Start With Why (27 page)

Microsoft is just one of the tangible things Gates has done in his life to bring his cause to life. The company is one of the WHATs to his WHY. And now he’s off to do something else that also embodies his cause—to use the Gates Foundation to help people around the world wake up every day to overcome obstacles so they too can have an opportunity achieve their potential. The only difference is he’s not doing it with software anymore. Steve Ballmer, a smart man by all accounts, does not physically embody Gates’s vision of the world. He has the image of a powerful executive who sees numbers, competitors and markets. He is a man with a gift for managing the WHAT line. Like John Sculley at Apple, Jim Donald at Starbucks and Kevin Rollins at Dell—all the CEOs who replaced the visionary founders or executives—Ballmer might be the perfect man to work alongside a visionary, but is he the perfect man to replace one?

The entire culture of all these companies was built around one man’s vision. The only succession plan that will work is to find a CEO who believes in and wants to continue to lead that movement, not replace it with their own vision of the future. Ballmer knows how to rally the company, but can he inspire it?

Successful succession is more than selecting someone with an appropriate skill set—it’s about finding someone who is in lockstep with the original cause around which the company was founded. Great second or third CEOs don’t take the helm to implement their own vision of the future; they pick up the original banner and lead the company into the next generation. That’s why we call it succession, not replacement. There is a continuity of vision.

One of the reasons Southwest Airlines has been so good at succession is because its cause is so ingrained in its culture, and the CEOs who took over from Herb Kelleher also embodied the cause. Howard Putnam was the first president of Southwest after Kelleher. Though he was a career airline guy, it was not his résumé that made him so well suited to lead the company. He was a good fit. Putnam recounts the time he met with Kelleher to interview for the job. Putnam leaned back in his chair and noticed that Kelleher had slipped his shoes off under the desk. More significantly, Putnam noticed the hole in one of Kelleher’s socks. It was at that point that Putnam felt he was the right man for the job. He loved that Kelleher was just like everyone else. He too had holes in his socks.

Although Putnam felt Southwest was right for him, how do we know if he was right for Southwest? I had a chance to spend half a day with Putnam to talk. At one point in the afternoon I suggested we take a break and grab a Starbucks. The mere suggestion incensed him. “I’m not going to Starbucks!” he cracked. “I’m not paying five dollars for a cup of coffee. And what the heck is a Frappuccino anyway?” It was at that point I realized how perfect a fit Putnam was for Southwest. He was an everyman. A Dunkin’ Donuts guy. He was a perfect man to take the torch from Kelleher and charge forward. Southwest inspired him. In the case of Howard Putnam, Kelleher hired somebody who could represent the cause, not reinvent it.

Today it has become so acculturated there that it’s almost automatic. The same could be said for Colleen Barrett, who became president of Southwest in 2001, some thirty years after she was working as Kelleher’s secretary in his San Antonio law firm. By 2001, the company had nearly 30,000 employees and a fleet of 344 planes. By the time she took over, Barrett says that running the company had become “a very collective effort.” Kelleher stopped his day-to-day involvement in the company, but left a corporate culture so strong that his presence in the hallways was no longer needed. The physical person had largely been replaced by the folklore of Kelleher. But it is the folklore that has helped keep the WHY alive. Barrett freely admits she’s not the smartest executive out there. She is self-deprecating in her personal assessment, in fact. But as the leader of the company, being the smartest was not her job. Her job was to lead the cause. To personify the values and remind everyone WHY they are there.

The good news is, it will be easy to know if a successor is carrying the right torch. Simply apply the Celery Test and see if what the company is saying and doing makes sense. Test whether WHAT they are doing effectively proves WHY they were founded. If we can’t easily assess a company’s WHY simply from looking at their products, services, marketing and public statements, then odds are high that they don’t know what it is either. If they did, so would we.

On April 5, 1992, at approximately eight in the morning, Wal-Mart lost its WHY. On that day, Sam Walton, Wal-Mart’s inspired leader, the man who embodied the cause around which he built the world’s largest retailer, died in the University of Arkansas Medical Science Hospital in Little Rock of bone marrow cancer. Soon after, Walton’s oldest son, S. Robeson Walton, who succeeded his father as chairman of the company, gave a public statement. “No changes are expected in the corporate direction, control or policy,” he said. Sadly for Wal-Mart employees, customers and shareholders, that is not what happened.

Sam Walton was the embodiment of the everyman. Though he was named the richest man in America by
Forbes
magazine in 1985, a title he held until he died, he never understood the importance others placed on money. Certainly, Walton was a competitor, and money was a good yardstick of success. But that’s not what gave Walton or those who worked at Wal-Mart the feeling of success. It was people Walton valued above all else. People.

Look after people and people will look after you was his belief, and everything Walton and Wal-Mart did proved it. In the early days, for example, Walton insisted on showing up for work on Saturdays out of fairness to his store employees who had to work weekends. He remembered birthdays and anniversaries and even that a cashier’s mother had just undergone gallbladder surgery. He chastised his executives for driving expensive cars and resisted using a corporate jet for many years. If the average American didn’t have those things, then neither should those who are supposed to be their champions.

Wal-Mart never went through a split under Walton’s command, because Walton never forgot where he came from. “I still can’t believe it was news that I get my hair cut at the barbershop. Where else would I get it cut?” he said. “Why do I drive a pickup truck? What am I supposed to haul my dogs around in, a Rolls-Royce?” Often seen wearing his signature tweed jacket and a trucker’s cap, Walton was the embodiment of those he aimed to serve—the average-Joe American.

With a company so beloved by employees, customers and communities, Walton made only one major blunder. He didn’t put his cause into clear enough words so that others could continue to lead the cause after he died. It’s not entirely his fault. The part of the brain that controls the WHY doesn’t control language. So, like so many, the best Walton could articulate was HOW to bring his cause to life. He talked about making products cheap to make things more affordable to the average working American. He talked about building stores in rural communities so that the backbone of America’s workforce didn’t have to travel to the urban centers. It all made sense. All his decisions passed the Celery Test. It was the WHY upon which the company was built, however, that was left unsaid.

Walton was involved in the company until just before his death, when his ailing health prevented him from participating any longer. Like all organizations with founder-leaders whose physical presence helps keep the WHY alive, his continued involvement in the company had reminded everyone WHY they came to work every day. He inspired everyone around him. Just as Apple ran on the fumes of Steve Jobs for a few years after he left the company before significant cracks started to show, so did Wal-Mart remember Sam Walton and his WHY for a short time after he died. But as the WHY started to get fuzzier and fuzzier, the company changed direction. From then on, there would be a new motivation at the company, and it was something that Walton himself cautioned against: chasing money.

Costco was cofounded in 1983 by WHY-type Jim Sinegal and HOW-type Jeffrey Brotman. Sinegal learned about discount retailing from Sol Price, the same person from whom Sam Walton admitted to “borrowing” much of what he knew about the business. And, like Walton, Sinegal believes in people first. “We’re going to be a company that’s on a first-name basis with everyone,” he said in an interview on ABC’s newsmagazine show
20/20.
Following the same formula as other inspiring leaders, Costco believes in looking after its employees first. Historically, they have paid their people about 40 percent more than those who work at Sam’s Club, the Wal-Mart–owned discount warehouse. And Costco offers above-average benefits, including health coverage for more than 90 percent of their employees. As a result, their turnover is consistently five times lower than Sam’s Club.

Like all companies built around a cause, Costco has relied on their megaphone to help them grow. They don’t have a PR department and they don’t spend money on advertising. The Law of Diffusion is all that Costco needed to get the word out. “Imagine that you have 120,000 loyal ambassadors out there who are constantly saying good things about you,” quips Sinegal, recognizing the value of trust and loyalty of his employees over advertising and PR.

For years, Wall Street analysts criticized Costco’s strategy of spending so much on their people instead of on cutting costs to boost margins and help share value. Wall Street would preferred the company to focus on WHAT they did at the expense of WHY they did it. A Deutsche Bank analyst told
FORTUNE
magazine, “Costco continues to be a company that is better at serving the club member and employee than the shareholder.”

Fortunately, Sinegal trusts his gut more than he trusts Wall Street analysts. “Wall Street is in the business of making money between now and next Tuesday,” he said in the
20/20
interview. “We’re in the business of building an organization, an institution that we hope will be here fifty years from now. And paying good wages and keeping people working with you is very good business.”

The amazing insight in all of this is not just how inspiring Sinegal is, but that almost everything he says and does echoes Sam Walton. Wal-Mart got as big as it did doing the exact same thing—focusing on WHY and ensuring that WHAT they did proved it. Money is never a cause, it is always a result. But on that fateful day in April 1992, Wal-Mart stopped believing in their WHY.

Since Sam Walton’s death, Wal-Mart has been battered by scandals of mistreating employees and customers all in the name of shareholder value. Their WHY has gone so fuzzy that even when they do things well, few are willing to give them credit. The company, for example, was among the first major corporations to develop an environmental policy aimed at reducing waste and encouraging recycling. But Wal-Mart’s critics have grown so skeptical of the company’s motives that the move was largely dismissed as posturing. “Wal-Mart has been working to improve its image and lighten its environmental impact for several years now,” a column published on the
New York Times
Web site on October 28, 2008, read. “Wal-Mart is still selling consumerism even as it pledges to cut the social and environmental costs of making the stuff in its stores.” Costco, on the other hand, was later than Wal-Mart to announce an environmental policy, yet has received a disproportionate amount of attention. The difference is that people
believe
it when Costco does it. When people know WHY you do WHAT you do, they are willing to give you credit for everything that could serve as proof of WHY. When they are unclear about your WHY, WHAT you do has no context. Even though the things you do or decisions you make may be good, they won’t make sense to others without a clear understanding of WHY.

And what of the results? Still running on the memory of Sam Walton, Wal-Mart’s culture stayed intact at first, and the value of the two stocks was about even for a few years after Walton died. But as Wal-Mart continued to run its business in a post-Sam, post-split manner while Costco maintained clarity of WHY, the difference in value changed dramatically. An investment in Wal-Mart on the day Sam Walton died would have earned a shareholder a 300 percent gain by the time this book was written. An investment made in Costco on the same day would have netted an 800 percent gain.

Costco’s advantage is that the embodiment of their WHY, Jim Sinegal, is still there. The things he says and does help reinforce to all those around him what the company stands for. Staying true to that WHY, Sinegal draws a $430,000 salary, a relatively small amount given the size and success of the company. At Wal-Mart’s peak, Sam Walton never took a salary of more than $350,000 per year, also consistent with what he believed. David Glass, the first man to take over as CEO after Sam Walton, a man who had spent considerable time around Walton, said, “A lot of what goes on these days with high-flying companies and these overpaid CEOs, who’re really just looting from the top and aren’t watching out for anybody but themselves, really upsets me. It’s one of the main things wrong with American business today.”

Three more CEOs have attempted to carry the torch that Walton lit. And with each succession that torch, that clear sense of purpose, cause and belief, has grown dimmer and dimmer. The new hope lies in Michael T. Duke, who took over as CEO in early 2009. Duke’s goal is to restore the luster and the clarity of Wal-Mart’s WHY.

And to do it, he started by paying himself an annual salary of $5.43 million.

It started in Vietnam War–era Northern California, where antigovernment ideals and distain for large centers of power ran rampant. Two young men saw the power of government and corporations as the enemy, not because they were big, per se, but because they squashed the spirit of the individual. They imagined a world in which an individual had a voice. They imagined a time when an individual could successfully stand up to incumbent power, old assumptions and status-quo thoughts and successfully challenge them. Even redirect them. They hung out with hippie types who shared their beliefs, but they saw a different way to change the world that didn’t require protesting or engaging in anything illegal.