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Intelligence, imagination, and knowledge are essential resources, but only effectiveness converts them into results.
Working on the right things is what makes knowledge work effective.
If the executive lets the flow of events determine what he does, what he works on, and what he takes seriously, he will fritter himself away “operating.”
The third reality pushing the executive toward ineffectiveness is that he is within an organization. This means that he is effective only if and when other people make use of what he contributes.
The surface goes up with the square of the radius, but the mass grows with the cube.
The larger the animal becomes, the more resources have to be devoted to the mass and to the internal tasks, to circulation and information, to the nervous system, and
The truly important events on the outside are not the trends. They are changes in the trends.
Eventually the computer—potentially by far the most useful management tool—should make executives aware of their insulation and free them for more time on the outside. In the short run, however, there is danger of acute “computeritis.” It is a serious affliction.
First, a consultant who by definition has no authority other than that of knowledge must himself be effective—or else he is nothing. Second, the most effective consultant depends on people within the client organization to get anything done. Their effectiveness therefore determines in the last analysis whether a consultant contributes and achieves results, or whether he is pure “cost center” or at best a court jester.
Some are men of great charm and warmth, some have no more personality than a frozen mackerel.
There are men who live only for their work and others whose main interests lie outside—in community work, in their church, in the study of Chinese poetry, or in modern music.
Effectiveness, in other words, is a habit; that is, a complex of practices.
“You will never play Mozart the way Arthur Schnabel does, but there is no reason in the world why you should not play your scales the way he does.”
In every executive job, a large part of the time must therefore be wasted on things which, though they apparently have to be done, contribute nothing or little.
set aside time to direct his vision from his work to results, and from his specialty to the outside in which alone performance lies.
Mixing personal relations and work relations is time-consuming. If hurried, it turns into friction.
The larger the organization, therefore, the less actual time will the executive have. The more important will it be for him to know where his time goes and to manage the little time at his disposal.
“What one does not have in one’s feet, one’s got to have in one’s head.”
Professor C. Northcote Parkinson has pointed out in one of his delightful satires that the quickest way to get rid of an inconvenient superior is to make a world traveler out of
“What do I do that wastes your time without contributing to your effectiveness?”
The recurrent crisis is simply a symptom of slovenliness and laziness.
For every organization needs performance in three major areas: It needs direct results; building of values and their reaffirmation; and building and developing people for tomorrow.
An organization that is not capable of perpetuating itself has failed. An organization
“What can I and no one else do which, if done really well, would make a real difference to this company?”
The task is not to breed generalists. It is to enable the specialist to make himself and his specialty effective.
If a man wants to be an executive—that is, if he wants to be considered responsible for his contribution—he has to concern himself with the usability of his “product”—that is, his knowledge.
The man, however, who takes responsibility for his contribution will relate his narrow area to a genuine whole.
People in general, and knowledge workers in particular, grow according to the demands they make on themselves. They grow according to what they consider to be achievement and attainment. If they demand little of themselves, they will remain stunted. If they demand a good deal of themselves, they will grow to giant stature—without any more effort than is expended by the nonachievers.
one can either direct a meeting and listen for the important things being said, or one can take part and talk; one cannot do both).
The focus on contribution counteracts one of the basic problems of the executive: the confusion and chaos of events and their failure to indicate by themselves which is meaningful and which is merely “noise.” The focus on contribution imposes an organizing principle. It imposes relevance on events.
lift his eyes from the inside of efforts, work, and relationships, to the outside; that is, to the results of the organization.
To make strength productive is the unique purpose of organization.
The idea that there are “well-rounded” people, people who have only strengths and no weaknesses (whether the term used is the “whole man,” the “mature personality,” the “well-adjusted personality,” or the “generalist”) is a prescription for mediocrity if not for incompetence.
There is no such thing as a “good man.” Good for what? is the question.
Unless, therefore, an executive looks for strength and works at making strength productive, he will only get the impact of what a man cannot do, of his lacks, his weaknesses, his impediments to performance and effectiveness.
“One cannot hire a hand—the whole man always comes with it,” says a proverb of the human relations people.
All one can measure is performance. And all one should measure is performance. This is another reason for making jobs big and challenging. It is also a reason for
“Does this man have strength in one major area? And is this strength relevant to the task? If he achieves excellence in this one area, will it make a significant difference?”
Marshall was only concerned with weaknesses when they limited the full development of a man’s strength.
his own superior. I have yet to find a manager, whether in business, in government, or in any other institution, who did not say: “I have no great trouble managing my subordinates. But how do I manage my boss?” It is actually remarkably easy—but only effective executives know that. The secret is that effective executives make the strengths of the boss productive.
One does not make the strengths of the boss productive by toadying to him. One does it by starting out with what is right and presenting it in a form which is accessible to the superior.
“What can my boss do really well?” “What has he done really well?” “What does he need to know to use his strength?” “What does he need to get from me to perform?”
The effective executive also knows that the boss, being human, has his own ways of being effective. He looks for these ways. They may be only manners and habits, but they are facts.
It is, I submit, fairly obvious to anyone who has ever looked that people are either “readers” or “listeners”
The adaptation needed to think through the strengths of the boss and to try to make them productive always affects the “how” rather than the “what.” It concerns the order in which different areas, all of them relevant, are presented, rather than what is important or right.
Effective executives are of course also concerned with limitations. But it is amazing how many things they find that can be done and are worth while doing.
The assertion that “somebody else will not let me do anything” should always be suspected as a cover-up for inertia.
“What are the things,” he asks, “that I seem to be able to do with relative ease, while they come rather hard to other people?”
If one disciplines oneself to ask about one’s associates—subordinates as well as superiors—“What can this man do?” rather than “What can he not do?” one soon will acquire the attitude of looking for strength and of using strength. And eventually one will learn to ask this question of oneself.
the task is to multiply performance capacity of the whole by putting to use whatever strength, whatever health, whatever aspiration there is in individuals.