There are few phrases that have crept into the lexicon of life in the 21st Century that annoy me more than ‘Work-Life Balance’. I believe it to be simply inane, socialist dogma to imply that work is somehow anything other than an integral component of a healthy life. It would be equally inane to refer to a ‘Home-Life Balance’. Work gives us an identity that for the majority of us defines what we do. Yes, I also subscribe to the concept of multiple identities; after all I am also amongst other things a husband, a father, a cyclist, a volunteer mentor and an aspiring writer. But when I worked, it was my work role that provided the answer to the invariable question at parties, “What do you do?”
The phrase and the concept that makes sense is ‘Whole-Life Balance’, which at least recognises there are multiple aspects of our life in which we seek or should attempt an equitable balance. Nevertheless, this state of balance is an elusive and frequently ephemeral state to achieve and there is little room for compromise if you really wish to succeed. There are too many variables, too many uncontrollable factors that do not cease to be demanding and which conspire to upset this delicate state of equilibrium. Yes, I learnt to fight back against the petty aspects of work pressure when I could but competition does not sleep and creditors, the Government and the economy certainly don’t.
It’s strange that we can accept that the great sportsmen and women, the politicians and the artists and stars we admire so much make massive sacrifices to succeed in their chosen careers. But do we ask, do we require, do we care if they strive to achieve this so-called balance in their lives? How many Olympic medal winners do we hear being chided for not spending more time at home? And yet we make so little allowance for those in everyday life when they strive to succeed in their chosen careers. It’s true that the family can enjoy the lifestyle that comes with the salary the breadwinner brings home. But is he or she not worthy of the same respect as our sporting heroes when they make the necessary sacrifices to succeed?
I am a happy and a satisfied third-ager precisely because I have achieved a state of self actualisation. Apart from an ever growing bunch of people doing their best to destroy this wonderful world we live in, I am genuinely happy with my life. I could claim that the end justified the means. Nevertheless, I certainly cannot claim it was either easy to achieve this state or to strike that elusive state of balance for more than a matter of weeks at a time. Nor can I claim that it must have been easy for my family (but I’ll return to that shortly). To achieve one big goal in life requires dedication, commitment and the subordination of all other roles and goals.
That I was never a successful sportsman may be down to a combination of my physique (now was that nature or nurture..?) and my lack of early exposure to the joys of ball games. But I was certainly as driven as many a sportsperson. That drive came as much from a fear of failure as it did a need to achieve. When I was fired from Akai I was, one could say, a victim of my character. It was an intense sense of failure that overcame me and then drove me on to succeed. But it was the same set of behavioural preferences that had driven me to that situation in the first place.
For those initial twenty years I had one success after another. I really believed that I had got the magic formula. Not only had I believed that being very good at what I did would be enough to maintain my career momentum, I had always used my ability to present my case logically and rationally (but rather like a battering ram). The problem was that I had no political skills to bring to bear and I wore my negotiating position on my sleeve. When you’re being confronted with the choice of being burnt or scalded neither is easily preferable. If the choice is actually being burnt today and scalded tomorrow, then my tendency was to enter the fight straight away. With the benefit of hindsight, I could never have won the battle at Akai because I was working for a company that ultimately had to fail because it simply didn’t have the resources to succeed.
However, ten years later I was still making some of the same mistakes when I realised that the company I worked for did not have the strategy to succeed in reaching its stated goal. I was right in my view (as history has again proved) but I still lacked the political skills either to convince others or to survive. Anyway, by this time I was probably seen as a threat and was fighting a whole layer of senior management wedded to preserving a status quo that was doomed. Should I have worked on my political skills instead of the full frontal, bare-knuckle approach? I don’t believe so for two reasons. The first is that being Machiavellian is beyond my natural style of behaviour, it’s simply not within my skill set. The other reason was that having seen the future and the people my future would depend upon, I just didn’t like it or them.
It took just a couple of years more to realise that corporate life was not offering me the chance to play to my particular skill set. If you are in the wrong company, in the wrong industry, with skills that are not recognised then life is going to be really tough. More so if you are the one telling the emperor that he has forgotten his clothes. I really think that in such circumstances you should think about doing your own thing – building or buying your own train set. The constant stresses and strains of having to do battle within your own company, in addition to the real work of satisfying the market and battling competition and the economy, are debilitating. They were for me and they were for my family.
If fear of failure drove me on, it never soured my enjoyment of the here and now and it never stopped me taking what some might call unacceptable risks. Freed of the political constraints and frustrations of corporate life, I decided to take the king’s shilling of venture capital. To do so meant investing my life’s savings alongside the millions from a VC and the banks. It didn’t worry me as I felt I was really in control for the first time and dependent upon my own judgement. I made a rule however that I would never give a personal guarantee to a bank. The essence of the concept of limited liability is destroyed by providing some faceless, business-illiterate bankers with the ability to claw back your home if it all goes wrong. If my life savings weren’t enough risk money, then they weren’t for me. And I never had to give that guarantee. In that sense I wasn’t prepared to jeopardise the balance between my aspirations and the roof over my family’s head. In the event, two out of three ventures were successes and that was just fine.
When my dear late wife became pregnant with our daughter we agreed that she would put her career as a nurse on hold and become a full time mother. It was her suggestion it and I thought it natural to agree. Just as I thought it natural that I should do whatever it took to replace the money she had been earning. It took a great deal of hard work and a toll on my health but I can’t recall that she ever complained that I had the balance wrong. And when the time came and she wanted to return to her career, I supported that decision. My daughter and my son might feel that I wasn’t around enough or that I wasn’t there when they needed me. I don’t know. A Dutch colleague once said to me that in Holland they have a saying that for the first seven years the child belongs to the mother, for the second to the father and for the next seven years for both together. I do know that I wasn’t around as much as I might have been for my seven years and sadly, Jean wasn’t permitted to share the next and subsequent phases with me.
I now realise that for many years I was someone who made decisions solely on the basis of facts, logic, my reading of the future and the implications for my course of action. This approach certainly gave me the advantage of having an uncluttered and largely rational approach. Business decisions were made never pausing to consider others’ feelings and emotions but focussing on what was required to achieve the result. It came as little surprise when in a group activity during a course in the US, I was described by colleagues as ‘remote and unreadable at times’. My response at the time was to see this as something of an accolade. Subsequently, I made efforts to try to include the human aspects in my decision making but most times defaulted to my natural style.
However, following the appallingly early death of Jean, something changed in me. I cried for the first time at sad films and passages in books and even music could have the same effect. What Myers Briggs call the ‘shadow side’ of my personality, the undeveloped natural senses, were seeing the light of day for the first time. I don’t believe that I lost my natural, behavioural preferences but now make a real effort to understand the feelings and perspectives of others. I would find it hard to describe a business situation where I would make a decision based solely on feelings and emotions. However, seeking out and being aware of the human reactions and implications of a course of action has made me a more balanced leader.
My career was extremely stressful at times but on balance (that wonderful word again) I absolutely enjoyed it and cannot imagine what else I might have done. I can only hope that Victoria and Alex have as much fun and gain as much satisfaction and self-actualisation from their lives as I have done.
Do I have regrets? Or remorse? I have often pondered what I consider to have been a grave error of judgement (spelt out in Chapter 22) when I claimed to have been aware of a major problem but when in reality I had been blissfully ignorant. My misjudgement stemmed from a desire to conceal that I had been unaware of something (a stock loss) that I should have known about (even though it had been concealed from me). If I had claimed the truth I might have come out on top for the subsequent battle for a bigger UK role. However, had this happened, I would certainly have not been moved to Switzerland a few months later. I cannot speculate if my career would have been better but I know that I would have missed the pan-European role and invaluable (but painful) experiences in Geneva plus the trigger to pitch for venture capital.
Certainly I made other mistakes for which I feel remorse and can still vividly bring to mind situations where my inability to see consequences from another’s point of view caused pain. These were not situations where I stood to achieve gain from another’s loss but just where my lack of an ability at the time to see the world through others’ eyes made me thoughtless and careless in my attitudes towards others.
For many years I regretted (and felt less of myself as a result of) my lack of a university degree. What I might have studied I really cannot speculate, although I was being pushed towards art. I am sure that this would have been a mistake as I probably wouldn’t have been ready for the rigours of studying at university in my late teens and it could so easily have been a wasted experience. Instead I had the pleasure of continuing to learn throughout life. I am not an expert in any field (to my regret at times) but a mercurial mind has provided me with the inclination to delve into many and varied subjects.
I now consider that I was fortunate I missed out on university. This might sound strange but it ensured that I was always focussed on learning whatever I needed to progress. There were times when I thought I knew it all but the mistakes I made always spurred me on afresh with the learning. Throughout my career I often found myself surrounded by people who seemed to have left the process of learning behind when they passed through the gates of their university for the last time. Overtaking these people was therefore never too much of a problem. So, even with the best degree (or two) there is always so much more to learn (and no more so than in business).
So, for all of you who have followed my writing to this point, I wish you health, happiness and all the satisfaction in your careers that I have had from my own.
I have the feeling that life has a few more challenges left in store.