Snakes in Suits: When Psychopaths Go to Work (26 page)

Visionary thinking, the ability to conceptualize the future of the organization, is a complex skill requiring a broad perspective, the ability to integrate multiple points of view, and a talent for looking into the future—that is, to think strategically. Psychopaths are not
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good at establishing and working toward long-term, strategic objectives; they are much more opportunistic. Yet they can weave compelling stories about situations and events of which they know very little into surprisingly believable visions of the future. Because visioning is so difficult for the average person to understand, it is little wonder that the vague but convincing, illogical but believable, rambling but captivating, and compelling but lie-filled discourses of the psychopath (see sidebar below) can look like brilliant insight into what the organization should do. This is especially true in times of crisis, when few can make these lofty predictions and many are looking for leadership to fill the vacuum.

Style Trumps Substance

In many cases what is actually said is the least important part of a social interaction. The content of the message often is obscured by the manner in which it is delivered and by the visual impression the speaker makes on us. We all understand this; impression management and manipulation are normal social mechanisms used by everyone.

Politicians, advertisers, and salesmen are not the only ones who understand that “looking and sounding good” often blinds people to what should be obvious to them: distortions of the truth, empty clichés, hyperbole, and fatuous nonsense. “I don’t know what he said. But he’s so good-looking. What’s not to believe?”

In the last and most decisive battle for Gaul, the enemy was mer-cilessly overpowering Julius Caesar’s army. His troops were significantly outnumbered and they were surrounded; the end seemed near for Caesar and his long campaign to take Gaul. But seeing that all would be lost, he put on his armor and his bright crimson cloak—so he would be easily seen by the enemy—and led his reserve troops
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into the middle of the battle. Still outnumbered, his troops rallied, and the enemy soldiers, realizing that they were being charged by Caesar himself, faltered. History records Caesar’s victory, his valor, and his fighting acumen. We know that he was charismatic, a strong orator, influential, and persuasive, and a visionary leader whose strategies are still taught in military schools to this day. Was Caesar a great leader, or was his success the result of psychopathic impulsivity and extreme risk taking by himself and his soldiers?

It is important to note that psychopaths—like great leaders—are risk takers, often putting themselves and others (in Caesar’s case, his own life and that of his army; in the case of business, the entire company) in harm’s way. Risk taking, often difficult to quantify or differentiate from foolhardiness, is a trait that closely lines up with what we expect of leaders in times of crisis. But how much risk is appropriate? How much risk will be effective in saving the day or, in more mundane business settings, achieving objectives? Another trait, impulsivity, accentuates risk-taking behavior, leading to acting without sufficient planning and forethought. And thrill seeking often involves taking dangerous risks just to see what will happen. Elements of extreme impulsivity and thrill seeking can also be mistaken for high energy, action orientation, courage, and the ability to multitask, all important management traits.

Despite the risks to his own life, Caesar’s risk-taking behavior in this last battle for Gaul was far from psychopathic. He was a prudent risk taker, sizing up the realities he faced, the resources he (and the enemy) had, the probabilities that would influence the outcome, and the risk to his legion posed by not taking a risk. He was also not a thrill seeker, at least not to the degree exhibited by psychopaths. He and the Roman legion he commanded were a disciplined machine, hardly the image of a rampant leader and his band of psychopaths fighting for the thrill of it.

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Cowboys Not
Wanted

Are psychopaths particularly well suited for dangerous professions? David Cox, a psychology professor at Simon Fraser University, doesn’t think so. He studied British bomb-disposal operations in Northern Ireland, beginning his research with the expectation that because psychopaths are “cool under fire”

and have a strong “need for excitement” they would excel at the job. But he found that the soldiers who performed the exacting and dangerous task of defusing or dismantling IRA bombs referred to psychopaths as “cowboys”—unreliable and impulsive individuals who lacked the perfectionism and attention to detail needed to stay alive on the job. Most were filtered out during training, and those who slipped through
didn’t
last long
.

It is just as unlikely that psychopaths make good spies, terror-ists, or mobsters, simply because their impulsiveness, concern only for the moment, and lack of allegiance to people or causes make them unpredictable, careless, and undependable—likely to be “loose cannons.”

Psychopaths’ emotional poverty—that is, their inability to feel normal human emotions and their lack of conscience—can be mistaken for three other executive skills, specifically the ability to make hard decisions, to keep their emotions in check, and to remain cool under fire. Making hard decisions is one of those management tasks that executives have to do on almost a daily basis. Whether it is to choose one marketing plan over another, litigate or settle a lawsuit, or close a manufacturing plant, all major decisions have emotional components that must be dealt with. Nonpsychopathic executives are often required to suspend their own emotional reaction to events in order to be effective. They have feelings, but the constraints of their jobs often preclude them from sharing them with others, except family members or close confidants. Of particular importance, as dictated by some business realities, is appearing cool and calm in the midst of
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turmoil. One can imagine Caesar calmly putting on his red robe as he contemplated the possibility of his own death.

Certainly, New York City mayor Rudolph Giuliani did so for extended periods in the aftermath of the World Trade Center attacks, and he has been credited with keeping the city under control as the problem was analyzed and dealt with.

When the Hippocratic Oath Is Hypocritical
There are scores of cases in which medical doctors have violated the Hippocratic Oath (or a modern version), which describes their responsibilities to their patients. Many have committed murder and have been appropriately dealt with. In many cases, however, the penalties for misconduct are mild, much like those typically meted out to corporate miscreants.

Several years ago a medical doctor was found guilty of unprofessional and unethical conduct for having financial dealings with two of his patients, a seventy-three-year-old woman and her forty-eight-year-old hearing-impaired son, both of whom were in-capacitated by a steady stream of narcotics that he supplied. He took over their life savings, home, and car. He also billed government medical plans for services he did not perform. His dealings made him a great deal of money.

The penalty for such “infamous conduct”? A ban from practic-ing medicine for six months and a fine of $45,000. No jail time. He moved to another locale and has done extremely well ever since.

In summary, we suggest that it is easy for someone—anyone—to confuse behavior that is psychopathically motivated with expressions of genuine leadership talent. This is especially true when the prospective new hire has an arsenal of skills and traits that can be effectively packaged as leadership talent, when the persona is so tightly bound up in business expectations, and when the psychopathic fiction “I am the ideal leader” is so effectively staged.

ACT IV

DOUBTS DANCE AWAY

Frank waved to the security guard as he parked his car near the building. He grabbed his briefcase and went directly through the entrance to the cafeteria for his coffee. It was Tuesday, gourmet coffee day, so he went straight for the good stuff. He always liked getting in early after a business trip so he could get a head start on the work he knew had piled up on this desk during his absence. Waving to a few staff members as he left, he went to his office, turned on the light, stopped, and stared. His office looked the same as it did when he left Friday night, except for the wastebasket that he had put near the door and that Marissa, the cleaning supervisor, had emptied and returned to its spot behind his desk.

“Hmmmm,” he muttered as he walked over to the credenza, placed his briefcase down, and opened it. He turned, and as he
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placed his coffee on the coaster on his desk, he saw a computer disk in a bright yellow case on the pile of papers he had left.

“I hear the meeting went very well,” said Dave from the doorway.

“Yes, it did. They liked the material,” said Frank, picking up the disk.

“That was a close one, wasn’t it,” said Dave, laughingly.

“Dave, come in. Let’s talk,” said Frank, deciding to take a firm approach with Dave; he wanted to get to the bottom of what had happened over the weekend. Dave took a seat across the desk and crossed his legs. Frank continued, holding the disk in his hand and waving it. “Dave, what happened on Sunday? I tried to reach you after I looked at the material you left for me. I was—”

“I was away that morning,” interrupted Dave. “When I got your message, I realized that something terrible had happened. I rushed to the office, hoping that this was just a simple mistake—that maybe you had dropped the disk on your way out—and found it here,”

Dave turned slightly and indicated the center of the carpet, “so I immediately realized what had happened. I knew you were already on the plane, so I decided to e-mail it to you and John just in case you didn’t have your computer with you.”

Dave paused and Frank turned the yellow disk over in his hand, asking, “This is what you left me for the meeting?”

“Yes, Frank, why?” Dave looked puzzled. “Didn’t I do the right thing getting the file over to the meeting?”

Frank turned to his briefcase and pulled out the blue disk he had found in the package from Dave on Friday. “Then what is this?” he asked.

“That’s my draft material. Blue is for drafts, yellow for final product,” said Dave matter-of-factly.

“Dave, there was nothing in the folder to indicate that there was a final product file, yellow or otherwise. Why did you give me the draft disk, when I . . .”

“Frank,” said Dave, getting serious, “I gave you both disks—it’s not my fault you dropped one on the way out. I did what I could to help
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you. It was a mistake, I understand, but I didn’t tell John about you leaving the file. I covered it up and things worked out, didn’t they?”

“Dave . . .” started Frank.

“Frank, I don’t know what you are implying here, but I gave you the draft material as well because I know you are a stickler for details and like to check everyone’s work. I figured you might want to see the background material, too.”

“Your draft came from a magazine!” said Frank, raising his voice slightly, and toughening up his tone.

“I know that,” dismissed Dave. “Don’t you remember pointing that article out to me as an example of an excellent presentation? I scanned it in and used it as a template for your presentation to the committee. I thought it was what you would want. Wasn’t it as good as the article you admired?”

Frank was perplexed. Dave’s story made sense. Yes, he had praised the story about the competitor and showed it to Dave.

“And the numbers and charts?”

“They were just placeholders until I got the data I was collecting.

The final is the same format, but with our numbers, graphics, and pictures.” Dave paused, a serious expression crossing his face. “I wasn’t doing anything devious here, Frank, and I’m a bit disappointed that you’re suggesting I did.”

“I’m not suggesting that, Dave; I’m just trying to understand what happened.”

“Well, you said it yourself, you dropped the file on the way out.

A simple mistake; nothing to make a federal case over. I was hoping to get a pat on the back for both a great presentation and saving the day. But . . .”

“The presentation was terrific, Dave. You did a great job, thanks.

I really mean it. Everyone was impressed,” said Frank.

“I appreciate it, Frank, thanks. Do we have the go-ahead?”

“Yes, full steam ahead,” said Frank smiling. “Put together your recommendations for the team, and let’s meet tomorrow to discuss timing.”

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“Yes, boss!” said Dave, giving a mock salute, but smiling broadly.

Frank rose and extended his hand to Dave; they shook firmly and Dave left the office.

Frank worked all day and into the evening. At about 7:30 P.M. Frank called his wife to say he was on his way home. He sometimes felt that he had to make up the time he spent out of the office, but his wife knew that he just missed the excitement and enjoyed working late.

As he hung up, Pete, the cleaning person, entered the doorway.

“Excuse me, Mr. Frank,” he said backing out into the hall.

“Oh, that’s okay, Pete, I’m just leaving. You can come in.” Frank packed his briefcase, grabbed his jacket from the back of the office door, and waved to Pete. He paused, thought a moment, and asked,

“Is Marissa around tonight?”

“Yes,” said Pete. “She’s down the hall to the left.”

“Thanks, have a good evening,” said Frank as he headed down the hallway.

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Enemy at the Gates