The Monk and the Riddle: The Art of Creating a Life While Making a Living (17 page)

My final Claris lesson came when we sold the company back to Apple. We had intended initially that Claris would eventually go public. But when Apple discovered in our draft prospectus that we planned to develop software for Windows, not just for the Macintosh, Apple execs decided to reel us back in rather than suffer the embarrassment of watching their offspring consort with the enemy. They had the contractual right to do so; however, the spinout agreement we had negotiated forced them to pay a multiple of the anticipated IPO price for the privilege. It was a lucrative deal for all of us.

But it was a Pyrrhic victory. With our spouses, we all gathered at the home of one of the founders to celebrate our good fortune. Together we drank the celebration into a wake. We were proud of the price we'd gotten from Apple—there was reason to celebrate—but when we looked around the room at each other, the deal's downside hit us: it was unlikely we would ever work together again. The exhilarating experience of the Claris startup made few of us eager to return to the larger Apple fold.

Our checks were in the bank, but we were morose. What the heck was that, I wondered?

Campbell had a better bead than any of us on what was happening. He knew he'd given up his baby, even as the rest of us were skirting around the edges of that loss. I later realized what a rare privilege it had been to work with this group of people, in a place of our own making that gave us the opportunity to reach and stretch, to have impact, and to be great. Building a $90-million-a-year, market-leading business was a hard thing to do. Claris gave us, as a team and as individuals, a platform for growing and a chance to build a legacy and a culture that would contain our DNA in its values for decades to come. You couldn't put a price on it, and I didn't realize that until our company was dead and buried.

B
USINESS
, I told Lenny and Allison, is about nothing if not people. First, the people you serve, your market. Then the team you build, your employees. Finally, your many business partners and associates. Sever the chain of values between leadership and the people translating strategy into products and services for your customers, and you will destroy your foundation for long-term success. The culture you create and principles you express are the only connection you will have with each other and your many constituencies. It may not be Allison's utopia, but it was a far cry from Lenny's soulless machine.

As I talked, Lenny had been sneaking looks at his watch. “We'll have to continue this discussion another time,” Lenny said. They needed to be off to the airport for the flight home, to arrive in Boston at midnight. Coast-to-coast day-tripping was a hard life.

He and Allison stood and thanked me for my time and help.

“Lot to think about,” Lenny changed the subject. “I'm very optimistic. I believe this is going to happen. I can feel it.”

I wasn't sure he had heard a word I said.

Connie drifted by as they were walking away.

“Got the money, huh?” she said.

Clambering into his rental Neon, Lenny gave us a big grin and a thumbs-up.

I could only shake my head.

Chapter Eight

T
HE
A
RT
OF
L
EADERSHIP

I
SPENT THE REST
of the afternoon in a long, drawn out session with Chris, the founder of one of the companies I work with. He had enough problems and challenges to push any thoughts of Lenny temporarily from my mind.

Chris had done a terrific job building a core team, raising seed capital, developing patented technology, and launching an Internet service for the on-line searching of audio/video content. But the business wasn't happening, and he was not up to the task of bringing in strategic industry partners—big portals and entertainment sites. Sales were negligible. Chris was an engineer with a great concept, but he was running out of steam. His management team was having second thoughts, given the lack of progress in the market.

The company needed new leadership, badly. While Chris was able intellectually to concede this, it was hard for him emotionally to deliver his baby to someone else's charge. As much as the company needed a new CEO, it couldn't afford to lose Chris's creative vision and passion. I couldn't separate Chris's success from the company's success. We had come to that quintessential tough moment in a startup's maturation you hope won't occur: time for the founder to consider giving up the reins.

Silicon Valley veterans share a tacit understanding that what a startup needs isn't one CEO, but three—each at successive stages of the startup's development. Given my deep regard for man's best friend, I tend to think of each in terms of best of breed. The first CEO is “the Retriever.” From the muck she must assemble the core team, the product or service, and the market direction—all around a coherent vision. She must also raise the money and secure crucial early customers and partners. She is prized for her tenacity and inventiveness. The second CEO is “the Bloodhound.” He must
sniff out
a trail—find the market and prove the business. He needs to build an operating team and establish a market beachhead. He is prized for his keen sense of direction and company-building skills. The third CEO is “the Husky.” She must lead the team, pulling an operating company that grows heavier by the day with people and public company responsibilities. She is prized for her constancy and scalability. None of these, to me, is top dog. All are equal in importance, just different in skills and temperaments. I mentor the founding CEO so she can go as far as she wants or as far as her abilities permit. And when she decides to pass the mantle, I help with the transition to new leadership. We all hope, when that time comes, the company won't need a Saint Bernard.

After hours of discussion with Chris, there still wasn't any resolution. I didn't arrive home until nearly dinnertime, and I was mentally exhausted. I piled my stuff on the dining room table, patted the hounds, poured a glass of Merlot, and sank into my office chair. On autopilot, I hit the power button and logged on. My inbox held a message from Frank.

I wished Lenny were here now, so I could grab him by the lapels and tell him to pay attention.

Lenny was right in assuming that Frank and the other VCs weren't running charitable institutions. But the best learned through trial and error that investing in a passionate group of smart people, with a big idea for a big market, provided the greatest odds for success. Lenny was shortchanging himself and Allison by focusing on how to build an opportunistic business, a casket discounter. Sure it might work, but Frank and his partners had bigger fish to fry. Lenny needed to embrace his earlier, bigger idea. At least there was something in that to sink your teeth into, something worth working hard for.

I had no idea how Frank would respond, but if he passed on this deal, I wanted to make sure he was rejecting the big idea lurking beneath the surface of Funerals.com, and not Lenny's superficial version of it.

Both Debra and I were home for dinner for once. As she sorted through the mail, I rallied every pan in the house. With a bottle of Napa Valley sauvignon blanc, we ate outside as the sun set without a fuss.

Later that evening, still digesting, I sank into my leather chair with a book by the thirteenth-century Zen master Dogen, my quiet house open to the light breeze stealing in off the hills. The low timpani of snoring dogs signaled that the world was just fine.

Dogen's brain-numbing insights eluded me. I couldn't get past his notion of time: “Do not think that time merely flies away. Do not see flying away as the only function of time. If time merely flies away, you would be separated from time.” Another monk's riddle — I needed something a lot less challenging tonight.

There is always e-mail.

I trod lightly so as not to disturb the hounds. But who was I kidding? They were dead to the world, expecting me to take the first watch. The old PowerBook took a few extra minutes to fire up. My Mac was not long for this world.

Just a few messages, including a response from Frank, had dropped in since I had last checked a couple of hours earlier.

Who will lead this?

Good question. I knew Lenny's answer based on the org chart in his plan, but Lenny had not yet demonstrated that he had the right stuff. He was trying to reduce the challenge of starting Funerals.com to rote execution, and he was focusing on managing the process. But this was a startup. It would take an inspirational leader to rally a team and supporters to build something worthwhile. So far, Lenny had failed to inspire any of us.

Management and leadership are related but not identical. Lenny's vantage point from the bowels of the Borg, though, had never given him an appreciation for the difference. Management is a methodical process; its purpose is to produce the desired results on time and on budget. It complements and supports but cannot do without leadership, in which character and vision combine to empower someone to venture into uncertainty. Leaders must suspend the disbelief of their constituents and move ahead even with very incomplete information.