Idolizing leaders
Most men in gym changing rooms don’t talk much.
I break the mold as I love listening to and chatting with other guys before or after a workout. My wife often says I’d be in much better shape if I spent more time working out and less time socializing.
Just this morning, I was chatting with a guy named Steve — he’s probably in his early sixties and a fine swimmer. I was asking him about his love of swimming and in casual conversation he mentioned he once swam in a house pool in Newhall when some friends had the late Brian Epstein over. I’m like, “Steve, did I hear you right? You swam in a pool as a kid right here in Newhall, with the late, great Brian Epstein — the manager of The Beatles?”
Steve added some more detail to the story, yet in a very casual way. He was perhaps 8-9 years old and the family of one of his childhood friends had some kind of connection with the music industry in the early 1960. There was a tie-in to Capital Records — the company that distributed the early Beatles albums here in the states and they’d invited Brian Epstein to hang out at their house for the afternoon. The family figured it would be a nice break for Brian from all the craziness surrounding The Beatles’ first visit to America.
I could only think of two words to say to Steve: “Missed out”. I was thinking of all the opportunities he missed out on because he was too young to understand whose company he was in. I mean this was the greatest rock and roll manager perhaps of all time — Brian Epstein.
I thought of all the questions he could have asked Brian. Hey, he may have been able to meet The Beatles in-person or see them in concert! I added two more words: “Dude, you missed out!” Steve didn’t see it like this — he was just a kid swimming in the pool and some adults were talking while they played in the California sunshine.
This small but big story set me thinking about how we can tend to idolize seemingly great men and women, especially in the workplace.
I like Apple products — let me correct that: I
LOVE Apple products. Since I went to Mac, I’ll never go back to a PC. I love my iPhone and my iPad — I love the way they talk to each other — sometimes better than my wife and I do. What I can’t get my head around is how some people idolize the late, great Steve Jobs as if he was some kind of technological guru. Yes, he sure was a brilliant visionary, but I’ve read many articles about how he was a dreadful boss due to his demanding nature and tendency to micro-manage, long before we probably knew what the term meant.
When I first came to America it was to work as the Director of Finance at what used to be Hilton’s headquarters in Beverly Hills. Baron Hilton was still working a 40-hour week in an office on the floor above me. Baron is the son of the founder of this corporate giant — Conrad Hilton. I remember how my colleagues used to idolize Baron, as if he was the god of the hospitality industry — but not so much Paris Hilton.
What is it about our human condition, especially in the workplace where we have a tendency to idolize other people — be it Brian Epstein, The Beatles, Steve Jobs or Baron Hilton? I’ve noticed how employees will often worship a leader — its almost as if our humanness is bent towards looking for someone to follow. Only when that leader falls from grace (and there are plenty of examples of this) or quits, do we switch our attention to the next person to lead our team or organization. It reminds me of that phrase: “The king is dead — long live the king!”
Upon reflection I like the vantage point my new friend at the gym had — he was just a kid, having fun in the sun while much more important people (in their own eyes) talked and talked and talked. What a great way of seeing the workplace — enjoy what we do because leaders come and leaders go. Some talk much more than they actually do. Some are good people and some are not. Either way, lets not idolize them — they’re just imperfect people, like each of us.
As Steve the swimmer said this morning in five words: “The Beatles were just people”. I could only think of three words to respond: “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” See men in gym changing rooms don’t talk much.
Paul Butler is a Santa Clarita resident and a client partner with Newleaf Training and Development of Valencia (newleaf-ca.com). The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Signal newspaper. For questions or comments, email Butler at paul. butler@newleaf-ca.com.