Patrick Lencioni
Patrick is the founder of The Table Group and the author of 11 books, which have sold over five million copies and been translated into more than 30 languages. The Wall Street Journal called him “one of the most in-demand speakers in America.” He has addressed millions of people at conferences and events around the world over the past 15 years. Pat has written for or been featured in numerous publications including Harvard Business Review, Inc., Fortune, Fast Company, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, and BusinessWeek.
As CEO, Pat spends his time writing books and articles related to leadership and organizational health, speaking to audiences interested in those topics, and consulting to CEOs and their teams.
Prior to founding The Table Group, Pat worked at Bain & Company, Oracle Corporation, and Sybase. Pat lives in the Bay Area with his wife and four boys.
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Perhaps, the best lesson about leadership that I’ve learned during my career is one that I’ve only recently come to understand.
I should have learned it as a teenager the first time I flew on an airplane, because flight attendants repeat it time after time: “In the event of a drop in pressure, put your oxygen mask on before assisting another passenger with theirs.” Essentially, the lesson I learned is that I can’t be a better leader than I am a person, and that I can’t put off working on myself in order to help others. That sounds pretty obvious, I know, but it deserves some explanation.
Early in my career, I wanted to be a good leader. It was an important priority for me, which sounds like a good thing. But I also wanted to be known as a good leader and manager, and that was the problem.
I was intentional in how I cared for my employees, and I did good things for them. I took an interest in them, their families, and their careers. I sacrificed for them often, putting their needs above my own. I championed them and encouraged them to become more than they thought they could become. And I celebrated them.
But deep, deep down inside I measured my success and worth as a leader by what I believed my people thought of me. Though I didn’t understand or admit it at the time, being a good leader wasn’t really as much about them as it was about my own identity and self-worth.
Some might be tempted to accuse me of being overly scrupulous in my self-analysis. They might say, “What is the harm in this, as long as the people you were leading were getting what they needed?” I contend that the harm was subtle, but very dangerous; it threatened my own peace of mind, as well as the sustainability of any goodness my employees were receiving from me.
See, when things went well, I felt a sense of satisfaction. But it never lasted long. I was always thinking about what else I needed to accomplish, and how I could continue to prove my prowess as a leader and a professional. At the end of the day, I would find myself feeling a little empty.
When things went poorly, I found myself disproportionately upset. Why? Was it because my employees were impacted by something gone wrong? As much as I wanted to think so, looking back, I know it was because my world was not right. My identity was at risk.
It was only as I grew older, and started to understand the true definition of humility, that I understood how to improve. Until I separated my identity as a professional from my definition as a person, I could not be a truly good leader. So I began to go deeper in my faith in God, then in my roles as a husband and a father and a son and a friend. It wasn’t that I was indifferent to these things before. In fact, I was extremely involved in my home life. It was my identity that I struggled with and that I needed to get right.
I wish I could say that all this happened in my early thirties and that I’ve been living this way for the past 20 years, but it wasn’t until my mid-forties that I fully made this critical realization. I can tell you that the people who have worked with me both before and after I made this realization saw a big change in me. I’m far from perfect now. Still learning lessons. But I’m definitely less stressed. Less invested in work. More thoughtful. More measured. And much more effective as a mentor, strategist, and manager.
My message to those who are reading this book in order to become better leaders is simple. Be a whole person first. Get your priorities in order. Know that neither your job nor your leadership defines you. Ask yourself if it might be better to set this book down to invest in your faith, your marriage, or your parenting. If you do, you’ll come back better able to digest and apply the principles of leadership for the right reasons, and with better prospects for long-term success.