Kimberly Emerson

Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.  – William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

As an acting student, I read a lot of Shakespeare.  Not actually all of it, which I mean to remedy some day.  (Of course, some day I mean to repaint my kitchen and replace the linoleum, too.  We’ll see which happens first.)  But a lot.  I was a background character in Twelfth Night, where I wore pretty much the worst costume of my career.  (No wait, there was the satin yellow dress in Guys and Dolls.  That must at least tie for the worst.  But I digress.)  I heard these words every night, as I watched my fellow actors, all of whom aspired to be great and some of whom made it.  (Our Olivia and Malvolio rocked.)  While I paid attention to who was saying the words, and how my character might react to them, I didn’t spend a lot of time pondering the actual truth of the phrase.  Now that I have more time and a little more experience of life, I’ve come to the conclusion that Shakespeare left something out.

Some people are promoted to greatness by mistake.

Having been in the workforce for two decades or so, mostly in administrative positions, I have had a chance to survey a good number of bosses.  I’ve decided that some of them were never meant to be anyone’s boss.

My best friend Kimberly worked for a dog kennel a couple of years ago.  (Well, perhaps it may be more accurate to say she actively volunteered, because the drug addict man in need of prayer who ran the place didn’t pay her.)  Along the way, she learned an interesting fact about dogs – they don’t want to be in charge.  They are pack animals and they like sticking together.  One of the dog will be the leader of the pack (you can tell them by their leather jackets and motorcycles), becoming the alpha dog.  All the rest will be betas.  As the owner, you need to be the alpha dog.  If you aren’t the leader, the dog will become the leader, to fill the void.  He will become accordingly more aggressive and less responsive to you, because he’s the leader and you’re supposed to be following him. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that the business world works the same way.  Most people are basically betas.  They don’t want to lead.  They want to do meaningful work, they want to be valued by their co-workers, they certainly want to be well-paid.  But they don’t actually want to be in charge.  They don’t want or don’t know how to inspire people to follow them.  They don’t want to take responsibility for plans that fail.   People want to sit at the desk where the buck stops, but they have no desire to become personally acquainted with the buck itself.

Unfortunately, our world seems to be extraordinarily bad at recognizing people with genuine supervisory skills.  The sad result of this is a kind of weak leadership that prevails in our business culture.  You can see it in the workplace and in the headlines.  The manager who never seems to make a decision, until circumstances or higher-ups dictate it to her.  The CEO whose company is going under, making sure that he and all his buddies get their bonuses before it does.  It seems to divide into two categories: the Yes Man, and the Blame Shifter.  The Yes Man agrees with everything – he seeks not to make waves.  The Blame Shifter might make a decision, but she has a fall guy all picked out in case things go wrong.  These are not my idea of Alpha Dogs.  These are Beta Dogs whose nature has been twisted by the unnatural position in which they’ve found themselves.

I have been privileged to work for a couple of truly great bosses.  The thing that made them great wasn’t that their ideas were always right, although they frequently were.  No, the thing that made them shine was that they had ideas and they were willing to take responsibility for them.  They were willing to stand at the front of the pack, in the Alpha position, and say, if you’re going to get to my team, you’re going to have to go through me to do it.  These men and women were rewarded, in fortune and esteem, for the work they did, and I begrudge them neither.  They were entitled to compensation, because they put themselves in the line of fire.  They deserved the credit, because they were willing to take the blame.

Of course, it’s easy to criticize the system.  (So very, very easy.)  But is there a solution?  

A few years ago, my friend Leslie made a mad confession.  (I’m Methodist, so this was confession with a little “c.”  Fortunately, I don’t think she had committed a sin of which to be absolved.)  Her office had given her a promotion.  Within a couple of months, it became clear that this new supervisory role wasn’t her thing.  So – here’s the cool part – she gave it back to them.  No, seriously.  She told her boss that this wasn’t for her, and asked for her old job back.  They agreed.  She was good at the old job – that’s why they promoted her.  Using extraordinary good sense, she turned the Peter Principle to her advantage: realizing that she had been promoted beyond her level of usefulness, she went back down to where she could be productive and happy. 

Maybe this is the solution – recognizing where your greatness lies.  Great alpha dogs are a wonderful thing, and deserve appreciation.  However, being great doesn’t necessarily mean being the person in charge.  Maybe greatness can also be found in the person who gives her honest opinion to the alpha, even though it might get her fired.  Or the person who realizes that the alpha’s decision isn’t popular, but follows it because he thinks it’s right.  Personally, I’m a beta.  I try to make good decisions, but I don’t have any personal charisma that makes me people want to follow me into battle.  As a writer, it is not my lot to make people act, only (hopefully) to make them think. I’m aware of this, and I’ve pretty much made my peace with it.  I just want to be the bravest and most honest Number Two that I can be.

Our world needs to recognize the value of the beta dog.  If you’re going to have a decent pack, there are a lot more of them.  Of course, if you decide that you are a beta dog, realize that you have a great responsibility too – picking which alpha you will follow.  Get that right, and you will have achieved true greatness.

Hmm…I wonder if it would be sacrilegious to get a bumper sticker saying “God is my alpha dog.”