Start With Why

existed on college campuses.
    That was the time when Starbucks stood for something. It reflected an underlying belief about the world. It was that idea that people bought, not the coffee. And it was inspiring. But Starbucks, like so many before it, went through the inevitable split. They, too, forgot about WHY the company was founded and started focusing on the results and the products. There was a time when Starbucks offered the option to sip your coffee out of a ceramic cup and eat your Danish off a ceramic plate. Two perfect details that helped bring the company’s belief to life in the place between work and home. But ceramic crockery is expensive to maintain and Starbucks did away with it, favoring the more efficient paper cups. Though it saved money, it came at a cost: the erosion of trust. Nothing says to a customer “We love you, now get out” like a paper cup. It was no longer about the third space. It had become about the coffee. Starbucks’s WHY was going fuzzy. Thankfully, Schultz was there, the physical embodiment of the WHY, to remind people of the higher cause. But in 2000 he left, and things got worse.
    The company had grown from fewer than 1,000 stores to 13,000 in only ten years. Eight years and two CEOs later, the company was dangerously overextended just as it was facing an onslaught of competition from McDonald’s, Dunkin’ Donuts and other unexpected places. In a now famous memo that Schultz wrote to his successor, Jim Donald, just months before returning to take the helm, he implored Donald to “make the changes necessary to evoke the heritage, the tradition and the passion that we all have for the true Starbucks experience.” The reason the company was floundering was not that it grew too fast, but that Schultz had not properly infused his WHY into the organization so that the organization could manage the WHY without him. In early 2008, Schultz replaced Donald with a leader who could better steer the company back to a time before the split: himself.
    None of these executives are considered God’s gift to management. Steve Jobs’s paranoia, for example, is well documented, and Bill Gates is socially awkward. Their companies are thousands of people deep and they alone can’t pull all the strings or push all the buttons to make everything work properly. They rely on the brains and the management skills of teams of people to help them build their megaphones. They rely on people who share their cause. In this respect, they are no different from other executives. But what they all have in common, something that not all CEOs possess, is that they physically embody the cause around which they built their companies. Their physical presence reminds every executive and every employee WHY they show up to work. Put simply: they inspire. Yet, like Bill Gates, these inspired leaders have all failed to properly articulate their cause in words that others could rally around in their absence. Failing to put the movement into hard words leaves them as the only ones who can lead the movement. What happens when Jobs or Dell or Schultz leave again?
    For companies of any size, success is the greatest challenge. As Microsoft grew, Gates stopped talking about what he believed and how he was going to change the world and started talking about what the company was doing. Microsoft changed. Founded as a company that believed in making people more productive so they could achieve their highest potential, Microsoft became a company that simply made software products. Such a seemingly subtle change affects behaviors. It alters decisions. And it impacts how a company structures itself for the future. Though Microsoft had changed since its founding, the impact was never as dramatic because at least Bill Gates was there, the physical embodiment of the cause that inspired his executives and employees.
    Microsoft is just one of the tangible things Gates has done in his life to bring his cause to life. The company is one of the WHATs to his WHY. And now he’s off to do something else that also embodies his cause—to use the Gates Foundation to help people around the world wake up every day to overcome obstacles so they too can have an opportunity achieve their potential. The only difference is he’s not doing it with software anymore. Steve Ballmer, a smart man by all accounts, does not physically embody Gates’s vision of the world. He has the image of a powerful executive who sees numbers, competitors and