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Breakthrough Teams
It was 1:30 a.m. on Sunday, October 22, 1879, and experimenter Francis Jehl was still at work. He had been at his desk for ten hours, hunched over, carefully evacuating the air from a pear-shaped lightbulb. It wasnât an unusual workday for him. His bossâs log routinely noted curious work habits: âwe worked all nightâ or â32 continuous hrs.â or â60 hrs.â or âsix days this week.â
In fact âthe Old Man,â as âthe boysâ affectionately called their boss even before his hair turned gray, preferred to work at night when the team would not be interrupted by distracting visitors. As a result, Jehl often began work at 7:00 p.m. and continued until 7:00 the next morning.
âWe work all night experimenting,â lead experimenter Charles Batchelor wrote to his brother, Tom, âand sleep âtil noon in the day. We have got 54 different things on the carpet and some we have been on for four or five years. [My boss] is an indefatigable worker and there is no kind of failure, however disastrous, that affects him.â
As Jehl finished removing the air from the bulb, the Old Man called his glassblower, Ludwig Boehm, to fully seal off its base. Over his head, twelve telegraph wires formed an intricate spiderâs web, all ending at a large battery at the center of the room.
Placing the bulb on a test stand, the Old Man connected it to the nearby battery. Suddenly, the room was awash with light that illuminated work tables, machinery, and jars of chemicals on glass shelves lining the walls. The men quickly fell into the usual laboratory routine to observe the lightâs brightness and steadiness. They waited to record the moment when it finally burned out. But this experiment played out differently than ever before. While earlier filaments had burned out within several hours, the carbonized sewing thread that Batchelor had carefully threaded into the bulb stayed lit. As the hours passed, team members came and went: head machinist John Kruesi, who translated sketches into working devices; Francis Upton, the American scientific researcher who proved the concept mathematically; and John Lawson and Martin Force, laboratory assistants. Each of them felt a growing excitement at having earned a front-row seat to the historic event. They understood better than anyone else the difficultyâand benefitsâof earning a place on the Old Manâs team. The Old Manâs name? Thomas Alva Edison.
On October 22, the remarkable bulb dreamed up by Edison, drawn by Batchelor, mathematically proved by Upton, built by Kruesi and Boehm, and tested by Lawson, Force, and Jehl, burned for thirteen and a half hours, with a light described by the New York Heraldâs Marshal Fox as, âthe mellow sunset of an Italian autumn⌠a little globe of sunshine, a veritable Aladdinâs lamp,â before Edison determined he had seen enough. âIf it will burn that number of hours now, I know I can make it burn a hundred!â he cried exultantly.
If you were asked who invented incandescent electric light, and you answered Edison, youâd be right and youâd be wrong. The revolution that Edison wrought was the product of a team. Thatâs how he thought of it, and thatâs how the team thought of it. For some reason, itâs easier for us to assign credit to a single person than to a team. We love the idea of a lone genius, the mastermind, the hero. From an early age, weâre indoctrinated with the single-achiever ideal in school. Our textbooks boil things down to their simplest form, and for a fifth-grader, itâs easy to say that Edison = lightbulbs.
The reality is very different. Hereâs what geniuses do: they build great teams.
Never intimidated by other great minds, Edison actively sought out men with a broad base of knowledge, a passion for learning, impeccable character, and a commitment to excellence. He then organized them into small teams comprised of an experimenter and two or three assistants. They were given a goal and allowed to pursue it independently. The story is told that once, when an experimenter asked Edison what he would do with a particularly difficult problem, Edison replied, âDonât ask me. If I knew, I would try it myself!â
Thatâs not to say Edison didnât care about the process: quite the opposite. He was intensely interested, neglecting sleep and personal hygiene to pursue his inventions. Edison was known to âflitâ around the factory in a black floppy-rimmed sombrero and dirty suit with his hair uncombed, checking in on his teams of experimentersâexamining and instructing, but rarely interfering. He recognized that by allowing each of the talented people heâd assembled to stretch and succeed independently of him, he got the best results.
As Edison explained: âI generally instructed them on the general idea of what I wanted carried out, and when I came across an assistant who was in any way ingenious, I sometimes refused to help him out in his experiments, telling him to see if he could not work it out himself, so as to encourage him.â
Unbelievably, Edisonâone of the most brilliant minds in the worldâhad accepted that he alone did not possess all the answers; but together, his team usually did.
Edison shared the vision, the work, the funâand the rewardsâwith his team. One lab assistant described his work as âstrenuous but joyous.â In a letter to his father, Upton wrote, âThe strangest thing to me is the $12 that I get each Saturday, for my labor does not seem like work, but like study.â Key team members received shares in Edisonâs companies and he let them invest in the projects to which they contributed. Perhaps most significant, when the time came to expand operations, Edison rewarded members of his team with leadership positions at the new companies, enabling many of them to retire wealthy men.
Recent research confirms the wisdom of Edisonâs approach to collaboration. University of New Mexico professor Vera John-Steiner explains that collaboration enables people to compensate âfor each otherâs blind spots.⌠Collaboration operates through a process in which the successful intellectual achievements of one person arouse the intellectual passions and enthusiasms of others.â
In the early 1970s Kenneth Bruffee, an English and composition professor, introduced the then-radical argument that students learned more through group work than when listening only to their teacher. And collaboration has also been shown to benefit the almighty buck. Mark Potter, along with his colleagues Richard T. Bliss at Babson College, and Christopher Schwarz at University of California at Irvine, set out to discover the best management approach when it came to mutual funds success.
âItâs fascinating,â Potter told us. âIf youâre wondering where the safest place is for your moneyâa team-managed approach is much less risky.â In their research, Potter and his colleagues measured three thousand equity mutual funds over a twelve-year period. They not only found less risk with the team approach, but as counterintuitive as it sounds, the total cost of owning a team-managed mutual fund is nearly fifty basis points lower annually than a mutual fund managed by an individual.
This is just a sampling of the research that has come out in recent years regarding the power of collaboration. It coincided with technological advances that created the emergence of linked teams that could communicate faster and cheaper than could previously be imagined. Motivated by the data and the possibility of virtual, global teams, leaders have increasingly turned to teamwork to save their floundering organizations, but only in the most superficial way; and thatâs the rub.
Rather than fundamentally change how we work and interact, weâve merely changed our vocabulary. Itâs hard not to notice how the use of âteamâ in corporate-speak has exploded over the past ten years; and along the way, its true meaning and power has been hijacked, as in, âAttention team members: cleanup on aisle four.â
Instead of referencing power and transformation, âteamâ has become the default word for âemployee.â It is the propagandistâs cynical coercion: âLetâs call them teams; then theyâll get along better.â There is nothing about the true meaning of teamwork in its casual usage. Thereâs a missing link. Somethingâs not working.
When âteamâ is used as simply another business buzzwordââletâs drill down and grab a take-away in this space and take it back to the teamââit diminishes what the powerful word (and concept) can really achieve.
The sad truth for leadership is that they are adrift at sea. Theyâre expected to motivate people to work like high-performance teams, often without having experienced teamwork themselves. So they fake it. They use the training and vocabulary of teams and hope for the best. Then, when their people fail to bring down big game, managers throw up their hands in frustration: âWhatâs wrong with these people?â
The problem isnât necessarily with the people, but with what theyâre being asked to do: work together without the necessary relationship tools or the guidelines that provide focus. Addressing this gap of understanding and application is our purpose. Over the past two decades weâve traveled the world, seeking out exceptional teams that are transforming their entire organizations in all types of businesses. We watched how these teams functioned, how they interacted on the job and off, how they were managed, and how they were motivated. Along the way, we collected their stories. And then we noticed how often we were repeating these stories to companies, managers, and employees who were struggling to align their teams with the right outcomes. These teams knew the treasure existedâthey just didnât have a legible map. Thatâs when we realized these stories were too good not to share.
Youâll meet many of them in the coming pages, including Rajendra âGuruâ Gursahaney and his remarkable team at Pepsi Beverages Company who developed a process that will transform the way the world drinks bottled beverages, all while saving his company more than $7 million a year in plastics costs. Youâll learn of Scott OâNeilâs creative marketing team that redefined the National Basketball Association after the retirement of superstar Michael Jordan and set four years of league attendance records. Weâll tell you the story of the U.S. Foodservice team that created a measured approach to grow market share and brought millions and millions in new revenue into the company⌠during a recession.
Weâre convinced these stories will inspire you; and weâll back them up with empirical research from the Best Companies Group, which creates the âBest Places to Workâ lists for newspapers, magazines, and television. The Best Companies Groupâs database features more than 350,000 participants from twenty-eight industries. The most exciting part about this data is that it was collected during the worst recession in our working lives, allowing us to get a glimpse of teams functioning (and producing results) under the most challenging circumstances.
What we found was unexpectedâand eye-opening. We were able to statistically establish a pattern of characteristics displayed by members of the best teams, as well as a set of rules that great teams live by. Even more rewarding was the realization that these qualities could be shared with other teams, like yours.
So, what sparks the first moments of a revolutionary team? What directs their journey down the road least traveled? And what awaits when you unlock the potential of true teamwork? All these questions have clear-cut answers and follow a surprisingly regimented process. First, these teams share a belief in their own ability to write the future. After all, it is people in the trenches, not senior leaders, who are the true force behind any sustained change in a company. Great teams universally reject the long-held view of the individual genius or charismatic CEO changing an organization, and instead place their faith fully in themselves and their ability to achieve.
Itâs a big leap of faith for a group of regular people to make, even on a good day; but it was this very type of belief in themselves, rather than their leaders, that saved the lives of one breakthrough team in the middle of the Indian Ocean seven years ago.
Like most crises, no one saw it coming. And yet when water started rushing through the submarineâs hull, Able Seaman Geordie Bunting of the Royal Australian Navy (RAN) knew enough to realize that he was probably going to die.
Bunting had spent his shift working in the small, lower motor room of the Collins-class submarine HMAS Dechaineux. As he worked over heavy machinery, he was constantly aware of his fifty-four crewmates above him, going about the continuous six-hour-on six-hour-off routine of the submarine crew: the off-crew either asleep in their racks, watching movies, or playing Monopoly; the on-crew monitoring the ocean around them via headsets and screensâeveryone within a few feet of each other at all times.
Bunting knew these people like his own family. He knew their birthdays, their middle names, their kidsâ names, their habits and histories. And when he heard the ear-deafening bang and saw the water pour into the motor room, he immediately knew they were in serious trouble.
Like all submariners, Bunting understood that if the Dechaineux was at a shallow depth and became damaged, he and his crewmates had a chance to escape using free ascent from an airlock. But in deeper waters the hope of rescue was almost nonexistent. Even if a diving bell could be brought in, it could take weeks to rescue the crew, and by then, the air supply would be long gone.
As fate would have it, on February 12, 2003, the Dechaineux had dived to its maximum depth, well below six hundred feet, in an attempt to test its systems under full pressure. And that pressure had proved to be too much. A flexible sea hose burst. Within ten seconds, enough seawater had poured into the motor room to toss Bunting around like he was in a washing machine.
Ironically, while most Royal Australian Navy recruits go through Hull Training, which simulates conditions exactly like this, submariners are exempt from the exercise. The reasoning is that if a submarine takes on water, the craft is not salvageable. Bunting, suddenly caught in that very situation, had a hard time disagreeing.
âIt was coming in so fast, I thought it was all over,â he said. With water up to his neck, and nearly unconscious, Bunting immediately understood that so far under the ocean surface, there was no one to save him and the rest of the crew but themselves.
Meanwhile, outside the motor room, the crew instantly sprang into action, triggering an emergency override, which shut down all the external valves and stopped the water intake. Other crew members rushed to the flooded motor room, fished Seaman Bunting out by his lapel, and slammed the door shut. The water level wasnât rising, but they all knew that at this depth, the amount of water they had taken on could very well send them to the bottom.
This far under the surface, dropping just a little lower, âwould have been like crushing an empty Coke can in your hand,â said Bunting of the water pressure that would have collapsed the vessel. âWe were too deep to hit the bottom alive.â
Working quickly and with precision, the crew adjusted the controls to increase speed and the rate of ascent. At the same time, they blew out the ballast and lightened the load. Then they held their breath and waited; but the submarine did not respond.
In that dreadful moment, most crew members said they thought of the 118 Russian submariners who had died just three years earlier in the Barents Sea. On that fateful day, an onboard torpedo exploded during maneuvers. Russian Navy Lieutenant-Captain Dmitry Kolesnikov was one of just twenty-three of the 118 crewmen to survive the initial explosion, only to later succumb to cold and carbon dioxide poisoning, trapped inside the hull of the crippled nuclear submarine on the oceanâs floor.
While waiting for a rescue that never came, twenty-seven-year-old Kolesnikov scrawled an almost illegible final message to his wife: âItâs too dark to write here, but I will try to do it blindly. It looks like there is no chanceâten to twenty percent. Here is a list of personnel who are in the ninth section and trying to get out. Hello to everyone, do not despair.â
Known as the âthe note,â Kolesnikovâs last words are infamous among submariners around the world. Many have the words memorized. Some have nightmares about them.
Fortunately for Bunting and crew, after a short hesitation the Dechaineux began slowly to respond to the crewâs frantic efforts. Working every tactic, the crew began to inch the craft upward. Soon, the submarine was rising at twice its normal rate of ascent. A few men laughed nervously as they heard cups sliding off ...