Personal Perspective: Knowing When to Say “No”

By Sander A. Flaum

When I was younger, business to me was like an obstacle course. I couldn't wait to climb over the next wall, hop through the tires and jump over the water. All I saw was the finish line. It was all about getting there, no matter what stood in my way. If I couldn't scale the wall, I'd go through it. It's how I moved from product manager to CEO of one of the world's largest global healthcare advertising networks. And I stayed at the job for a decade and a half because I never took my foot off the gas. I laced up my running shoes every day and braved the wall and water hazards that were thrown up in front of me.

I have always been a fierce competitor. I believe Vince Lombardi got it right when he said, “Winning isn't everything, it's…” Well, you know the rest. But I had an experience recently that has helped to revise my perspective a bit on the impetus behind attacking the obstacle course.

I had just walked in to one of the most beautiful office lobbies in Manhattan. Before making my way to the elevators, the impeccably tailored security guard politely noted my laptop and asked me to show it to him. He handled it with a gentleness I have yet to see in a New York airport. In the marble floored elevator I watched the numbers quickly shoot up to 23. Stepping off the elevator I was greeted by my host and led into a classic oak paneled boardroom. A catered lunch from the Four Seasons was on the table and my host was pouring me a glass of cabernet. This was old school. No women, no people of color, no one under 50, just an old time board of directors with a sense of their own importance.

This was the most prestigious board of directors that had ever invited me to join them as one of their own. The view from the windows was spectacular—the best in the city. This is the sort of board you imagine exists, but never actually see. Joining it, you immediately become part of an inner circle.

The filet mignon and field green salad sat perfectly on my white oversized plate. The white cloth napkin was spread across my lap, my drink in hand as my host began making small talk. The CEO of this NYSE company was a friend and wanted me on the board, as did several other directors. This was no interview; it was a lunch among colleagues of equal stature and power…or so I thought.

But just as I was beginning to relax, the lead director began grilling me as to the weight and nature of my potential board contributions. This director was a personality I recognized from one of television's talking head news shows. He loved to hear himself talk between commercials and it seemed he had a script in front of him now. His celebrity status sufficiently intimidated the other directors, who sat idly by as he worked his way up into a rant.

I had a couple of choices at this point. My usual stance is to do combat with such an individual and put him in his place with my knowledge of the drug industry and my confidence in my own record of performance. Either this person was a water hazard or a wall and I would go around him or over him. Sitting there and contemplating what I would say when he finally shut his mouth, a brand new thought came over me, one I had never considered…I could just leave.

After being in management for 30 years, your instincts tell you which people are open to new ideas and which just like to hear themselves talk and grow their egos, not their companies. You also get instincts about the culture of a company and whether or not innovation is welcomed. I took a good look around me. I felt the weight of the Waterford crystal glass in my hand, set it down onto the slate coaster resting on the antique mahogany conference table and felt myself rise from my chair. I couldn't believe what I was doing—where was the old fighter, the Lombardi—adept trained to win at all costs?

I stood up, buttoned my jacket and smiled as I addressed the threesome: “Being on a board is an awful lot of work. I believe in this company and what the CEO is doing and I want it to thrive and that's why I'm here. Having said that, please understand my time is valuable to me and I've been around too long to spend it with people I don't enjoy. I'm not enjoying this now and I doubt I would in the future.” And then I did something I had never done before. I turned and walked out. My good friend, the CEO, met me at the elevator and beseeched me to reconsider. I patted him on the back and left.

After I left the lobby and returned to the wonderfully alive midtown streets, I spotted a cigar shop. I lit up outside the MetLife Building amidst the energy of the real life going on around me. After all those years on the obstacle course, I finally learned the hardest lesson of all—there are times that leaders don't play the game. Puffing on my cigar while trying to process what it was I had just done and what the implications would be, a teenager in hip hop clothes walked by. “Got the time, chief?” he asked.

I looked down at my watch and then smiled at the irony of his question. “Only for meaningful things,” I replied.

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Author Bio: Sander A. Flaum is managing partner in Flaum Partners, Inc., located in New York City. Prior to starting his new firm, he was chairman of the board of EURO RSCG Life Becker.