Truth in its Proper Dosage

This afternoon I stopped into a new neighborhood deli.  The joint seemed empty, until  the owner came to the counter to take my order.   I ordered a sandwich (I’ll leave it at that, since my wife and trainer both read this blog).  I waited.  I thumbed through a dog-eared Fortune magazine.  I waited some more. 

The owner came back to the counter.  “Hey, I’m sorry it’s taking so long.  The regular cook didn’t make it in, and I’m not too good on the grill.”

“No problem,” I said.

“Yeah,” he continued.  “He’s on parole, and when he checked in with his P.O., he found out there was a new warrant.  They took him into custody.”

Conversationally, where do we go from there?  “Um, it’s good that you offered the guy a chance.  I know it can be tough to find jobs.” I offered.

“He’s my brother-in-law.”

“Hmm.”

He went on to tell me about his efforts to retrieve his cook/ offender/brother-in-law’s car, and a great deal more about the circumstances that led to his incarceration in the first place.  Not good.  On the other hand, the guy’s apparently a deep-fry savant, and no slouch on the on the grill, either.

The irony arrived before my meal.  The Fortune magazine in hand, dated September 9, 2010, featured an article on the McNiel Consumer Healthcare division of Johnson & Johnson – yes, the makers of Tylenol, formerly corporate heroes for their candid and responsible handling of the first major tampering crisis – who are now deservedly under fire for atrocious quality control and a pattern of denial, deception, and obfuscation.  Their recall Website lists current recalls of 11 products.

The article is balanced; the story it tells is heartbreaking.   A company culture formerly dedicated to serving patients, caregivers, and parents, a company culture that redoubled its commitment to excellence and quality following the Tylenol crisis, devolved beyond recognition.   The quality team was widely known as “The EZ Pass System,” and managers bullied testers to tweak quality test results in order to release questionable batches of children’s aspirin.    When probably tainted batches of Motrin hit the shelves, the company dispatched teams of contractors to quietly and completely buy up stocks off retail shelves to deflect attention and avoid an official recall.

In prior roles, I have consulted to a number of J&J divisions.   I have seen leaders struggle appropriately with ethical questions, and consult their robust ethical framework for guidance.  These were good companies.   J&J employees actively used their famous Credo to make ethical decisions.  I saw them make tough calls that cost real money, because they were committed to doing right.

The article lays out how things changed, and offers some suggestions of why.  The company was reorganized following the acquisition of Pfizer Consumer Health Care; J&J divisions function autonomously; managers were under enormous pressure to drive growth and profitability.  The full story has not yet been told.   Regardless of the details, it should be read as a cautionary tale for all of us, about the fragility of even an apparently robust ethical culture, and about the need for management at all levels to walk the walk.  I hope that this team, or the team who succeed it, quickly finds the right path and re-learns the importance of maintaining fidelity to ethical principles.

Truth-telling and transparency are good starting points, if not to the level of my host this afternoon.  Here’s one business owner that might do better with a little less candor.  All in all, though, I feel safer with leaders who err on the side of disclosure.

I am also sad to report that the sandwich was lousy.  I’ll have to try again in three to five years, sooner for good behavior.

CAW