Awakening, 2nd edition (9 page)

He looked around. The room was completely free of excitement. A couple of faces were showing weak signs of curiosity, but that was about it. The man with the m ustache was undoubtedly bored. The skeptical expression on Paul ’s face only became more visible. Joan seemed engaged and interested, but something in her face, mostly in the way she shaped her mouth was suggesting that this was merely a mask.

Michael turned back to the patiently waiting piece of paper.

So, how did I end up in my place? Yes, how? Of all the places . . . Anyway, that ’s an easy one. Done. What do I want when I think about my future career? Truth be told, I think careers are overrated. There are so many people in this world who were taught they need a career, but never told why. They spend their lives chasing after the next promotion, but if you were to ask them why they want it so badly , they would have a hard time answering because in fact they have no clue. And so they live these empty , meaningless lives without even knowing they are empty. They just wonder sometimes why there ’s no happiness and what ’s missing. They don ’t understand that without knowing the why you can ’t be happy. You can be wildly successful, whatever this means, but not happy.

But clearly this is not the kind of answer these guys are looking for. Still, the quiz is anonymous, so why not say the truth ? Can you folks handle the truth? Anonymity usually stimulates honesty. As well as the most disgusting lies . . . But we ’ll be honest. As , many moons ago , Professor Vicandi liked to put it, “Honesty can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Selective honesty is neither one. It is a very handy tool for gaining people ’s trust. Not more, not less . . .” At that point he would usually cough and return to the subject he was talking about before veering off course . . . All right, it ’s ready and here comes Ed. Right on time. Here you go.

He handed the paper to Ed and looked around again. Funny, it feels like being back at elementary school. Only everyone here is an A-grader, so everybody is done now with the boring quiz (come on, they were tougher than that in elementary school) and is exchanging glances. Only one student is still working on his answer. What an unusual face. Aristocratic and unpleasant at the same time. He ’s nameless for the moment, since his nameplate is mostly covered by his elbow from this angle. Something that begins with “K.” Okay , now Mr. K is done too. And as he straightens up , he transforms from a k afkian character to ordinary Kevin.

“And now,” Clark announced , straightening the papers, “get ready for some timeless truths. I ’m only going to read the answers. It will be your job to make conclusions. Question number one, as you all know, is , ‘Why did I get into my current position?’ And our first answer reads as follows: ‘Because I am by far the most qualified candidate .’”

A chuckle rolled across the room. Clark remained absolutely serious and took the next piece of paper.

“Because my boss got promoted .”

He took next sheet. “Because I ’m smart .”

The room chortled, this time louder. Clark scratched his chin in thought as if considering making a comment, but kept silent.

The next answer sounded familiar. “Because my manager decided to retire .”

Papers rustled. “Because this is the highest position I could get so far .”

Clark studied the room briefly and resumed reading.

“Because in this position I can be most useful to my company .” Michael thought he saw the unattractive aristocrat smile lightly at this point.

“Because without me this project would be nothing but a piece of shit.” Clark had to stop and wait for the laughter to quiet.

“Wasn’t me . . .” Ross was saying, waiving his hand and struggling with laughing spasms . “Wasn ’t me, but I swear I could ’
ve written it !
”

Stella gave Robert a brisk questioning look. He shook his head.

Clark, meanwhile , resumed his reading.

“ . . . Because my management values me.” Clark nodded in respect.

“Because somebody has to manage these people. Why not me?”

“Strictly speaking, ” Clark finally broke his oath of silence, “this is not an answer. This is a question. But never mind.”

“Because I like this job and I ’m good at i t.”

“Because when they had to choose among five candidates , they picked me.”

Clark broke off.

“Well,” he said after a brief pause. “No surprises here. Now, let ’s hear our question number two. To make it more interesting, let ’s also do this. You ’re not paying any attention yet, but not to worry . . .”

Having uttered these cryptic words, he scattered the sheets across the table, mixed them quickly and collected them into a pile again.

“Question number two, as you will recall , is, ‘What do I want more than anything when I think about my future career?’ Let ’s hear this out.”

“Success.”

“Quick growth.”

“Promotions.”

“I want to serve my company to the best of my abilities.”

Paul snorted loudly. Clark glanced quickly at him, then continued.

“To run the company one day.” People in the room exchanged glances.

“I want to keep on growing .”

“My future career is highly questionable, considering the number of idiots around me.” This time the snort was collective.

“Again,” sighed Clark, “this is not an answer to the question.”

“I want to rise through the ranks quickly and easily .”

“Manage a large division .”

“Want to have my boss ’s job .”

“Become a VP.”

“Interesting, ” Stella commented quietly. “A VP. Not a CEO or a president. A very specific wish.”

Robert shrugged.

“The guy knows his limits.”

“Comments?” Clark asked the audience, shuffling the papers slowly.

“Someone has too many idiots to deal with, ” Joan’s neighbor offered his observation , flashing a white smile.

“Good point, Chris, ” agreed Clark, glancing over the speaker ’s nameplate. It was impossible to tell whether he was serious or ironic. “Anything else?”

“All the answers are obvious, ” the heavyset mustached man sitting at the leftmost table said dryly.

“Really?” Clark looked intrigued. “And what is so obvious about them? By the way, would you please turn your nameplate to the right? There . Thank you, Brandon . So why did you find these answers obvious?”

“Did you expect to hear anything else?” Brandon asked in reply. “You ’re making it sound like you were looking for some kind of revelation, but what else could you expect to hear?”

“The truth, for instance, ” said Clark. “Can ’t say that I had high hopes to hear it , though. This is not the first class I ’ve taught .”

“The truth?” Brandon ’s voice became considerably appalled. “Did I just hear you say that we ’ve all lied?”

“Not at all.” I f Clark was concerned about Brandon ’s irritation, he didn ’t show it in any way. “I wouldn ’t say that your answers were purposely deceitful ; however , all of them—except, perhaps, one—were superficial. Although some were truly witty and a pleasure to read.”

The explanation didn’t seem to satisfy Brandon .

“I still don ’t get it. My own answers were honest, dead serious, and in no way superficial.”

“Honest and dead serious—yes. Not superficial—allow me to disagree with that one.”

Brandon stroked his mustache .

“You’re welcome to disagree. But please be more specific.”

“Certainly. That ’s why you are here. Let ’s take a look at the first question. What do we have here? I ’m in my place because my boss moved on, because my boss had been moved on, because my management values me, because my management adores me . . . Don ’t you find this superficial?”

“Come on, we ’re all adults here, ” the athlete sitting next to Joan said in a deep, booming voice. “This is how it really works. I hope you ’re not going to preach to us about hard work that pays off, are you? Especially after your , ‘We don ’t care for taboos ’ introduction.”

Clark nodded.

“You’re right, Alex. In order to rise through the ranks, you do need to have management ’s admiration and a free spot to fill. But . . . is this the real reason for your being where you are today? Why don ’t you look back, into your past ? Go back a year, two years, ten years. Go back to the time when your management was trying to fill that entry -level lead ership position, which eventually jumpstarted your career in leading others. Why was it you ? Where did they get the idea that you ’d like to use this chance? There must ’ve been some indication.

“Or consider for a moment what attract ed you to your job? How come you ’re not an engineer, a researcher, a journalist, a lawyer, a salesperson —in other words , not an individual contributor, but a manager? A fast—rising manager. A manager who just six years ago wasn ’t managing anyone . Someone who has never been trained to be a manager . A manager who ’s been moving up much faster than the vast majority of his or her colleagues? A rising star. So what ’s been pushing you up? Whatever it is, it ’s something that has to do with you , and not with your environment. What is it? Think about it. Think.”

He surveyed the faces in the room and repeated sternly , “Think.”

The room plunged into silence.

“Let’s do this, ” Clark offered a minute later. “Take your time to give it enough thought. Then pick up the second copy from your folder and give it another try. This time , try to express the very essence of your wishes and aspirations. Don ’t use many words ; the less the better. In fact, try answering the second question with a single word. Focus on the core, on the spirit of what ’s been driving you. What element of being a manager do you really enjoy? What really motivates you? Why do you keep striving to go higher and higher? Think about the core differences—and core similarities—between you and your CEO. Think, think, think . . . I can ’t emphasize this strongly enough. Think! Then write it down. And remember: b e ultimately, brutally honest. This is the only way we can move forward.”

Michael tapped his pen thoughtfully on the paper. Now it was getting more interesting. A tiny little bit, but more interesting. It wasn ’t hard to guess where Clark was going with this, but there were different ways to leverage the answers he was about to get this time.
So let’s give him an answer . . .

Too bad he said
think . Some of us may be allergic to requests like this. To some of us this may bring up bad memories. Because that ’
s where it all begins. That ’s where we all get screwed big time as we grow up. They tell you to think, but they don ’t really mean it. They only want you to think within the boundaries they define. The moment you start thinking for yourself—really thinking—so many things stop making any sense. And if you keep thinking, the whole world just falls apart. Nothing makes sense anymore. Rules, traditions, expectations—they all start looking so fake, so made up. You want to just get rid of all this stuff and make things right. But the moment you say it, they tell you to shut up and be respectful. And eventually you understand that nobody really wants you to think for yourself. But if you still end up developing this bad habit, you need to learn another trick—to keep your mouth shut.

So every time people say
think , you wonder, is there some specific conclusion you want me to arrive at ?

A single word . . . A single word . . .

Ed collected the papers, smiling quietly. Clark accepted the thin stack from him, shuffled it like a deck of giant playing cards. Then he took one piece of paper from the middle, put it at the bottom of the stack, and looked around the room again.

“This time I will read both answers. Question number one: ‘Why did I get into . . .’ okay, you remember it by now. Question number two: ‘What do I want more than anything else when I think about my future career?’ And now, on to the answers.

“Why: Because I want to manage others. What do I want: To increase my scope of influence. There ’s something different about these answers, don ’t you think?

“Why: Because you succeed only at the top. What: To get to the top . . .

“Why: Because here I can serve my company in the most productive way.”

Stella smiled ironically.

“What: To grow while serving my company. . .

“Why: I’m a leader, not a follower. What do I want: Control . . . Great! Kudos to the author of this one for finding a single word.

“Why: Because I ’ve always wanted to lead. What: To remain a leader, no matter where I go . Hmm . . . this is good, but . . . never mind.

“Why: Because I ’m smart.”

Clark raised his head to the sound of muffled giggling.

“What: To be in the right place, at the right time . . . Well said.

“Why: More money. What: To get promoted often, what else could it be? This is literally what it says here: ‘What else could it be?’ Somebody just can ’t live without asking questions.

“Why: Because I like to be in charge. What do I want more than anything else when I think about my future career: For starters, to have this career . . .

“Why: Because I ’m good at organizing people. What: To grow without becoming a brownnoser.”

Sharp, well -articulated words were being spouted to the room like a metronome ’s clicks.

“Why: Because I know what I ’m doing and the less clueless bosses I have , the better. What do I want: To work without being sent to places like this.”

The laughter traveled across the room once again.

“Why: I hate being powerless. What do I want: Power .”

Clark looked into the room, which had suddenly fallen into silence.

“Here,” he said, raising the last sheet of paper. “This is why all of you are here today. And this is what the w orkshop is all about.”