The Misfit Manager

s he headed for the human resources office, Stan Kelleher had his first moment of doubt about the fallout from the Income Support Bureau's restructuring. The deputy director had been exhilarated by the bureau's swift goal setting, realigning and streamlining of work under Tom Calley, a dynamic and focused new leader. And thus far, HR had softened the blow for employees with buyouts, early retirements, and career transitioning and outplacement services. But then came the case of J. Morton Schwarzkopf.

Kelleher had known Schwarzkopf by professional reputation even before he had arrived at headquarters to take the deputy position. Mort, as everyone referred to him, was as esteemed as he was popular. Beginning as a research analyst fresh out of college, Schwarzkopf had spent 28 years in the grants division, the last 10 as its chief.

That, Kelleher reflected, was in an era of seemingly limitless federal largesse, when the objective was to show grantees how to make the best use of it. Now the available resources and the consensus on how to use them had changed dramatically. Less tax money was to be spent providing income for citizens, and the Washington bureaucracy had decidedly less control over how it was to be spent. The bureau no longer needed visionary planners and advocates in the grants division. It needed some liaison representatives and a few hard-nosed auditors to make sure states and counties followed federal guidelines. That wasn't a job for the celebrated J. Morton Schwarzkopf.

Nor, Kelleher had regretfully concluded, did there seem to be any other job for Mort in the new order. The deputy director and Calley had met with the division chiefs when the bureau had gotten its reinvention marching orders. Many of the chiefs and key staffers had been willing and able to work with the states and local governments on a transition to the new system-taking their chances on how they'd fit in later. Others had opted for buyouts or early retirement or begun looking elsewhere for jobs.

But Mort had admitted he was neither philosophically compatible with the new strategy nor financially able to take advantage of the relatively generous separation benefits. Married late and with a son only in junior high, he figured he needed to maintain his current standard of living for another eight to 10 years. Meeting privately with Calley and Kelleher, he had summed up his situation poignantly: "Gentlemen, I can't see much of a need for my job or my talents in carrying out the bureau's new mission. But I've got a family to support, so I'm afraid I can't make your downsizing job any easier."

Calley had assured Schwarzkopf that they would do everything possible and had asked Kelleher to give the problem his personal attention. Kelleher, now seated opposite human resources Director Vivian Dixon, said Calley was looking for advice on how to avoid harming Schwarzkopf.

"This is where all this heady reinvention stuff starts to bite," Dixon commiserated. "I wish I could say Mort is the only star player rendered irrelevant by our passage to the brave new world. If it weren't for the buyouts and early outs, I don't know how we'd handle the fallout. The trouble is, Mort's personal circumstances don't accommodate all the usual options. Have you thought about the professional societies and advocacy groups? He's always had good connections outside."

"He mentioned those himself," Kelleher responded, "but funding in his field isn't all that robust out there, either, and their salary structures aren't too generous. Besides, he'd take a hit on the pension since he's just over 50."

"Why don't you suggest that he see one of our career counselors, Stan? The firm we hired does a very professional job, and many employees, including managers, have been pleasantly surprised at the range of ideas they stimulate. No guarantees, of course. Mort's situation is tough," Dixon said. The HR director hesitated a moment, then continued: "Here's one more incentive for us to solve this problem. The local managers association has protested to the Secretary and to the media about the reorganization's disproportionate impact on managers. They could have a field day with Mort as their poster child."

Kelleher doubted that the loyal bureau veteran would join any effort to discredit his employer, but he could become a cause celebre without his consent. But forgetting all that, what were the viable options? A reduction-in-force would probably leave the very senior Schwarzkopf in a much modified division director position, doing a job he disliked and displacing someone more likely to adapt to the new way of doing things. If he did poorly, would the bureau be prepared to take action against a longtime hero?

Kelleher needed a solution that promoted the effectiveness and efficiency of the reinvented organization without trashing the career of one of the finest contributors to its past.

David Hornestay, a Washington-area consultant, served in government for more than 30 years, primarily in human resources and institutional
management.