Mindset _ The New Psychology of Success - Carol S. Dweck [57]
The long haul held no interest for Dunlap. Really learning about a company and figuring out how to make it grow didn’t give him the big blast of superhero juice. “Eventually, I have gotten bored every place I have been.” In his book, there is a whole chapter called “Impressing the Analysts,” but there is no chapter about making a business work. In other words, it’s always about Dunlap proving his genius.
Then in 1996, Dunlap took over Sunbeam. In his typical “Chainsaw Al” style, he closed or sold two-thirds of Sunbeam’s plants and fired half of the twelve thousand employees. Ironically, the Sunbeam stock rose so high, it ruined his plan to sell the company. It was too expensive to buy! Uh-oh, now he had to run the company. Now he had to keep it profitable, or at least looking profitable. But instead of turning to his staff or learning what to do, he inflated revenues, fired people who questioned him, and covered up the increasingly dire straits his company was in. Less than two years after the self-proclaimed superstardom in his book (and one year after an even more self-congratulatory revision), Dunlap fell apart and was kicked out. As he left, Sunbeam was under investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission and was expected to be in technical default on a $1.7 billion bank loan.
Dunlap deeply misunderstood Michael Jordan and Bruce Springsteen. Both of these superstars reached the pinnacle and stayed there a long time because they constantly dug down, faced challenges, and kept growing. Al Dunlap thought that he was inherently superior, so he opted out of the kind of learning that would have helped him succeed.
The Smartest Guys in the Room
Yes, it seems as though history led inevitably from Iacocca to the moguls of the 1990s, and none more so than Kenneth Lay and Jeffrey Skilling, the leaders of Enron.
Ken Lay, the company’s founder, chairman, and CEO, considered himself a great visionary. According to Bethany McLean and Peter Elkind, authors of The Smartest Guys in the Room, Lay looked down his nose at the people who actually made the company run, much the way a king might look at his serfs. He looked down on Rich Kinder, the Enron president, who rolled up his sleeves and tried to make sure the company would reach its earning targets. Kinder was the man who made Lay’s royal lifestyle possible. Kinder was also the only person at the top who constantly asked if they were fooling themselves: “Are we smoking our own dope? Are we drinking our own whiskey?”
Naturally, his days were numbered. But in his sensible and astute way, as he departed he arranged to buy the one Enron asset that was inherently valuable, the energy pipelines—the asset that Enron held in disdain. By the middle of 2003, Kinder’s company had a market value of seven billion dollars.
Even as Lay was consumed by his view of himself and the regal manner in which he wished to support it, he wanted to be seen as a “good and thoughtful man” with a credo of respect and integrity. Even as Enron merrily sucked the life out of its victims, he wrote to his staff, “Ruthlessness, callousness and arrogance don’t belong here. . . . We work with customers and prospects openly, honestly and sincerely.” As with Iacocca and the others, the perception—usually Wall Street’s perception—was all-important. The reality less so.
Right there with Lay was Jeff Skilling, successor to Rich Kinder as president and chief operating officer, and later the CEO. Skilling was not just smart, he was said to be “the smartest person I ever met” and “incandescently brilliant.” He used his brainpower, however, not to learn but to intimidate. When he thought he was smarter than others, which was almost always, he treated them harshly. And anyone who disagreed with him was just not bright