Pride. Stubborn Pride.
Cutting-loose of our bad decisions. Lessons in Leadership.
There’s a gripping scene in John Wayne’s “The Cowboys” when the antagonist, played to the hilt by the great Bruce Dern, has Mr. Anderson and his boys cornered. The villain orders our hero to remove his gun belt. Wayne does so, but throws it onto the ground between them. Dern, realizing he now has control of the situation, craves to tame and humiliate Wayne’s character.
“That’s good. Now, bend over, pick it up, and bring it to me.”
Wayne refuses.
The dastardly Dern repeats his order, this time with great fervor, only to watch Wayne defiantly stand still.
Dern smiles, shakes his head, and steps forward to pick the six shooter up himself.
“Pride. Stubborn pride,” he says. “It truly is an admirable quality. But to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have picked it up either.”
Stubborn pride is a double-edged sword. At times, it can drive us to great achievements under extraordinary circumstances where others may fail. (Picture a marathon runner on that final, excruciating mile.)
“Such men as he be never at heart’s ease. While they behold a greater than themselves, and therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be feared than what I fear; for always, I am Caesar.” -Julius Caesar Act 1 Scene 2
Other times, it can leave us collapsed by the roadside, broken and humiliated.
“Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” -Proverbs 16:18
Years ago, I hired a young man to handle a specific area of responsibility at a store I managed that needed improvement. I had been clearly “encouraged” to go about making this improvement another way by my boss, but I was determined.
It did not go well from the start. But, this project was my baby, and dang it, I was going to make it work. I campaigned for it, wrestled for it, begged for it, and now that I owned it, was going down with it, no matter what. I had saddled the horse, and I was going to ride it. Pride was on the line.
How do you ride a dead horse?
Admitting we have made a bad decision is hard for most people, whether it’s in business or in everyday life. Out of desperation, many of us compound the first bad decision with another bad decision (wasting more time or money)in hopes of keeping the thing alive. The patient flat-lines. We jump on top of the gurney and begin frantically pumping the chest. “Paddles!” we scream. But it’s too late. The priest is at the door, and is asking to come in.
But that’s the hardest part! The ability to step in and pronounce an official time of death on a bad decision can be so defeating when our name was on the billboard. We’ve invested so much. People were watching. It was such a good freaking idea!
Pull the plug. Bury the poor thing and move on.
Pride can drive us to greatness. It can also drive us to destruction, and take the scenic route doing it.
A friend told me a story recently:
He was serving on a ship as a naval radar operator back in 1956 when they found themselves in one of the Pacific Ocean’s largest typhoons to date. For five days this storm engulfed them, causing them to lose all radio contact and making their radar inoperable. When they finally found their way out, they quickly scrambled to determine exactly where they were.
The Captain came on deck and began to ask questions. The Executive Officer, a cocky-fellow, stepped up. “We are here, sir,” he pointed to the map and boldly stated.
“How do you know this?” the Captain asked. “Our radar and radios have been down for 5 days.”
The officer explained how, during their distress, he had been manually tracking their course using “dead-reckoning,” an outdated (yet useful if done correctly) process where one uses previously determined positions to determine a current position. The only problem is, if your previously determined positions are incorrect, your calculations will not only throw you grossly off-course, but will get you dangerously lost. And the Pacific Ocean is a bad place to be lost.
My friend, the radar-operator, had come to a different conclusion. Once his equipment had come back up, he had been working feverishly to find any fixed point. When the first naval base, Pearl Harbor lit up, he began searching for another. Soon, Guam appeared. Next came Japan. Once Midway showed itself, he was in business. The lines that intersected allowed him to pinpoint precisely where they were-exactly 60 miles from Chinese waters.
My friend had a decision to make; remain silent and let the Captain act upon the Executive Officer’s information, or speak up. My friend decided he had no desire to visit China in 1956.
He cleared his throat and interjected. “Sir, that is not where we are.”
He proceeded to show them how he had found their true location. Once it was clear just how bad the situation was, the Captain turned back to the officer and said, “I am pleased to know where we really are, for once we make Japan, you, sir are transferred.”
While telling this story, my friend smiled and shook his head. “That man knew his work was not accurate. His decisions could have cost us all dearly. If he had just admitted after the first couple of days that he was wrong, his career would have been saved. Pride would not let him.”
Whether it’s pride, amount of personal investment, or just plain stubbornness that is keeping your patient on life-support, an effective leader must learn to be realistic and see the bigger picture. The amount of resources you may be pumping into a bad decision is not only costing you, but the ones around you who don’t have a dog in the hunt, but are suffering the negative effects which you refuse to acknowledge. The employees you lead, the players you coach, the family you raise.
Leadership is about decisions. Nobody said they would all be winners. An effective leader knows when to say “enough” and move on.
Learn when to say when.
Lead responsibly.
