How Can Leaders Reconcile Vulnerability and Effectiveness?

A leader must be selective, and wisely decide when to show your vulnerability or “human side.”

I remember watching the movie U-571, and thinking, wow. Harvey Keitel, who plays the seasoned Chief Klogh, personifies leadership during a life-and-death situation. He told the young Lieutenant, played by Matthew McConaughey, how to address his submarine crew after the captain’s battle loss to a German U-boat:

“Don’t you dare say what you said to the boys back there again, ‘I don’t know.’ Those three words will kill a crew, dead as a depth charge. You’re the skipper now, and the skipper always knows what to do, whether he does or not.”

The Lieutenant was unsure what to do after a deadly attack, but he knew that without a leader’s firm, unwavering confidence, chaos beckoned. So, Chief Klogh had to set him straight or risk losing more lives.

The parallels to what many seasoned leaders are dealing with during the pandemic are poignant. During times of enormous stress, a leader has to instill confidence and composure. A life-and-death situation is not the time to show vulnerability; it’s too dangerous.

Leaders don’t get to have a bad day

A leader must be selective, and wisely decide when to show your vulnerability or “human side.” One of the most compelling examples of this I’ve ever seen actually wasn’t from a movie, it was at an Alliance Leadership Meeting in Chicago in 2009.

Formerly the Chief Prosecutor for the Special Court in Sierra Leone, presenter David M. Crane gave a riveting talk called “Leadership under Pressure.” He told us harrowing stories about how he led a team of lawyers, investigators, and paralegals living in Freetown under extreme conditions to prosecute war crimes and crimes against humanity for the atrocities suffered during West Africa’s civil war. I remember vividly him saying that, “Leaders never get to have a bad day.”

Most of us have had a “bad day” or two. We wake up, and we’re just not feeling it. But a good leader doesn’t have that luxury. A team looks to the leader for strength and calm. During a crisis if a leader shows too much vulnerability about the mission, the team could lose confidence and cohesiveness, which could have devastating results.

Mr. Crane also told us, “in times of extreme crisis, little things can make a big difference.” He shared that he often returned to Sierra Leone from European meetings with a beautiful box of chocolates to share with his staff.

He told us how much something so insignificant meant. The staff looked forward to his return, to choosing which chocolate they wanted from the box. I suppose this was, in a way, showing vulnerability. Most of us appreciate small moments like these, especially when living under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Mr. Crane must have appeared “human” to his staff, yet also a confident leader.

Never let ’em see you sweat

When I reflect on my leadership style, I’ve shown confidence and vulnerability. The latter comes in the form of empathy. This was evident during one very stressful event in my grain career, called a “weigh-up.”

A “weigh-up” is an extreme measure meant to confirm inventory. It’s a complicated formula, but the amount of grain can vary due to various reasons: moisture, climate conditions, handling, and human error. I was the general manager for a major export elevator in Baltimore when our head corporate accountant questioned our inventory numbers.

I was in Indianapolis representing our firm at a grain convention when I received a call from the big boss telling me, “Get back to Baltimore immediately! They called for a “weigh-up,” meaning every single bushel in the elevator would be weighed and counted.

This was serious. The process of moving and weighing grain can physically break it up, making the grain less valuable. The process would take about 72-hours to complete, bringing our entire operation to a halt, which also cost money. I was terrified.

If our numbers were “off,” and we had less grain than we said, we would lose hundreds of thousands of dollars. I would lose my job, and worse, my reputation. But I had absolute trust in our team and our numbers. I was furious with the head accountant for questioning us, especially without a solid reason why.

I’ll never forget, it was Valentine’s weekend. We closed our 24–7, 365 operation to carry out the “weigh-up.” Every few minutes, there was an audible “click” as the grain moved through the process of being counted. Each click added more bushels to the tally. It was agonizing — click, click, click. In retrospect, I wonder if that weekend actually cost me time from my life.

The head accountant was there. He came from New York to bear witness, and he stood on the grain elevator’s cold cement floor, clipboard in hand, with an air of authority. I stood next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder, click after click. Sweat poured down my legs, despite the cold February temperature. But I never let on — at least, I hope I didn’t.

Lead by example, always

I told my team not to worry, that I too was deeply frustrated and offended, but to keep the faith. I was reassuring; I told them I had absolute confidence in our team and our inventory numbers, and so should they. We just had to let the process play out.

I remember calling home to Illinois that weekend to talk to my Dad, a veteran grain man, and leader. My Dad was sympathetic and mad at the accountant, too — although he never met him. He told me, “You’ve got this. You learned from a master!” He meant himself, and it gave me a much needed laugh.

At the end of that marathon weekend, I received the best Valentine of my life; vindication. Our numbers were correct. All the grain was there, just as our inventory records reflected. The accountant smugly said, “Well, I hope you understand, nothing personal.” I was thrilled to see the back of him.

During this immensely stressful time, if I had said to my staff, “Oh, no! Maybe we’re wrong, maybe we miscalculated, what are we going to do?” they would have spent the weekend looking for new jobs. I had to show confidence, which was easy because I trusted our numbers.

In a 20+ year grain career, that was my only “weigh-up.” It taught me a valuable lesson: Leaders, lead. When you’re in that position, being vulnerable is all in the timing. It’s okay to show your human side, just do so with the utmost confidence in the mission.

As you develop and evolve your leadership style, remember, leaders never get to have a bad day. You are the skipper, and the skipper always knows what to do.