Leading from the Middle

Caption: The Ever Curious George and a firefly

ONCE upon a time a troop of Monkeys were wandering through a wood. The weather was cold, and when in the twilight they came upon a Firefly they mistook it for the embers of a real fire.
Accordingly, they placed dry grass and leaves around the Firefly, hoping to warm themselves; and one of the Monkeys fanned it with his breath, trying to kindle it into a blaze.
A little Bird, named Suchimukha, was perched above in a tree; and when he saw the Monkeys wasting their time and efforts, he called down to them,
"That is not a real fire, it is only a Firefly. Do not waste your breath."
Although the Monkey heard what Suchimukha said, he paid no attention but continued to blow steadily.
So the Bird flew down from the tree, and once more began to advise and argue with the Monkey.
Presently the latter became angry and picking up a stone flung it at Suchimukha and killed him.
It is foolish to waste good advice on those who do not choose to listen.
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When I was five years old an aunt-in-law gave me a Latvian nickname: Japatis! (John, myself!) It meant, “Leave me alone! I’ll do it myself!”
Even then, I brooked no interference.
Some would say my mulishness has only gotten worse!
Charles Handy, the famed management consultant, tells the story of his daughter’s starting up a first business and his inundating her with well-intentioned advice.
The daughter, after dutifully listening to him, fixed him with a halting gaze and declared: “Stop, Poppy! I know you mean well, but I want to make my own mistakes!”
Maybe the monkey wanted to see where his harmless efforts would take him.
While a do-gooder might have a better way, it matters not to the person wanting to solve something on his or her own. It may be plain old stubbornness or sometimes going down the wrong path opens up other doors, ones you would never pass through if you did things “by the book”.
In this fable the kibitzer dies.
Maybe one should wait to be asked before giving free advice. In advice giving, timing is everything.

*Source: Katha-Sarit-Sagara. Book X, Chapter 60, adapted from the German of F. Brockhaus. To be found in Cooper, Frederic Taber, editor (1864-1937), “An argosy of fables; a representative selection from the fable literature of every age and land”. New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company. 1921.
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© Copyright John Lubans 2019

Caption: Performance Appraisal Day at the Samuel Beckett Co.
A “man bites dog” story made the rounds last week.
In New Zealand, an office worker was summoned by his boss “to discuss his role”. That had all the earmarks of a “redundancy meeting”.
Under New Zealand labor law, someone facing redundancy gets to bring along a support person.
(First, let’s get real about this euphemism, redundant: you’re about to get kicked out the door, ejected, discharged, sacked, fired.)
Our creative hero turned the tables by bringing along a clown.
The vast media coverage suggests this story “resonated” for many people. Why?
Take your pick. It could be that the reader:
a. Has had the experience of being ignominiously fired and would have liked to have had a friend along, an advocate.
b. Loves it when the worm turns; chalk one up for the little guy!
c. Enjoys theater of the absurd.
d. Picks up on the notion that absurdity empowers to some extent the person being fired. The joke is as much on the boss, as on the sad sack being told he/she is no longer relevant, useful, wanted, of value, etc.
EB White when asked to define “democracy” offered several views including it’s “the hole in the stuffed shirt through which sawdust slowly trickles” The clown makes the hole.
I’d like to build on the New Zealand story. Let’s alleviate the mutual suffering endured in the annual unhappiness ritual, the performance appraisal (PA).
I need to qualify my claim of mutual suffering. There’s no question of the ratee’s anxiety and fear, even pain. And most rater’s have at least a great discomfort doing the rating. However, there are those petty raters who relish being the superior, being the judge. Sure, the empathy mask is firmly in place, but the unseemly gleem in the eye gives you the idea the person secretly enjoys taking you down a peg or two, pointing out your flaws.
My modest proposal: we add a third party: a clown of the ratee’s choosing.
It’d bring some genuine zippety do-dah to this overly solemnized, high stress ritual.
The clown could reduce the anxiety level, adding an appropriate good humor and slapstick to the dreaded event.
Apart from miming what a rating of 6 out of ten feels like for the employee, or riffing, - with cascading crocodile tears - on the phony "I feel you pain" refrain, something tangible could come out: a balloon giraffe or gazelle or cat. Solid results! A first for PA!
Put this program under the aegis of the Happiness Officer (HO). Surely you have read of the latest management trend, the Happiness program?
In any case, the clown contingent could report to the in-house HO.
While no incumbent HO could pass for a clown – one explained the gravity of the HO job, “first, it’s not about being a clown or a comedian” - the job would need to be out-sourced, giving work to the unemployed in the clown population.
One HO sees his role as: “Treat people as they want to be treated.” You want a clown alongside as we defenestrate you? You got it!
Or, if the HO reneges, the Chief Mindfulness Officer could supervise the Clowns. Shouldn't someone in the organization be mindful of the wasted productivity inherent in PA?


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ONLY a click away:

And, my book on democratic workplaces, Leading from the Middle, is available at Amazon.

© Copyright John Lubans 2019

ANY a man, starting with a modest capital, has ended by acquiring great wealth.
But I built up my large fortune by starting with nothing at all. Listen, and you shall hear how I did it.
My father died before I was born; and my mother's wicked relations robbed her of all she possessed. So in fear of her life she fled from them and took refuge at the home of one of my father's friends.
There I was born, to become later the protector and mainstay of my excellent mother.
Meanwhile she supported our lives by the pittance earned through hardest drudgery; and, poor as we were, she found a teacher who consented to instruct me in the simple rudiments of reading, writing and keeping accounts.
Then one day my mother said to me, "My son, your father before you was a merchant, and the time has come for you also to engage in trade.
The richest merchant now living in our city is the money changer, Visakhila, and I hear that it is his habit to make loans to the poor sons of good families to start them in business. Go to him and ask him for such a loan."
Straightway I went to Visakhila, the money changer, and found him angrily denouncing another merchant's son, to whom he had loaned money:
"See that dead Mouse upon the ground," he said scornfully, "a clever man could start with even such poor capital as that and make a fortune.
But, however much money I loan you I barely get back the interest on it, and I greatly doubt whether you have not already lost the principal."
Hereupon I impetuously turned to Visakhila and said, "I will accept the dead Mouse as capital to start me in business!"
With these words, I picked up the Mouse, wrote out a receipt, and went my way, leaving the money changer convulsed with laughter.
I sold the Mouse to another merchant as cat's meat, for two hand-fuls of peas.
I ground the peas and taking with me a pitcher of water, I hastened from the city and seated myself under the shade of a spreading tree.
Many weary wood-cutters passed by, carrying their wood to market, and to each one I politely offered a drink of cool water and a portion of the peas.
Every wood-cutter gratefully gave me in payment a couple of sticks of wood; and at the end of the day I took these sticks and sold them in the market. Then for a small part of the price I received for the wood I bought a new supply of peas; and so on the second day I obtained more sticks from the woodcutters.
In the course of a few days I had amassed quite a little capital and was able to buy from the wood-cutters all the wood that they could cut in three days.
It happened soon afterwards that because of the heavy rains there was a great scarcity of wood in the market, and I was able to sell all that I had bought for several hundred panas.
With this money I set up a shop, and as I am a shrewd business man I soon became wealthy.
Then I went to a goldsmith and had him make me a Mouse of solid gold. This Mouse I presented to Visakhila as payment of the loan; and he soon after gave me his daughter in marriage.
Because of this story I am known to the world as Mushika, the Mouse. So it was that without any capital to build on, I amassed a fortune.
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Horatio Alger has nothing on our hero, Mushika the Mouse.
While there’s no moral appended. I am guessing the story was to inspire a poor reader to get out of poverty, to improve his or her lot in life.
If anything, the story speaks to one’s using existing resources – however minimal – to move ahead.
In the workplace we often fail to use what we have and instead bemoan what we do not have. An atmosphere of depression sets in, and weighs heavily upon the organization.
Every now and then along comes a leader like Mushika, who uses what’s available and achieves something special – not just in escalating production but also in raising followers’ morale and inspiring them to genuinely “do more with less”.
It’s the “can do” attitude – alas, a cliché nowadays - but when that attitude is sincere, amazing things happen, all within what you already have.
In Aesop’s fable “The Shipwrecked Man and Athena” a wealthy man clings to a capsized boat and prays to Athena, making many promises if only she saves him.
A survivor – heading for the distant shore - swims past and says, “While you pray to Athena, start moving your arms!”
Ditto for the shipwrecked workplace with only doom and gloom on the horizon. Instead, “move your arms” and work with what you have. There’s a new dawn coming.
Remember Mushika!

*Source: Katha-Sarit-Sagara. Book I, Chapter 6; adapted from the German of F. Brockhaus. To be found in Cooper, Frederic Taber, editor (1864-1937), “An argosy of fables; a representative selection from the fable literature of every age and land”. New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company. 1921.


© Copyright John Lubans 2019

Caption: The Old Town shop on a wintry day.

On my frequent Riga rambles, I’ve got a regular go-to-place. A cafe on the edge of Old Town: Mārtiņa Beķereja. (Martin’s Bakery).
I stop in for tea and my favorite pīrāgi (bread rolls filled or topped with a variety of flavors, some sweet, some savory).


Caption: Inside.

A convivial place, Martin’s interior colors are warm and welcoming. There’s mixed seating: banquettes along the walls and window counters with a view onto pedestrian-busy Vaļņu street.
And, as you can see from the photo, small tables, mid-floor. More often than not you’ll find me along the divider in a cozy chair savoring the flavors with notebook and pencil in hand for any loose thoughts/inspirations that might spring forth while I linger.
Latvia has a reputation for introversion, but that’s not to say Martin’s has planned seating for introverts. Let’s just leave it that one’s eating alone is a normal, not an anti-social activity.
You order at the counter and then take it to a table or you get it bagged or boxed to take away.
There’s ceramic, glass and metal-ware for all but take out. Apart from the serviettes, there’s no paper.
A tiny dish washing machine, in the back, labors mightily all day to keep up.
No foodie, me, I should note before we go much further this is a not a restaurant review.
Instead my aim here is to write of an organization I’ve observed first hand for a decade.
Here’s what I have seen:
Consistent high quality
Very good prices
Little turnover in staff, and
Friendly counter service.
My questions: How do they achieve this? Even more important, how do they maintain this? What is the role of leadership? What are the corporate values?
Thanks to my cousin Dace – who agreed to translate - I was able to set up a visit with the owners.
So, one rainy morning in mid-June my cousin and I made our way to Martin’s Bakery’s headquarters on the heavily trafficked Brivibas Boulevard, about a mile northeast from the old town branch.
On a corner, it sits across the wide street from Riga’s famous Dailes Theater.
The headquarters incorporates one of the company’s six stores. The store was there first in leased space. Just recently the business purchased the entire building. A major restoration and renovation are in the works and the store will remain.
Along with Mārtiņs, in his early 40s, I got to meet his mother, Vija Kalniņš (the founder). Mārtiņs deals with finances, accounting, and operations.
The other owner, Dins, was not there. In his late 40s, he’s the chief of production and a practicing baker. I’ve included two of his photos of Martin’s products.
Ms. Kalniņš now serves as an advisor and as a supervisor. After many years of dealing with banks, she has happily turned over bank loans and other financial matters to her sons.
Two years after Latvia broke from the Soviet Union in 1991 she founded Martin’s Bakery using recipes and techniques she had developed over many years as a renowned baker/pastry chef.
The first Martin’s Bakery – with three employees - was located two kilometers outside of Old Town and would even today be considered peripheral to City Centre, the business region.
Still, she made a go of it.
Her sons, 15 and 23 at the time, helped from the beginning.
Not easy, that first year was during the chaotic changeover - “privatization” - from a communist economy to democratic capitalism. One large issue was how workers got by under communism. It was not unusual, in order to survive, workers would help themselves to resources; after all, they were the “owners”, it was theirs to take.
This view was not limited to retail shops but was prevalent in factories and in collective farms. This kind of “sharing” helped people persevere in an economy burdened with shortages, centralized planning and corruption.
Today, at Martin’s Bakery, there are 105 staff in six locations, and the business has a 3 million Euros turnover with tax returns of more than 700 million*.

Caption: What it’s all about: Foto by Dins Kalniņš, 2019.

Well then, what did I learn? What’s Martin’s Bakery’s secret to success?
Freshness and quality.
Each branch is self-contained. All baking is done on site from start to finish. Assuring freshness, each location bakes everything, every day, using only natural, fresh ingredients including seasonal fresh fruits and berries – additives are verboten.
And, yes they use only fresh cream. (During the interview, Mārtiņs offered Dace and me a plate of gorgeous raspberry tarts with whipped cream. Heavenly!)
Prior to my interview, I was under the wrong impression that there would be centralized pre-baking with delivery to each branch for finishing. Not so!
I witnessed kitchen staff making the pastries by hand and baking them, staying just ahead of demand.
When a store shelf is depleted, the retail staff signals the kitchen and up comes more. When you are in the store you’ll often spot a baker coming up the kitchen stairs or along the kitchen hallway laden with a tray of fresh out-of the-oven baked or prepared delicacies.
Of course, fresh inventories are more difficult to manage than those treated with shelf-life extenders; Martin’s does so through minute attention to quality, very rapid turnover of the product (excellent prices help) and a devoted, regular clientele.
Value Employees.
Knowing how difficult it is to find staff, the company works at retention and maintaining a “stable” group.
And, when you hire good people and treat them with respect you can expect a “good mood” (to quote Mārtiņs) in the workplace.
A personal note: even during busy times one of the counter staff takes time to enunciate in clear Latvian the amount of change from my purchase. It’s her friendly effort to help me learn to count in Latvian!
Overall, I was told, Martin’s Bakery pays more than other confectioners. And, during several seasonal highs there is extra remuneration for workers.
Importantly, every morning Ms. Kalniņš goes to each of the six branches to check for quality and other business matters.
That connection makes clear that the owners are present. While each shop is independent with its own working manager, Ms. Kalniņš provides the necessary link back to the owner’s traditions, goals and vision.
Suggestive of how employees are valued, in June, two of Martin’s bakers were in Australia giving lessons to Australian-Latvian bakers about how Martin’s does what it does. Martin’s Bakery was among the trip sponsors.
“We don’t make brownies”
That was Mārtiņs short hand way of telling me they are a traditional bakery. While others may chase what’s “trending” – like cupcakes - they know and stick with what they do best.
Arguably, their pastries are the “best in town” offered at “very acceptable” prices to a large client base. Nobody comes to Martin’s Bakery once only; the return business, I would guess, is central to the bakery’s financial success.
While not closed to innovation Martin’s Bakery is slow to move away from traditional items. Staff ideas are considered and tried out.

Caption: The sweet: Foto by Dins Kalniņš, 2019.

A family business.
Decisions are made as a family. “We all have the same vision”, I was told: “the truth is always in the middle.”
Sometimes there are disagreements, differences of opinion, but they get resolved; there’s mutual respect for each of their roles.
I asked about how they came to decide on their no alcohol policy. This is unusual for Riga; many bakery or lunch cafes here offer an assortment of vodkas and whiskies, a “bracer” for the early morning or afternoon crowd.
After a short family discussion, the no alcohol policy was set, and no alcohol is served.
Ditto for the early-on decision for a cash-only retail model. That policy was only recently revised since clients began demanding the use of payment cards. The family adjusted and now a customer can use his or her debit or credit card.

Caption: The cute! Fanciful hedgehogs. Foto by Dins Kalniņš, 2019.

What’s next? An outsider’s reflection.
When I asked Martins if he was familiar with the S-shaped curve for depicting an organization’s growth and decline, he told me the business was already on its 3rd or 4th curve!
Obviously, if they have successfully navigated the risky waters of being a family business, then chances are they are in good shape for the future and unlikely to succumb to conditions like the Founder’s Syndrome, or short-term profit goals undermining long term good will and eroding the customer base.
Given the apparent robust health of Martin’s Bakery, I expect few negatives in the short term. That’s would be more than OK with me, as I'll be back in Riga to teach, April-June 2020!

Caption: A sunny ending. Foto by Dins Kalniņš, 2019.

*If that seems like a lot of tax, keep in mind that Latvia - like many, if not all, EU countries - has a VAT (Value Added Tax) of about 21%.

© Copyright John Lubans 2019