Wednesday, August 31, 2016

The fog of management, Part I

There is a common story told by entrepreneurs who have seen their companies explode to the upside. They say that they used to know every employee by name and everything that was going on, but no longer. Now they have to rely on indirect means of getting all the information that they were used to having at their fingertips. Where are we in the product release cycle? What are the risks? Where are we in our pipeline? Which of our customers have been late paying bills? These CEOs used to be able have a handle on the answers, but now they must rely on secondhand reports, making them quite uncomfortable. It can be far from clear how they know what they think they know, and how reliable the information might be.


The situation is even more pronounced at board level. Investors and outside directors are not involved in daily operations. Instead, they parachute in every few weeks to speak to management, who can well deliver a rather self-serving version of reality.

A great apprehension that managements and boards always share is that of the negative surprise. Despite the billions of dollars and countless hours spent each year on business intelligence software, leadership training, performance review processes and status meetings, surprises keep recurring. When they do happen recriminations often start to fly, with managers and directors pointing fingers at whomever they can blame for not doing their job properly in allowing the surprise to happen. The fact is, oftentimes it is indeed the failure of some managers to pay attention or report trouble early that leads to preventable surprises. The question, however, is not in how to find the culprits ex post facto but in how to prevent surprises in the first place. To borrow a simile from sailors, you cannot avoid the underwater rocks if you don't know where they might be hiding.

Few CEOs running companies with over 100 headcount can know everything going on inside the company, much less everything happening out in the marketplace or with every customer and sales process. At board level, the fog gathers that much sooner, often from the earliest beginnings. The deeper the layers of organization between the observer and the front line, the murkier the picture. The reasons for the fog are partly structural and partly psychological. Communications from the CEO are often parsed by managers and staff for narrow advantage, misunderstood or simply blown off as unimportant. Both managers and individual contributors have a very human tendency to hide problems from superiors, hoping that they will get resolved in time or simply to avoid a confrontation. Consequently, communications about priorities both up and down the line can become garbled or ignored entirely. What are CEOs and boards to do to spot emerging trouble before it metastases?

The tools in common use all have their benefits and limitations. The old Tom Peters classic of management by walking around, for example, has much to recommend it, even if it is honored more in the breach than the observance. The top manager can sometimes glean information from the rank-and-file in informal conversation that he would have trouble gathering through channels. However, the randomness of such encounters and the natural wariness that employees often have in the presence of the Big Boss all work to undermine its efficacy.

A variation on the random walk around is placement of trusted resources down in the hierarchy who can be relied on to pass on unvarnished information. These people, however, often lose effectiveness when they are inevitably discovered to have the CEO's or owner's ear. Moreover, they tend to amass power out of all proportion to their importance to the organization, to the point that they can undermine and render ineffective their line managers, thus creating chaos and ruining governability.

Hidden rocks can lie in many places. Product development processes get derailed, with budgets and deadlines blown, feature sets drowning in maelstroms of over-engineering and product specs diverging far from market fit. Sales efforts and conversions fall behind projections or event begin shrinking. Scarce talent might start running for the exits, or else cease to be productive. Some of the signs of trouble brewing are easier to spot than others, so that corrective action can be taken relatively early - for example, missed product milestones or subpar revenue. Others show up when it might be too late for easy fixes.

Morale issues are some of the most insidious examples of the latter, and often stem from serious leadership failure. When your top talent is suddenly found to be frantically sending out resumes, and formerly high performers begin slacking, the company may well be in extremis. Morale issues on their own are rarely the cause of problems - more often they are a symptom: a symptom of a failure in the leadership, poor management or even lost competitiveness. Fundamentally, people tend to give up  trying when they cease believing that their efforts make a difference.

A number of technological solutions have emerged to assess morale: tools like social media and Glassdoor monitoring, for example. Anonymous gossip tools can be used to gather actionable intelligence, even as they come and go, as well as monitoring employee LinkedIn accounts for avalanches of job-search related updates. Exit interviews can provide sporadic insights into morale issues, provided that the departing employees are sufficiently angry to burn bridges through excessive frankness. Buyout shops are notorious, before they consummate their deals, for planting "cafeteria ears": spies who gather gossip in company mess halls and nearby bars and coffee houses. They also like to interview ex-employees, from whom they often get more candor than HR staffs can. The issue, however, is that once morale has sagged so low, the problem is probably already out of hand.

I will discuss some solutions to clearing some of the fog in the next article in this series.

Cross-posted to LinkedIn Pulse


    Tuesday, August 2, 2016

    Know your knitting

    Now that the flood of obituaries for the once-great company with the exclamation point in its name has begun to subside, I would like to reflect on the failed effort to turn around this still-iconic brand.


    Yahoo's early dominance came from from a solution that was quickly obsoleted by the fast-growing universe of content on the Internet. Yahoo had pioneered the model of curated content with its original directory. Once Google superseded this use case with its search engine, Yahoo moved its chips to a different curation model - the landing page. The company did try to compete in the search space, and looked for ways to enhance its stickiness with browser button bars, but it was the landing page and Yahoo's proprietary and curated content that became its most important revenue driver. This was the company that Microsoft had once proposed to acquire, and would have acquired at a much inflated valuation if Mr. Yang hadn't suffered a fatal bout with tech ideology. The revenue was real, if declining, until that is the twin social and mobile revolutions made the landing page into a Web-age anachronism. Google marked its passing when it turned off its iGoogle portal back in the hoary past of 2013, but Google had a welter of other ad-bearing content sites to turn to, not least its venerable search engine, while Yahoo had no such luxury.

    Enter Marissa Mayer in 2012, not long before iGoogle's at the time much-mourned demise. Coming as she did from the product side of the technology-obsessed Google house, she brought with her a certain kind of hammer and went looking for the right kind of nails to hit. To her, evidently, Yahoo was a tech company with obsolescent tech and products, and she was going to buy new products and develop new technologies to vault the old warhorse back into the vanguard, or kill it trying. To an impartial observer, on the other hand, Yahoo was more of a collection of media properties of which its finance content was by far the most valuable, a large cash hoard from the days before, a stake in Alibaba, and far too many engineers working on inferior me-too products that trailed far behind the competition in revenue and penetration. 

    Ms. Meyer took this cash hoard, and taking cue from drunken sailors everywhere began spending it, on acquisitions that had no clear path to integration or to revenue, more acquisitions that agglomerated products with no rhyme or reason and no revenue accretion, and on more technology development in house. It was, apparently, her view that Yahoo's future would depend on technological progression, nevermind that Yahoo's technology had never really been its strong suit. Instead of reinforcing Yahoo's core value-adding business, she went all-in on "innovation," which to her meant insourcing all engineering, while at the same time alienating her best people by ending Yahoo's beloved telecommute culture. 

    What apparently Ms. Meyer failed to do was take a critical look at the portfolio of value that Yahoo possessed when she had taken over. Already at the time it was clear that Yahoo's strong suit was not technology at all, but rather media content, particularly in the area of finance. Yahoo pioneered bringing quality financial information to the masses, and until recently was the go-to finance portal for much of the business world that did not feel the need to spring for pricey Bloomberg terminals. 

    Bloomberg, meanwhile, had been facing an emerging threat to its core business from new ventures seeking to undermine its pricing structure. This threat was hardly unforeseeable, being that as soon as technology makes low-cost delivery of existing services feasible new entrants always seek to take advantage. Bloomberg has been able to beat back the threat so far, but its would-be rivals are well-funded and have long legs.

    Let us imagine, instead of a death spiral for the storied Web pioneer, a counterfactual where a new Yahoo CEO less certain in her preconceptions of what the right strategy for a turnaround should be conceives of a merger of these financial media behemoths. Let us imagine a combined company offering a full suite of services from free to low-cost to mid-market and to the top end, all under one brand and corporate umbrella. It seems to me that such an entity would be very well positioned to defend its place as the top media provider of all things finance for far longer than either company alone.

    Not long before its ultimate demise Yahoo's valuation, net of the value of its Alibaba stake and cash, fell to below zero. Ms. Meyer, undeterred, will be landing squarely on her two feet, despite having destroyed what value there had been in the company she had taken over with such fanfare. How much more valuable would have the combined Bloomberg-Yahoo enterprise had been if she had not been blinded by her tech obsession? As we have already learned from JC Penney, all companies - even those in the same business - are not alike, and what works for one business may not work for another for the reason that it may have built its value from different building blocks.

    To put it another way, before you can stick to your knitting you need to know what it is

    Being that nowadays everyone wants to be known as a tech company, no matter what it is they are actually selling - e.g. Uber (taxi service), Instacart (logistics) and Airbnb (hotels services) - it is easy to get distracted with technology at the expense of real core value. The fact is, valuations-driven posturing notwithstanding, few of these companies are actually in the tech business. Tech companies are those that make their revenue from selling tech - something that is relatively rare. Some common misconceptions, for example, are Salesforce and Oracle (which sell applications), Apple (phones), and Google (advertising). Google recognized this when it split up the company into the core business and what is essentially a spec lab. Technology is their enabler, not their business, and we get distracted with all the shiny objects at our peril.

    Cross-posted to LinkedIn Pulse