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Provide the Boss Some Cover
In the military vernacular, cover means to lay down a base of firepower so that a comrade can more easily advance on a line of attack toward the objective. A more conventional use of the term is to protect oneself or another person against the elements, whatever they may be.
Most of us are smart enough to look at what lies before us so that we don’t trip, or we know what’s around the corner so that there are no surprises. We do it for our kids so that they don’t get injured or for our partners so that they aren’t harmed. But when it comes to the boss, we too often relax our guard because we assume the boss is self-sufficient; otherwise, he or she would ask for help.
In fact, bosses have so many things coming at them from all directions that they often don’t see what’s on the blind side. That’s where you come in, whether it’s intercepting an unwanted phone call or an uninvited visitor or stepping in when the conversation the boss is having with a client drifts into a caution zone.
There should be a business etiquette for such awkward situations, but there isn’t. Actually, there should be internal ground rules or guardrails you can and should establish to provide yourself and your boss with that much-needed cover when the unexpected occurs.
Because I have engaged in literally thousands of interviews with reporters over the years, there should have been little surprise on my part in virtually any interview circumstance. Yet without a predetermined policy for that unforgettable, irretrievable answer to a last-second, throwaway question, I found myself kicking myself for not protecting the boss from the unanticipated.
Reporters are a quirky bunch, each with a unique personality and a self-styled approach to the craft. One journalist I liked but found particularly hard to warm to was R. Jeffrey Smith of the Washington Post. Jeff covered the Pentagon like a blanket, ever present and forever inquiring about things other reporters didn’t seem to care about or weren’t aware of.
When in late April 1990 he paid me a visit to request an interview with General Powell, I asked him exactly what I asked every reporter requesting an interview with my boss: “What’s the issue?” Just in general the state of the force at this point in his chairmanship was the answer. Fair enough; the public had a right to know the answer to what he was asking. Moreover, Jeff was a legitimate conduit to that public, especially a Washington-based public that included important stakeholders, not the least of which was Congress.
The chairman agreed to the interview with Smith, and they met in the general’s office on May 3 in midafternoon. As usual, I prepared the general with likely questions and proposed answers. We sat, the three of us, for about 30 minutes, the typical amount of time we set aside for print interviews.
Jeff poked around with a series of questions, nothing earthshaking or groundbreaking. I had told him in advance he’d have a half hour to ask his questions. At the 28-minute mark I called for one last question. After the general’s answer, we stood up and headed for the door. Halfway across the room, Jeff said, “Given this new ‘peace dividend’ everyone is talking about with the Soviet military shrinking, what do you see the size of our base force becoming?”
Ill prepared for this awkward moment and unanticipated last question, I said nothing. I had no cover for the boss such as “That’s a weighty question deserving of a full response at a moment when we have more time” or something equally urbane. But no, not me. Nothing in time to protect the boss before he waded into deep water with an acknowledgment that the threat was different. Smith pressed him on whether cuts in the size of the force were possible. Time for a hasty retreat on our part.
However, the general took the bait with a yes. Smith hooked him with a percentage he was looking at and reeled him in with his answer of 25 percent. Nice going, Smullen, who stood helpless and hopeless as the chairman made news—big news! The story was on the front pages the next Monday. Congressional Democrats loved it: a money saver. The boss’s boss, Secretary Dick Cheney, was not nearly as pleased; he hadn’t been consulted. Never surprise the boss by letting him or her learn about it for the first time by reading it, whatever the “it” is, in the morning paper. Makes for a bad start to the day. When the reports of potential force reductions reached Europe a day later, NATO allies complained that they hadn’t been warned.
How’s that for a perfect storm? And to think we had almost made it out the door with Jeff Smith in tow before he caught us standing and napping. This was not the first time a reporter had attempted the “throwaway” last question or the “bait and switch” whereby he or she says the interview is about X but turns it to Y.
The lesson of that day is seared in my mind. Other attempts by other reporters have since been tried on me, but never again did they get the same result. To begin with, I have an obligation to the boss to prepare him for the inevitable but also for the unexpected. Further, I have a responsibility to keep the train on the track with respect to where the conversation goes.
It’s a “Jack be nimble, Jack be quick” approach to providing cover for the boss: anticipating where the land mines are and maneuvering through or around them, having a game plan that is flexible and responsive to anything that might come up.
Have a policy that allows for your intervention if something is asked that deserves a “wait, out” answer. Or step in with the right answer if the boss gets it wrong or only half right. Inserting yourself into the conversation or taking a protective position takes the boss off the hook. If nothing else, it gives the boss time to think of an acceptable answer or a policy he or she can live with.
This is not about throwing yourself in front of the boss to shield the boss. It’s about providing the boss some cover as he or she homes in on the objective of providing the best answer. The boss will be grateful; you’ll be purposeful. Great combination.