

the chagrin of his parents, he opted for neither.

Instead, Brian indulged his curiosity and took a job with

the only automobile manufacturing plant in the San Francisco

Bay Area. For the next fifteen years, he blissfully moved up

various corporate ladders at the plant, spending equal time in

manufacturing, finance, and operations.

Outside work, he married a woman he had briefly dated

in high school, and who, ironically, attended St. Mary’s after

Brian had left. They moved to a small but growing commu-

nity appropriately named Pleasanton, and raised a family of

two boys and a little girl.

By the time Brian was thirty-five, he was vice president of

manufacturing for the plant, working for a dynamic COO

named Kathryn Petersen.

A few years after joining the plant, Kathryn had taken a

personal interest in Brian because of his modest educational

background, his work ethic, and his desire to learn. She kept

Brian at one job or another in her part of the organization for

as long as she could. But Kathryn knew it couldn’t last forever.

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When a headhunter friend of Kathryn’s called and asked if shewould be interested in interviewing for the CEO position ata relatively small exercise equipment manufacturer in the cen- tral valley, she declined. But she insisted that her friend rec-

ommend Brian as a candidate for the job.

Looking at his résumé—and his lack of a college degree—

the headhunter decided there was no way Brian would be

hired, but—as a favor to Kathryn—agreed to let him interview.

He was shocked when his client called two weeks later to say

that Brian had been “the best candidate by far,” and that he

was being hired as CEO of JMJ Fitness Machines.

What impressed his interviewers at JMJ, and would continue

to impress them on the job, was Brian’s ability to communicate

with and understand people at every part of the social spec-

trum. He seemed no more or less comfortable on the floor

of the factory than he did in the boardroom, demonstrating a

combination of competence and unpretentiousness that was

rare among executives, even in the world of manufacturing.

As for Brian, he felt like a kid in a candy store, blessed

to have the opportunity to do something he enjoyed. JMJ

would benefit from that blessing.

9

THE BREAK

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JMJ

Located in Manteca, California, a small bedroom and agricul-tural town sixty miles east of San Francisco, JMJ was a rela-tively young company that, for most of its first decade in existence, had merely survived. It did so largely by tapping

into the relatively cheap labor in the area and mimicking its

more innovative competitors. Though the company had man-

aged to turn a modest profit, it was a minor player in a rela-

tively fragmented industry, garnering less than 4 percent of the

market and a position no higher than twelfth in terms of mar-

ket share.

And then the company’s founder and original CEO de-

cided he’d had enough, prompting the call to the headhunter

who ended up finding Brian.

The first year of Brian’s tenure was no picnic as JMJ found

itself enmeshed in a frivolous but distracting lawsuit. Ironically,

that situation provided Brian with his first opportunity to prove

himself as a leader, and provoke him to make some strategic

changes.

For the next couple of years, Brian repositioned JMJ in

every way possible. Most visibly to the outside world, he

shifted the company’s strategic focus almost exclusively toward

10

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The Manager

institutional customers, which included hospitals, hotels, col-

leges, and health clubs.

Brian also injected a sense of inventiveness into the com-

pany by bringing in a few creative engineers and exercise

physiologists from other industries. The net result of both

these moves was a higher selling price for JMJ products, and

unbelievably, higher demand for them too.

But as important as these changes were, nothing had a

greater impact on JMJ’s long-term success than what Brian did

to its culture.

Like most other manufacturers in the area, the company

had been plagued by relatively high turnover, low morale, and

unpredictable productivity, living under the subtle but con-

stant threat of unionization. Brian knew that turning around

the organization would require him to change all that.

Over the course of just two years, Brian and his team man-

aged to raise employee commitment and morale to unthink-

ably high levels, allowing the relatively obscure company in

the central valley to establish a reputation for workforce sat-

isfaction and retention. As a result, JMJ wound up winning

more industry awards for being “A Great Place to Work” than

it could cram into the glass trophy case in its lobby.

When reporters asked Brian for his secret to accomplish-

ing this, he usually downplayed his role and told them that he

simply treated people the way he would like to be treated.

Which was mostly true, given that he had never really devel-

oped a specific methodology.

And as much as Brian publicly deflected credit for the cul-

tural turnaround at his company, he quietly took great pride

in the fact that he had given his people, especially the less

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

privileged ones, more rewarding and fulfilling jobs than they

would have found elsewhere in the area. More than any rev-

enue goal or product innovation the company had achieved,

this made Brian feel like his own job was meaningful.

Which is why selling the company would be so painful

for him.

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TREMORS

From a financial standpoint, JMJ was as solid as any medium-sized company could be. Under Brian’s leadership, the firmhad generated fifteen years of solid results, leapfrogging to be- come the number three—and at times, number two—player

in the industry. With no debt, a well-respected brand, and

plenty of cash in the bank, there was no reason to suspect that

the privately held company was in any danger.

And then one day it happened.

It was a two-paragraph article in the Wall Street Journal,

announcing that Nike was thinking about entering the market

for exercise equipment. To most people reading the paper that

day, the news was insignificant. For Brian, it was the precur-

sor to an earthquake.

The chain reaction actually began two days later when Nike

publicly identified the company it planned to acquire—

FlexPro, JMJ’s largest competitor. Before anyone knew what was

happening, companies that had been operating independently

for decades were positioning themselves to be swallowed up

by brand name conglomerates from a variety of industries that

were now interested in the exercise equipment market. For

Brian and his 550 employees, it was only a matter of time.

13

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CONSOLIDATION

Within just a few days of reading that fateful article in the WallStreet Journal, Brian and his board numbly came to the con-clusion that they would have to sell JMJ, and quickly. As difficult as that might be, denial was not something

Brian or his company could afford. After all, he didn’t want to

be the only company left standing when the music stopped—

to find himself and his employees, all of whom owned stock,

unrewarded for all their years of hard work. So he called one

of his friends at an investment bank in San Francisco and

asked him to help find a buyer for the company he loved.

Actually, Rick Simpson wasn’t so much a friend as an old

acquaintance. The two had lived for a year in the same suite

in a dormitory at St. Mary’s. Though never terribly close, they

had managed to stay loosely connected ever since.

Brian had always found Rick to be brilliant and occa-

sionally hilarious, as well as arrogant and insensitive. But

for some reason, he could not bring himself to really dislike

the man. As Brian explained to his puzzled wife, Rick always

seemed to know when he was pushing the limits of obnox-

iousness, and then recover by doing something genuinely

redeeming.

14

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The Manager

In spite of his personality quirks, Rick had succeeded

wildly in his career, developing a reputation as one of the best

investment bankers in the country. In fact, he had become

something of a celebrity in his field.

His response to Brian’s initial call was typical. “So you’ve

had enough of that cow town, huh?” Though that was cer-

tainly teasing, Brian was not in the mood for it.

“Well, I actually live in the Bay Area and commute over

here. And I don’t mind the valley so much. But I do need to

sell the company.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have much of a choice. Nike just bought FlexPro,

and if we try to compete against companies with that kind

of marketing power, we’re going to get crushed.”

“Oh, right. I remember reading about that somewhere.”

Rick seemed to be rifling through some papers on his desk.

“But aren’t you’re moving kind of fast?”

“Well, everyone’s going to have to bail out eventually, and

the smart ones usually go first.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Rick agreed. “So you want me to

help you find a buyer?”

“Yeah. And someone who sees our business as a strategic

fit, and who understands our unique value.”

“And what exactly is that value?” Rick wasn’t being skep-

tical. He just needed to know.

“Well, our market share is nothing to sneeze at. Somewhere

around 20 percent. We’re a strong number two or three in a

fairly fragmented market, depending on how you slice the pie.”

Rick didn’t respond, but Brian could tell he was writing

it down, so he continued. “And we’ve got a solid balance

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

sheet, a good brand name, strong sales projections for the next

five quarters, and a few patents that won’t expire for another

couple of years.”

“Sounds good so far. Is the market growing?”

Brian didn’t hesitate. He knew the industry as well as any-

one. “Projected at nine percent next year, though I think we’ll

come in somewhere closer to twelve.”

“Sounds like you’ve done a hell of a job in that cow town.”

Brian knew Rick well enough to appreciate the sarcastic

compliment.

“We’ve done okay. Anyway, there’s one more thing that

I think a prospective buyer should know about us.” He hesi-

tated before continuing, not wanting to provoke another jibe.

“We have the highest employee satisfaction in our industry. In

fact, we’re one of the best in any market. We’ve been named

one of the top fifty medium-sized businesses to work for in

America.”

Rick didn’t say a word at first, then chuckled. “Well, I’ll

have to adjust my valuation upward by a couple hundred dol-

lars then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Brian’s tone made it clear he was annoyed, so Rick backed

off a little.

“I’m just teasing you, Brian. I’m sure you’ve worked very

hard to build a nice culture over there, and I’ll definitely put

it in the package.” He paused. “But I’m not going to lie to you.

I don’t think it’ll translate into anything meaningful in terms

of selling price.”

“Well, it should.” Brian knew he was sounding proud and

defensive, but he couldn’t help it.

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The Manager

As usual, Rick didn’t mince his words. “It doesn’t in my

book. I mean, when I look at a company, I just want to know

how fast the market’s growing, how much of that market it

owns, and whether it’s in position to increase its share. I’m not

big into the soft stuff. If it really matters, then it should be

reflected in the bottom-line numbers anyway.”

Nothing tweaked Brian more than being called soft, and

he was tempted to slam the phone down right then and call

someone else. But he knew that it wouldn’t be in the best

interest of his company. And somewhere in the darkest re-

cesses of his brain, he feared that his cynical friend might be

right.

So he took a breath. “You know, Rick, you can be a real

jerk sometimes.”

Rick laughed. “But you love me anyway, don’t you, Brian?

And you know what? I’ll get you more money for your com-

pany than anyone else can.”

Brian didn’t respond, so Rick continued in a more con-

ciliatory tone. “Hey, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.

I’ll admit that I’ve been following you and JMJ off and on for

the past ten years or so. I have a pretty good idea about what

you’ve done over there. In fact, I’ve even got one of your el-

liptical machines in my basement.”

Brian silently accepted the muted apology. “Anyway, let

me know later this week what you think we need to do.”

“I’ll call you Thursday. We’ll do this right for you, buddy.”

Brian said good-bye and hung up, amazed that Rick had

not changed at all. And that he still couldn’t hate the guy.

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DONE

When Rick called on Thursday, Brian was expecting to hear thathe’d made progress. After all, he was one of the best in thebusiness. But Brian could not have guessed that Rick would have already identified a buyer and negotiated an informal

ballpark selling price, one that exceeded anything he had

imagined.

Rick’s strategy was to exploit the “first mover advantage”

card on both sides of the table, and he played it perfectly. He

convinced the potential buyer to move quickly before other

suitors could bid up the price. This made them a little more

generous than they had intended to be. And he encouraged

Brian to act before his other competitors entered the game,

which would crowd the playing field and dilute his value on

the open market.

So, after just a week and a half of conference calls, visits,

and negotiation sessions, Brian signed the papers that gave

control of his company to the country’s largest medical equip-

ment supplier. He would later admit that he was not at all pre-

pared for the consequences of that signature.

18

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BAND-AID REMOVAL

JMJ’s acquirer was not new to the acquisition game, and its ex-ecutive team had adopted an extremely aggressive strategywhen it came to integration. Their rationale was that it was better to accelerate a transition by moving quickly, even if that

caused disruption, than to wait and let lethargy and fear take

hold. “Like ripping off a Band-Aid in one fell swoop,” their

CEO explained before the ink on the contract was dry.

Their plan called for the name of the company to change

immediately, which included everything from the way re-

ceptionists answered the phones to putting a new sign on the

front of the building. It also meant that executives who weren’t

part of the company’s long-term plans—which almost always

included the CEO—were to be moved out as soon as possi-

ble. Brian’s last day was set for just seven days after he had

signed the company away.

Throughout the next week, Brian attended a number of emo-

tional farewell luncheons and company celebrations marking

the end of what had once been a humble little independent

company. Though he deeply appreciated the overwhelming

expressions of gratitude and affection from employees, espe-

cially the long-term factory workers whose lives had changed

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

drastically during their time with the company, he found the

experience to be so emotionally exhausting and overwhelm-

ing that he was quietly yearning for it to be over.

Finally, on a rainy Friday evening, after even the janitors

had gone home, Brian packed his office and left the build-

ing for the last time. Preemptively wiping his eyes to keep any

tears from escaping, he drove away wondering what the rest

of his life would be like.

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PART TWO

❖

Retirement

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SABBATICAL

Leslie Bailey, Brian’s wife of twenty-eight years, made himpromise that he would get away from home for a week or twoof complete rest before trying to come to terms with his re- tirement. They went to a little hotel in the Napa Valley.

For two and a half days she succeeded in keeping him

from talking about his future, but he eventually wore her

down. It happened while they were having dessert at their

favorite Italian restaurant.

Brian was blunt. “I’m sorry, Leslie, but I can’t wait anymore.”

Leslie was confused. “For what?”

“To talk about work. What I’m going to do next.”

Leslie laughed. “Oh. For a second I thought you were going

to get frisky with me right here.”

Brian responded with a straight face. “Well, that would be

even better. You want to go out to the car?”

She laughed again. “Maybe later. For now, let’s talk about

work.”

Brian paused. “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be a trip

without—”

She interrupted him. “That’s okay. I know you’ve been strug-

gling since we came up here, and you’ve done your best. Spill it.”

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

For the next two hours—until busboys politely kicked

them out of the empty restaurant—the couple talked about

Brian’s state of mind, and his options. He was already restless.

He wondered if his career had been a waste of time. Maybe

he should dive right back into another company.

After a while it became clear that he and Leslie weren’t on

the same page. At times the discussion turned emotional, with

Leslie doing most of the emoting.

“Listen, I haven’t complained much over the past fifteen

years. There have been plenty of late nights, and plenty of

business trips and conference calls taken from home. And

don’t get me wrong. You’ve been a great father. But you did

miss your fair share of recitals and ball games.”

The comment seemed to provoke Brian, who responded

in a calm but clearly frustrated way. “I don’t think that’s fair.

I busted my butt to get to more of those events than most of

the other dads. I don’t think I should be sitting here feeling

guilty for—”

Brian stopped when he saw that his wife was on the verge

of crying.

“What’s wrong?”

She took a moment to compose herself. “You’re right. You

shouldn’t feel bad about that. You usually found a way to be

there for the kids.”

Brian felt a momentary sense of relief. Until she finished.

“It’s really me that you weren’t there for.” And then the

tears started flowing.

Now Brian felt horrible. Both because he knew she was

right, and because she had never really complained about

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Retirement

it until now. How long has she been feeling this way? he

wondered.

It was at that moment that he vowed to become a better

husband, to be more present for his wife. After twenty-eight

years of work, Leslie certainly deserved it.

Besides, Brian had no real excuses now. With the sale of

the company and the vesting of his stock, the Baileys suddenly

had more money than they ever felt they needed. With no

more tuition or braces to pay for, they could live a fairly com-

fortable lifestyle without Brian’s ever having to work again.

And Leslie had no real need to work. After twenty years

of being a turbo volunteer at school and church, and working

full time as a teachers’ aide for the past seven, she was more

than ready for a change. As long as it involved her husband.

With their daughter in her last year of college and their

boys gainfully employed in San Diego and Seattle, the Baileys

were empty-nesters with no real restrictions or limitations.

“Okay,” Brian said, grabbing her hand across the table,

“for the next year or so, we can pretty much do whatever

we want. The challenge is just to figure it out.”

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BRAINSTORM

For the next few days, Brian and Leslie went on long drivesthrough the vineyards while they tossed around ideas for re-tirement. Trying not to rule anything out immediately, the couple

eventually discarded the notion of buying a boat or an RV

or a biplane. As much as they had always enjoyed the out-

doors, Leslie and Brian knew that they weren’t really ad-

venturers, the kind of people to live the life of nomads.

Leslie finally suggested that they find a nice little moun-

tain home in the Lake Tahoe area where they could spend

their winters skiing, and the rest of the year boating and golf-

ing, activities they had enjoyed before having kids. She didn’t

have to do a lot of talking to convince Brian. He had been

yearning to start skiing again for the past five years, and the

thought of fishing and golfing during the off-season was cer-

tainly an attractive proposition.

“Let’s do it,” he announced with a smile on his face. “Who

needs the rat race anyway?”

Soon enough Brian would come to realize that his honest

answer to that question would have been me.

26

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IMMERSION

For the next few weeks, the newly energized couple traveled backand forth to the mountains looking at houses, finally settling ona modest but modern log home at the southern end of Lake Tahoe, a few miles into Nevada. Two weeks later, over a month

after “the Napa talk,” as they came to refer to it, they moved in

and began furnishing and decorating the new property.

Brian was more excited than he had expected to be, and

enjoyed telling his kids and friends about the new cabin, with

its view of the Heavenly Ski Resort slopes and the southern

end of the lake. He even had his sales pitch down.

“Depending on what time of year you come up to visit,

we can be skiing on the slopes, teeing off at a championship

golf course, or dropping a line into Lake Tahoe within twelve

minutes of walking out the door.”

When an early snowstorm hit the area in November, Brian

and Leslie excitedly began their first full season of skiing. It

would be short and painful.

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INJURED RESERVE

Brian was in better shape than the average fifty-three-year-old,which was not surprising given that he had run a fitness-related company for more than fifteen years. But no amount of time on an exercise bike or treadmill is adequate prepara-

tion for a sudden and drastic increase in skiing.

After three consecutive days on the slopes, Brian was ripe

for a big fall. Though he was quickly regaining his form and

confidence as a skier, he was also more fatigued and sore than

he had been in years.

As he headed down on his last run of his fourth day, he

was surprised to find the mountain virtually empty of fellow

skiers. So Brian decided to have some fun. Venturing off the

slushy grooves of the main run down to the lodge, he opted

instead to take the deceptively icy slalom run used for local

ski races.

By the time he was halfway down the hill, Brian’s legs had

started to burn and he found himself fighting to stay upright

as he made his turns around the flags. Looking back on the

situation, he realized that he should have simply veered off

course and headed leisurely down the mountain. But being

aware that the lodge was directly below and that at least a few

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Retirement

people must have been drinking hot chocolate and observing

his own private Olympic moment, Brian decided to go for

broke.

As he approached the second to last flag, his right ski slid

out from under him, setting off a chain reaction of imbalance

followed by attempted recovery followed by a particularly un-

flattering spill. Before he knew what was happening, Brian

was sliding headfirst down the mountain, with one ski, no

poles, and a pair of goggles twisted vertically on his face.

More important, his knee was on fire.

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CABIN FEVER

By the time the doctors were done with him, Brian left the com-munity hospital on crutches, initially relieved by their assur-ances that he was lucky not to have done major damage that would require surgery. But when they told him that he’d be

laid up for several weeks and that his ski season was over, he

started to worry.

It wasn’t just that Brian would miss skiing—though he cer-

tainly would—or that he would have nothing to do. The phys-

ical rest actually sounded pretty good to him, and he owned

a stack of books that he had been meaning to read for years.

It was the idle time he dreaded most, because he knew that it

would tempt him to start thinking about work again.

For the first two weeks, Brian did his best to keep himself

entertained and content.

Leslie’s presence was his saving grace. The couple could

spend more time talking, watching movies, and just being

together than they had since their first son was born.

But eventually, Brian found himself fighting off a mild case

of depression. He initially attributed it to the lack of physical

activity. Though he was no triathlete, Brian had grown ac-

customed to some kind of regular exercise, and for the first

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Retirement

time in his life he was unable to work out at all for an ex-

tended period of time.

And then there was the weather. One of the heaviest early

snow seasons in the last fifty years had kept the immobile for-

mer executive homebound. Over the course of one five-day

period, he couldn’t go outside for more than fifteen minutes

at a time.

But Brian eventually came to the ironic conclusion that his

biggest problem was his need for a problem. He yearned for

a business challenge to figure out.

Of course, he knew that Leslie would never stand for a

sudden retreat to the Bay Area and corporate America, and

rightly so. Brian couldn’t even hint at such a move. Still, he

had to find something real to do because, until he did, he

would go stir crazy like a prisoner. And though his living quar-

ters certainly didn’t look like a penitentiary, as Brian liked to

remind Leslie, “A jail is still a jail even if it has satellite TV and

a picture window overlooking Lake Tahoe.”

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FURLOUGH

On his first day without crutches, the weather miraculouslyseemed to break, so Brian and Leslie took advantage and wentfor a long drive. As they were well into the second half of the loop around the lake, the couple decided to pick up food

for dinner on the way home, and as usual, Leslie won the de-

bate over what to order. She opted for Italian—a decision she

soon regretted.

They decided on Gene and Joe’s, a downscale Italian

place a few blocks off the highway near their cabin. Leslie

called ahead so that the food would be ready for them.

Brian and Leslie had never actually been to the restaurant,

though they had ordered pizza or pasta for delivery on a few

occasions during Brian’s recent recuperation. It appeared to

be open during late afternoons and evenings only.

The building itself was white stucco, with a Spanish-

looking tile roof. Painted grapevines and Italian flags adorned

most of the exterior, giving it a dated if not slightly tacky

look. But the food was pretty good, and Brian and Leslie had

always preferred unpretentious restaurants with big portions

to overly sophisticated ones that sent you away hungry.

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Retirement

As they pulled their ’93 Explorer into the parking lot, they

noticed a drive-thru pickup window on the side of the build-

ing, something neither of them had ever seen at an Italian

restaurant. They decided to give it a try.

After sitting at the window for a moment, it became ap-

parent to Brian that no one was ready to help them. Peering

into the restaurant through the window, he noticed that there

was almost no one inside. Brian and Leslie agreed that it was

too early for the dinner crowd, and that the place would prob-

ably be packed later in the evening when hungry skiers were

driving home after a day on the slopes.

“This kind of reminds me of my first summer job during

high school.” The tone of Brian’s voice indicated equal parts

nostalgia and lament.

“Mr. Hamburger?”

Brian corrected her. “That would be Captain Hamburger.”

“What a dive that place was.”

“Yeah, but somehow we managed to have a ball working

there.”

“Didn’t you get robbed once?”

“Twice. Which is why I quit and took a job on the grave-

yard shift at a potato chip plant. Which might sound bad,

but in reality was even worse.”

Leslie chuckled at the familiar joke.

Brian went on. “That was one long, miserable summer.”

“But it turned out to be a good thing.”

Brian frowned, and his wife explained.

“It made you get that job waiting tables at Carrows, which

was the best job you ever had because that’s where you met me.”

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

Brian thought about it for a moment. “No, I’m pretty sure

Captain Hamburger was better.”

As Leslie punched her husband in the arm, their trip down

memory lane was interrupted by someone finally coming to

the window.

Brian was surprised to see that it wasn’t a kid but rather a

man in his mid-forties. He had a wedding ring on his finger

and a tattoo on his arm, and was wearing a T-shirt with a pic-

ture of two smiling bald men Brian decided must be Gene and

Joe. Across the shirt in alternating green and red letters was

“Pizza and Pasta. Here, There, Everywhere.”

What’s a married, middle-aged guy doing working at a

place like this? Brian couldn’t help but wonder.

“Can I help you?” the man said without emotion.

“Yeah, we called in an order. For Leslie.”

Without saying a word, the man retreated into the build-

ing, and returned a few moments later with a bag and a small

pizza box. “That’ll be fifteen eighty.”

Taking the food in through the window, Brian handed the

guy a twenty-dollar bill. “You can keep the change.”

“Thanks.” The response seemed only mildly grateful.

Four minutes later the retired couple arrived at their cabin

and began removing their food from the bags, when Leslie let

out a moan.

“Dang it. They forgot my salad again.”

Brian took a breath. “I’ll go get it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s not that big a deal.” She

wasn’t convincing.

“No, it’s the second time they’ve done this. It’ll take me

ten minutes.”

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W GOING IN

hen Brian arrived at the restaurant, he decided to get out of

the car and go inside.

With the exception of one table with two older customers

in the corner eating a very early dinner, the room was empty.

Brian walked up to the order counter, where he waited for

someone to help him. No one.

A quick survey of the area behind the counter made it

clear that Gene and Joe’s was a tired place as well as a lonely

one. The cash register must have been twenty-five years old.

The carpet was worn in the high-traffic areas and frayed

around the edges. And a handwritten sign taped to the counter

read: help wanted—cook, delivery driver, weakend manager.

Brian smiled at the misspelling.

What might have once been a vibrant little restaurant was

now merely surviving, Brian decided, and probably only be-

cause of its convenient location near the highway.

Finally, a young Hispanic employee appeared. “Can I help

you?” He greeted Brian with a tone that was a little more en-

thusiastic than the drive-thru guy.

“Uh, yeah. I just picked up some food in the drive-up win-

dow, and we seem to be missing one of our salads.”

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

After nodding his head apologetically but not saying any-

thing to Brian, the man turned and yelled, “Carl!”

Moments later the drive-thru guy appeared. “This man

didn’t get one of his salads,” the Hispanic employee explained.

Without saying a word, Carl disappeared for a moment,

then came back. “Was that for Sharon?”

Patiently, Brian explained. “No, it was Leslie. We were

here just fifteen minutes ago.”

The clerk mumbled something barely audible that sounded

like “Check be right back,” and disappeared.

At that moment, the front door opened and Brian turned

to see an older, vaguely familiar-looking man come in.

When the drive-thru guy returned, he was frowning. “I

don’t see an order for Leslie. Are you sure you . . .”

Before he could continue, Brian interrupted playfully, but

with a mild hint of impatient sarcasm. “Yes, I’m sure. You don’t

think I came back down here just to scam you out of a salad,

do you? This is the second time this has happened.”

And then the man behind Brian interrupted the exchange.

“Let me take care of this for you, sir.”

Confused, Brian turned to see who was talking to him,

and before he could say anything, the man continued. “I’m the

owner of this place.”

Then he turned to the employee. “Carl, go make me

another large salad. And bring back a coupon for a free pizza.”

Reaching out his hand for a shake, the older man ex-

plained to Brian, “Sorry about that. We’re a little undermanned

right now.”

Brian estimated the guy’s age to be around sixty-five,

though it was hard to tell because his dark skin was so leath-

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Retirement

ery and wrinkled, as though he’d spent a lot of time in the

sun. And then Brian figured out why the man looked famil-

iar. He was an older version of one of the two guys on the

T-shirt.

“You must be Gene or Joe?” Brian asked politely.

The old man nodded. “I’m Joe.”

For some reason, Brian had to ask the next question.

“Where’s Gene?”

“Somewhere in Florida, I think. He backed out of the part-

nership nineteen years ago, but I decided not to change the

name. So, you’ve had this problem before, huh?”

Brian was a little hesitant now, not wanting to get anyone

in trouble or to criticize this man’s business. “Yeah, maybe

once. But it might have been our fault.”

“No,” Joe said, shaking his head. “It’s usually ours.”

Brian felt bad for the old man. He decided to make small

talk. “How long have you had this place, Joe?”

“Thirty-two years in February. It used to be fancier back

in the seventies,” he seemed a little embarrassed by the state

of his restaurant. “But with the buildup of the casinos and all,

we had to adjust. We don’t do lunches anymore. Just dinner.

And we cater to a little less formal clientele now. Skiers and

hikers and bikers, you know.”

Brian nodded.

At that moment Carl emerged from behind the counter.

“Here you go. Sorry about that.” This time there was a

slight, barely detectable hint of concern in his voice, which

Brian attributed to the presence of the boss.

“Thank you,” Brian responded, both to Carl and Joe. “I’m

sure I’ll see you again.”

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

“I hope so.” The old man smiled. “And we’ll get your

order right next time.”

“No problem.” Brian shook his hand again and left.

During the short drive home, Brian couldn’t stop thinking

about the restaurant and what it must be like to be Joe or Carl

or the other indifferent-looking employees there.

What in the world gets those people out of bed in the

morning?

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FIRST SIP

Later that night Brian went out for a few groceries. Now thathe was free of his crutches, any errand was a welcome onefor him. As he was leaving the store, his eye caught the front page

of the Wall Street Journal on the newspaper stand. After scan-

ning the headline section, he reluctantly decided to buy a copy

to take home, well aware that he was playing with fire. He

knew that Leslie would not be happy to know that he was in-

dulging what she called his “business addiction.”

Before Brian could make it to the register, he somehow

found himself in the magazine aisle, adding copies of Busi-

nessWeek, Fortune, and Fast Company to his stack of forbid-

den literature.

When he pulled up to his cabin, he carefully put the mag-

azines and newspaper in the bottom of a grocery bag so that

Leslie wouldn’t see them. After she went to bed, Brian grabbed

the stash and went to his favorite chair, eager to indulge his

hunger for news about the world of business.

After less than half an hour with the Journal, Brian was

ready to put it down and go to bed, disappointed that his

deviant behavior hadn’t yielded more of a thrill. Then he

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

saw a small article on the third page of the Market section. The

headline read, “Nike’s FlexPro to Cut People, Products.”

Brian devoured the story which detailed Nike’s decision

to lay off more than fifty people from the company it had

acquired, and eliminate almost half the products that it man-

ufactured. At the end of the article, it was mentioned that Flex-

Pro’s competitors were “rumored to be considering similar

moves.” Though the article didn’t mention JMJ by name, Brian

knew that his former company was certainly one of those

competitors.

Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep and that

he had already violated the spirit of his agreement with his

wife, Brian went to his computer. Casting aside his guilt, he

went straight to his former company’s new Web site where he

learned that the sales and marketing departments were being

moved away from Manteca to the parent company’s head-

quarters outside Chicago.

Brian was furious.

He fired off an e-mail to Rick explaining that the decisions

violated the spirit of the deal he had made with the medical

company. He sent messages to the two members of his for-

mer executive team to tell them how upset he was that their

jobs were being moved.

With adrenaline now running through his veins, Brian tore

into his magazines with a vengeance, devouring anything and

everything having to do with business. Though it had been

just eight weeks since he retired, it felt like years.

Brian finally fell asleep in his chair at four in the morning,

his magazines sprinkled next to him on the floor. When Leslie

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Retirement

woke up a few hours later, she discovered him there, looking

like an alcoholic surrounded by empty bottles.

Then the phone rang, and Brian began to stir. Before he

knew what was happening, Leslie was handing him the cordless.

“It’s Rick Simpson.” Leslie didn’t need to say another word.

The look on her face told Brian exactly how she felt.

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R OFF THE WAGON

ick was calling in response to Brian’s late night e-mail.

“Hey buddy. How’s retirement treating you?”

Brian didn’t elaborate. “Fine, thanks. I guess you got my

note.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. What are you doing up at two fifteen in the morning?”

“Rick, what the hell is going on over there? They’re not

supposed to be moving staff out of Manteca. That was part of

the deal.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true. They said they wouldn’t

shut down the plant there, and that they had no plans to move

people. But that’s standard for an acquisition. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I told people they shouldn’t be worried about

their jobs.”

Rick suspected that Brian’s mood was as much a function

of his general struggle with the transition to retirement as it

was with the events at JMJ. So he decided to be gentle.

“Listen, Brian. Anyone who is adversely affected by this

is going to get a nice severance package. That was part of the

deal, which you did a great job negotiating. And compared

to what Nike is doing with FlexPro, this is actually pretty

mild.”

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Retirement

Brian was momentarily speechless.

Rick kept talking. “I know how attached you were to that

place, but you got a fair deal for JMJ, and now it’s time to let

go, my friend.”

“Maybe.” Brian took a breath and tried to convince him-

self that Rick was right. But he couldn’t do it. “It’s just that

they’re going to flush years of trust and loyalty down the toi-

let. They don’t understand that that’s what they paid for in the

deal. I told you we should have found a buyer who under-

stood us. We probably would have gotten more.”

Rick should have said nothing, but as usual, he couldn’t

turn down a chance to debate, especially when his profes-

sional skills were being questioned. “No, they bought a fac-

tory, a brand name, a few patents, and a customer list. And

they still have those things. And believe me. No one was going

to pay you more than they did, because none of that touchy-

feely stuff makes it to the bottom line.”

Brian was now fully engaged, even angry. “You just don’t

get it, do you? The culture we built had more to do with our

success than anything else. Those patents? Those products?

The brand? Hell, those are a direct result of a bunch of peo-

ple who loved their jobs.”

“No,” Rick countered, condescension creeping into his

voice. “Those people loved their jobs because they were win-

ning. And they were winning because you happened to have

good products in the right market at the right time. All that

other stuff is twenty-twenty hindsight bullshit.”

For a moment Brian thought he was going to hang up

on Rick. Luckily, the beep on the line gave him a reason to

end the call more civilly. “That’s my other line. I’ve got to go.”

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The Three Signs of a Miserable Job

Before Rick could say “Me too,” Brian clicked over to

the incoming call.

It was Rob, his old head of marketing. He was calling to

thank him for his e-mail, but to assure him that he had no hard

feelings about the earlier-than-expected job change.

“We all figured this was going to happen sooner or later.

Heck, plenty of people have already left, and like me, most

of them already have jobs lined up. And with the exit pack-

age that you negotiated for us, I’m actually pretty happy

with everything. Besides, things aren’t the same around here

anyway.”

Brian was both relieved and heartbroken. “What about the

folks in the factory?”

“Everything on the manufacturing side is staying here, so

they’ll be fine. I mean, it won’t be as much fun for them, that’s

for sure. Some are probably going to leave just because they

don’t like the changes. But their jobs are relatively secure.

There’s even some talk about expansion.”

After the call was over, Brian ate breakfast with Leslie and

confessed the sordid details of his binge the night before. She

convinced him to call Rick back and mend whatever needed

to be patched up between them.

As usual, Rick was jovial and unaffected by it all—if not

just a little indelicate.

After accepting Brian’s apology, he made a suggestion.

“You know, maybe you should become a counselor or some-

thing up there.”

Brian was confused. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. You could put your interest in making peo-

ple feel good about themselves to good use. I think you’d

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Retirement

enjoy something like that. Less about the numbers. More about

people.”

Though he knew Rick was trying to be nice, Brian found

himself getting frustrated again. He took a breath. “Rick, do

you think that I enjoyed running JMJ?”

Rick tried to backtrack. “Yeah, sure, it’s just that, I don’t

know, your passion for people would probably be more ap-

preciated in another line of work. That’s all.”

Brian forced himself to be calm. He spoke slowly. “Okay,

Rick. I’m going to explain this one more time. My interest in

people is exactly why I liked being a CEO. That’s why I was

a good CEO.”