I met George Cassidy at a James Bond costume party in 2008. Our mutual friend Jennifer Puryear of the wonderful blog Bacon on the Bookshelf (you should follow it if you’re not already) introduced us and suggested we try co-writing together (thanks, Jennifer!). George and I did start songwriting together, and over the years I got to enjoy George’s quick wit as well as his talent on multi-instruments. Here’s a duet we co-wrote (and performed) called Breathin’:
George lives with his wife and two sons in Nashville. He is a knowledge manager in the professional services industry, a musician, and the author, with Richard Courtney, of Come Together: The Business Wisdom of the Beatles (Turner, 2011). He is a graduate of Harvard University and a Mets fan. George agreed to do a guest post and shares some thoughts with us today:
Some years ago I was driving down Church Street in Nashville when I spotted then-Mayor Bill Purcell waiting to cross the street. He was accompanied by another man carrying some kind of folder or attaché. Some crucial, undeniable difference in the demeanors of these two otherwise practically identical men struck me as I rolled past, and a general rule began to form itself in my mind:
To be a Boss, you must aspire to carry nothing.
The intervening years have confirmed this theory for me over and over in various contexts. Think about it. When was the last time you saw a President of the United States carrying something into a meeting? A Boss has other people for that. It’s practically part of the job description.
Even rock-and-rollers know this rule. You never see Keith Richards looking at his watch or tapping something into his cell phone or carrying luggage or a laptop case. When he wrote his best-selling memoir, Life, he didn’t actually write anything down or use a computer – he had a guy for that. (Keef’s view of the modern, digitally connected age: “Well, now everyone wants to be a f*****g typist.”)
You will be hard pressed to find a picture of Keef with something in his hand other than a guitar, drink, or cigarette. In fact, if you watch a Stones show, Keef doesn’t even really carry his own guitar – someone hands it to him as he strolls onstage.
That’s a Boss.
A Boss is perfect – or at least sufficient – in his or her own person. A Boss doesn’t need to stay constantly connected. Whatever is important will find its way to the Boss.
The good news? Everyone’s born a Boss. Babies get it. Those of us who have children know well the bleak, grinding years of carrying stuff – car seats, diaper bags, toys, you name it – all on behalf of a blithe, hands-free toddler.
The bad news? Somewhere along the way, most of us have come to rely on various accessories and devices. We carry them around to stay prepared and to signal competence and helpfulness to others. We feel practically naked without them.
And yet, somehow, they inevitably diminish us.
To put a fine point on it, think about the last time you walked your dog. Have we become so inured to carrying stuff around that we have decided, as a society, that it’s better to pick up what our dog leaves behind and carry it around with us, than to deal with the alternatives? Yes. Yes, we have.
What kind of message is it sending your dog when you insist on walking three steps behind him, carrying that little plastic bag? Do you really wonder then why he won’t stay off the furniture?
Turns out, he knows something you don’t.