First Impressions Matter

I started a company once with some awesome people who had lots of virtues.  But … at one point early on, one of them introduced me to an outsider as “the developer”.  Those of you who know me from the real world (hi Ed!), can imagine how I reacted to that.  Why is an introduction like that a problem?  After all, I was the developer. It’s a problem because for that particular outsider, I am now, and forever “the developer”.  Not CTO … “developer”.  I won’t get that intro back.  It made me feel bad.

despicable-me-2-gru-minions-pp33118_zpsdcda23f2My feelings, of course, don’t matter much because a lot more than my feelings were going to be hurt by the time that ride was over. There’s nothing anyone could do about that.  And you can’t be super-sensitive in this business blah, blah, blah.  But there are good reasons for even a heartless CEO who disdains, even hates his subordinates to be careful about intros – good self-serving reasons.

I worked for a guy once who consistently put his people down when introducing them to outsiders.  His Director of Engineering became “the software guy”, his Project Manager became “my assistant”, his CFO became “the accountant”.  He did it, I’m certain, because he was deeply insecure about his own chops and didn’t trust us not to show him up with outsiders.  So in any meeting, right from the intros, he was “The CEO” and the rest of us were minions.

I remember watching people’s faces as he did this, and I could see their loyalty to this guy draining away.  It was sad.  Nobody wanted to travel with him.  In meetings we all sat there quietly, having been appropriately down-titled during the introductions.   We felt bad, but those are just feelings which don’t count, right?  They did count because when hard times hit, they hit us hard, and it all came back to him.  He’d throw something out in a meeting and be met by dead silence.  He’d look around the room and say “doesn’t anybody have anything?”.  And nobody did.  After all, we were just minions.

rumbleOn the flip side, I worked for another guy who consistently oversold his team, myself included.  When he introduced me to outsiders I was not just whatever title I had at the time, I was also a genius, rockstar, ninja – any of the ridiculous things Silicon Valley CEOs call their tech guys.  I actually asked him at one point to tone it down – I’m nobody’s idea of a rock star and it was a little unnerving.  But he was more right than wrong in doing that.

The basketball analogy I used back here works well for this.  The overselling CEO was actually “making space for himself”.   He could say objectively-stupid shit and get away with it because he had peers who could laugh and correct him.  By working introductions the way he did, he put the rest of his team in the game.  Any one of us could jump in if he got in trouble.  And because he was surrounded with ninjas and rock-stars he got called on stupid shit much less than he would have otherwise.  After all, if I were actually a ninja I might jump in and kick your ass if you put my CEO in a bad spot.  I could see people thinking about that when Mr. Uptitler went off the rails in a meeting.

That didn’t sound right. Should I jump on it? Or do his guys know more than I do and they’re just sitting there waiting for me to stick my neck out … Meh, it’s not that important, I’ll let it run and see where this all leads.

Imagine this scenario. You’re meeting with a VC and you’ve introduced your CFO as “the accountant”. You’ve started the meeting by insulting her, or worse, refighting a battle you already lost about her title.  Is she going to be willing to jump into the conversation and help you past a rough spot?  Will anyone even listen if she does? Or will she be dismissed out of hand?  And this is not even addressing the question of why you would bring an “accountant”, “developer” or “assistant” to an important meeting.  When Mr. Uptitler said something stupid, we fixed it and moved on.  All it meant was that he’d misspoke.  When Mr. Downtitler said something stupid, it meant the company was stupid because no one on his side had the juice to fix it.  “Accountants”, “assistants” and “developers” don’t correct the CEO in a meeting. They don’t even speak.

Next post, we’ll tackle the sensitive topic of startup titles from the CEO’s perspective, and everyone else’s.

It’s the little things …

… that make the difference between good/fun and not-so-good/not-so-fun.

Terminology for example. (Oy, here he goes again on the name thing!) There are a fair number of things that have to be named when you’re trying to make something from nothing.  The company, the product, individual projects, components, workflow states and transitions, interfaces, even the term you use to describe customers (guest, client …).  They all have to be named.  And as close readers of this blog know (Hi Mom!) the first name you pick for something usually sucks.  Which means that not only does everything have to be named, it usually also has to be renamed.

When product (and seriously it’s always those guys leading the renaming charge) decides to rename something it takes a while for the terminology to work its way through the org, whether your company is 4 people or 400.  For some things, in some organizations, you never really flush out the old name.  The dual names then become a form of low-level, everyday friction.  C’est la guerre, right?  Well, no, it’s not.

I was forced to think about this by a stark counter-example.  I was sitting in a meeting one day, not paying much attention when I realized that we’d been talking for awhile and all three people from one particular group had nailed the just-changed-yesterday name for the product in question every single time.  The rest of us were all over the map.  It stuck in my head as a data point that probably meant something.

bossPersonally, I was always bad at this and tended to hang on to the old names.  I’m not very good at remembering people’s names so why should it be any different for things?  But when I thought about it, I realized that I didn’t hang on to old names for things because I couldn’t remember the new ones, at least not most of the time.  It was because I thought that renaming things was stupid and I was annoyed and often had “the juice” politically to get away with hanging on to the old name.  Passive aggression at its finest.

Very occasionally I see product people get annoyed by this phenomenon, but I’ve never seen anyone take it seriously.  From the product side of the house I suspect that this inability to make a name-change and have it stick quickly is a low-level irritant that decreases their effectiveness and quality of life, but never rises to the level of “I have to do something about this”.  It’s one of those things that leaves you pissed off but you’re not really sure why.  Well now you know why – you’ve been passively aggressed.

When you’re building a team and trying to get some momentum this is one of the little things you can watch, and use to prevent problems you’d otherwise have to ‘fix’ later, probably by firing someone’s sorry ass.  Somebody who consistently uses old terminology is actually arguing with your right to name things.  He’s saying “you’re not the boss of me”.  Fix him now, or fire him later.

For my part, hereby resolved – the next time I’m leading a crew, this is one of the things I’ll be paying attention to, for myself and for the crew.  Perhaps I’ll make a point of explaining it up-front. Or now that I recognize the root of the issue maybe I’ll just jump on anyone who’s not with the program.  Fair warning.  And to all the product people in my past – my bad.