There are some people who like to win. Every single time.

In their minds, there is always a winner and there is always a loser. They like to control every situation and they like the power that goes with it. They need to win every single argument, discussion and debate, regardless of how big, small, important or insignificant.

As American writer and public intellectual Gore Vidal said, ‘The four most beautiful words in our common language: I told you so’.

Deep down, very few of us like these people. They are annoying.

At times, I have been that person.

It does not make me proud.

Paris, February 1998

I cannot be sure of the exact date, as this was a long time ago. The man who taught me this principle was Jean Jacques, Marketing Director of Reebok France. French through and through, he had stereotypical qualities that he portrayed in abundance: passion and emotion.

At the time, I was a relatively young and naive 28‐year‐old, trying to solve the world's problems — or at least those of Reebok Europe. We were having a senior leadership forum and I had just finished presenting to about a dozen European marketing heads. It was a proposal — something that I now call a plan — and I thought it was pretty darn good.

My proposal was to centralise advertising creative and consolidate European media plans, essentially bringing disparate, stand‐alone markets together to create economies of scale. Everyone in attendance agreed that the advertising on offer was outstanding. (If you cannot elicit emotion within sports advertising, you should not be in the game.) Additionally, with a combined regional spend, we were offering gross media efficiencies of almost 20 per cent per annum. Even for the ‘not invented here’ marketeers (those who are always hostile to outside ideas), this plan was nigh on impossible to resist.

Or so I thought.

I distinctly remember two comments coming from the floor. The first was from the marketing director of Ireland: ‘Hamish, we are too small for you to worry about us’. A quiet put‐down that only the Irish can make while still ending up being your best mate that night in the pub. (A relationship skill of which I am still envious.)

As I was contemplating my response, the Russian head jumped to his feet and called out in an almost comedic tone, ‘And Hamish, we are too big for you to worry about us’. Ouch. Russia was the growth engine of Europe in those days, with daily queues of people at the doorstep of every Reebok store in the country. When they spoke, we listened.

Overall, a pretty clear message was being sent my way, if not in so many words: ‘Back away, sunshine, your one‐size‐fits‐all solution is not going to work for us. Move on — it's not happening on our watch’.

At the ensuing break, I remember being quietly perplexed as to what had gone wrong. I thought it was a pretty solid pitch. The advertising was exceptional and the efficiencies wildly compelling. Although it hadn't been tested to date, my newly formed role actually gave me the decision‐making rights on this one. Call me soft, but for the benefit of long‐term relationship builds, I didn't want to have to play that trump card. Not so early in my tenure, anyway.

As I was walking out for some much‐needed fresh air, Jean Jacques placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, leaned in, and looked me squarely in the eyes. I distinctly recall him having an ever‐so‐slight smirk on his face before saying, ‘My friend, it's not always right to be right’. He turned and walked back inside, and that was it. It was one of my all‐time favourite and most beneficial lessons in life.

No matter how good your proposal, plan or opportunity is — and even if you are looking to save a Frenchman a small fortune — if someone doesn't want to do it, then they just won't do it.

For a young bloke desperately wanting to make a difference, this was a very hard pill to swallow.

GETTING TO WIN–WIN

Almost a year on from this experience, I did something that was out of character for me. I took some time out to reflect.

The situation itself had worked out okay. We ended up compromising, with centralised media and advertising for MTV and Eurosport, while our three lead markets (the UK, Germany and France) did local origination and execution. Critically, strong, trusting working relationships remained intact. As discussed in chapter 1, from my perspective, this relationship dimension is the ultimate indicator of success. I just wasn't mature enough to realise it at the time.

Through reflection, I learned the real reasons behind their reluctance. In the moment, I hadn't been aware of them, hadn't looked for them and, inexcusably, I hadn't even considered them. There were many:

• Previous centralised marketing activities — for Reebok and for direct competitors — had failed miserably. The one‐size‐fits‐all approach had clearly not worked. These were painful and fresh memories that were difficult to erase.
• At least two of the marketing directors had been given clear directives from their bosses that under no circumstances were they to give up local advertising copy origination. I later found out that prior to our meeting, one market had already produced local copy that had been approved by his leadership team.
• Another three markets had existing media contracts in place that would need to be broken if centralisation proceeded. This would be costly and would affect partnerships that had existed for multiple years. Over a few drinks during local market visits, I also discovered that two of the newer marketing directors had joined the business primarily on the promise of being able to make their own advertising. For some, this was clearly personal.
• For a few others, it was the annoying ‘not invented here’ syndrome, which still to this day I cannot and will not accept.

My main reflection?

Neither party was right or wrong, and no solution was correct or incorrect. We just had different agendas. Everyone agreed that centralisation was the best thing for Europe in totality. The issue was that, at an individual market level, some units would be sacrificed. My proposal provided no relief for this detrimental impact. A harsh lesson but, in many ways, an obvious one. Fortunately, through some clear messaging by Jean Jacques and others, I compromised early and, importantly, I built trust and respect for ongoing interactions. It was an invaluable and critical insight.

Since that early experience, I have completely changed my views on what it means to be right or wrong. In essence, it simply does not matter. What matters to me is the following. That:

• I reach an outcome that is mutually agreeable to both myself and the other party that I am engaging with
• my positive working relationship with that party remains intact and, ideally, is strengthened as a result of our interaction
• I do not take a position that will compromise my values of trust and respect
• I determine the success of a relationship not by the incident or interaction itself, but rather by the enduring partnership that has hopefully been fostered.

If this means that I compromise my original position to achieve those outcomes, so be it. It also means that at times I will give up on my position completely. Even if I view that position to be 100 per cent right. It's not always right to be right.

EXCEPTIONS TO EVERY RULE

Question: will there be exceptions?

Yes, but hopefully they will be few and far between. The first is if a personal value is crossed. If it is, I will not compromise under any circumstance. I feel most people are like this. Second, if the criticality of an outcome is so important, then at times compromise will not be possible and the decision‐making hierarchy will need to be followed. These instances should be by exception only.

On a final note, please be aware that this premise of ‘allowable and needed compromise’ relates across all business and personal interactions. It's never easy, yet always important.

Good luck. And to that certain Frenchman, Jean Jacques — merci mon ami. J'apprécie beaucoup cela.