The Case of the Temperamental Talent by Lawrence R. Rothstein

Harvard Business Review

As Bob Salinger, CEO of Tidewater Corporation, a manufacturer of luxury power boats, surveyed the damage, the words of Morris Redstone, Tidewater’s reorganization leader, rang in his head: “You better come down here immediately, Bob. Ken Vaughn’s gone nuts. He’s broken a computer and trashed his office. It looks like a wild bull just stormed through.”

Morris was right. Ken had thrown a chair at his CAD/CAM monitor, overturned his desk, and swept everything off his office bookshelves. “Something really must have set him off this time,” Bob sighed. All Morris had said on the phone was that he and Ken were meeting on the reorganization plans. Those meetings had become a weekly ritual and, from all reports, an increasingly stormy one. But this time Ken had gone way too far.

Bob picked up the broken model of Ken’s latest boat design and carried it to his car. He eased his Lexus through the company parking lot and drove the short distance to the highway, where the usual rush-hour traffic awaited him. As he slowly made his way home, he reflected on Ken’s career at Tidewater. Ken was one of the best and the brightest, and everyone recognized his value to the company. Bob had personally recruited him to head their design department. Tough, aggressive, smart. That was Ken. He had a unique ability to handle complex design problems and create innovative solutions. Bob liked Ken a lot. They had spent many Saturday afternoons together playing golf and planning Tidewater’s future.

But Bob had heard growing complaints about Ken’s dark side. Ken was becoming more and more uncooperative with the other departments. He refused to discuss his latest projects with anyone but Bob and had convinced his staff to do the same. It was no secret he had a temper. At the recent annual picnic, he got drunk and insulted several people from the sales staff. Also, his personal life was shaky. Ken’s wife had called Bob recently to see if he knew what was causing Ken’s severe mood swings. That’s when Bob recommended that Ken see Harold Bass, the head of the human resources department, who had been anxious to get Ken into Tidewater’s employee assistance program.

Lately, Ken’s behavior at work had worsened. He had missed a number of important meetings. He had fallen way behind schedule on his new design, which Morris, who would become Ken’s new boss, thought was a deliberate attempt to disrupt the reorganization. Except for some sudden bursts of anger, Ken had become quiet and withdrawn. He rarely talked to anyone and spent most of his time at his computer.

Most bizarre of all, a few weeks ago, around the time Tidewater started implementing its reorganization plans, Ken began riding to work on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. And he

replaced his sportcoat and tie with a leather jacket and t-shirt, like a latter-day Marlon Brando in The Wild One.

Bob knew Ken was too valuable to lose, but his behavior was impossible to ignore. Morris claimed Ken was jeopardizing the whole reorganization—a move that Tidewater was staking its survival on. Intense competition from the Dutch and Italians and a declining market share compelled Tidewater to change radically. The task was daunting. Bob had to take a company created around traditional notions of boat building—which had always produced excellence— and move it into the twenty-first century. Tidewater had to continue to build better boats, but they had to cost less and they had to get to market quicker. The reorganization plan slashed overhead, eliminated some long-standing jobs, and collapsed certain departments, such as Ken’s, into new divisions. “Tidewater is at a threshold,” Bob thought, “and Ken has got to be part of this new organization.”

The next morning Bob called Morris and Harold Bass into his office. “As you know, I’m concerned about the slow progress of our reorganization plan. There’s been a lot of foot dragging, and now Ken has gone over the edge. Is his behavior going to have too much of a negative effect? And if it is, what should we do about it?”

Morris replied: “Right from the start, Ken has been giving the plan his verbal support—and doing everything in his power to scuttle it. He’s been especially hard to deal with ever since we decided to fold his design division into product development. And now that he knows we’re not backing off, he’s been acting like a complete jerk. He thinks he’s some kind of guerilla war hero who is going to lead others against the reorganization. We can’t cater to his ego and let the company keep on sliding just because he doesn’t like the size of his new sandbox. I think you ought to fire him. Things have been building toward this for a long time, but after yesterday’s outburst, you’ve got a clear-cut reason. We’d get rid of a major obstacle and send a message to some of the other malcontents that are messing up the program.”

“I don’t have to tell you that if we fire Ken Vaughn we’re in deep trouble,” Bob said. “Nobody designs like Ken and his crew. We need new products as much as we need anything. If we don’t have them, we’ll lose market share faster than you can change your shoes. And as soon as the word is out that Ken has been fired, headhunters will swarm all over him. He’ll go to a competitor, and they’ll blow us out of the water. And it wouldn’t be just Ken. He’ll take the whole design team with him.”

Morris shook his head. “You’ve said it yourself, Bob: the reorganization is our only chance of being here five years from now. Ken is either on the bus or off the bus. From where I sit, he’s not only off the bus, he’s slashing our damn tires.” Then Morris added emphatically, “Fire him, Bob.”

Bob looked over at Harold Bass. “What do you think, Harold?”

“This has to be confidential. I wouldn’t usually talk about such personal matters, but there’s a lot at stake here—for Ken as well as the company.” He turned to Morris. “Bob sent Ken down to see me three months ago after he disappeared for a couple of days in the middle of the week without telling anyone where he was going—even his wife. Ken and I had a very unpleasant meeting. Ken wouldn’t hear about the employee assistance program, so I recommended he see a therapist. Well, Ken felt humiliated. The only reason he went is because he believed he was under pressure from Bob to do something. The therapist is outstanding and works with people like Ken all the time. But Ken attended only two sessions before he insulted the man and left, for good.”

“I think he’s dangerous,” Morris interjected.

Harold ignored Morris’s remark and continued. “Ken’s case is a little complicated because of personal problems he has right now. You know, it’s not uncommon for middle-aged executives like Ken to engage in aberrant behavior when they’re under intense pressure. For Ken, it means wearing a motorcycle outfit and roaring around on a Harley. He’s going back to a time when he was younger and felt he was more in control of his life.” “But the real problem is not Ken. Nor is it the reorganization plan itself. It’s the human factor. Change is inherently stressful. Ken wants to do a good job, and he sees the reorganization making it difficult for him to do the quality work he values—the kind of work that’s made him a star. On top of his personal problems, it’s not surprising that he blew up.” “So some people have a problem dealing with change,” Morris said. “The fact is, they have to adjust. That’s reality. I don’t mean to be cold, but the survival of the company is more important than avoiding Ken Vaughn’s hot buttons.”

“I understand that we’re here to talk about Ken Vaughn,” Harold said, “but I have to tell you that Ken’s not the only one buckling under the pressure of the reorganization. I’ve had a steady stream of people for the last month complaining about the stress around here. Some have become physically ill. Several have talked about leaving. How many people can we afford to lose? We can fire Ken—he’s done some stupid things—but there are other Kens working at Tidewater. In fact, if people see that we can dismiss somebody whose contributions to the company have been as visible as Ken’s, they’ll feel even more insecure in their jobs.”

“Bob,” Harold continued, “I think the only one that Ken will listen to is you. You’re going to have to work something out with him, and you’re going to have to do it right away.” “I know,” Bob answered, “but I’m no longer sure how to get through to him. Look, he just needs to get his mind off his personal problems and focus on the challenges ahead.”

Bob turned to Morris. “Morris, I think you can deal with Ken. Harold will give you some advice on how to handle him. Think of it as a golden opportunity to flex your management skills. Turning Ken around could really do a lot for your reputation around here.”

Morris shook his head. “I’ve always prided myself on my ability to motivate people, but there’s no way I can manage Ken. I’m not dealing with a rational person. The only thing that will satisfy Ken is for him to be independent again. Actually, I don’t even know if that would make him

happy. Besides, I have other people to think about. I can’t coddle to one guy just because he’s got some problems he can’t handle.”

Harold looked over to his boss and said, “Bob, Ken won’t listen to us, and particularly to Morris, who he sees as the enemy. You have a personal relationship with him. You like him and care about him. You’re going to have to take charge.”

“I agree. You have to take charge,” Morris said. “Get rid of him before he does any more harm.”

Bob sat silently for a moment, thinking about what Morris and Harold had said. They had convinced him that something had to give. “I’m going to need a little time to think this through,” Bob said as he saw his guests to the door. “I’ll try to have a decision by tomorrow.”

Alone in his office, Bob picked up Ken’s broken boat model and turned it over in his hands. “A little glue here and there and it’ll be as good as new.”

Is Ken Vaughn Too Valuable to Fire or Too Volatile to Keep?