The acid test of great leadership is dissonance. Leadership is relatively easy when everything is going as planned.
When I was a little boy growing up on a farm, my dad would let me drive the tractor while together we plowed a large field. I sat in his lap, kept my eye on the furrow ahead to ensure the right front wheel went perfectly straight, and "man" handled the steering wheel. I felt tall. I was a race car driver in a close contest or shepherding a stagecoach across the western plains with my trusty toy pistol at my side. When my daydreaming interfered with my focus causing the tractor to wander off the straight and narrow, my dad clearly reminded me that my privilege of driving a pricy tractor only came if I was willing to "plow correctly."
However, when the tractor came to the end of the row, my dad took over. He shifted to a different gear, raised the plow behind the tractor, and made the tight turn to begin plowing the next row. Once the tractor was underway on its straight line—right front tire in the proper place--I resumed command. My part was easy, and it was empowering!
Leaders engage in many actions like plowing and harvesting. They establish a course, direction, or mission. They intervene at the proper time when leadership is needed. They do the correct planning to ensure all resources are available and fully engaged in the pursuit of the mission. They remain ever vigilant for adverse changes in the context or adjustments required for intended results. And, they are patient and tenacious with culture-making as they know that cultural change, like harvesting, takes time, reinforcement and perpetual care.
However, they also make sharp turns and shift gears as change alters smooth "plowing." It might be an industry shift, an unexpected obstacle, a new regulation, or an associate who elects to act up for whatever reason. That's when leadership is required. My dad never raised his voice when my toil missed the mark; he just restated the expectation and the consequence. He assumed I wanted to plow and I worked to demonstrate the accuracy of his assumption.
Leadership at the Start of the "Row"
As we approached the field we were to plow, daddy always reminded me of the standards of plowing and their rationale—straight rows maximized acreage so more crops could be planted thus increasing the size of the harvest. Straight rows, my part of the mission, enabled the space between plants to be wide enough to prosper and equally share each plant's portion of the fertilizer that later would be applied. He cautioned me about the hazards of speed (my favored inclination), warning me that higher speed could result in loss of control of the tractor.
My "start of the row" also included a bit of a pep talk about how he was counting on me to be a "big boy" (I was six or seven) with his certainty I was up to the task. Once underway, his feedback came quick and precise. "Watch your furrow," he would say, "your front wheels are not straight." It was as if he wanted very much for me to succeed and was committed to doing his part to coach and guide. However, here is the best part. If all was going well, he remained quiet, leaving me the feeling I was plowing alone like a "big boy." Excessive leadership demonstrates unwarranted control wasting the influence of the leader and robbing the motivation of its target. It is an action of mistrust.
Leadership at the "end of the row"
Leadership at the "end of the row" starts before you arrive. The "end of the row" is the realm of dissonance—the fertile ground of great leaders. It means dealing with change. Change is disharmony, an alteration in the status quo. It is the place in the plowing journey where my father exercised leadership. When a gap occurs between performance expectation and performance execution, it takes great leaders to right or adjust the course.
Long before boarding the tractor, my dad talked directly about the consequence of "fooling around"--his label for daydreaming your way off course. "Our family depends on you to do the good job I know you can do," he would tell me on the way to the field. He also said, "If you can't plow straight, son, you'll have to get off the tractor and wait in the shade." Rest assured, I waited in the shade a few times. He took his leadership role in times of dissonance seriously—keeping his word to deliver on the consequence he had promised. I learned to trust and respect him. He was also quick to brag to the rest of my family about what I good job I had done plowing. Over time, he subtly encouraged me to embrace the pursuit of excellence as my standard.
We live in an era of leader tolerance for "crooked plowing." We witness employees sleepwalking through their day, avoiding initiative to help a customer, texting on the phone instead of tasking on the job, and daydreaming until they can punch out and go home. Those leaders who look the other way, allow mediocrity in plain sight, or timidly acquiesce instead of rendering consequences, reap the result--an enterprise with a puny bottom line and a poor reputation. But those who keep their promise of leadership-in-action, grow empowered, high performance associates with an obvious zeal to create a bountiful harvest.
