Freedom, Inc_ - Brian M. Carney [33]
Despite this lukewarm reaction, Bob Davids, after doing his best to pass the reins at Radica, retired, bought the land, started the winery, and, in 2001, put his first bottles on the market.
Two years later, on this summer day in the Bahamas in 2003, Davids got a call from the winery’s general manager, Victor Gallegos.
“I’ve got to talk to you,” Gallegos said. “We’re having a problem with the 2003 fruit.”
“Okay,” Davids replied laconically.
“Well, we’ve got to do a drop,” Victor announced, referring to the technique of prematurely cutting a portion of the grapes from each vine so the remaining fruit, having been endangered by suboptimal weather, is given a better chance to reach full maturity.
“Well, you’re the viticulturist, why are you calling me?” Davids asked.
“Well, it’s a problem,” Gallegos answered. “I’m not a viticulturist. I can’t help you,” Davids repeated. “Well, we’re going to have to drop a lot of growth,” Gallegos warned.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Davids demanded. “Well, we’re having all these issues.” Gallegos flailed. Davids began to understand the real problem.
“How much fruit do you have to drop?” Davids asked.
“A lot.”
“‘A lot’ doesn’t answer my question,” Davids retorted.
“About 1.8 million dollars’ retail,” Gallegos finally admitted, presenting Davids—as he explained to us later—“with the opportunity to make this decision” for Victor.
But Davids didn’t take it. Instead, he said, “I’m going to give you your charge again. Your charge is to grow the very best grapes humanly possible from that site.”
“But it’s 1.8 million dollars,” Gallegos replied, clearly in agony over the magnitude of the decision.
“I’m going to repeat your charge,” Davids said. “It’s your charge to grow the very best grapes humanly possible from that site. I’m not a viticulturist. I don’t know how to do that. Your charge is to grow the very best grapes humanly possible.”
“But it’s 1.8 million dollars!” Gallegos implored.
“I’m not going to take your monkey. I think this phone call is over.”
Gallegos cut the grapes.
And no, the monkey Davids referred to wasn’t some exotic pet or anthropological experiment. Davids believed that Gallegos was trying to take the proverbial monkey off his own back and put it on Davids’ by giving him responsibility for the big grape drop. Davids refused to take it.
What did Bob Davids gain in sacrificing his power to tell Victor Gallegos what to do? Worry-free time to enjoy fishing in the Bahamas? No, Davids sacrificed it because it’s good business. “If Victor didn’t do that, then he didn’t complete his charge to grow the very best wine,” Davids said. “He couldn’t sleep, he was uncomfortable with the 1.8-million-dollar decision, but if he never gains experience with such decisions, how is he ever going to make them?” Davids clearly explained his business philosophy and vision to Victor and every other employee he hired right while interviewing them: “I don’t have the skill to make wine,” he would tell them. “I’m going to give you all the tools and the ability to make the best product humanly possible you could make …all you need so you do not have an excuse to come back to me and say, ‘I could have done it better if only you had allowed me to [fill in the blank].’”
Perhaps, you think, Sea Smoke is a unique company—a winery—with unique problems. Most existing companies are not like that. It would be easier to agree with this if Davids hadn’t also done what he’s doing at Sea Smoke at the eight-thousand-person Radica Games and several other companies he has headed—build a freedom-based environment.
Sea Smoke is a small and relatively young company, and its story illustrates the first two key steps to building such an environment. First, telling people how to do their job is fundamental in “how” companies, but a freedom-based business is founded on not telling your people what to do—even if they want you to. This has to start at the top—with the owner, chairman, or CEO.
However, you can’t just say, “Do whatever you want,” or even, “Do whatever