"Actually, I guess that I want to learn how to manage-a plant, a division, a company, any type or size organization." After a second of hesitation I add, "It wouldn't be bad to learn how to manage my life, but I'm afraid that would be asking for too much."
"Why too much?" says Jonah to my surprise. "I think that every sensible person should want to learn how to manage his or her life."
"Great, when can we start?" I ask eagerly.
"Now. Your first assignment is to find out what techniques are needed for effective management."
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"What?" I ask in a choked voice.
"Come on, I didn't ask you to develop them, just to deter- mine clearly what they should be. Call me when you have the answer. And Alex, congratulations on your promotion."
"I'm really proud of you. Three more steps like that and we will have made it. Shall we drink to it?"
Julie's forced enthusiasm strikes a responding chord inside me. "No, I don't think so." I refuse the toast, an event which, as you can imagine, is not very common.
Julie doesn't say a word. She just slowly lowers her drink, leans slightly forward, and looks directly into my eyes. It's quite apparent that she is waiting for some explanation.
Under the pressure I start to talk slowly, trying to verbalize my rambling thoughts. "Julie, I really don't think that we should toast it, at least not in the way you make it sound, like toasting an empty victory. Somehow I feel that you were right all along- what is this promotion if not just winning a point in the rat race?"
"Hmm," is her only response.
My wife can express herself very clearly without even open- ing her mouth-which is definitely not the case for me. Here I am, rambling all over the place... 'Rat race'... 'Empty vic- tory.' What on earth am I talking about? But still, why do I feel it's inappropriate to toast my promotion?
"The family paid too big a price for this promotion," I finally say.
"Alex you're being too hard on yourself. This crisis was about to explode one way or the other."
She continues, "I gave it a lot of thought and let's face it, if you had given up, the feeling of failure would have spoiled every good part of our marriage. I think you should be proud of this promotion. You didn't step on anybody to get it; you won it fair and square."
A chill goes down my back as I remember it. I was in deep trouble. My plant was under a real threat of being closed down; over six hundred people were about to join the already long un- employment lines; my career was one inch from being kissed by limbo; and on top of all that, the unbelievable hours I was putting in at work had pushed our marriage to the brink of going down the tube. In short, I was about to change from a bright, rising star into an ordinary bum.
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But I didn't give up. Against all odds I continued to fight. And I was not alone. Jonah introduced me to his common-sense (and thus very controversial) approach to managing a company. It made a lot of sense, so my team enthusiastically backed me up. And it was fun, real fun. Let me tell you, the last few months were quite stormy. I think that we violated almost every rule of corpo- rate America. But we made it. We turned the plant around. So much so that it saved the entire division. Now, Julie and I are sitting in this fancy restaurant celebrating. I'm going to head the division, which means relocation-a fact that probably contrib- utes a lot to Julie's supportive mood.
Raising my glass I say confidently, "Julie, let's drink to my promotion. Not as a step toward the tip of the pyramid, but let's drink to what it really means-positive reassurance to our excit- ing, worthwhile journey."
A broad smile is spreading over Julie's face and our glasses make a clear, gentle sound.
We turn to our menus, in a good mood. "It's your celebra- tion as much as it is mine," I say generously. After a while, and in a more somber tone I continue, "Actually, it's much more Jonah's achievement than mine."
"You know Alex, it's so typical of you," Julie says apparently disturbed. "You worked so hard and now you want to give the credit to somebody else?"
"Julie, I'm serious. Jonah is the one who gave me all the answers, I was just the instrument. As much as I would like to think otherwise, that's the plain, bare truth."
"No, it's far from the truth."
I turn nervously in my chair, "But..."
"Alex, stop this nonsense," Julie says in a firm voice. "Artifi- cial modesty doesn't suit you." She raises her hand to prevent me from answering and firmly continues, "Nobody handed you solu- tions on a silver platter. Tell me, Mr. Rogo, how many nights did you sweat until you succeeded in finding the answers?"
"Quite a few," I admit with a smile.
"You see!" Julie tries to close the subject.
"No, I don't see," I laugh. "I'm very well aware that Jonah didn't simply give me the answers. As a matter of fact, during those long nights, (and days), considerable time was spent cursing him for just that. But, come on, Julie, the fact that he elected to
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present them in the form of very pointed questions doesn't change a thing."
Rather than continuing, Julie calls the waiter and starts to order. She's right. This line of discussion will just ruin a pleasant evening.
It's not until I'm busy with my delicious veal parmesan that my thoughts start to crystallize. What was the nature of the an- swers, the solutions, that Jonah caused us to develop? They all had one thing in common. They all made common sense, and at the same time, they flew directly in the face of everything I'd ever learned. Would we have had the courage to try to implement them if it weren't for the fact that we'd had to sweat to construct them? Most probably not. If it weren't for the conviction that we gained in the struggle-for the ownership that we developed in the process-I don't think we'd actually have had the guts to put our solutions into practice.
Still deep in thought, I raise my eyes from the plate and examine Julie's face. It's as if she was waiting for me all this time.
"How come you didn't think of it yourselves?" I hear her asking. "To me your answers look like plain, common sense. Why couldn't you do it without Jonah's guiding questions?"
"Good question, very good question. Frankly, I doubt I know the answer."
"Alex, don't tell me you haven't thought about it."
"Yes, I have," I admit. "All of us, back in the plant, had the same question. The solutions look trivial, but the fact is that for years we've done the exact opposite. Moreover, the other plants still insist on sticking to the old, devastating ways. Probably Mark Twain was right saying that 'common sense is not common at all' or something similar."
"That's not an answer to my question." She doesn't let me off the hook.
"Just bear with me," I plead. "I really don't know. I'm not sure that I even know the meaning of'common sense'. What do you think we mean when we refer to something as 'common sense'?"
"It's unfair to answer a question with a question." She re- fuses my apparent attempt to turn the table.
"Why not?" I try again.
She doesn't allow her lips to move.