The Board of Directors meeting ran long. It combined a post-mortem analysis of a failed strategy with the details of shutting down an organization that had started with great promise. Our new interim CEO looked tired. The meeting was tense. None of us on the board of directors wanted to default on our debt; we were committed to the community’s well-being; we sought to keep our relationship with our creditors intact, but we were facing an abysmal AR payment percentage and a million-dollar gap between our available cash and our obligations.
The meeting had not turned acrimonious. We discussed the flaws in the pro forma we used to purchase a medical practice. We looked at the unexpected drop in physician performance and wondered why we hadn’t also written a contingency plan for it. We looked at the market; the potential and the need were there for what we could provide. The real kicker was the lawsuit filed against us by a competitor playing a zero-sum game out of their own fear – no vision, no willingness to collaborate, just the apparent assumptions of scarcity. Opportunities our competitor refused to take because they were struggling with their cash flow, we took. They decided to file a groundless lawsuit against us.
As a startup, our pockets just weren’t that deep; we failed in our initial attempts to have the suit dismissed. With escalating attorney fees, we made the difficult decision to settle. Now we were working through the ashes. We transitioned out employees; we canceled our vendor contracts; we leased facilities that had previously held our practitioners and now housed administrative functions. We explained to our patients why we had to close and where they could follow their providers.
Our discussion was intense; there were no acrimonious exchanges, just weary discussions on how to meet the final obligations and discharge the uncollectible AR. There was a pause after our interim CEO presented his execution outline for transferring services, closing out our obligations, and negotiating payments.
“Dick,” I said in a lull of conversation, “you have the look of someone who has just carried the weight of this nightmare and made it to the finish line. I appreciate the work you knowingly stepped into and the emotional toll I know it took.”
Dick looked into the camera; I was remote, stunned, and befuddled.
“I, uh, I’ve never had a board member recognize that before,” he managed to stammer out. “Thank you.”
Now I was stunned. He had over 40 years of executive leadership experience, and no board member had ever treated him like a human.
I’ve served on multiple boards of directors. I understand our role in strategic, fiduciary, and generative thinking. I have held CEOs accountable when they made excuses or obfuscated their lack of follow-through. I have asked tough questions. I have held up decision-making when I felt we were missing a vital component. Why was my encouragement so shocking, so unique, so unheard of previously? Dick is a good leader. He has a financial mind that runs risk/benefit calculations as he breathes. He has a good sense of humor and a family he loves. He is proud of his children; a couple has entered the medical world as practitioners after seeing the work he does as an administrator. I learned this by asking questions.
Dick isn’t the only CEO who has stated surprise at being treated like a human. Can business be engaged with a touch of humanity? Yes, in my experience, seeing others is what turns toxic and struggling operations into something purposeful, profitable, and fun. In addition to the fiduciary, strategic, and generative responsibilities of a board of directors, I’m convinced there is also a responsibility to help retain humanity. It takes strength to be human. Some decisions feel like no-win situations. Sometimes key stakeholders are disappointed. Sometimes hard things need to be said. But none of this requires that we relinquish our basic humanity. In my experience, those who depersonalize business are not the strong; they are the weak. The weak don’t help an organization thrive; they blame, avoid, pontificate, and ultimately injure those around them. I think I will keep being human; it’s more fun, even in difficult situations.