Middle Management 101

By Michael Kinsley

Unexpectedly, after years of flying solo or in small groups, I find myself a manager in a large corporation. Not just that. I am that most unfashionable of creatures, a middle manager: layers above me (vice presidents as far as the eye can see), layers below me.

This takes some getting used to. The big company I work for shall remain nameless, but it is a software manufacturer located in a suburb of Seattle. (Hint: the Janet Reno fan club has been disbanded.) This company prides itself on being different from other big companies, and it probably is in some ways. (Are there bare feet in the cafeteria at Procter & Gamble?) But maybe it is less different than it thinks it is.

The media these days are awash in managerial pornography: adulatory profiles of the big-shot CEO, allegedly revealing the secrets of his success. The bookstores offer shelves of advice about how to be a successful manager. A middle manager with dreams, like so many others, of becoming an upper-middle manager reads the articles and scans the books looking for inspiration.

They aren't much help. Bromides and tautologies are common: Treat people like human beings, not automatons; cutting costs saves money. Self-contradiction masquerades as Zenlike philosophical balance: Never lose your temper, but don't be afraid to get angry. When they don't contradict themselves, these guides often contradict one another. One CEO succeeds because of his maniacal attention to detail. The next CEO's secret is setting broad goals and keeping her eye on the big picture. One CEO is glorified as a hyperkinetic workaholic. Another is praised for the wisdom of adopting a measured pace and leaving plenty of time for long-term reflection. If she reads thick history books as an avocation, that's a plus. If she invariably lugs home a pile of spreadsheets, that's also a plus.

The biggest strain of being a manager, to someone who comes to it new in middle age, is that you must think constantly about others. You needn't necessarily think well of them or think kindly about them. It's not that stressful. But you must think something about others all the time. And you have to be in a good mood--or at least you have to pretend. No sulking in your tent like Achilles. There are superiors to impress and subordinates to maneuver (or the other way around). Being a middle manager is performance art. And the show must go on.

This is very different from my previous job experience. A writer works alone, even if he or she is physically in an office filled with other people. Among journalists, an occasional bout of dyspepsia or misanthropy is not merely tolerated but expected. A freelance journalist working at home, meanwhile, can spend days, months, years broody and unshaven (or, he sometimes begins to feel, actually dead), and no one will care. As it happens, shaving is not a high priority at the company where I work. But broodiness is acceptable only among the software developers, who are the equivalent of writers psychologically and professionally. Managers must be chipper.

And contrast the middle manager to the Washington television commentator. Male television performers do have to shave (or formally grow a beard). But TV performers--the talent, as they are contemptuously known by TV producers--are actually encouraged to sulk and obsess about themselves. Most of them have the perquisites of being in charge--the higher pay, the glamour, the deference of the staff--without actually being in charge. They are pampered but powerless, like children. And the producers, who have the real power but not the atmospherics, and who usually work harder, also come to think of the on-air talent as children. The resulting incentive structure for the talent is, frankly, inappropriate training for a career as a middle manager.

While watching Washington pundits perform on TV or reading the views of some think-tanker, the middle manager occasionally finds himself thinking that classic philistine thought: What do they know? They've never had to meet a payroll. And he even finds himself sympathizing a bit with those who find it strange that anyone should care about the views of people who produce nothing but opinions, with no practical consequence, about matters they have no responsibility for.

Of course, this particular middle manager has never yet met a payroll without help. His tiny subdivision of the big company loses money. But at least he's in there trying. And he's forced to concede that there's more to this management business than he thought. Most of the matters he spouts off about in the course of the day are less important than what pundits spout off about: the direction of the efforts of a few dozen people rather than the direction of Western civilization. However, in this smaller realm, what he spouts actually affects the course of events--at least sometimes. Once he masters this management stuff, maybe it will happen more often.