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Protect the Boss from the Adoring

Not every boss is a public figure. Not every boss wants to be seen in public. But like it or not, there is a necessary public side to leaders who occupy positions of relevance or importance.

I have worked for people who were household names, people who were known and were expected to be seen and heard. One of them, Colin Powell, had rock-star status. We used to kiddingly say that we feared he was closing in too fast on Mother Teresa in popularity.

That may sound glamorous until you reach that point in the favorability polls. That’s when you have to deal with the consequences.

It might be as simple as being surrounded when you enter a room, or it might be about being asked to pose for pictures. Or it might be a case of being asked to hold and kiss a baby. When those times come, it’s less glamorous than one might think.

But when it comes with the territory and you inherit the responsibility to contend with it, you need to manage it. How do you do that? You do it responsibly. So as not to offend. So as not to annoy. So as not to disappoint.

I got a whiff of this air of popularity with several bosses I served, men of high distinction. At social gatherings or formal functions they would be surrounded quickly by the adoring. People who wanted time with the guest of honor. People who wanted a moment they could brag about the next day. People who wanted a picture taken for the scrapbook. It was hard to say no, but at the same time it had to be managed and controlled.

An example of doing that was making eye contact with the boss and seeing his signal that he had had enough. It was easy to tell him in front of the gathering that I needed a private moment with him. I was able to pull him away and find a quiet corner. We were able to decide when and where to reinsert ourselves into the social setting.

When military retirement came for Powell and me, the luxury of government sedans and airplanes disappeared. We were thrust into the life of the commoner: walking through airports, taking commercial jets, waiting for luggage. It was not uncommon to be run down by a caring citizen who would holler to us in an airport, “General Powell, General Powell. May I have your autograph? Can I take a picture of you?” Yes, we did care; yes, we did stop; yes, we did give them what they asked for. Why? It was a matter of showing our respect for them in return for their respect for him.

How interesting as the years passed that role reversal appeared in my life. Walking through security at my hometown airport in Syracuse, I glanced at the person in front of me. Handsome guy, looked familiar. I recognized none other than former NFL quarterback Doug Flutie. As he moved toward the gate, I turned to my assistant, Sue Virgil, who was behind me in line, and asked if she had spotted this once popular football star in front of us. She hadn’t, so I gave her a clue about who it was. “Hail Mary pass?” The famous game-ending pass he threw for Boston College gave it away.

We reached our gate, and there he sat alone. He was waiting to board the same plane to Boston. I encouraged her to ask for his autograph. She went over to him, introduced herself, and asked if he would sign the cover of the program for the seminar we were about to conduct. Of all places, it was going to be held at Gillette Stadium, home of the New England Patriots, for whom he once had played. With a huge smile he complied.

We had more time to kill before boarding the plane, so I asked if she had a camera. It just so happened she did. I encouraged her to ask him for an impromptu photo op. At first she didn’t want to bother him again. Having had extensive experience in these kinds of situations, I told her no harm, no foul. However, she wanted a picture taken with him—not of him alone. I became the camera clicker and enjoyed capturing the moment.

He was as gracious as could be. She was as ecstatic as she could be. It was a Kodak moment for the adoring and the adored.

I have fumbled for more pens and taken more pictures than I care to recall to capture the moment for others. Each was as important as the one before it. With time I learned to manage them more efficiently. I learned how the general and I could gracefully exit the scene without offending anyone.

Flying commercially with General Powell became a challenge. By providing the designated air carrier advance notice, however, we typically were offered early boarding and seated in first class, front row left, behind the bulkhead, he next to the window and me on the aisle. The first time that happened, I thought it was very cool—that is, until the other passengers, who had seen us ushered aboard early, boarded the plane. There were awkward handshakes, autograph requests, even demands that he pose for a photo. In self-defense I learned quickly that a wide-open newspaper pointed toward the aisle served as good camouflage.

The adoring requests don’t have to be this dramatic to be invasive. Someone may want private time with the boss. Someone may stop by unexpectedly. Someone may ask for that letter of reference that he or she needs that wasn’t anticipated.

All these things take time, precious time, time that could be spent working down the list of priorities for the day. But you have to take time because all those people, all those requests, all those requirements are important and are part of being important. To deny them is insulting; to refuse them is inappropriate; to ignore them is worse.

Building a brand and building a reputation are part of what you should do for your boss. But with that comes dealing with the consequences of being popular. Being in demand requires skill and attention: skill at managing whatever it takes and attention to the details of doing it quickly and right.

Handling these requirements well comes with time. Anticipating the sorts of things that will be asked of your boss is intuitive. Knowing him or her well enough to minimize the time spent on the request is good management. Doing it in a way that is more a labor of love than necessity is caring. It pays off for the boss.