Introduction
It was a yellow fish with bright blue stripes, unlike any other in the aquarium, that drew my attention.
Regally, intentionally, it circled the center of the glass encasement at a measured pace, surrounded by myriad other fish darting wildly about. My co‐worker, sitting next to me at a noisy work‐dinner party, asked what I was staring at. I brushed the question off and reentered the fray of conversation, albeit half‐heartedly. At a time when I felt frazzled in my middle management role, I kept stealing glances at the Pisces protagonist, my mind lost in association.
I was that fish.
Maneuvering in the middle of an oversized fishbowl, all eyes privy to my every movement. Surrounded, yet lonely. Pressure from all sides; the weight of water. Watching other fish with their own agenda zip by while I labored to remain steady and purposeful in the middle of it all.
Such is the plight of the middle manager, of those who lead from the middle.
Which would be anyone who has a boss or is a boss, at any level, anyone who must influence in all directions to do their job well.
Me. You.
My existential moment happened in the middle of my three‐decade corporate career. Even as I moved closer to the “top” at Procter & Gamble to run multibillion‐dollar businesses, I was still always in the middle at some level, with people to influence above, and always plenty of those to influence down and across. It was exhausting at times, exhilarating at others. I found myself wishing someone would ...