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2012-10-15 12:23:57
Morale took a real beating this fall. But there's nothing that lifts the
spirits like some friendly competition.
Morale took a beating at my company in September -- and probably at yours as
well. A business didn't have to be located in New York City or Washington,
D.C., to feel the emotional shock waves of the terrorist attacks and the
falling economy.
In our case, there was trauma on top of anxiety and general distraction.
Because the World Trade Center had been plainly visible from our premises in
Brooklyn, dozens of my employees had watched the terrible events of September
11 unfold before their eyes. Everybody knew somebody who'd lost a loved one.
Several people lost friends.
But tragedies can sometimes bring out the best in people, as we've seen
repeatedly during recent months. With a little inspiration, moreover, it's
usually possible to find an answer to even the most difficult morale problems.
In the process, you may discover that your company has hidden strengths you
didn't know about.
Our flash of inspiration came from my wife, Elaine, who worked diligently after
September 11 to help employees cope with their emotions. The week after the
attacks she brought in grief counselors, who held a couple of group therapy
sessions, and later she ran some sessions on her own.
But despite her best efforts, a cloud continued to hang over the company.
"We've got to do something," she said one evening as we were driving home.
"Yeah," I said, "but what?" "Maybe that basketball tournament," she replied.
"Now would be a real good time to have it."
The basketball tournament was an idea we'd been talking about half-jokingly for
several months. We'd set up a makeshift basketball court behind our main
building, where some of the guys from the warehouse played pickup games during
their lunch hour. I would occasionally come by and watch them, and we'd banter
back and forth.
"You guys are good, but I'm better," I said one day.
They all laughed. "Why don't you come play with us?" they said.
"Well, maybe we'll have a tournament," I replied. "What do you want for prizes?
"
"We want your new sports car," they said.
I laughed and told them I'd see what we could do, but I didn't take the idea
any further. As I thought about Elaine's suggestion, however, I realized she
was right: now would be a good time to hold a basketball tournament. If nothing
else, it would give people a way to take their minds off the troubles of the
world.
So the next day, Elaine and I went to see Mike Harper, a supervisor of the
warehouse and one of the regulars on the basketball court. We told him what we
had in mind and asked him to help us organize it. We said we wanted teams of
three people, or four if one person was a substitute, and everybody in the
company was eligible to play. If Mike would get the names of the players and
the makeup of the teams, we'd take it from there.
As word of the tournament spread there was an almost audible buzz around the
company. People began putting together their teams and speculating about the
prizes. In the end, about 40 employees signed up, men and women from every
department. Some of them had never played basketball before, but they
understood what we were doing, and why, and quickly got into the spirit of
things.
Meanwhile, I focused on the rules, which were straightforward enough. We'd have
half-court games, with one point per basket. In each game, the first team to
score 16 points would win, provided it was ahead by two points. Otherwise the
two teams would keep playing until one of them took a two-point lead.
Every team in the tournament would play at least two games. We would follow a
so-called double- elimination format, meaning that a team wouldn't be
eliminated until it had lost twice.
As for prizes, I decided to hold on to my sports car, but we didn't skimp.
First prize would be $500 a person. Members of the second-place team would each
get a set of two tickets to a Knicks game. The third-place team would get $100
gift certificates to a sporting-goods store, while the fourth-place finishers
would win $50 gift certificates to another sporting-goods store.
There was a catch, however, as people discovered when we posted the list of
teams and a chart showing how the double-elimination format would work. The
players on one of the 10 teams were identified only by their last names:
Brodsky, Weiner, and Kaplan. Those just happened to be the names of the three
top executives in the company. According to the elimination chart, moreover,
Brodsky's team had to play just one game: the final.
"Whoa, what's that about?" some of the guys said when they saw the chart.
"It's my basketball," I said. "You got to beat me to win."
Now, on the surface at least, a team of Brodsky, Weiner, and Kaplan didn't
appear to be much of a threat. No one would ever confuse the three of us with,
say, Jordan, Pippen, and Rodman. As luck would have it, moreover, I threw my
back out right around the time we posted the chart, and so I was hobbling
around the office with a cane.
Most people thought I was faking. They figured I had a trick up my sleeve -- as
I did, of course -- and they tried to guess what it was. "We know," they said.
"You're going to bring your own ref."
"No," I said. "The other team can have whatever ref it wants."
But that didn't end the speculation, and my teammates and I did all we could to
keep people guessing. I spread a rumor that I'd once been an All-American.
Weiner started coming into the office early to work out in the gym. Kaplan
smoked cigarettes -- to increase his lung capacity, he said.
The tournament began, appropriately enough, on October 11, exactly one month
after the attack on the World Trade Center. We'd decided that Tuesday and
Thursday would be tournament days, with one game around lunchtime and another
in the late afternoon. We'd also decided that, on those days, employees would
get an hour off in addition to their lunch hour. That way, everybody would have
a chance to take in at least one of the games.
In fact, most people came to watch at one point or another. At the designated
hour, someone would roll the basketball net out of the warehouse and onto the
court we'd marked off on the dead-end street behind the building. People would
bring out chairs and take their places around the perimeter of the court. The
players would start to warm up.
After 10 minutes or so, the teams would begin playing. They were fairly well
matched. No one team had all the good players, and every team had its share of
novices.
One of the salesmen, for example, became a star even though he'd shown up with
two left sneakers and had to buy a new pair before he could play. Out on the
court, he threw up a series of air balls that sailed 10 or 15 feet over the
backboard, much to the delight of the spectators. Toward the end of the game,
he found himself alone with the ball, far from the basket. "Shoot! Shoot!"
somebody shouted. He took aim, and the ball flew in a perfect arc, swishing
through the basket without touching the rim. The crowd went crazy.
That was the spirit of the games. People waved pom-poms, held up signs, and
mixed Brooklyn catcalls with Bronx cheers. "Go back to calling receivables!"
"This is basketball, not football!" It was fabulous.
As the tournament progressed I began to realize that we were getting a lot more
out of the games than we'd bargained for. To begin with, we were seeing people
interact in a setting that was a step removed from work, and we were gaining a
lot of insights as a result. We were learning who hogged the ball, who shared
with others, and who focused on the team. That was valuable information for
supervisors. It also gave us important clues about the people we should be
grooming as future managers.
"Suddenly, the salesman wasn't just someone who made demands on behalf of his
customers. He was the good-natured guy who shot all those air balls and then
sank a perfect basket."
At the same time, we were breaking down the barriers between departments. In
the normal course of business, employees have relatively little contact with
people in other parts of the company. The communication that does occur,
moreover, often has to do with problems. Now people were really getting to know
one another, and new bonds were forming. Suddenly, the salesman wasn't just
someone who made demands on behalf of his customers. He was the good-natured
guy who shot all those air balls and then sank a perfect basket.
And so the community grew stronger. Elaine and I have always strived to
maintain the family feeling of the business, but that becomes harder as the
company grows. Here, almost by accident, we'd found a new way to create that
sense of familiarity.
Oddly enough, we were also building the company's reputation. One of our
customers happened to drop by during a game. He joined the crowd at courtside
and immediately got sucked in, laughing and cheering and having a ball.
Afterward he came up to me. "That was the greatest," he said. "I really needed
that today."
Pretty much the same thing happened with a woman who works for the company that
supplies specialized software to businesses in our industry. "I don't know how
you guys do it," she said, after watching a game. "That was the greatest thing
I've ever seen a company do."
By the time we reached the grand finale, the cloud over the company had long
since lifted. People were telling me that morale had never been better.
Meanwhile, rumors were flying fast and furiously about what Brodsky, Weiner,
and Kaplan had in mind for the last game.
What people did know was that we planned to make a party out of it. The game
was scheduled for Saturday, November 10, and we'd invited all the employees and
their families, as well as some customers, for a giant barbecue and lots of
fun.
Game time was 1 p.m. The weather had turned cold and windy, so we set up the
court in a warehouse. You could feel the excitement and anticipation as people
gathered for the game. There was a carnival atmosphere. One of our accounting
people handed out cotton candy and popcorn. Our head dispatcher served as the
disc jockey. Spectators waved flags and pom-poms. Children ran around the
court, trying to shoot baskets.
At about 12:45, Weiner and I came out in our basketball suits and began
dribbling, shooting baskets, doing calisthenics, and generally clowning around.
Soon we were joined by the members of the team that had emerged victorious from
the double-elimination part of the tournament. I took them aside. "Whatever
happens today," I said, "I want you to understand that you've won the
first-place prize. So congratulations, and enjoy yourselves."
Back on the court, I took the microphone and introduced the daughter of one of
our employees, who sang the national anthem. Then I said, "OK, now we're really
going to play." At that moment, a door opened, and in ran three tall African
American men in basketball suits with the names "Brodsky," "Weiner," and
"Kaplan" on their shirts.
As people began to laugh, I said, "I'd like to introduce our cousins Broadway
Brodsky, Speedy Weiner, and the Maniac Kaplan, of the Harlem Wizards. They'll
be filling in for Louis, Sam, and me today."
The Wizards are similar to the Harlem Globetrotters. I'd seen them play once
several years ago, and I'd tracked them down to serve as substitutes for my
team. They put on a dazzling show for 20 minutes, drawing in people from the
audience, and then played the final.
The Wizards worked their magic and won the game, but the real magic was
happening off the court. The party went on all afternoon. When the last guests
left, I had only one regret: that the tournament was over.
We're already planning the second annual CitiStorage basketball tournament. I
guess I'll have to come up with a new surprise ending. The biggest surprise,
however, has been the effect that the tournament has had on people in the
company. Not only are we all closer now than we've ever been, but we're working
more efficiently than before. Never would I have imagined that you could
actually improve productivity by giving people an extra hour off to play -- or
watch -- a game.
That's a kind of magic we could all use these days.