Certainty is a virtue, isn’t it?

Where would we be without confident, black and white answers to important questions? There is great comfort in knowing something to be true or in taking a position that does not need to be reexamined each day. So, we test our beliefs and fix them in our minds. Without such a process, life would be too incredibly complex. It is enough to deal with the new things without having to question what we already know. Makes sense to you?

And yet, unyielding certainty can be a trap.

When my daughter was young, it was a regular event every few months for her to ask if she could have a dog. My answer was always the same, “No, Sweetie, a dog is a lot of responsibility and work.” She cheerfully and consistently accepted my short answer (which never varied) for years. Then she approached me one night while I was sitting on the couch with my son. “Daddy,” she said, “could I have a dog?” Well, the usual tape started running, “No, Sweetie, a dog is a lot of responsibility and work.” When I resumed talking with my son, I could see out of the corner of my eye that my daughter had not moved. Turning back toward her, I could also see that there were tears in her eyes. Off she ran upstairs. My son and I exchanged bewildered looks. “What was that all about?” he asked.

That night as I was putting my daughter to bed, I found her lying there still affected by my answer. I asked her if she was upset at me. Without making eye contact, she nodded her head “yes.”

Quietly, I said, “But, Sweetie, you know that I always say ‘no’ when you ask for a dog. A dog is a lot of responsibility and work.” (Perhaps if I whispered the words she would accept them better.)

Turning to look at me directly, she delivered to me an important lesson.

“Daddy, you could have said ‘maybe’.”

There is so much simplification that occurs in strategy and competitive intelligence work.

Much of that simplification is necessary because the competitive environment is simply too complex to think that analysis can start from scratch each day. So, we analyze, categorize and prioritize so that the few most critical issues are worked hardest. Over time, the people that are involved know and can repeat the common answers to both the lower priority issues and those that are getting special attention. Indeed one measure of the success of a competitive intelligence program is the general awareness of the conclusions of the competitive intelligence efforts. What’s the problem with all of this?

Some people just have “It.” When there is a crowd, they still are able to be noticed. People want to hear what they have to say and their opinions seem to matter more. From the outside, it is not always clear just what they have done to earn such esteem. After all, much of what they are saying is no different than what you said or thought months again. Nevertheless, their presence and how it affects others is quite tangible.

Organizations can be the same way within a business. Often it is the outgoing, extraverted functions (think Sales) that dominate the culture. Other times, it is the engineering group and their collective innovation that everyone notices. Maybe there is an iconic leader that is dominating due to their vision or leadership. Distinctive presence matters because it helps establish and reinforce the importance or contributions of the group. People attribute value because of the presence projected by a person or group.

The competitive intelligence function must have a “presence” to be successful.

I suppose one could argue that everyone already has a presence of sorts. Yes, that is true. But few have the kind of presence that reflects distinct, unique value that compels instant respect from others.

I was in sixth grade. This was the first year of school that we changed classes to learn different subjects and we had 6 different teachers (one for each subject). My second period class was English and it was taught by an older woman that inspired fear in all of her students (including me). Luckily, we knew that she could only give us the dreaded homework assignments on the designated “English homework” nights.

One day she assigned us homework on the wrong night! No one said anything to her at the time. Who would have dared? Later that day when we were with our favorite teacher during sixth period, everyone began complaining about the English homework that we had been given. “It’s not right!” we declared together like a choir that was trained to sing in harmony.

Then, much to our surprise and consternation, our favorite teacher said, “I’m just going to get Ms. English and bring her right over.” The class became silent as we waited. A proverbial pin might have dropped and we would have all heard it at that moment.

When Ms. English came in, she glared at us all with her hands on her hips and asked “who said that I assigned homework on the wrong night?”

I was eighteen years old, fiercely independent and ready to go to college. We were living in Wyoming at the time and the college was in Florida. The long road trip ahead of me was the first one that I had ever undertaken by myself. I would have to make all the preparations beforehand, all of the decisions along the way and, of course, I was responsible for how I performed in school.

But first my trusty VW Bug had to get me there.

I set about to show everyone (especially my parents) that I could handle all of the preparations. I plotted the route for my 4 day journey. I decided on everything that had to go with me to college and made sure that it would fit in the car. Most of all, I prepared the car.

I checked the tires, the windshield washer fluid, the oil levels and so on. Boy, wasn’t I being thorough? And without any help to boot. About that time, my father asked if I had checked the sparkplugs. Well, I hardly needed any help from him or anyone else. I was a grown up and besides, didn’t he see what a great job I was already doing? “I’ll take care of it!” I snapped and he left the subject alone.

The departure day finally came and I drove off south through Colorado. Goodbye to living full time with the family. Hello to the college life. Independence day had arrived and I was doing just fine.

The first day was uneventful. I made it through the mountain passes of southern Colorado (barely) and arrived late in the day in Dumas, Texas. Somewhat nervously I checked in to the motel while halfway expecting that they would tell me I was too young to be traveling alone. All I remember about that night was the excitement of being on the road. I couldn’t sleep so I got up at 4 AM to start the next day’s travel. I left the motel in the dark that Sunday morning planning to travel a great distance that day (wouldn’t everyone be impressed with my accomplishment).

That’s when it happened.

My VW engine began to misfire. It jerked as I tried to get up to highway speed. I was mystified about the cause. This had never happened before. What was I going to do? I limped into Amarillo looking for a miracle. Unfortunately, there were no car dealers open at 6 AM on Sunday morning. I decided to keep going for a while. Later that morning I stopped to call home. Specifically I wanted to talk to my brother because he knew a lot more about cars than I did (or do).

He asked me, “Did you check the sparkplugs?” Uh-oh. “Actually, I checked everything but the sparkplugs before leaving home,” I replied sheepishly.

Sometimes in corporate life we are diligent to check many things.