As he enters the room he says “Look I know I got it wrong – I’m sorry – I’ve written my letter of resignation – here it is ” and puts it on the desk.

His manager looks at the letter, rips it in half, rips it in half again and puts it in the bin. “You must be joking” she says smiling ” We’ve just spent £20,000 on your training – there’s no way you’re leaving until you’ve made that back for us.”

Source: Speed of Recovery by Byron Kalies

Toward the end of the meeting, one of J&J’s top executives summarized what he saw as the reality of corporate life. He said that being an executive in a large company was like being a circus juggler, attempting to keep five balls in the air simultaneously. Four of those balls were white (those representing customers, suppliers, employees and communities). The fifth ball, the one representing shareholders, was red. To the approval of most of his fellows in the room—and, in fact, reflecting the beliefs of the vast majority of corporate mangers at the time—the executive said it was possible to drop one of the white balls and still survive, but allowing the red ball of profit to fall would be fatal. At that point, the company’s president, James Burke, spoke up and said: “My friend, I am afraid you are wrong. Today, all the balls are red.”

By being the first corporate leader to acknowledge this new reality, and thus to accept the challenge of balancing the legitimate needs of all of J&J’s stakeholders, Burke later went on to become one of the most successful CEOs in North America. When his European competitors paid bribes to win business in developing markets, he refused to do so. When it was discovered that eight people had died from ingesting cyanide-laced Tylenol capsules (a J&J product), he immediately assumed full responsibility for the deaths, pulling $100 million worth of the analgesic off drugstore shelves. He then opened the company’s executive suite to the media and dealt with the issue in a transparent manner that, to this day, stands as the model for corporate crisis management. His critics in the financial community said he was a fool to do so, and that his actions would cause the company to go bankrupt. He was urged to put the interests of his shareholders first: Remember the red ball! Later, it was discovered that a psychopath had placed the poisoned bottles on the shelves of only a few stores in one city; therefore, the company was not responsible for the deaths. But by publicly assuming responsibility before that fact was known, J&J built such a strong reputation for integrity that it recovered quickly and went on to new heights of profitability.

In short, Burke did what was the unthinkable in North American big business in the 1980s and 90s: He sacrificed short-term profits to do the right thing for his company’s stakeholders in the conviction that it is the long term that counts. That he was right to do so is a lesson finally being learned in the executive suites of many large American companies.

Source: Connecting the Dots Between Leadership, Ethics and Corporate Culture by James O’Toole | Ivey Business Journal, September/October 2009

The plant manager shook his head. “What a waste of brainpower,” he said. Then he smiled. “Want to know my secret? It’s Ted, and the other eight hundred employees at this plant. If I respect Ted and listen to him, we’ll be successful.”

Source: Left Behind by Alison Davis | The Conference Board Review, Fall 2009

“I once ascended to the firmaments. I first went to see Hell and the sight was horrifying. Row after row of tables were laden with platters of sumptuous food, yet the people seated around the tables were pale and emaciated, moaning in hunger. As I came closer, I understood their predicament. Every person held a full spoon, but both arms were splinted with wooden slats so he could not bend either elbow to bring the food to his mouth. It broke my heart to hear the tortured groans of these poor people as they held their food so near but could not consume it.

Next I went to visit Heaven. I was surprised to see the same setting I had witnessed in Hell – row after row of long tables laden with food. But in contrast to Hell, the people here in Heaven were sitting contentedly talking with each other, obviously sated from their sumptuous meal. As I came closer, I was amazed to discover that here, too, each person had his arms splinted on wooden slats that prevented him from bending his elbows. How, then, did they manage to eat?

As I watched, a man picked up his spoon and dug it into the dish before him. Then he stretched across the table and fed the person across from him! The recipient of this kindness thanked him and returned the favor by leaning across the table to feed his benefactor.

I suddenly understood. Heaven and Hell offer the same circumstances and conditions. The critical difference is in the way the people treat each other.

Source: Various, but this comes from The Hasidic Masters’ Guide to Management by Moshe Kranc

This was demonstrated by Andy Grove in 1985, when he and his boss, Gordon Moore, were fighting what appeared to be a losing battle against an impossible business dilemma. In the midst of their aimless wandering, Grove asked Moore, “If the board kicked us out and brought in new management, what do you think they would do?” Suddenly the answer to Intel’s dilemma became clear to both men. Grove’s deceptively simple question stripped the blinders of denial from their eyes. It allowed them to see the situation afresh, face it squarely, and make what had instantly become the obvious choice.

Grove’s question did not make either man smarter. Both were, and are, smart enough. Fighting denial is not a matter of IQ. It is a matter of point of view.

Source:: Ruthlessly Realistic: How CEOs Must Overcome Denial by Richard S. Tedlow, Martha Lagace | HBS Working Knowledge, March 29, 2009

It’s all in how we view the situation and perceive what we’re doing that determines our satisfaction and fulfillment on the job.

Source: Resolving Workplace Conflict: 4 Ways to a Win-Win Solution by Dr. Tony Fiore | Leader Values

Then, using advanced analytics capabilities, the Rockets’ general manager identified a player named Shane Battier as the one the team most needed.

Not everyone was convinced. By most conventional measures—points scored, rebounds, blocked shots—Battier was simply an average player. But Houston’s analysis went one step further. The organization was able to measure how other team members performed whenever Battier was on the court. By that standard, Battier stood above his peers. Whenever he was on the court, no matter where he was playing, his teammates got better and his opponents got worse. Battier has gone on to be a star with Houston.

Source: Creating an Agile Organization by Peter Cheese, Yaarit Silverstone and David Y. Smith | Accenture Outlook Journal #3, 2009

Other engineers had noticed the same thing, but didn’t give it much thought. Spencer, on the other hand, despite having only a grammar-school education, was intensely curious. He tried placing popcorn kernels in front of the tube—and a few minutes later, for the first time since cave-dwellers tamed fire, human beings cooked food in a new way.

A year earlier, anyone might have laughed at the idea of Raytheon selling ovens driven by magnetrons to restaurants and, eventually, households. “Absurd!” “Ridiculous!” “We’re in the defense business!” The Raytheon organization took a chance and listened to Percy Spencer. He wasn’t just a resident weirdo providing comic relief—on the contrary, Spencer’s input was constantly solicited, and he eventually served as a senior member of Raytheon’s board. In this case, his idea was rewarded with a shift in production, and within two years the company took the first Radarange® to the market.

History books rightly credit Percy Spencer with the invention of the microwave oven, but in fact his story also includes dozens of unsung heroes, starting with members of Raytheon’s management. They’d hired and promoted Spencer despite his lack of education. They didn’t chastise him for playing with his food in the middle of a serious engineering laboratory. They listened to him and built the Radarange—and then they searched within that market for new discontinuities.

Raytheon tried licensing the technology to other companies, such as Tappan Stove. (Its $3,000 refrigerator-sized microwave ovens were sold to customers with gigantic commercial kitchens, such as on ocean liners, that had to heat a lot of food quickly.) Raytheon then purchased its own domestic-appliance distributor, Amana Refrigeration, in 1965. In addition, Raytheon continually encouraged engineers to tinker with the magnetrons. Finally they figured out that an expensive, military-grade magnetron unit was somewhat over-engineered for the task of thawing frozen steaks and popping popcorn. They developed a smaller, cheaper, simpler, safer and more reliable oven for household use. Amana’s first countertop microwave oven, sold for $495 in 1967, represented a serious discontinuity in household kitchen behavior. In taking risks, Raytheon and Amana were uniquely prepared to take advantage of the huge societal discontinuities of the 1960s: urbanization, women entering the workforce and families devoting less time to meal preparation. Again, it seems obvious in retrospect: cheap and ubiquitous ovens, microwaveable food categories representing $75 billion in annual sales based on the premise of quickly thawing and cooking food. But at the time, the discontinuous mindset at Raytheon and Amana gave them long-term dominance in the home microwave oven business. There are plenty of other examples of unconventional thinkers thriving within traditional companies: Art Fry and Spencer Silver invented the Post-it note while working at 3M, and teams at Apple, amazon.com and General Foods invented the iPhone, Kindle and Tang, respectively. On the other side of the coin, there are also plenty of examples of people like A.P. Giannini—mavericks and free spirits who made their fortunes as entrepreneurs because they were not rewarded in traditional organizations. To encourage a discontinuous mindset, companies must have the proper reward structure to make the maverick’s suggestion of new ideas worthwhile.

Even today, many companies claim to encourage creativity and innovation, but their measurement and reward systems rarely support it. Creativity is messy. It leads to mistakes. (In Raytheon’s case, it took nearly 20 years of mistakes and “not-quite-enoughs” before the microwave’s big payout.) However, measuring results, rather than effort—and rewarding certainty, rather than potential—forces out the unconventional thinkers. It promotes those with modest aspirations, those who are slow and plodding. Reward mediocrity and you never exceed the mediocre.

Source: When the Trend Is Not Your Friend | Jim Singer, Jeff Piluso | A.T. Kearney

Today, many practitioners think that the EOQ embodies a way of thinking that’s no longer relevant. In reality, however, the trade-off between inventory carrying cost and setup cost remains. Taichi Ohno, father of the Toyota production system, knew that — as does anyone with a deep understanding of “factory physics.” Ohno’s innovation was to reframe the equation to solve for setup time rather than lot size.

Inspired by American grocery stores where consumers “pulled” products from a shelf that was continuously replenished, Ohno concluded that the optimal lot size was one unit. So, instead of trying to find the lot size that balanced setup cost and inventory carrying cost, Ohno sought to drive down setup cost to a low enough level to justify his ideal of a single unit for the lot size. To achieve his vision, Ohno turned to his industrial engineer, Shigeo Shingo, and challenged him to find a way to reduce a stamping press setup time of 12 hours to less than 10 minutes. Shingo and his team succeeded — and, as they say, the rest is history.

Source: Reframing Your Business Equation by Tim Laseter and M. Eric Johnson | strategy+business, Summer 2009

But when they met, the emperor decided to test the monk by saying to him: “When you look at me, what do you see?”

“I see a Buddha,” answered the monk. And what do you see when you look at me?”

“I see a pig!” countered the emperor. Waiting to see the monk’s reaction, he said no more.

The monk pondered for a moment, then said:

“A Buddha sees a Buddha; a pig sees a pig!”

Source: Our Cranky Critic- Self-Talk & Public Speaking: What One Reveals About the Other | by Saskia Shakin