Dear friends: we will be suspending work on this blog until we finish the manuscript of a book we’re writing. Thanks for hanging in there with us. We expect to be back in the game soon.
In the NYT’s article this week about Dell’s recent decline, what struck me most was how far Dell had strayed from its original obsession with customers. My sense had always been that Dell’s low-cost fanaticism was in many ways similar to Wal-Mart’s — their mission was to deliver the absolutely lowest prices, so they were willing to work like crazy, and perhaps even torment their suppliers to get there.
But the details in this article, including a cover-up of faulty motherboards and evasive maneuvering with customers, is completely at odds with that genesis. If true — and the article makes a pretty compelling case — then Dell would be following in a long tradition of organizations that stumble when they start to view customers as obstacles to their own corporate performance.
Dell became Dell for its operational excellence in the service of customers. The company ushered in a whole new way of serving by delivering variety, speed, and prices that had never before been seen in its industry. It was truly revolutionary. And truly focused on end users. But something different, and not that uncommon, seems to have happened in recent years: Dell began to find itself more interesting than its customers.
It’s as if companies like Dell wake up one day, excited and surprised by what they’ve become, and start suffering from the self-distraction of a teenager. They’ve gone from boy to man, and it’s heady stuff. And the media fawning and magazine covers make it that much more difficult to resist themselves. Along the way they seem to forget that what made them great was their customers. In Dell’s case, it was the relentless and creative focus on finding better ways to serve them.
But like a nagging parent, Dell’s customers were eventually treated like a drag on the company’s bright, shiny future. My advice to Dell management — and to any other company on a similar ride — is to have some respect, remember where you came from and make customers the center of your universe again. The correction shouldn’t be that hard for Dell. Looking up to customers is in their corporate genes.
In an incredible announcement, AT&T declared that it will be raising its termination fee for iPhones and a few other devices from $175 to $325. The company offers some explanatory chatter about handset subsidies, but the real message it’s sending is that it’s simply done trying to win over customers. Rather than keeping us the old fashioned way, by creating and sustaining real value, AT&T is now just charging us a ransom to leave. Imagine an AT&T that was truly confident in its ability to serve? How would it behave in the marketplace? It would invite customers to stay only as long as we’re satisfied — and not a cell-phone minute longer.
I find this decision scandalous, particularly since I’m already a frustrated AT&T customer (I can barely make it through a phone call without it being dropped). When a company moves towards trapping customers, the clock starts ticking on its ability to serve them. Penalties for ending the relationship create sharp antagonism with customers — antagonism that’s disproportionately felt by front-line workers — and signals to the entire organization to forget about excellence.
This toxic combination ensures mediocrity and accelerates a company’s decline. I get it. Winning the cell phone game is hard, and the people behind the idea likely had the best interests of the company in mind. But when you broadcast that you can’t convince customers to voluntarily stick around, everyone hears you loud and clear, including your employees. Who would keep trying in a culture like this?
Sigh. This is a sad day for AT&T.
In today’s column David Brooks tells a riveting story about rapid change in the culture and mindset of the U.S. Army, in response to bad news coming back from the Iraq War. The story itself is fascinating — he chronicles the rise of the “COINdinistas,” a small group of leaders led by Gen. David Patraeus that embraced a counterinsurgency strategy — but I was also deeply moved by how a few individuals dramatically changed such a large and complex organization. If you’re looking for evidence that it’s possible to transform your own environment, it’s worth the read.
I was intrigued by a recent NYT interview with Omar Hamoui, founder and chief executive of the mobile advertising network AdMob. Hamoui argued that organizational insecurity led to deep resistance to discussing problems:
When people are insecure, they just tend to hide and bury [problems]. The bad news eventually comes out, but it comes out all at once, and in sort of catastrophic form. I’m just much more in favor of conveying all the bad news in real time.
If everybody at the company can feel that they’re not putting their jobs in peril by relaying those kinds of things, then you really do get a pretty accurate picture.
This manifests in a distinct culture at AdMob:
…we spend a great amount of time talking about everything that’s wrong. Not because we’re trying to be negative. You can only talk for so long about what’s going well and have it be useful. You can be a lot more productive if you spend time on the things that aren’t going well.
But this is atypical in most organizations, and so when others join the conversation, they need to be trained:
When we would have visitors come to our board meetings, I would have to spend time prepping them ahead of time, basically telling them: “Don’t worry. The company’s not falling apart. Everything’s going fine. This is just how we are.”
I often discuss the need to surface problems (here’s an earlier post on the subject), and whenever I do people get nervous about creating a culture of “whiners.” They worry that if people are encouraged to bring up problems, particularly if they’re not on the hook for the solutions, then discussions will be reduced to toxic complaining about the other guy. Hamoui has found just the opposite:
… nobody at AdMob is shy to point out a problem or an issue with a product or service, even if it’s a product or service that they didn’t build or they don’t own or doesn’t fall within their domain. People aren’t shy about bringing up these issues and being fairly demanding that we solve them. I think that that’s led to us being very proactive.
Every company has problems. Surfacing those problems and addressing them quickly is the sign of a healthy, secure organization. It’s also the sign of an effective leader. As Hamoui demonstrates, spinning reality and covering up the truth may be the more costly and dangerous path.
I agree with at least part of Arizona Governor Jan Brewer’s statement on Friday — our broken immigration policy is a problem her state “did not create and the federal government has refused to fix.” Arizona could have filled that leadership vacuum with a bill that had a prayer of addressing the issue. Instead, local policymakers drummed up cynical, punitive measures that are likely to further bankrupt the state and achieve limited upside besides a false sense of progress.
Maybe it was worth it in an election year. Brewer may get to keep her job, but Arizona is likely to find itself in even more trouble if the bill actually succeeds in reducing the number of migrants to the state. Immigrants played a key role in driving Arizona’s economic growth over the last decade or so, a case the American Immigration Council lays out in a recent press release.
I agree with Obama’s characterization of the bill as “irresponsible,” but policymakers who are ready to roll up their sleeves on immigration shouldn’t simply dismiss what happened on the Arizona border. Voters made it clear that it’s the illegal part of illegal immigration that’s most troubling to people. Most Americans don’t want to lock the doors. Most want to be strong enough to strike an honest deal with the world’s tired and poor – and smart enough to keep our preferential access to the global talent pool. But the failure of policymakers to design a system that works has turned this into a fight about rule of law.
If I know my people well enough, and I like to think I do on most days, we’ve got a very healthy appetite for law and order. We see it as the backbone of our freedom, the foundation on which we build our do-it-yourself dreams. 12 million human beings with ambiguous legal status has rattled our sense of order, particularly in border states like Arizona. This has made it difficult to have an honest conversation about the real social and economic tradeoffs of immigration.
I feel like I’m stating the obvious here, but this is one of those fights where basic truths are easily lost. Here’s how I see it. Rather than do the politically difficult work of creaking open the country’s front door a bit more, policymakers just shamefully left the back door unlocked. Arizona revealed the cost of that short-term calculus. It’s now hard to move forward on immigration policy until a sheriff rides into town.