employee
/em’ploiē/
A person hired to provide services to a company on a regular basis in exchange for compensation.
I’m now an employee of Gartner, the firm that acquired L2. It’s been less painful, though still painful, than expected, as the people are smart and nice. The last time I was an employee was twenty-five years ago at Morgan Stanley, my first job after UCLA. I had dozens of part-time jobs, but nothing with health benefits or the expectation of being an agent of the firm. Being an employee, and the wage-for-labor compact, is key to capitalism and something Americans are good at. Most Americans, that is.
The skills and attributes necessary to be an entrepreneur are celebrated in the media every day—vision, risk-taking, grit. But few mention the skills needed to be a good employee. I possess almost none of them. People assume that because I’m an entrepreneur, I have extraordinary talents too big for a company. The truth about 90-plus percent of entrepreneurs is that we start companies not because we’re so skilled, but because we don’t have the skills to be an effective employee. On a risk-adjusted basis, being an employee for a good or great firm is more rewarding than being an entrepreneur. Again, something not discussed in a media obsessed with “innovators.”
Some of those attributes:
Now, as an employee of Gartner, I endure a fraction of the BS most employees do, and am more Zen about it. I don’t know if they’re scared of me, have no idea what to do with me, or just don’t give a damn … but they generally leave me alone and are supportive. It’s strange being an employee, with no direct reports in the company you founded … discovering via email, like everyone else, what the firm has planned. I’m floating in space a bit. A nice shiny suit, people impressed, a nice view (i.e., success), but not tethered to the mother ship anymore. The insecurity is setting in again. Do I add value? What am I doing here? Do they like me?
The most rewarding part of my job is when young people who trust me seek counsel from me about their next move or other work matters. At this age, some of the kids, as I call them, become your adult kids, and you become concerned about their well-being. It’s rewarding, as it scratches a maternal/paternal itch we have as we get older.
I’m Joe Namath dropping in on a Jets practice. Everyone is respectful of what I’ve built and wants to meet or speak to me. However, I’m worried I’ll soon be Drunk Joe Namath, where everyone is trying to figure out the polite (and least awkward) way of telling me to leave the building. It’s coming. Until then, I’m in their employ.