See the Sign on My Door?

I winced. And then I leaned over, listening for some sign that he was joking to come out of the space three cubicles away.

But his tongue was too busy lashing the employee at his desk to rest in his cheek.

He meant it.

A colleague had come to protest some perceived injustice, and my fellow manager reminded him of his rightful place:

Look at my door. See the sign? Now check the wall outside your workspace. Do you see a sign that says “supervisor”? I didn’t think so.

I drew back up to my own desk, and made a note. Don’t do that. Ever.

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As a manager, I found myself in a ridiculously unfamiliar place. My background was varied — I’d worked in nonprofits, medicine, retail, IT, education and church ministry. But I’d never worked — or wanted to — in a large corporation.

I’d sold art, built frames, fixed computers, designed websites, managed a network, raised money, and counseled kids. But until a few months earlier, I’d never handled an automobile claim.

Yet there I sat, just a punk, promoted to manage a team of claim adjusters less than a year after I’d started my insurance career. And as though to turn the spotlight onto my lack of experience in the job, the industry and the corporate environment, I found myself responsible for a work group that handled all of the claims for the company’s high-profile global accounts — high-maintenance, demanding clients who were household names around the world and who paid my employer upwards of $15 million a year in premium (just for their auto insurance).

How did this happen? And what on earth was I going to do?

I had to learn fast. So I watched my peers closely, especially the veterans. I studied my own manager. I read a lot of books and articles on leadership and management. And I often reflected on the best and worst of how I’d been led in the past.

Thanks in no small part to the terrific group of folks assigned to me, I soon found myself surrounded by one of the highest performing and cohesive teams in the office. But I have to give credit as well to the managers I worked for and worked with for modeling — the good and the ugly — for me as I sought to find my own way.

I considered these examples (names may or may not have been changed):

Expectations

Karla followed the way of my parents: expect the best. And it worked. Karla always told us that we were the very best in the organization, and the very best in the industry. And while she gracefully worked with us through our mistakes, it was clear she did not expect us to make them. Karla got what she expected: We consistently performed as though we were the very best fundraising and PR staff out there. (I’m still pretty sure we were . . . )

Communication & Caring

Cathi and I were the sole occupants of our office in a small professional education school, my first job out of college. I worked the front desk and she ran the place. Which mostly meant coming in to work and talking to her friends on the phone all day. She did not speak to me most days yet stood in shock when I gave my notice after only two months. “I had no idea you weren’t happy here,” she complained, while I went to work for Karla.

Opportunity

I was underchallenged and Mary Ann knew it. Officially, I did a little data entry, bulk mailings, minute taking and lunch ordering. Mary Ann saw potential, and unofficially slipped me writing assignments, sent me out on photo shoots, set me up with the video producer and had a hand in landing me a gig directing an international tour. I’d have done anything this boss asked of me.

Dignity

My first day on the job, Eddie spelled out my primary duty. “Your job is to make me look good,” he said. I walked directly to my office to doublecheck the job description. Like my colleague who was in love with his title, I found his approach disrespectful and demotivating. I determined that if he looked good in the course of me doing my job well, it would be accidental.

Trust

Cheryl trusted me. She trusted me to do my job well and with integrity, and communicated as much not only through words but through increased opportunity and responsibility. She sent hard work my way, often reassigning problems from other employees to me to resolve. Her trust meant enough to me that I worked doubly hard not to violate it.

Servanthood

Dave taught me the opposite of Eddie. He recognized challenges he could send my way, and always made sure to provide me with opportunities and the resources to exceed expectations. He worked hard to give me every chance to succeed. And whenever possible, he told others about me and my performance. When I needed help, Dave always dug in with me and worked alongside me until we figured it out. Watching Dave I learned to get underneath my direct reports and make them successful — my job was to make them look good.

In my dual-employment life now, I don’t have much manager-employee relationship. In one role, while I do have a manager, I work independently with little direct involvement from her. In the other, I am my own boss.

I’m finding that managing oneself is far different than managing others or being managed.

And I rather miss my managers and my direct reports.

What do you think? What makes a great boss? A bad boss? Share a story?

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This reflection is posted as part of High Calling Blog’s group writing project on Bosses, prompted by Bradley J. Moore of Shrinking the Camel. Check out the project over at HCB or Bradley’s place.

Photo: Sign Street by Sylvain Plante via Stock.xchng