Leadership Wisdom From The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari: The 8 Rituals of Visionary Leaders (3 page)

In my years in business, I have discovered that a person’s eyes can reveal the truth. They can disclose warmth, insecurity, insincerity or integrity, if one simply takes the time to study them. The young man’s eyes told me he had wisdom. They also indicated he had a passion for life and perhaps a slight mischievous streak. They seemed to sparkle when the sunlight pouring into my office caught them. Seen up close, the young man’s ruby red robe was quite splendid in its texture and design. And despite being inside, he had chosen to leave the hood on, lending further mystery to his remarkable appearance.

“Who are you and why were you throwing rocks at my window?” I demanded, my face growing hot and my palms growing even more sweaty.

The young man remained silent, his full lips holding their smile. Then he started to move his hands, bringing them together in a prayer stance, offering me the traditional greeting of the people of India.

‘This guy is unbelievable!’ I thought. ‘First he treads through my rose garden, the garden I love looking at from my office when things get crazy. Then he starts pitching rocks at my window, scaring the heck out of me. And now, when he is surrounded by four burly, no-nonsense security guards who could floor him in an instant, he plays games with me.’

“Look, kid, I don’t know who you are or where you’ve come
from, and to be honest, I don’t really care,” I exclaimed. “You can keep wearing that silly robe and giving me that silly smile. Be as cocky as you like because I plan to call the police. But before I do, why don’t you break that vow of silence you monks are so famous for and tell me why you are here?”

“I’m here to help you reinvent your leadership, Peter,” the young man replied in a surprisingly commanding tone. “I’m here to help you get your organization back on track. And then on to world-class status.”

How did he know my name? Maybe this guy was dangerous. I’m glad I’ve got security right in front of me,’ I thought to myself And what was all this nonsense about helping me “reinvent my leadership and get my company back on track?” If this clown was some kind of consultant trying to get my attention for a fat contract, he was going about it the wrong way. Why didn’t he just send me a proposal like the rest of those overpriced, underworked “change agents” who have an amazing gift for creating makework projects that ensure they never miss the target dates for their early retirements.

“You have no idea who I am, do you, Peter?” he asked in a friendly tone.

“No, I’m sorry I don’t. And if you don’t tell me now, I’m going to kick your sorry behind down the hallway and out into the parking lot,” I yelled menacingly.

“I see you still have that temper, Peter. We’ll need to work on that. I’ll bet it doesn’t help you win the loyalty of your team. And I know it does nothing but hurt your golf game, which never was that good,” said the young man, breaking into a laugh.

“Do you have any idea who you are talking to, you arrogant little troublemaker?” I screamed, disregarding the fact that the
mysterious stranger was well over six feet tall and in superb physical condition. “How dare you chastise me for my temper? And how do you know so much about my golf game? If you’ve been following me around, I’m definitely getting the police to charge you. That’s a very serious offense you know,” I noted, whipping myself into a frenzy that caused me to sweat profusely once again.

Then the young man did something that astonished me. He lifted his hand and reached deep into his robe, pulling out what appeared to be a gold-plated golf ball. He then tossed it high into the air for me to catch. “I thought you might want it back,” he remarked, still smiling.

I was stunned by the object now resting in the palm of my hand. For the golf ball carried an inscription:
To Julian on your fiftieth birthday, a golden golf ball for the man who has it all.
It was signed:
Your friend always, Peter.
How did the young man get this ball? I had given it to my former golfing partner, Julian Mantle, a few years ago. Julian had been a legend in the business world and one of the few friends I had been able to keep over the years. A man with an absolutely brilliant mind, he was widely acknowledged as one of the finest lawyers in the country. Unlike me, he had come from money, his grandfather being a prominent senator and his father, a highly respected judge of the Federal Court. Groomed for success at an early age, Julian graduated number one in his class at Harvard Law School and then landed a coveted position with a spectacularly successful law firm.

He rose to national prominence within a few short years, and his blue-chip client list included multibillion-dollar corporations, major sports teams and even leading governments. In his heyday, he managed a team of eighty-five talented lawyers and won a string of legal victories, which, to this day, causes me to marvel.

With an income well into the seven figures, he had everything anyone could want: a mansion in a tony neighborhood favored by celebrities, a private jet, a summer home on a tropical island and his most prized possession of all — a shiny red Ferrari parked in the center of his driveway. But, like me, Julian had his flaws.

He worked like a fiend, regularly working through the night and then catching a few hours of sleep on the couch in his princely corner office before beginning the daily grind all over again. Though I loved playing golf with him, he was hardly ever available. I mostly heard the same excuse from his executive assistant, “I’m sorry, Mr. Franklin, Mr. Mantle will not be able to join you for golf this week due to an emergency that has come up on one of his cases. He does apologize.” The man pushed himself relentlessly and, over time, lost most of his friends along with his once sympathetic wife.

I honestly thought Julian had a deathwish or something. Not only did he work far too hard, he lived far too hard. He was well-known for his late-night visits to the city’s finest restaurants with sexy young fashion models and for his reckless drinking escapades with a rowdy band of cronies, which often ended up in fights that were splashed across the newspapers the next day. Despite his statements to the contrary, Julian Mantle was digging himself into an early grave. I knew it, the lawyers at his firm knew it and, deep within his soul, I think he knew it.

I watched Julian’s steady decline with a feeling of sadness. At the age of fifty-three, he looked as if he was in his late seventies. The constant stress and strain of his hard-driving lifestyle wreaked havoc on him physically, transforming his face into a mass of wrinkles. The late-night dinners in expensive French restaurants, smoking thick Cuban cigars and drinking cognac after
cognac had left him embarrassingly overweight and he constantly complained that he was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Over time, he lost his once wicked sense of humor and rarely laughed. A time eventually came when he stopped playing golf, even though I knew he loved the sport as well as our outings together. With all the work on his plate, Julian even stopped calling me. I knew he needed my friendship as much as I welcomed his, but I guess he just didn’t care.

Then tragedy struck the Great Julian Mantle. One Monday morning, in the middle of the packed courtroom where Julian was arguing a case for one of his best corporate clients, Air Atlantic, he collapsed. Amid the frenzied screams of his paralegal and the clicking cameras of the media that were present, Julian was rushed to the hospital. On arrival, he was diagnosed as having suffered a massive heart attack and was rushed into the coronary care unit. The cardiologist said Julian was as close to death as any patient he had ever seen. But somehow he survived. The doctors said Julian was a fighter and seemed to have “a heroic will to live.”

That sad episode changed Julian profoundly. The very next day, he announced he was leaving the practice of law for good. I’d heard through the grapevine that Julian had headed off to India on some kind of expedition. He told one of his partners he “needed some answers” and hoped he would find them in that ancient land that had, over the centuries, gathered such great wisdom. In a striking act of closure, Julian had sold his mansion, his jet and his private island. However, it was his final gesture before departing that was his most unexpected:
Julian sold the Ferrari that he loved so muck

My thoughts quickly returned to the young stranger in the monk’s robes, now standing in the center of my office, still smiling
and still wearing the hood over a thick mop of brown hair. “How did you get this gold-plated golf ball?” I asked in a quiet tone. “I gave this to a dear friend of mine a few years ago as a gift for a very special birthday.”

“I know you did,” replied the visitor. “And he really appreciated your gesture.”

“And might I ask how you would know that?” I persisted.

“Because I’m the dear friend. I am Julian Mantle.”

I was astonished by what I had just heard. Could this young man in the peak of health really be Julian Mantle, a man who had fallen from the pinnacle of greatness as no one I have ever known? And if it
was
him, how could he possibly have undergone such a stunning change in appearance? I knew Julian had sold his mansion, his summer home and even given up his prized red Ferrari. I knew he’d given up the trappings of the corporate world and trekked off to the Himalayas on some fanatical mission to seek answers to the deep questions he was struggling with. But surely a simple visit to that ancient and mystical place could not have so profoundly transformed a man who had all but worked himself into the ground.

Disturbed by the bizarre scenario that had just unfolded before me, my mind began to race to some of the other possibilities. Perhaps this was a prank masterminded by one of my less-than-mature managers to inject a little levity into what was sure to be a tension-filled week? Or maybe the young man was an infiltrator from a competitor seeking to get inside our operation to see how bad things really were? Perhaps this visitor in monk’s
clothing was a deranged trespasser out to seriously harm me. But before I could examine these options more fully, the young man spoke.

“Peter, I know it’s hard for you to believe it’s really me. I’d feel exactly the same way if I were in your shoes. All I’m asking from you is a little faith, a little bit of belief in life’s small miracles. There’s a purpose to my visit.”

“And what might that be?” I asked, still not certain who was standing before me.

“Frankly, I’ve heard you are in big trouble and I’ve come to help. If what I’ve heard about GlobalView since my return from the Himalayas is true, you cannot afford not to listen to what I’ve come to tell you. I’ve discovered information that will return you and your business to the heights of success you once enjoyed. I’ve been given knowledge that will lead you to certain market leadership. I’ve learned lessons that will show you how to have the most loyal, dedicated and inspired employees of any company in your field. This information was given to me by a very learned teacher, who I met high in the mountains. The timeless wisdom he shared with me is not widely known here in the West. Yet it is so potent and so very profound that I am certain it will revolutionize your entire organization and do wonders for your bottom line.”

“Go on,” I replied, my curiosity piqued.

“The wisdom I’ve come to share with you is contained within a unique and extremely powerful system, a leadership blueprint of sorts. It’s actually foolproof. Follow the system and then just sit back and watch your company return to prime health. Well, actually, it’s designed to do far more than that. If you follow the formula with conviction, your business will be much more successful than it ever was. It will improve it in ways you never could have
imagined. Morale and productivity will soar. Your people will be more committed and creative than you’ve ever seen them. They will be much more responsive and adaptive to change. Your team will start to work together again and deeply care about the work it is doing. And, to state the obvious, profits will go through the roof.”

“Okay. You’ve got my attention,” I responded. “But first let me ask you something. Assuming you are Julian, and that’s quite an assumption, why are you dressed like a monk? The Julian Mantle I knew wouldn’t be caught dead in anything less than Armani.”

“Fair question, my friend,” the young man replied with a mischievous grin, which I quickly realized looked very much like the one Julian was so well known for in his younger years. “Mind if I start my explanation at the beginning?”

“I’m all ears,” I replied, leaning back into my plush leather chair for what I sensed would be a good story.

The young man proceeded to relate, in minute detail, the rise and fall of the legendary Julian Mantle, from his days as a brilliant young student at Harvard Law School to his unparalleled success as a litigation lawyer handling some of the most complex corporate law cases in the country. He spoke candidly of his victories and also of his well-documented decline. He talked about his dreams, his fears, his failed marriage and his heart attack. He even referred to the intricacies of my golf game and said that he sorely missed our fun-filled afternoons in the sun.

“They were pretty great,” I interrupted, sensing that, somehow, this young stranger dressed in the attire of the sages really might be my long-lost friend Julian Mantle. Who else could have known all these details? I sat there silently, unsure of what to say next. Then I stood up and walked over to him.

“Julian it really is you isn’t it?” I said apologetically.

“Yes it is. And it’s really great to see you after all these years. That golf ball you gave me for my fiftieth really meant a lot to me.”

I was delighted to see him. We embraced as only old friends can and began to revisit memories of our glory days together. But, in the back of my mind, one thought still nagged me. I still couldn’t find a rational explanation for Julian’s amazing youthfulness.

Feeling my unease, Julian asked with his trademark flair, “A little curious to discover my beauty secrets?” his lips curving into a full grin.