The Dilbert Cube, The Crucible, and The Go-To Guy

cru·ci·ble: n. A severe test, as of patience or belief; a trial.

Five years ago, I saw the Dilbert Cube in my rear view mirror for the last time.

I vividly remember driving out of the parking lot that day and *looking* through that rear view mirror, making a mental landmark. I said to myself, “Self, you’ve been looking forward to this for 15 years, and it’s finally happenin’, right now.”

Last year at this time I mentioned this to copywriter David Garfinkel. He said

>> Happy Anniversary, Perry! :)

>> Doesn’t sound like you miss the dilbert life at all…

Um, no. What I “don’t miss” the most is all the fighting and politics.

I’ll never, never forget — a couple days after the exodus, had cleared out a corner in the basement, set up a desk with my computer and playing WFMT on the radio.

I come down in the morning and sit down.

The phone ain’t ringing. My email box isn’t full with stuff I’ve gotta do and questions to answer (also mildly shocking, that, but would soon change of course), nobody yelling at me, nobody arguing about anything or reducing my commission; not having to run run run all the time. That classical music was almost shocking in its serenity. The sunlight coming through the window, instead of a fluorescent light over my head in a windowless compound.

I’ll never forget that.

Three weeks later, the first paying client kicks in: This thing’s going to work. I’m not going back.

You remember that old Police song, Synchronicity II?

The secretaries pout and preen
Like cheap tarts on a red light street
But all he ever thinks to do is watch
And every single meeting with his so-called superior
Is a humiliating kick in the crotch

I had a boss like that. It’s my fault too, ‘cuz I let him in the door. He was a buddy of mine, a guy I’d see at trade shows and do occasional deals with. One day he called me on the phone.

“Hey Perry, at our Board of Directors meeting at <ACME> company we decided somebody had to go. So I fell on my sword, and I’m stepping down from my position as sales manager.” He wanted to come over and ‘do lunch.’

Fell on your sword? You?

You got laid off, dude.

I knew he was fibbing, but… I liked the guy and didn’t want to embarrass him. Didn’t say anything. Soon forgot about it, at least for the time being.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

If a relationship starts with a lie, it’s guaranteed to end with one, too.

I let him in the door.

He eventually became my boss.

Things between us were friendly and fun at first. But… very slowly, it became apparent that his #1 mission in life was to slice my fingers off, one bloody joint at a time. I am fortunate to have survived his rage and fury at all, let alone have anything left of my fingers but a few stumps.

But as Nietzsche said, that which does not kill you makes you stronger. I became wise to the cleverness and deceit, and learned from those wounds. I survived the crucible.

Part of my education along the way came from a certain Mr. James P. Cleary, a.k.a. Jimmy, a.k.a. Clancy. Jim worked in the sales department with me for a time, and Jim was not nearly as gullible as I. Jim had Mister “Fell On My Sword” figured out in about a week. And although Jim was prone to frequent outbursts of excess paranoia, Jim was right on the money this time. Mr. Fell On My Sword was out to put the bullet in my head if it was the last thing he did.

Being a political target was only part of the fun. Our fledgling company had cash flow issues, product development challenges, personnel changes, bickering between staff members, the problems you normally associate with fast growth and limited resources. There was always some kind of crisis going on. The pressure was immense.

In hindsight, this was a vital and necessary process of developing business maturity. Had I not gone through this [crucible] , I wouldn’t have had the confidence later on to sit down with presidents and CEO’s of companies and pointedly tell them what they needed to change in their business. The pressure and the hardships were necessary, essential for my growth and maturity as a business person.

A defining moment in this stressful period came one night while Jim Cleary and I were working late, having this conversation:

Jim says, “Hey Jerky-boy.”

“What do you want now?”

“This whole company revolves around you.”

I say, “Revolves around me? My ass, you Jackwacker. You might want to let everyone else in on that secret, so they know too.”

“No, I’m serious,” he says.

Huh? (I wasn’t president, I wasn’t vice president, I wasn’t a ‘C Level Executive.’ I wasn’t on the Board of Directors. The Powers That Be routinely made all kinds of decisions without seeking my input. Sounded pretty strange to my ears.)

“Hey Jerky-boy, you know almost every single customer, you take almost all the phone calls personally, you can explain all the products and how they work better than anyone except the engineers, you know all the reps and distributors and you recruited most of them yourself. You answer most of the emails, you do most of the marketing, you write all those magazine articles, and you manage the customer information in the company. If it weren’t for you, these guys would be nowhere.”

Seldom did I sit around contemplating my own importance – that’s a pastime of fools. And in some ways Jim was overstating. I wasn’t in charge of making payroll, Mike was (thank God for that!). I wasn’t in charge of Customer Service, Budd was (thank God for Budd!), I couldn’t support the products (thank God for the engineers!), I wasn’t funding the company (thank God for the investors!), I wasn’t collecting the purchase orders in Detroit (thank God for Gary our rep!).

And even Mr. Fell On My Sword, I have to grudgingly admit, in spite of all his conniving, made some darn important contributions to the company along the way. (Yes, thank God for Mr. Fell On My Sword’s contributions, too. And thank you too, Mr. Fell On My Sword, for failing to sever my fingers.)

Every Sales Dept. Needs a Go-To Guy

But what Jim was rightly observing was that every sales department needs a Go-To guy, somebody who always makes sure the plates are spinning. That person, at that time, was me. Somebody has to take responsibility for answering customers’ questions, sending out the press releases, or standing on someone’s head when there’s a product defect that’s going to kill a deal.

This remark from Jim was not so much an ego stroke as it was a wake up call that yes, in fact, I could and did make a very important contribution to the company I worked for and I shouldn’t diminish my contribution. Especially since others were trying very, very hard to do exactly that.

Most of my subscribers are Go-To guys. That means you. How do I know that? Because you pay for your own education. This newsletter ain’t free. I learned a long time ago that people who invest in themselves do it either because they are Go-To guys, or because they’re becoming Go-To guys. Very rarely do non-go-to-guys invest in themselves.

Congratulations for investing in yourself. You might not even feel like a Go-To guy most days, but you are one. Because you’re acting like one, right now. By reading this.

Stay tuned for more Go-To Guy wisdom.

Perry Marshall