YOU ARE NOT YOUR JOB

Over the course of my career at Baxter, I was promoted several times, becoming the CFO in 1993 and then president of the company in April 1997. I remember clearly a day in 1998 when I was preparing for a board meeting that included a presentation that the CEO, Vernon Loucks Jr., had asked me to make. On the morning of the board meeting, Vern told me he needed to speak privately to the board first, and then he'd call me into the meeting to make my presentation.

I remember wondering what Vern had to tell the board, whether there was some new development or challenge that we were facing. After his private meeting with the board, Vern took a short break and came to get me. He assured me that everything was okay, but said that he had caught the board by surprise.

“Surprise?” I commented, having no idea what was going on.

“Yes; I told them that I'm going to retire,” Vern said.

No wonder the board was surprised. I worked with Vern every day, and even I was shocked.

“By the way, I told the board something else,” he continued.

“What's that?” I asked, not entirely sure that I was ready for any more surprises.

“That you should be the next CEO,” he said with a huge smile.

I sat back in my chair. I couldn't think of anything to say.

“Come on,” Vern said, gesturing toward me. “It's time to go and talk with the board.”

The minute I stepped into the boardroom, the directors began to applaud. Vern beamed at me. “So what do you think about this?” one of the board members asked me.

I gathered myself and replied, “I am very surprised; in fact, I'm shocked by this development, which is definitely not something I had expected. I know there are a lot of things I don't know. However, I feel that we have an excellent team here at Baxter. I'm confident that, with all of the fantastic people we will continue to develop, I will be able to do a great job for you. Thank you for your confidence in me.”

Being named CEO was certainly a proud moment in my life, but I can honestly say that things didn't change all that much for me. Yes, I did have more responsibilities, and, instead of working for Vern, as the CEO I now reported directly to the board. But I still drove my six-year-old Toyota, and Julie and I lived in the same house we owned when I was a senior analyst. I was determined that I would not change, because, believe me, there are plenty of temptations at the top that make you forget who you are.

Whenever I took the company's Falcon 900 jet on a business trip, whether to Europe, Asia, or Latin America, I made sure I was booked on a commercial flight for the next trip. Often I sat in coach. I wasn't trying to appear humble in order to impress people or to make them think well of me. I did these things for me. All the perks, prestige, and privileges that come with being the top executive of what was then a $10 billion company were quite seductive. It was very easy to start thinking that I was special or one of the elite because I had reached a level that 99.5 percent of people do not achieve.

I held on tightly to one fundamental and incredibly important part of genuine humility: I was not my job title. Neither are you. Keep this in mind as you are promoted, so that you don't get caught up in the trappings of success. Beyond the praise you will receive, as a leader you will enjoy the perks that come with the territory: rubbing elbows with the elite in business and government and even traveling by corporate jet. It's incredibly important that you have people around you who know you well, and who can be open and honest with you when they see you are no longer balanced and grounded. For me, that person is my wife, Julie. Whenever I'd tell her that I had just been promoted, she would always say how proud she was of me, but in the next breath she'd remind me, “Harry, we're not going to change the way we live, right?” I always assured her that we were still the same people we were back in college, and that I wasn't about to change. Moreover, I knew that if I ever started to think, “Hey, maybe I am pretty special,” Julie would be there to remind me where I came from and who I really was.

Another aspect of separating who you are from what you do is to define yourself by all the various facets of your life. For example, you may be a spouse, partner, or parent. You may have particular interests, such as skiing or sailing, art or music. You may have certain expertise, such as being multilingual. The problem, however, is that most people define themselves by what they do for a living. When asked who they are, they reply, “I'm vice president of XYZ” or “I'm the director of marketing.” What is printed on their business cards is synonymous with who they are.

This attitude is dangerous for many reasons, not the least of which is that it will keep you from achieving genuine humility. If you allow your identity to become wrapped up in your title, your sense of self will be endangered should you ever lose your job for some reason, whether you resign, are laid off, or get fired. If you think that you are too much of a stellar performer ever to be let go by your company, let me remind you that the higher up in the organization you go, the more likely it is that you will be terminated at some point—regardless of your performance. The average tenure of a CEO of a publicly traded company is now four to five years. Times change, the economy goes through its cycles, and suddenly the board of directors decides that although you've done a good job through the growth cycle, now they need someone who can downsize or who has expertise in turnarounds. Leaders, including many good ones, come and go.

During the times when things are going unbelievably well—when the company is exceeding all of its targets and the stock is among the best performers in the market—you cannot allow yourself to become consumed by your title. No matter how much people might want to fuss over you (the amount of buttering up you may have experienced when you were first promoted becomes unbelievable when you are the CEO), remember who you are: just another team member. Now the genuine humility that helped you advance because everyone saw you as authentic enables you to keep your feet on the ground when others are treating you as if you have wings and can fly. You need to do everything you can to remind yourself that you are still one of the team.

One spring break, Julie and I took the children down to Florida for vacation. As anyone who has ever gone to the beach with small children can tell you, it's not uncommon to make twenty trips back to the hotel room for snacks, toys, sunscreen, and bathroom breaks. It was on one of those trips back to the hotel that my then four-year-old daughter Shannon saw a Baxter truck in the parking lot. Shannon pointed it out to me because she recognized the name, even though she really couldn't read as yet. She just called it “Daddy's truck.”

Curious, we went over to see what was going on. I introduced myself as “Harry” to the driver and told him I worked for Baxter. He said his name was Joe and explained that he had been asked to deliver dialysis supplies to the hotel for one of the guests. I offered to help him unload the boxes. When we were done, Joe thanked me for pitching in and asked where I worked. I explained I was in corporate, but didn't elaborate.

The next day, while still on vacation, I logged into my e-mail. Apparently Joe had gone to the company Web site and read through the bios of the corporate executives; and when he saw my first name and recognized my photo, he figured out that I was the CEO. Then he obviously told others about his encounter with me. I couldn't believe the number of messages I received from truck drivers around the country, who said things like, “Hey, I'm Fred in Denver. When are you coming out here to help me unload?” The e-mails were all good natured and made me smile. I replied to all of the drivers and told them how much the company depended on and appreciated them. Joking, I promised to be on call if they ever needed me to unload supplies.

I suppose they were surprised that the CEO would help unload a truck, especially on vacation. But I would have done the same thing whether I was a junior analyst, a vice president, or a senior executive. From my perspective, what I saw that day was a colleague who needed a hand, and I was available. If that made Joe in Florida, Fred in Denver, and all the other drivers feel appreciated, that was great. As for me, I knew that I was no different from any other Baxter team member. My title, the size of my office, and my compensation did not change the fact that I was Harry Kraemer: husband, father, and company team member.