Length: 982 words (4-5min read)
The Covid-19 crisis continues to throw up fascinating contrasts in leadership and communication styles. This post looks at two examples of how senior leaders chose to handle the question of how and if to display their inner thoughts during a crisis--specifically, while laying off employees--and the pros and cons of each.
“It Felt Like A Black Mirror Episode”
This is Office Space-level parody, except real. Details are from a Verge story published in late April 2020 about Bird, the California-based scooter company. Hit hard by Covid-19, Bird laid off about a third of its staff.
It was a chaotic process centered on a Zoom call in which a voice--there was no video--mechanically read a script that started with “this is a suboptimal way to deliver this message”. An employee told dot.LA website that, “It felt like a Black Mirror episode. This ominous voice came over and told us we were losing our jobs.”
Bird CEO Travis VanderZanden found himself instantly in the hot seat. He apparently had delegated reading the lay-off script to a subordinate. His first public comment was a defensive non-apology on social media:
“We did NOT let employees go via a pre-recording. It was via a live zoom mtg (not ideal either) b/c we're all WFH during COVID. Video was turned off which we thought was more humane. In retrospect, we should've made 1on1 calls to the 100s impacted over the course of a few days."
In a memo to remaining employees a short time later, VanderZanden cited lessons for Bird’s industry from the SARS outbreak as a reason for optimism. He invited readers to pivot towards a positive future.
“It Grieves Me”
One hundred eighty degrees out, we find Korn-Ferry CEO Gary Burnison. His statement, titled “The Burden on Others” takes us on a tour of his heart and conscience. It begins:
I had a different message for today -- all written and edited. Then I ripped it up.
He acknowledges some hard truths:
It’s one thing to intellectualize this—talk about numbers and cost reductions or to use more abstract terms like head count, synergies, and right-sizing. But these aren’t numbers, they’re people.
Not to contradict The Godfather, but it isn’t “strictly business.” It’s also highly personal—impacting people’s lives.
After saluting his people, Burnison also closes with a nod to the future. But this is a heavy one, using the lens of life coming back to an area devastated by California’s wildfires.
Now, as then, the devastation will pass. Slowly, with a heavy heart, newfound humility, and grace and dignity, we will turn this page—not to be forgotten, but to be remembered.
This is a very human approach, but is light on future vision.
How Much To Show?
These executives grappled with one of the central problems all leaders have: How much do you say? How do you say it? How much of myself should or can I show my followers? What insights, if any, do I offer to my reaction in a tough time?
There’s no single answer to those questions, because the right degree of emotional intensity and self-disclosure depends on the audience and the situation.
We see this is in our examples: Burnison not only owned his decisions, he’s integrated them with his emotional history and world view. His messaging leaves a different gap, focused on the nuts and bolts of recovery.
In the short-term, Bird’s approach made a miserable situation worse. We can infer that VanderZanden is comfortable with a clean, tech-driven vision of the future but not with messier “soft stuff”.
And there’s no opting out: deciding to say nothing is a message itself, as VanderZanden discovered.
Why is this important? The answer: a good message is driven by what the audience needs.
Audience-Driven
Shakespeare’s Henry V is a great fictional example. We know this is for dramatic effect, but it works. Henry V rallies outnumbered and tired soldiers with an appeal to belonging:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile...
The army’s lunch menu doubtless was not announced like that.
Similarly, differences in the audience may explain a lot about how our CEO’s chose to communicate. The cultures and work forces at Bird and Korn-Ferry are probably very different. This will drive different expectations.
One size is not going to fit all.
Considered through the prism of investors and remaining employees, the Bird CEO’s forward-looking second statement is both more positive and more competent-sounding than his initial awkward coupling of silence and tone-deafness.
On the other hand, Burnison’s approach to layoffs is about as human as it gets. Framing the future around a catastrophic fire is honest and clear. But it’s not a complete or reassuring vision for the future. I personally found it both touching and a little disconcerting.
Conclusion
Self-disclosure can be a potentially powerful tool. When leaders are careful and thoughtful about disclosing what they’re thinking and feeling, it can produce stunningly effective results. (There is a good example here, from Airbnb.) When they’re not, it can be a disaster.
Deciding how much to disclose and what to keep in the background is an art, and can be developed with practice. Some questions to consider when you find yourself in the situation of having to decide how much of yourself to reveal:
Is this a routine situation or something special or urgent?
How strong are emotions running?
How many different audiences am I speaking to? What does each segment of the audience need or expect from me?
Is injecting my inner thoughts, perspectives or feelings into a discussion with this particular audience going to move the cause around, slow it down, or become a possibly harmful distraction?
How am I going to need to communicate? In-person, e-mail, video conference? How might that change my approach?