I spoke to the (non-American) former CEO of a large company—the profitability leader in its capital-intensive global industry.
“Why do American CEOs listen to 30-year old investment bankers?” he asked me. “They don’t know anything.”
“I used to get calls from them—Morgan Sachs, Goldman Stanley, you know—the supposed crème de la crème of MBAs. Here’s how they went:
Bankers: Why do you keep so much cash? Your leverage ratio is half that of your industry. You’re earning nothing on it, like keeping it under a mattress. You’re destroying shareholder value. If you have opportunities, you should invest. If not, you should return it to the shareholders.
CEO: Let me ask you—who’s the global market leader in software?
Bankers: Microsoft, of course.
CEO: And how much cash do they have on hand?
Bankers: Way more than the industry average; too much; they should return it to the shareholders.
CEO: Uh huh. And who’s the global market leader in semiconductors?
Bankers: Intel, of course.
CEO: How much cash on hand?
Bankers: Again, way too much, more than industry average, they’re destroying shareholder value.
CEO: Uh huh. I too am the market leader, and the profitability leader. I don’t focus on your options pricing models and portfolio theory and risk hedging. I focus on “buy low sell high,” “keep your powder dry,” “bide your time,” “strike when the iron is hot,” “find your niche,” “beat your competitor don’t copy him."
My industry—like every capital-intensive industry—has cycles. I buy my expensive assets at a huge discount—when the market is cold and my suppliers have no backlog. I get what I want, when I want it, pay less, and have grateful suppliers. My competitors buy when their profits are high—they overpay, wait years for delivery, and irritate their suppliers—as do their competitors.
I make strategic moves when I’m the only one who can do it. My competitors make their moves along with everyone else.
I can do all this because I have cash. My competitors all listened to your advice about copying the average. Not only am I the only one with funds to execute my strategy—I’m the only thinking of a unique strategy.
The CEO continued, “they often didn’t even get it. They couldn’t recognize a bad model when it slapped them in the face like a dead fish.”
Q. Who’s right?
A. The CEO—hands down, a no-brainer.
Q. How could the bankers so spectacularly miss something so obvious?
A. The blinding power of an unchallenged paradigm.
Q. And what paradigm would that be?
A. Ah, that’s the big question. Is it:
- Youth is arrogant
- Business has become overly quantitative and analytical
- Finance has triumphed over marketing and production
- Paris Hilton was somehow involved
- We are killing off strategies and relationships for the sake of transactions.
I vote #5—death by transactions.
The history of capitalism is one of scale economies, enabled by parceling out pieces of work to others. Every time you do that, you gain scale—and you create a transaction.
This trend has accelerated: more chunks of business are being chopped up and parcelled out—both in space and in time.
- Modular software
- Mortgage (and other asset) collateralization
- HR competency models
- Globalized sourcing
This habit is reflected even in meta-patterns of business thinking—how to tackle a problem? Break it up, break it down. Analyze it. Measure it. Parcel it out. Track it. Install rewards. Repeat at one level of detail lower.
Every time you break up a function and parcel it out to more people over less time, two things happen. Greater efficiencies—and less relationships.
Repeat infinitely, and you get people who think about business like tinker-toys—models to be constantly assembled and re-assembled.
That way of thinking fosters neither strategic or relationship thinking.
It is also impossible to think ethically when there are no relationships to be harmed, and no timeframe in which to be held accountable.
But the biggest irony is: it doesn’t work anymore. The chop and parcel game has been played out. The returns are beyond diminishing; the cost of the transactional mindset is exceeding the savings of scale. The game has turned dysfunctional.
Death by transactions.