Editor’s note: This is a continuation of Meridian Magazine’s Serialization of Jim Ferrell’s book, You and We: A Relational Rethinking of Work, Life and Leadership. To read the first part, CLICK HERE.
Chapter 1: The Chosen
Zane Savage silently pumped his fist as he looked out over the standing-room-only crowd in Bellweather Labs’ new auditorium. All the battles he had waged to make this gathering and setting a reality were now being vindicated. He believed the company was finally turning a corner and that doubts people had about the organization’s direction, and about him as its leader, would soon disappear.
Zane was the 44-year-old son of Bellweather’s founder, Frank Savage. He had been leading the company for three years, with mixed results. On the one hand, company performance had remained solid. But there also was a sense of unease in the organization—a feeling that they had somehow lost their way.
Under Zane’s leadership, Bellweather had moved its headquarters to Alexandria, Virginia, across the Potomac River from Washington, DC. In his view, proximity to DC was essential for the company’s growth and strategy over the coming decades, as Bellweather’s work in quantum computing had enormous national and international security implications.
The move wasn’t popular with employees, however. It was announced in the immediate aftermath of the sudden retirement of the company’s beloved longtime CEO, Dorothy “Dot” Kessler. And, for many of them, it meant leaving the corporate campus home they had built in the hills of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Families would be uprooted, spouses forced to make career adjustments, and children would face the loss of their entire friend groups.
Despite a turbulent political climate that had everyone on edge, Zane kept assuring people that everything would work out. “These are the right moves. You’ll see.”
However, Zane’s outward confidence hid two personal realities. First, inwardly, he was hurt by what he perceived as others’ lack of confidence in him, both as the chief architect of the new corporate strategy and now as the head of the company. Secondly, he bristled over the affection for Dot Kessler that still coursed through the veins of the workforce.
If Dot were a blood type, it was like the entire company was D positive. This allegiance, more than any of the myriad corporate challenges they had faced over the three years since Dot had stepped away, kept Zane up at night. He was famous for barely sleeping and for writing scores of music for imagined Broadway musicals in the fitful early morning hours. What people didn’t know was that it was the ghost of Dot’s shadow that chased his sleep away and energized his music. To secure the respect he believed he deserved, Zane felt he had to be more than she was. It was that thought, and the unfairness of it, that haunted his sleep.
If any shadow deserved to tower over him and the company, Zane thought, it was his father’s. Frank Savage had died only four years earlier while still serving as chairman of the board. The fact that company employees felt more allegiance to and affection for Dot Kessler than Frank Savage irked Zane. It was also evidence, he believed, that Dot had failed to give his father the public respect and deference he deserved. Her ascendancy as the face of Bellweather’s brand felt like an eraser to the family’s name. His bitterness over this had developed over such a long period of time that he remained almost entirely unaware that his animus about Dot’s success and public reputation was what ultimately caused him to push her out the door.
What some whispered was a coup started quietly. Zane had become particularly close with two of his colleagues on the executive team. They met frequently behind closed doors to explore possibilities for the company and to discuss strategy. These efforts intensified after his father died. Out of these secret exchanges, a new vision for the company and its mission eventually burst like a flame into their minds. Convinced that the future of Bellweather could be way bigger than even Dot had been envisioning, they began to talk about how she was holding them back.
As cracks between Dot’s and Zane’s visions for the company began surfacing, Zane used the weight and enthusiasm of his allies to drive a wedge into the gap between them. A battle for control of the company erupted at the board level. Faced with the prospect of losing either the longtime CEO who was nearing retirement or the hard-charging son of the company’s founder, the board warmed to Zane’s vision. While Dot offered to stay on the board as Zane’s father had, Zane wouldn’t allow it.
When Dot announced her departure and retirement to an utterly stunned workforce, it was met with shock and disbelief. Bellweather Labs without her was unimaginable.
Which, to Zane, was exactly the problem.
He shrugged off the memories of those harder days. Today was the beginning of a new era. As he waited the final moments to take the stage in the auditorium bearing his father’s name, the world was finally lining up the way Zane had always felt it should. He might have allowed himself to cry if doing so would have made him look strong. Instead, he slammed the door on his emotions the way his ex-military father had taught him and strode onto the stage.
The room erupted in applause.
That reception, combined with the early spring light that illuminated the three-story windows on the south side of the auditorium, seemed, to Zane, to capture the moment perfectly. The future had never been brighter for Bellweather. The company his father founded was about to become a global phenomenon.
“Thank you! Thank you, everyone!” he boomed. He was smiling so broadly that his teeth virtually eclipsed the rest of his face. “Can you believe it? We’re here! Bellweather has landed!” He paused for effect. “And soon, the whole world will know of our arrival!”
As the audience cheered, Zane paused for a moment to gather him self. He was a child of the theater and a student of contemporary communication masters. He carefully choreographed every word and move for maximum impact and dug deep for that now.
“My father started Bellweather in the shed in our backyard,” he began. “It was just him and Earl Crandin in those days. Remember Earl? Yeah, a few of you old-timers do. Genius engineer, Earl. I was just a little kid when they started. I had no idea what they were doing back there. My friends’ dads went to work every day. Mine just went out to our shed. For years, I didn’t even think my dad had a job!”
Everyone laughed good-naturedly at that, as Frank Savage was notorious for working like a madman. New employees at Bellweather still heard the stories.
Zane looked up and pointed at the dome over the auditorium. “My father had a vision that has hovered over, protected, and inspired this company from its earliest days. His legacy is like the roof over our heads. And this magnificent new campus is our shed.”
Zane paused again and changed tone, exchanging his high-pitched, enthusiastic voice and determined smile for the low and serious tone of a trusted professor. “Now, I know this move has been hard,” he said, following the script he had practiced many times over the prior days. “I’m convinced we’ll all end up seeing it as one of the smartest things we’ve ever done as a company, but still, I know it’s been hard. And I know that the payoffs aren’t yet obvious to many of you. But they’re going to come, I assure you. I say that not primarily because of the shifts in our strategy or the bold move we’ve made to get closer to our core customers. I say it because of you—because of the way you’ve all pulled together even when you weren’t sure you wanted to.
“So, this isn’t Frank Savage’s day,” he declared, picking up his volume again. “And it’s certainly not my day. Today, I want to salute all of you—for believing enough to still be here with us. It’s because of you that the world will soon know all about Bellweather Labs!”
As the crowd cheered, the massive screen behind Zane came to life with images of Bellweather employees over the years. He moved to the left of the stage as the images rotated on the screen. People in the hall began cheering as the faces of colleagues they knew appeared. Zane nodded in satisfaction. This was playing out exactly as he had hoped. After the images had rolled for a few minutes, Mikél Dunning, Bellweather’s Chief People Officer, walked onto the stage. The cheers for her even exceeded the levels Zane had received. The presentation had its effect, Zane thought.
“Hello, everyone!” Mikél called out. “Welcome to the DMV!* Now’s the time you’ve been waiting for!” she bellowed. “You’ve supported the company. Now it’s time that the company got better at supporting you!”
At this, the Frank Savage Dome, as it had been named, was almost sent into orbit by the sheer volume of the cheering. Zane tensed up. He bristled at the implication that the company hadn’t been supportive of its employees. Furthermore, he was uncomfortable with what was about to happen next, as it violated his inclination to carefully manage and control outcomes.
Four people of the employees’ choosing would now be enrolled in a unique program to advance their leadership skills, joining leaders from other organizations in the DMV area to make an intimate cohort of 12 leaders. The best practices shared across these organizations and the relationships built during the program were meant to benefit each of them and, as a result, Bellweather as a whole.
Mikél had argued that no parameters should be placed on employee voting, enabling them to vote for anyone they wanted, and for any reason. For Zane, that lack of direction and intentionality amounted to a huge missed opportunity. Mikél pushed back that employees had only been on the receiving end of the company’s directives over the last three years. Allowing them to decide how they wanted to load the leadership program was a meaningful way to give them a voice. Zane disagreed, but Mikél, to his astonishment, won the argument with the executive team.
“You remember how you nominated colleagues from around the company for advanced leadership training?” Mikél called out to the crowd. Everyone nodded enthusiastically.
“We’re going to announce those winners right now.”
On cue, a Sikorsky VH-3D Sea King helicopter, similar to Marine One that transports the president of the United States, began descending on the lawn beyond the bank of windows. Zane had instructed his team well. Everything was choreographed for effect.
“I have your votes right here!” Mikél shouted when an envelope was passed to her. “We used outside accountants—beauty pageant style—to gather your inputs. No one in the company, including me, has seen the results. We’re all going to hear them together.
“If your name is called,” she continued, “please gather to my left in front of the stage. You see that bird out there?” she asked, pointing at the Sikorsky. “The four nominees will be boarding it, as their training will begin immediately.”
This was met with complete surprise. Eyes and mouths hung wide open all around the hall.
“With that, here are the names!”
Mikél opened the envelope. “Okay, name number one: our COO, Judy Li!”
Good choice, Zane thought to himself. A pretty able leader but with room to grow.
“Number two: Rita Johnson.”
Zane’s heart fell. Rita managed their largest factory. And she was a problem. Maybe his number one nemesis, in fact. She’s going to paint an ugly picture of us, he groused to himself. And unfairly. On the other hand, he reasoned, maybe the program can talk some sense into her.
“Number three: Cree Evans, Chief of Engineering!”
Zane looked out at the crowd to locate Cree. This one was interesting. On the one hand, he was a first-rate engineer. But he’d only been in this position for six months, and it was clear that his engineering and leadership abilities were inversely related. He was a bit of an odd duck, and people were complaining. Zane was close to replacing him. “And finally, number four!”
Mikél looked down at the list and paused, as if working to make sure she got the name right. She finally raised her head and focused her eyes straight ahead into the crowd.
“Zane Savage!”
* The DMV is what DC-area folks call the greater DC area, consisting of DC, Maryland, and Northern Virginia.
