585 Case 1 Best Of Intentions

CASE STUDY

The Best of Intentions

by John Humphreys

As a manager, you often face serious ethical dilemmas when dealing with issues of workplace diversity. What should you do, though, when your decision hurts the one it was intended to help?

“ S. Mitchell, mr. romans

is still holding on line two.”

The sound reverberated in her head as her mind drifted back to more self-assured days. It was all so simple then. The boundaries of right and wrong had been so completely well defined. It had all been so – well, black and white.

Cynthia Mitchell, 28, was a rising star with AgFunds, Inc., a financial services company specializing in investments and

accounting services for farmers and farmer-owned cooperatives. Cynthia, an Indiana native, earned her bachelor’s degree in agricultural economics from Purdue University and an MBA from the University of Kansas. A movie buff from an early age, she dreamed of becoming involved with the agricultural community in some way ever since she had seen Henry Fonda in the video version of Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath.

Although she had originally planned to pursue a career on the Chicago Board of Trade, the opportunities there had not seemed promising. AgFunds, on the other hand, had aggressively pursued her and those efforts had paid off. She had joined the firm as an investment trainee in the Chicago regional office upon graduation.

Cynthia found that her first year with AgFunds wasn’t that different from her recent educational experience. Most of her time was dedicated to company orientation and studying for the myriad examinations she would take in order to become a fully licensed representative. She thrived in the competitive training environment and was considered the top graduate of her class. Per AgFunds’ policy, she could now compete with other recent graduates for open investment positions throughout the country.

We’re Not in Kansas Anymore

Cynthia was thrilled to learn of a position opening up in northern Indiana. Mike Graves, a very successful investment officer, was being promoted to district manager. Mike had covered the area for nearly six years and was somewhat of a legend within AgFunds. He had taken a declining portfolio and built it into the company’s largest and most coveted. Cynthia, as well as most of her graduating class, quickly applied for such a lucrative territory.

Cynthia’s excitement soon turned to bewilderment. Right there in black and white was the e-mail congratulating Bill Hawkins on his selection to fill Mike Graves’ celebrated shoes. Bill Hawkins? Nothing against Bill but he certainly didn’t measure up to Cynthia’s credentials. In fact, she had spent considerable time tutoring Bill after he performed poorly on one of his licensing tests. And to make matters worse, rumors were floating that Mike had personally picked Bill as his replacement.

A chance meeting at the regional office, however, turned Cynthia’s confusion into anger. “Congratulations on becoming the new district manager,” she told Mike. “You’ve certainly earned it.” The recognition made Mike a bit uneasy. “Thanks,” he said. “But I guess you’re wondering why I didn’t select you as my replacement,” addressing the question that wasn’t verbalized but so clearly hung in the air. “I wasn’t going to ask,” she said. “I’m sure that Bill will make an excellent representative.” “Look,” Mike said, “Bill will be fine but he’ll never be the rep that you’ll be. This just wasn’t the right territory for you. It’s not you. It’s our customer base in that area. A lot of them just wouldn’t be comfortable in doing business with a woman.” He continued, “You’re going to go far in this organization and one day you’ll thank me for not putting you into a situation where you would fail through no fault of your own.”

The news didn’t take Cynthia completely by surprise. She knew that agricultural investing was a male dominated industry. Her thoughts raced back to her unsuccessful bid to join the Board of Trade. “Were there limited opportunities or simply limited opportunities for a woman there?” she wondered. Although seething internally, she responded as the professional she’d been trained to be. “Mike, no one knows that territory better than you. I’m sure you made the right decision for everyone concerned.”

Cynthia spent the next few days considering both her past and future. For the first time she realized just how protective were those ivory towers. Although women had been in the minority, she had excelled in her MBA program. The playing field there was not only level, but also all of the players were sensitized to understand how diversity could strengthen an organization. She thought back to the discussions of ethics and discrimination that she had endured as she focused her attentions on the complexities of finance. “I wish I had paid more attention in those org behavior and human resource classes,” she mused. Now she found herself right in the middle of one of those case studies upon which she had waxed so eloquently. This was clearly unfair but what could she do? She remembered one professor suggesting that for a woman to get ahead, she simply had to perform better than her male counterparts. “That,” she said to herself, “I can do.” And she made the commitment to do just that.

A Star Is Born

Cynthia was soon the new investment officer representing AgFunds throughout central Ohio. Although she would have preferred to return to her home in Indiana, this territory was the next best thing. Cynthia hit the ground running and in less than three years had more than tripled the existing portfolio. She developed the reputation of being an outstanding salesperson and a technical resource for other representatives who lacked her intricate knowledge of AgFunds’ array of investment products. Her performance was so remarkable that she was recognized as the most outstanding investment representative at the annual meeting.

As a part of that meeting, Cynthia addressed the crowd and discussed her formula for success. Not only was her speech informative and helpful to other representatives, she was inspirational and clearly destined for bigger things within AgFunds. Taking particular notice was Frank Romans, the regional vice-president from Houston, Texas. He had the reputation of being a hard-nosed manager but a fair man. He also recognized talent.

Frank invited Cynthia to come to Houston and meet with him concerning a possible opening for a district manager within his region. “I’m flattered,” she said. “But it’ll have to be on your dime.” Frank nodded approvingly and smiled. “This young lady,” he thought to himself, “just might be savvy enough to turn around one of our sagging districts.”

Houston We Have a Problem

The truth was, Frank Romans desperately needed someone to turn around one district in particular. From the regional office in Houston, Frank was responsible for eight districts in Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, New Mexico, and Texas. Although his numbers overall would place him in the middle of the pack as far as regional offices were concerned, he knew that he could climb into the upper echelons if he could get some reasonable numbers out of his Arkansas district. The southern part of the state had once been a very productive area for AgFunds. The area held many prominent farming operations from cotton production to aquaculture. In addition, many of the ginning operations, seed warehouses, and crop dusting services were owned and operating by farmers, either individually or cooperatively. This was the type of successful farming community that had built the organization into the dominant investment advisor in rural America. The last several years in this territory, however, had seen a steady decline in AgFunds portfolio. Frank attributed much of the decline to the current district manager.

Bob Kimball had been the district manager for 34 years. Over the years he had done a reasonably good job but really hadn’t contributed much in quite some time. Now, finally, Bob was going to call it a career. Within the company, other employees joked that Bob had retired several years before. He didn’t seem to put much effort into pushing his reps. He had all but stopped having sales meetings. The “rumor mill” suggested that Frank was beginning to apply a great deal of pressure on him. To most, it was obvious that Bob hadn’t really decided to retire but had “agreed” to do so. Nonetheless, Bob was going home and Frank was looking for some new blood to shake things up there and reverse the downward spiral on which AgFunds was currently traveling. Frank knew that he should have been more proactive in responding to this situation when he first noticed things slipping a few years before. “Bob’s laissez-faire attitude had infected his reps like a disease,” Frank thought to himself. And in Frank’s mind, Cynthia Mitchell just might be the cure.

A Few Good Men

As Cynthia settled into her new position as district manager, she couldn’t help feeling victorious. She was the youngest district manager in the company and one of only three women to hold such a position. “Enough with the gloating, though,” she thought. “I’ve got to get busy. I don’t want to make this district respectable – I’m going to turn it into a juggernaut!”

Cynthia immediately turned her attention to the group of investment representatives she had inherited. The irony of having a staff comprised of all men wasn’t lost on her. She quickly scanned the records of her investment team. “Hmmm, at first glance, this looks like a group of guys who ought to be able to do the job,” she concluded.

Her first meeting with the investment reps confirmed her initial perception. In fact, she was warmly received. It was obvious to Cynthia that they really did want to perform. “We’re glad to finally have someone who is going to work with us,” said one young representative fresh from the training pool. “We’ve been working hard but Bob would never give us any guidance,” chimed in another. “And it would also help if we’d fill the open position.”

Ah, yes, the open position. In preparing for her first meeting with her investment staff, personnel issues dominated Cynthia’s attention. “No wonder this district is lagging,” she surmised. “Two of the reps are barely out of the training program and another position has been vacant for a couple of months now.” Cynthia recalled her own time spent in the training program and how much she still had to learn after graduating. “I’ll get these new guys up to speed,” she reflected, “but what I really need is another Cynthia Mitchell!”

Cynthia nervously made her way to the regularly scheduled district managers’ meeting at the Houston regional office. She was again encouraged when her fellow district managers greeted her with enthusiasm. They were well aware of her track record and looked forward to her contribution to the region. In addition, Frank Romans went to great lengths to make her comfortable as part of the regional leadership team. “Gentleman,” Frank asserted, “I have the utmost confidence in and respect for this young woman.” He added, “She’s going to accomplish great things.” As the other district managers nodded and chattered their agreement, Cynthia felt a bit of guilt at the trepidation she had felt before coming to Houston. “Thank you all so much,” she replied. “I’m looking forward to working with this team and learning from you all.” One of her peers jokingly rebuked her saying, “Now that you’re with us, it’s pronounced ‘yawl.’” The smiles and warm laughter told Cynthia that she was among friends.

As the meeting progressed, Cynthia’s earlier nervousness was replaced by her usual self-confidence. She knew AgFunds’ products and services as well as anyone in the room. “I can do this,” she said to herself. “I can turn my district around.” She faintly smiled within herself as she realized that this was the first time she had referred to Bob’s old district as hers. She had assumed command.

Cynthia caught the red eye out of Houston to return to her district. She had come to the regional office not really knowing what to expect. She was returning with a plan. While in Houston, she had accumulated the various materials she would need for implementing an intensive program to further train her two new reps. She also brought with her copies of the files of all the potential investment officers that had either recently graduated from the training program or were about to do so. As she gazed out at the darkness she thought about a story she had read in school about a garden with forking paths. She didn’t remember much of it but the underlying theme was that every path that we choose, or is chosen for us, leads us to the next forking path. The moral of the story was that those paths and, more importantly the people that we impact and those that impact us within the various paths, are the very foundation of our lives. “My path certainly hasn’t been what I had imagined,” she pondered. She understood how her life was different today because of the influence of other people – her family who had encouraged her; her professors who challenged her; the Board of Trade which had ignored her; Mike Graves who had overlooked her; and now Frank Romans, who had given her an opportunity to prove that she belonged. Where would she be now if Frank had overlooked her too? Would she still be in Ohio? Would she have looked for other opportunities? She didn’t know. As she drifted off to sleep, though, she knew that tomorrow she would most likely open up a new path for one of the young hopefuls in those files.

The Talented Mr. Ripley

Ever the achiever, Saturday morning found Cynthia carefully examining the files from the training program. She smiled at just how “green” her new reps were as they were both still listed in the trainee files she had been given. She immediately jotted down a note to herself to find a videotape of Kermit the Frog singing, “It Ain’t Easy Being Green,” to help initiate her new reps at the next sales meeting. She was gratified to see they were considered to be in the top three of the recent graduating class of six. She immediately wondered where the top candidate had gone. Her thoughts turned a bit rancorous as she had a brief vision of the number one going to replace Bill Hawkins in Northern Indiana. As she scrutinized the files, though, she was amazed to find that the top graduate of the region’s training class was still in Houston. Getting past the disbelief, Cynthia’s first reaction was one of glee. She still had the opportunity to get the top candidate. Her instincts, however, as well as her position as district manager, forced her to consider the situation from another angle. As Cynthia read over what seemed to be an outstanding record, the small still voice inside her began to whisper, “What’s wrong with him?” It was obvious that Bob had chosen not one, but two, people ahead of this guy. “He probably just wasn’t a good fit for those positions,” Cynthia told herself. At that moment, a chill came over her. “I can’t believe I just thought that,” Cynthia exclaimed aloud. “I’ll just have to interview this fellow,” she thought. “I have a good eye for talent. If this guy, ugh – Steve Ripley – is a keeper, I’ll know it.”

Cynthia was both shocked and impressed when Steve strode into her office. Steven Ripley, 24, was an impressive young man. His educational background was impeccable with a bachelor’s degree in finance and applied economics from UCLA and an MBA from Tulane. He had also interned with AgFunds one summer and spent another abroad as an economic analyst for the U.S. government examining potential sources of debt capital in developing countries. He had also been far and away the top prospect in the Houston training program. Her shock was that Steve was also very personable, quick-witted, and an excellent conversationalist. Cynthia had assumed that Steve must have had other issues that impeded his promotion to the field. “He looks terrific on paper,” she had thought. “His technical skills are outstanding. He must really lack any personal acumen.”

But now, there he sits. Great technical ability, appears to have leadership potential, excellent interpersonal skills, works well with others. What’s not to like about Mr. Ripley? Nothing that Cynthia could see. She thought it wise, though, to at least confer with Frank and her peers before she promoted him. Besides, the district managers’ meeting would be tomorrow. The position had been open for two months. It would surely keep one more day.

I Want the Truth

Cynthia was very excited to share her good fortune with the regional leadership team. The morning session found each of the district managers reporting their results and other district issues they’d like to bring before the team. Frank would be joining them later in the day. “I’m happy to report that I plan on filling the open investment position by the end of the week,” Cynthia beamed. “That’s terrific,” exclaimed one of her peers. “Are you stealing one of the reps from your old region?” The other managers smirked approvingly at the thought of winning a battle in the war of corporate one-upmanship. “I don’t need to,” Cynthia explained. “I interviewed Steve Ripley yesterday and he’s interested in the position. I was very impressed with him. I can’t imagine why he’s still in the training pool.” Suddenly the room was devoid of both sound and eye contact. The regional team members stared intently at the conference table as if by mental telepathy they could somehow erode the tension that now filled the boardroom. Unsure of what she had said that was so deflating, Cynthia attempted to resuscitate the meeting by continuing. “Do any of you know why Steve wasn’t interested in joining the district when Bob was district manager?” she probed presumptuously. For a while, it seemed that no one was going to speak. Otis Johnson, the longest tenured of the district managers, finally broke the silence. “Cynthia,” he began slowly, “I think you’re being a bit naïve in assuming that Steve didn’t want the previous positions.” The statement might have been offensive had it not come from Otis and his grandfatherly tone. “So Steve applied for the other positions?” Cynthia inquired with skepticism. Even as she asked the question, Cynthia knew the answer. Of course he had applied for the positions. Her thoughts raced back to that Kermit the Frog video. At this moment, she too understood that it wasn’t easy being green. Although she had been an exemplary representative, she still had a lot to learn about being a manager. “Then why wasn’t Bob interested in having Steve on his team?” Cynthia asked forebodingly. Otis’ response was delivered with his own level of angst. “Maybe that’s something that should be discussed with Frank.”

You Can’t Handle the Truth

As Cynthia sat waiting in Frank’s office, her composure began to return. She knew the kind of man Frank was and she knew she could trust him. It was Frank, after all, who had looked inside her and saw the makings of a district manager.

As Frank entered he gently closed the office door behind him with one foot. He handed Cynthia one of the cups of coffee he was trying desperately not to spill. “Welcome to the world of management,” he said with a hint of an anxious smile. “We need to talk about Steve Ripley,” Cynthia began. “I was very impressed when I examined his file and even more so after I interviewed him.” Frank agreed saying, “Steve is indeed a remarkable young man.” “I must confess,” Cynthia continued, “that I’m troubled by how the number one candidate in the training program here could be passed over twice for a field position in a district that clearly needs someone of his caliber.” Frank considered his words carefully. “The truth is, Bob didn’t think that his district was the right place for Steve.” Cynthia was incredulous. This was the same nonsense that had kept her from getting the northern Indiana territory three years ago. She didn’t get the job because she was a woman. Now Steve Ripley was being denied his opportunity because he was black. Apparently, old Bob was a racist. Before Cynthia could voice her revulsion, however, Frank dropped another bombshell. “And I’ve got to tell you, I think Bob probably made the right decision.” Cynthia was appalled at Frank’s matter-of-fact assertion. Observing her abhorrence to his words he continued. “Cynthia, we operate in the real world and it’s not a perfect world. I know you’re thinking right now that I must be some sort of bigot.” Although she didn’t speak, Cynthia’s expression validated his comment. “I’m not,” Frank said, “and neither was Bob.” At this moment the words rang hollow to Cynthia. How could she have been so wrong about Frank? “It’s like this,” Frank declared. “I think that Steve is extraordinary. He’s probably the best trainee we’ve ever had in this region. He knows the products better than any rep we’ve got. But, he’s black. And the base of our customers in the territory where we need help don’t particularly want to do business with a black man.” Cynthia sat stunned. “So it’s okay to discriminate against Steve because the customers might be bigoted? she said in aghast. “We’re not talking about discrimination,” Frank countered. “Steve will make us a tremendous employee once the right spot becomes available. I just don’t think this is it. We were trying to do Steve a favor by not putting him in a position where he might fail even though he was doing everything right.” And there it was. They were doing Steve a favor. Just like the favor Mike had done for her in Indiana. She never had “thanked” Mike. She found the level of arrogance horrifying. “How dare these guys think they know what’s best for me – or for Steve,” she reflected. Frank interrupted her loathing. “We have a fine line to walk,” he said. “Our goal here is to maximize profits by providing investment solutions that delight our customers.” “I understand that,” Cynthia responded, “but we can’t bow to our customers’ wishes if it means behaving unethically.” “That’s the big question,” Frank admitted. “What is ethical?” Frank’s thoughts turned to the early days of his career. He had assumed that he would always know what was right. His philosophy had been the same as the Supreme Court Justice that issued the statement on obscenity – something to the effect of not being able to define it but knowing it when he saw it. He wasn’t so sure anymore. “Cynthia,” Frank said, “this is the way I see it.” She wasn’t optimistic that she’d like the words that were going to come out of Frank’s mouth. “We have a responsibility to the firm and our shareholders to perform at the highest level possible. What if our customers won’t buy from Steve? We’ve hurt the company and harmed our shareholders. Our job descriptions say that we must always do what’s in the best interest of the organization. Can you honestly say that this would be in the best interest of the company?” Before Cynthia could offer rebuttal, Frank continued. “Plus, look at Steve. I like Steve. He has a future with this firm. But is it ethical to put him into a situation that could be uncomfortable for him?” “I would think that decision would belong to Steve,” Cynthia protested. “Okay, not uncomfortable. Is it ethical to put Steve in a position where we think he’ll fail? Not because of his talents but because of our customers? Is that ethical?” Cynthia countered, “That’s just a hypothetical. I wouldn’t want Steve if I didn’t think he could do the job.” “But what happens when he doesn’t get the job done?” Frank questioned. “To what will we attribute his failure? What portion of his failure should we attribute to his ability and which part is due to our customers’ prejudices. Should we remove him for the good of the company even though we’re convinced he’s doing all of the right things? Or do we let him continue, even though he’s not producing, because we don’t believe it’s his fault? We wouldn’t do that for our other reps. You know the drill - you produce or you go. What happens when I call you about his poor numbers? Are you going to tell me it’s not his fault? I’m not going to want to hear it. All I’m saying,” Frank offered, “is that another district might be better for both Steve and the firm in the long run.”

Cynthia felt nauseous. The whole notion of trying to match someone’s race or gender with a position or territory was just – wrong. She realized that the situation wasn’t altogether unique. Sure, many law firms made sure they had a female attorney on hand when the majority of jurors were women. And yes, there were firms that employed African American sales reps to specifically call on black owned businesses. “But it’s just not right,” Cynthia concluded. No matter what Frank’s intentions, Steve had the tools to become an outstanding investment rep. Steve wouldn’t fail. He couldn’t. He was too talented. People had doubted her too and look what she had accomplished. No, what was done to Steve was wrong. “At least now,” Cynthia thought, “I’m in a position to make it right.”

Good Guys and Heels

As Cynthia scrutinized her teams’ results, she began to feel the same queasiness she had felt when she advised Frank she was making Steve her new investment representative. It had been nine months now and all of her reps had already achieved their annual goals. All, that is, except for Steve Ripley. Steve’s numbers were woeful. Not only was he at 27% of his goal, his portfolio had steadily declined as several key customers had moved their business to competing investment services. Some were kind and suggested they were switching to competitors because their needs and the markets had changed. Others were unbelievably insensitive, calling Cynthia directly and requesting they be assigned another representative for “obvious” reasons.

What was obvious to Cynthia, though, was that Steve’s numbers simply weren’t good enough. No rep could survive with this level of production. She knew she needed to cut her losses and bring in another rep. She also knew that the lack of numbers wasn’t entirely Steve’s fault. Was she wrong in putting Steve in this position? At the time she had been so certain. She knew what was right and she acted accordingly. Now she wasn’t so sure. “Maybe we could move Steve to the regional office as technical support,” Cynthia pondered. “We could certainly use his skills behind the scenes.” Just the thought of it, though, made Cynthia uneasy. “Is hiding an employee from customer contact really the answer?” she thought. As she considered the situation, the horrible scenes of the World Trade Center were streaming across her laptop. Her heart went out to the victims. “It certainly makes my problems look small,” she sighed. Along with the devastating pictures came a scrolling message detailing racially motivated retaliatory attacks on Americans of Arab decent. “How sad,” she thought, “that our grief can lead us to behave so badly.” Her heart went out to both the victims and the innocents who’d been cursed and spat upon for their heritage or religion. “What if we were in a different business and I had employees whose family came from the Middle East?” she wondered. “Would I send those reps with a Muslim name into a Jewish community in New York?” Her judgment suggested it wouldn’t be a good idea. At least not right now. “By not doing so, though, would I be discriminating against them or doing them a favor?”

In the midst of that thought, Cynthia’s focus returned to Steve Ripley. In her zeal to right the wrongs of discrimination, had she put Steve in a position where failure was preordained? If she hadn’t, wouldn’t that have been discriminating against him? Had she been just as guilty as those she had disdained by assuming that she knew what was best for Steve? Does customer service really mean exceeding customer expectations even when those expectations are distasteful?

Cynthia had many more questions than answers. Frank had asked her what she would say when she found herself in this position. She wasn’t any surer today than she was then. All she knows is that she had the best of intentions.

“ms. mitchell … are you there? … mr. romans is still holding … ”

What should Cynthia Mitchell do? Should she terminate Steve? Should she have placed him in this position to begin with? Is it ever okay to discriminate against individuals for their own good? Do managers’ fiduciary obligations sometime require them to make decisions that violate their personal ethics?