What Michael Jordan is to basketball, what Messi is to soccer (or football—don’t get mad at me, non-Americans), what Starbucks is to overpriced coffee—Enron is to fraud. There’s simply no modern corporate collapse as staggering, absurd, or cautionary as this one. The only comparable implosion I can think of is FTX—and even that, at its peak, was worth $32 billion during an era of inflated assets. Enron? A jaw-dropping $70 billion. FTX was a toddler in corporate years, barely three years old; Enron had been around for over two decades.
I was just 10 when Enron collapsed—too young to grasp the magnitude. But after encountering countless references to it in other books, I finally decided it was time. I’ll admit, I hesitated. I worried it would validate my unfair biases against the “MBA crowd”—a recurring theme in my reviews. I’ve joked (and not entirely in jest) that MBAs are the lowest form of human life. This book didn’t challenge that bias—it poured gasoline on it.
This is a dense, intellectually exhausting read—less a book than a saga. You’ll need an Advil nearby just to get through the accounting schemes. Within the first 70 pages alone, there are already enough scandals to make your jaw drop. Enron’s board was negligent, often willfully, repeatedly turning a blind eye when star employees bent or broke ethical boundaries—as long as they were making money.
Let’s start with CEO Kenneth Lay. He was more figurehead than operator—a religious, politically conservative advocate for deregulation who positioned himself as a respectable public face while treating Enron’s private jets like a personal Uber for his entire family. Lavish personal expenses were charged to shareholders, and this attitude trickled down: Enron’s culture was one of obscene excess. I’ve read about nearly every major corporate failure in American history, and nothing touches Enron in terms of waste. Even while barreling toward bankruptcy, executives were flying private and staying in luxury suites. At one point, junior employees could rent private jets just to avoid traffic.
Enron’s internal culture? Toxic, arrogant, cutthroat. The company obsessed over hiring MBAs from elite schools—Jeff Skilling, the architect of Enron’s madness, believed pedigree trumped experience. Six months at Enron could turn someone into a backstabbing, self-serving egomaniac. Employees got equity in the deals they closed—regardless of whether those deals turned out to be disastrous. As a result, people had no incentive to ensure long-term success—just short-term wins and big payouts. Failure was rewarded, not punished. One year, over 200 employees made more than a million dollars; 20 made over ten million. These weren’t Wall Street bonuses—they were Enron bonuses.
Now for the accounting wizardry: Enron used “mark-to-market” accounting, meaning if they signed a 20-year, billion-dollar deal, they’d book all the profits immediately. Reality, of course, doesn’t work that way. Delays, overruns, and cancellations happen—but Enron pretended it was all smooth sailing. They also disguised one-time windfalls as recurring revenue, hid losses inside profitable divisions, and assigned imaginary profits to businesses that didn’t make a dime. It was fiction dressed up as finance.
Their obsession with stock price bordered on fanaticism. Enron didn’t care about building products, services, or anything of tangible value—they cared about perception. They engineered deals purely to impress Wall Street analysts, hoping to inflate their stock price and keep the illusion going. The contrast with a company like Amazon is stark: Amazon was mocked for investing in AWS when its stock was $5 a share. Decades later, AWS brings in $69 billion annually. Wall Street didn’t get it—but Amazon stayed the course. Enron did the opposite: it built its house on sand, and prayed no one noticed the foundation was crumbling.
Eventually, the convoluted debt structures and margin loans caught up to them. Their stock plunged from over $80 to $4, triggering a cascade of liabilities they couldn’t cover. The company essentially lost track of who it owed money to. Executives walked away with millions; average employees and mid-level staff were left holding the bag. And for years, they fooled analysts, shareholders, and even themselves into believing the myth.
My favorite part? Harvard Business School praised Enron in countless case studies as a shining example of corporate brilliance—while the company was committing fraud in broad daylight. Enron execs gave speeches on “values” while lying, cheating, and bleeding shareholders dry. You couldn’t make it up if you tried.
The Smartest Guys in the Room isn’t just a story of corporate failure. It’s the definitive tale of what happens when hubris, greed, and delusion take control. It’s cultural rot in a three-piece suit. A must-read for anyone who wants to understand just how far a company can fall—and how blind people can be along the way.
5 stars. Phenomenal book.