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A Slap in His Face

Ivar's telephone was unusually silent this winter morning.  He had expected calls from his project members on how they should go ahead with their critical project.  No calls.  He went through his notes from the meeting they had had the previous week.  They had spent many hours discussing the restructuring of the project along the lines that he had proposed.  At the time it had seemed to him as if the group had got closer to laying out a path forward.
 
After a couple of hours of idling, he could not wait longer.  He walked out the door into the corridor that went around the squared form of the building to Göran's office.  Through the frosted door window he could make out several figures inside.  He hesitated; should he disturb them?  He took a deep breath and gave a quick knock before opening the door.
 
There they were.  Göran was sitting at his desk with Nisse and Kåre in armchairs opposite him. Ivar's boss, Lasse, was standing just inside the door to the left, leaning his back against the wall. So here they were, talking.  He felt a hostile atmosphere.  It was like opening the door into a room filled with smoke, just that the smoke was now hostility.  It hit him hard.  He took a step backward, still holding his right hand on the knob: “I am sorry, I will come back later.”
 
Just before the door closed, Lasse interrupted, “No, come in and let’s talk.”  He opened the door again, took a step inside, and closed the door behind him.
 
“Ivar, these guys are telling me that you are in their way of doing what they need to get done.”
 
It was a blow straight in his face.  He was totally unprepared.  He knew, of course, that he and the group had had many discussions, even very passionate ones. He knew that he and they had had severe differences of opinion as to how to carry out this project. Still, he was not prepared for this sudden blow. He reacted as if he had been struck unexpectedly. His head bounced backward. His eyes widened. But the words to explain--to defend--his position did not come.
 
The previous September he had been offered the job of project manager for a mission- critical project.  It was probably the most critical project then at Ericsson.  It needed to become a success.  Ericsson would live or die on its outcome. The product was a new telephone switch that would replace Ericsson's existing products.  These earlier products used electromechanical technology, whereas the new product would use computer technology with a lot of software.  Ericsson's engineers had some experience in using the new technology but their experience was, like that of everyone else at that time (1967), very immature.  For example, engineering's estimates were usually wrong by a factor of ten or more.
 
After a long silence, Nisse was the first to speak up, “Yes, you prevent us from doing useful work.  We don’t get anything done, because you keep pushing a new way to do it." Nisse was the one of the group with whom Ivar had worked the most.  He was ordinarily a very friendly guy who disliked criticizing the work of others. Now he seemed to feel obliged to speak for all of them.  Ivar suspected that Nisse felt that the others would go too fast to the "killing."
 
So, it was another hit, but this time it was less of a surprise.  Ivar knew that he was changing completely the way the project was to do things. Two months earlier, he had concluded that the project would never succeed in its critical mission if it did not totally change the existing way of developing a software-based product. He had worked out a new strategy. Lasse had approved it. Ivar was now trying to implement it.
 
Göran now took up the argument; “You don’t add anything to our work.  Your proposals are useless.” His face was pale with anger, but he seemed to be very uncomfortable. “Just leave us alone and we will get the job done.”
 
Throughout the whole software organization, he was known as “Father Göran.”  He had been there from the start five years earlier.  He had developed the way they were doing things.  Ivar had come to know Göran first as neighbors in Bollmora, 13 miles south of Ericsson's plant in Stockholm.  They had become friends. The two men shared a car to work and back each day, almost an hour in both directions. The two families became close and often entertained each other. Ivar had asked him for counsel when he was offered the job as project manager.  If Göran had known what would come of it, he would probably have given a different answer!
 
“And you know nothing about software!  How can even you believe that you are able to tell us how to do our job?” It was Kåre, who usually did not speak more than necessary. He had fired the last bullet.
 
"If I had not got enough before, this last nail in the coffin they were preparing should not have left me in any doubt," Ivar recalled later.  "It was true that what I knew about software was from studying what we were doing.  At the time I had no practical experience in software design.  I had never written any code, never used any programming tools: assemblers, debuggers, linkers, and so on.  I had studied many inches of documents. I had made up lists of questions, asked hundreds of questions, and listened carefully to the explanations. Every evening and every weekend I studied, I worked sixteen hours a day, seven days a week.  It took me three months to get to the point where I felt that I understood what we were doing.  But now I had passed this period of intensive work. However, I did not try to hide my lack of experience."
 
What could a project manager say when the people doing the work tell him--
 

  • "You hinder us in doing our job."
  • "Your work is useless."
  • "You don't have the competence to handle your job."

To fire them was not even in his mind.  You don’t do that in Sweden. 
 
To transfer them was also not something to consider, for they were the real software leaders in the whole company. They spoke the language of modern software development. They were widely admired. 
 
What were the options?  Could Ivar convince them that they were wrong?  Of course not.  He had been on that path for months.
 
Could he adopt their old approach?  No.  In his mind the answer was clear. The project in its larger dimensions could not succeed along that path.
 
Could he ask to leave the project?  That thought went through his head, but he dismissed it. They were deadly wrong in what they were doing. What he wanted to do was the right thing.  He knew deep in his heart that the project could do great things for Ericsson, even that it could change the general course of software development. 
 
"How could I give it up now?" he asked himself. Then he spoke aloud.
 
“Lasse, I guess you have a small nut to crack.  Tell me when you have made up your mind.” And he left the room.

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