Bosses are many things. Some are very tight with money, others throw it around like it’s candy and they’re walking in a parade. Some are stern and some are lax. Some are smart and some are dumb. Most work harder than you think they do, though you do get the odd schlump who sits in a diner eating a massive slice of chocolate cake while his company implodes. But one word I find doesn’t describe many bosses is “cool.”
This I regard as not terribly consequential, since it’s not your boss’s job to be cool. It’s your boss’s job to effectively run the company, which prevents you from being without a job.
But in one of the great ironic tragedies of business, many bosses can’t seem to shake the desire to be perceived as cool by their employees. Why this occurs isn’t a huge mystery. There are usually two reasons. First, most bosses feel uncomfortably isolated from their employees, which is inevitable by simple virtue of the fact that the boss has authority over them.
As a boss, you want to be pals, but that’s hard to do when employees know full well they could land in the unemployment line at your discretion. Even if you’re running a profitable company and you give them great reviews every quarter, that doesn’t change the fact that you could throw employees’ lives into utter chaos.
You tried hard to become the boss, whether by working your way up the corporate ladder or by starting your own company. But once you got there, you started to notice people’s attitudes toward you changed. Your longtime colleagues were more careful about what they said to you. Some of your new employees actually called you “mister” or “mizz,” which drove you bananas.
The other reason you try to be cool is all the other people in your life know you’re a CEO, and they’re starting to treat you like a briefcase-carrying, Wall Street Journal-reading person who thinks a lame comment about your golf game constitutes comedy gold.
You’re convinced you’re just this normal guy, but no one else quite seems to buy it. You’d better do something—and fast! This is where you tend to get into trouble, because usually, the stuff you try to do only proves how little you have in common with actual cool.
First, you buy a motorcycle. You make sure you park it in your regular official CEO parking spot where all the employees can see it, and then, as they wander in the office, you wait excitedly for the inevitable newsflash: “Bob, some dude parked a motorcycle in your parking spot!” That’s when you proudly announce that it’s, in fact, your motorcycle. Because you’re the cool boss!
Sadly, the day drags on, and despite the interminable passage of time, no one says anything to you about the motorcycle in your parking spot. You look at your watch. It’s 8:21 a.m. Where has the day gone?
Able to stand it no more, you walk to the center of the office and proudly announce to everyone that the Harley Gold Wing parked in the CEO parking spot is, in fact, yours. You wait for the awestruck looks from your impressed employees. They look at you a little strangely instead. You wonder if it was such a good idea to wear your motorcycle helmet to make this announcement.
A little stung by the ineffectiveness of this tactic (and wondering how the ride home is going to go with the forecast of thunderstorms), you start thinking to yourself about your exceedingly cool taste in music. This, you think, will get your employees to relate to you and recognize your inner coolness. You start thumbing through the CDs in you desk drawer: Billy Squier; Asia; Poison. Freaking Poison, man!
Some of this needs to start playing in your office—and not quietly, either. You wonder about inflicting the office with the arguable innuendo of “The Stroke,” but you feel pretty confident that Asia’s “Heat of the Moment” won’t offend. Plus, you can regale your employees with your knowledge about this supergroup’s origins—consisting of members from King Crimson, UK, the Buggles and Yes.
“Whoa,” they’ll think. “Bob really knows his rock and roll! Bob is cool!”
You dog, Bob. Ratchet that volume control up a little. Hell, a little more! You run the show! Now let that ever-recognizable guitar riff tear through the quiet of the morning.
The song starts. You subtlely peer out into the inner office area. Yes! They’re looking up! They’re noticing! In fact, here comes one of your 20-something female employees, with her iPod clipped to her, uh, bosom. She’s going to ask you to rip the song to her iPod for her!
“Hey Bob,” she says, “if you need me, I’m going to have my headphones in, OK? Interesting music, by the way. I think my dad has that album. He keeps it right next to his Neil Diamond stuff. OK, well, have a good morning.”
The psychological fist slowly retreats from the depths of your stomach. You try to catch your breath. You look out into the office area again. Every employee is now bobbing his or her head while the thin white headphone cords hang from their ears.
Dude. Asia?
It’s tough to be the boss, Bob. And try as you might, you just can’t convince these very confused employees of your exceptional coolness. Life isn’t fair, and you deserve better. But in a world governed by savage rules, perhaps the best you can do is sit back and assure yourself, “At least I’m the boss.”
Then again, isn’t there a tattoo parlor right down the street?
