Forum

This section of the forum is one of the most important, as it collects and considers stories about how integrity functions and why.  This is the place for presenting and discussing stories that are not already in The Integrity Dividend book.  It is a way for all of us to keep learning about this fundamental issue.

Here is where we can tell and discuss stories about integrity failures, their causes and consequences.  The failures can be public — like the current banking crisis — or they can be failures of a boss you have had or known of.  Or they can be our own.  The story that follows describes one of my own integrity failures of a few years ago.  If you have heard me speak, then you already know something about it…  but there is more.

My school had just started a new degree program:  A one-year accellerated MBA in hospitality.  The new program opened up a new market for students:  career switchers.  These folks scored 50 points higher on entrance exams than our previous students.  They were smart, driven, ambitious, and experienced — they were exciting to teach.

When the first group of students came to campus, I was their first teacher.  I ran a three-day weekend course that helped them assess their current level of leadership skill.  I presented studeents with feedback from a 360 survey conducted in the months before.  I gave them several personality tests and discussed their implications.  I ran them through group simulations, and brought in seasoned executives to observe the students and give 1-to-1 feedback about how they handled themselves in groups.  It was an extraordinary weekend, and the students loved it.  At the end of the weekend, they gave me a standing ovation.  It might have been my first ever.  When I left the room that afternoon, I determined to switch classes with a colleague so I would get the chance to teach them again.

Three months later I and the class embarked together on a 15-week course in leadership. 

A couple of weeks into the class, it was time to assign the students to new work groups for the semester.  I went to see someone who had just taught these students, to learn what to watch for in assigning new groups.  I learned there were some students who were superstars, and i should spread them across groups.  A few students had not carried their weight, and these too should be spread out.  And some had language challenges.  I wrote this information down and ncarried it to a fellow professor who agreed to create the student groups.

When the email with group assignments went out a week later, the spreadsheet included an unintended second page…  with students identified by name as stars, slackers, and language challenged.

The students were outraged.  Someone else sent the email — but it was my word of confidentiality that was broken.  

As the semester continued, I and my colleagues made almost as many errors in attempting to recover as is humanly possible.

We had a school meeting, where the dean apologized and the students howled their rage and called for blood.  I knew the meeting was coming, and I diligently prepared my apology.  I wanted to say it just right, so I crafted and polished each word.  The dean had asked me not to speak at the meeting — but I felt compelled to.  I raised my hand and the dean reluctantly called on me.  And then I read my apology, which said sincerely what was in my heart and recounted exactly what happened.

Reading a detailed apology was exactly the wrong thing to do.  I thought I was being fully honest and heartfelt.  But what came across was that I was dodging responsibility and parsing my words.  What might have worked would have been to look the students in the eyes and said simply, “I am so sorry.  I promised confidentiality, and I did not deliver.  I will do anything in my power to make it right.”  And then shut up.

After the meeting, a female Japanese student was crying almost uncontrollably.  Another student stood behind her, gently giving support as she spoke to me.  Between sobs, she said, “Professor.  Please do not think I am angry.  I would never be angry.  But in my culture, you can never recover from this.  I can never trust you.”

I hoped to prove her wrong, but I did not.  Try as I might, I was unable to regain the trust of that class, or to lead them.  Here are a few bungle highlights.

I brought in a colleague from across the country, a guy named Darryl Stickel who specializes in trust challenges.  He used to be the man McKinsey sent in to “no man's land” to smooth the stickiest situations.  I scheduled a late afternoon special session after consulting with the students about optimum times.  The administration scheduled a beer party for the students at the same time.  Two students showed up to my session.

I realized a couple of weeks after the incident that I should invite the four or five most upset students to complete the course requirement with a colleague who volunteered to tutor them.  The administration had earlier expressed willingness to accommodate such requests.  I made the invitation in a letter to the students, but failed to reconfirm the administration's position on this issue so as to align the bureaucrasy.  When the students tried to transfer out of the class, their request was denied.

A few key points:  Betrayal can happen even with the best of intentions.  It can be big or small, but avoiding betrayal is what managing behavioral integrity is all about.  Bad communication and bad coordination can look an awful lot like bad faith, and get the same results.