There is no denying that we live in a world obsessed with celebrity status, awards, trophies, championships, medals, academic honours, and other decorations. Yes, we incorrectly measure success by the number of trophies, medals, and certificates bestowed upon us by event sponsors and academia. Success is often mistakenly attributed to individuals with impressive academic credentials, prestigious positions, or elevated social status. Life has led us to believe that if we are not in the public spotlight, then something must be wrong. The label of success is misleadingly ascribed to those who walk the coveted stage to collect the Ballon d’Or, Oscars, Emmy Awards, Bafta Miniatures, Nobel Prize, Golden Boot Medal, Wimbledon Trophy, WBO Title, UFC Championship, and university degree certificates. We ignore the true heroes and heroines who move the needle and leave a mark in our lives—those who are stationed at the spot where the rubber actually meets the road. We pay no attention to the people who work in silence, such as the primary school teacher who shapes and sharpens the infant learners’ psychology. The farmer who produces the cereals that we enjoy at our breakfast table. The gravedigger who prepares our final resting place at the cemetery. The cleaner who wakes up at 4 a.m., cycles [sometimes walks] to the office to clean the lavatories and tidy up workstations before the rest of us arrive at 8 a.m. The mortuary attendant who unreservedly embalms the remains of deceased persons. The airport luggage handler who judiciously sorts out travellers' bags and dispatches them to the right carousels. The commissionaire who stands motionless as a sentinel at the entrance door of the bank to secure life and money instruments against heist. The truck driver who endures long road hauls in non-air-conditioned wagons, with a meagre salary, to deliver merchandise to the world to support commerce. The barista who, with a smile on her face, prepares a cup of cappuccino at our favourite coffee shop. The garbage collector who picks up dirt in the streets. Indeed, we neglect and forget to revere and honor these unsung heroes.
I remember a story my friend, Ludovik Ogunza, told me many years ago about a meeting he had with Mr Nelson Mandela in Johannesburg, South Africa. The encounter taught Ludovik an unforgettable leadership lesson. I also derived one from the story, and I hope that you, too, will not only pick the lesson but put it into practice as you lead and celebrate the unsung heroes at your home, place of work, and global stage.
Ludovik was working as a Regional Manager for a multinational organization based in Johannesburg. His organization was constructing clinics in some high-density areas of the city. As the projects progressed, LO, as Ludovik was popularly called by his associates, received an invitation to brief Mandela about the projects. Due to Mandela’s busy schedule, they agreed to have a breakfast meeting at Mandela’s house. Sharing a meal with Mandela was something that LO could only dream of.
On the day of the breakfast meeting, LO dressed his best. He asked one of the company drivers, Jabir, to take him to Mandela’s house. As they pulled into the parking yard, Mr Mandela was already outside, waiting to welcome his guests. He warmly greeted the two and gestured for them to enter the house for breakfast. However, in keeping with traditional corporate culture and protocol, the driver quietly retreated and remained in the car.
Just before they started eating, Mr Mandela seemed to miss something. “. . . I thought there were two of you?” Ludovik responded, “... no, sir, I came alone.” Mr Mandela was still unconvinced, following up with another question, “... what about the other gentleman?” Respectively, Ludovik responded, “... no, sir, that gentleman is just a driver. He will wait in the car.” Without saying a word, Mandela immediately stood up and went outside where the driver had parked the car. He introduced himself to the driver and asked him to join them for breakfast. Mandela, then, walked to the kitchen, saying, “... Jabir is joining us for breakfast. Arrange another plate, please.”
After the gentlemen had breakfast and briefed Mandela about the clinic projects, Ludovik and Jabir bade him farewell. They left the compound. Immediately after the gate of the compound was closed, Jabir drove to the side of the road and parked the car. He got out of the car and walked around to the door where Ludovik was sitting. He opened the door, knelt, and remarked, “... Ludovik, thank you for convincing Mr Mandela to invite me for breakfast. It is something that I never expected to happen in my life. I simply don’t know how to thank you for it, sir.” Ludovik waved to Jabir causally, saying, “... you are welcome. It is the least that I could have done. I am happy that you enjoyed the breakfast. Now, let us drive back to the office.”
Ludovik told me that upon saying these words, he felt embarrassed for lying to his subordinate and taking credit he did not deserve. Months later, he could not help but tell Jabir the truth about the whole story.
Here’s the leadership lesson for you and me. When leaders learn to see personalities that lie behind the seemingly humble titles – office cleaner, security guard, gravedigger, gardener, barman, barber, street sweeper, golf caddy, pizzamaker, driver, et cetera - the people in those jobs do not just feel appreciative, they find inner peace, which in turn fuels fire in their belly. They become great at what they do and turn into high performers. Whereas distinguished leaders inspire others by looking at them beyond the title that they hold, self-important leaders take away other people’s dignity and self-esteem. They undermine their employees' confidence, who, unfortunately, make up the majority of the workforce. The result? Fractured morale of the team, which in turn makes them miss the mark, resulting in an overall decimal outcome.
Go back to Mandela’s story, above. Although Mandela was introduced to the other man as ‘just a driver,’ he never called him a driver when he was instructing the kitchen staff to arrange an additional set of table utensils. He called the driver by his name, Jabir. That’s what great leaders do - they treat others with respect, no matter the level and type of workstation that they occupy. The key point, dear reader, is to learn to respect and inspire others, especially those who do menial work in the lower ranks. Appreciate the role that they take in the value and distribution channels. Look beyond the title. Why would you label the person who tends your home as ‘garden-boy’ when you very well know their name is Jack? Why would you refer to the man who mops your office as ‘cleaner,’ when you know that their name is Amos? Why on earth, I ask, would you call the person that dutifully chauffeurs you to and from work as ‘just a driver’ when you very well know that their name is Jabir? Is this not disrespect? Rudeness? I don’t know about you, it baffles me. Sorry for ranting [although part of me is not sorry]. Why on earth do teams with a capable composition of technocrats, skillful players, and knowledgeable dons miss the mark? I have, for many years, struggled with this puzzle. I have now found the missing piece - the number one reason teams fail to hit the mark and achieve their goal is the way the leader, coach, or maharishi treats (rather mistreats] the led, especially those in rudimentary positions. I call them the never-tiring gunless foot soldiers.
A certain young messenger was being victimized at work. From time to time, he was being told off by some superiors due to the position he held in the organization. One day, the organization arranged a team-building outing where all employees from the CEO to the lowest-ranked person (being him) were present. As part of team-building, the facilitator distributed balloons to every employee and allowed the CEO to break loose his balloon. The balloon soared high into the air, thereby attracting applause from the other employees. Then, he asked the COO to do likewise. Again, the COO’s balloon soared into the air like the CEO's balloon. The facilitator completed the call by asking, in order of ranking and position, senior managers, middle managers and others to fly their balloons. Yes, all the balloons soared in the air. Then, it was the turn for the young messenger to fly his balloon. He hesitated a bit and shyly approached the facilitator, asking in a low defeated voice, “... sir, will my balloon be able to fly as high as the other ones?” The question stopped the facilitator in his tracks. Hmm. A question for you. How did the facilitator respond to the messenger’s question? Your guess is as good as mine. The facilitator responded, “... yes, surely my dear. It is not the person who flies the balloon but what is inside the balloon that makes it fly high.”
As a leader, maharishi, or mastermind coach, you need to be careful with the way you relate to the low-ranked fellas. Whenever subordinates perceive signs of isolation or alienation, they debase their prowess and build a case against the leader: he is selfish. He is rude. He is arrogant. He is inconsiderate. He is disrespectful. He is unappreciative. They become indifferent. They coil into a self-imposed cocoon and develop cliched efficiency, which in turn impacts their drive. The effect is seen on the scoreboard and felt on the bottom line. Productivity wastes away. Inversely, when the leader or maharishi treats his team humanely and expresses genuine appreciation [for the person, not the title], he does not merely create moments of goodwill, but also builds a stronger team, more loyalty, and better results. This, dear reader, is the ‘open’ secret. Make respect a priority in your leadership, and the results will not only astonish you but also delight you. When workers feel a sense of belonging, their cortisol levels subside, and shots of dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin fire up. They are happy with their chores, work hard, and produce more. Build a culture where respect and growth are knotted together like Siamese twins.
A person’s contribution to pooled success depends, inter alia, upon the courtesy of the leader, maharishi. If the leader or maharishi is discourteous, the scoreboard tells the story. People work fervently for common success when the maharishi learns to see personalities behind the seemingly humble titles: when the unsung heroes are respected as human beings, not as titleholders. Every entity has unsung heroes who work in silence and are not in the limelight; those who make a significant impact but go for the most part unnoticed. Leaders who capture the interest of this group become great. This reminds me of two renowned European polar explorers, Roald Amundsen and Captain Robert Scott. The two men were great explorers of their time. Both wanted to be the first to reach the South Pole. They came up with similar voyage strategies. However, it was Amundsen who carried the day. What made Amundsen beat Scott was not faulty logistics, as we are led to believe, but a leadership handicap on Scott’s part. He failed to take care of his men's plight; he exposed them to frostbite, exhaustion and starvation. Although both men set off at the same time, Scott arrived at the end point two months later than Amundsen. In fact, Scott was welcomed at the South Pole by a note that Amundsen had written and a Norwegian flag to symbolize his victory.
Consider Napoleon Bonaparte. He is considered the finest army general who has ever lived. He fought many wars. He won them convincingly. Except one. The only time that Napoleon was defeated in battle was in Russia when he forgot to feed his soldiers.
Views from the top are that, dear reader, one should take care of the unsung heroes, and they will take care of you when you need them most – when the chips are down. Stop trying to be a leader so obsessed with celebrity status that the hidden gems get ignored. That type of success is fleeting. You will not be able to sustain it. Instead, be a mercurial leader, coach, or maharishi who cares for the foot-soldiers’ plight. See through titles. Be authentic. Authenticity does not weaken leadership; it strengthens it. When you show up entirely as yourself and with the unsung heroes’ interest at heart, you create trust. When they trust you, they will follow you, and your leadership will be a celebration, energizing and sustainable, not because it is easy, but because you are no longer stage-acting for a medal, award, or certificate.
Lester Chinyang’anya ǀ General Manager - Operations ǀ Minet Malawi
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