My (Long) Day At the Top

The rest of the day was a blur. More vile emails. An inspirational voice mail I had to record to introduce Kelly to the staff (in a brilliant, if unauthorized, initiative, I announced $1,000-to-$25,000 bonuses to anyone with "ideas that help the company"). I swore a lot under my breath. And then it was time for the business-plan presentation. Without a clue about how to crunch the production numbers, I had opted to concentrate on the marketing side of the Jeeves product launch--and to talk so much that my boss wouldn't miss the margin calculations or the ad budget. Amazingly, he actually seemed to buy it.

"My day finally ended. I left feeling like the white-collar equivalent of Lucille Ball in the chocolate factory."

I left feeling like the white-collar equivalent of Lucille Ball in the chocolate factory. I didn't think I had been a complete loser, but that just raised the question: If this ink-stained--and untrained--wretch could pass for management material, wasn't this whole exercise suspect? Could it really be worth the $4,000 to $12,000 that more than 1,000 companies have ponied up for DDI's full- or half-day assessments?

Kelly and I cuddled up together in the hotel for a brain-dead evening of reality TV, then returned to DDI the next morning for our results. Eric Hanson, executive consultant, and Audrey Smith, senior VP for executive solutions, took me through DDI's approach, which evolved out of a post-World War II assessment for potential candidates for the Office of Strategic Services. I asked Smith how a one-day simulation could truly predict someone's executive chops. She said I should see for myself--and in walked Jean Denuzzio. Denuzzio, an executive coach and a senior assessor, had a deceptively soothing, grandmotherly air as she explained that I had been judged on 11 competencies out of the 31 that DDI evaluates. Each was graded as either a strength, a proficiency, or, in DDI parlance, a "development opportunity." (I would later receive a more detailed, written report; if I were a real client, I'd develop an action plan both to build on the stuff I'm good at and to work on my "opportunities.")

Denuzzio started with the good news. "I was surprised at the number of email responses you handled," she said. I gave secret thanks for that speed-typing class at Monroe High School. She also said I had shown a real aptitude for "driving results," meaning I was focused and tried to get things done. And, to my surprise, my boss really had liked my presentation. I'd projected confidence, had decent ideas, shown some entrepreneurial insight, and demonstrated "solid business judgment."

I puffed up with pride. Maybe I had osmosed some of this management stuff after all. Hell, maybe someone would want to write about me one day. (I would soon learn that my personality test scored very high in the "attention-seeking" category.)

My euphoria didn't last long. "We didn't see a lot of creativity," Denuzzio said, moving on briskly. Say what? And my attempt to skate over my lack of financial expertise? Busted. My mood lifted again, though, when Denuzzio labeled me a "change agent." Hey, Fast Company worships change agents! Sadly, it turns out that, at DDI, a change agent is not the real driver of change (that would be a "change leader"). Change agents are means to an end. Tools.

"The other area, and it might be a nice area for you to work on," Denuzzio went on, "centered around your executive disposition." I felt my face getting hot. True, I have been known to blow a gasket from time to time. But I had played it so cool here. Hadn't I? "You come off as professional," Denuzzio assured me. "You are a person who speaks your mind. But when people challenge you, you have an edge, and it surfaced," she said, referring to my exchange with the TV reporter. She also noted that in my talk with Marty, my employee, I was "getting a little bit demanding." Now this was depressing. I had always considered myself good at communicating clearly and mentoring people. But my tendency to get impatient and irritated in times of stress--one that came out loud and clear in my personality tests--had gotten in the way of my abilities, creating, in DDI speak, a "derailer."

Denuzzio finished up her vivisection of me by going over the three personality tests I had taken--the "leadership effectiveness," "challenges," and "values" inventories. The first measures tendencies that usually help someone lead better; the second looks at those damned derailers; and the values inventory measures what motivates or inspires a person. Although the tests are an important part of the assessment process, they don't carry as much weight as the business simulation. "Our motto is, 'Behavior rules,' " said Denuzzio.

To my delight and horror, the tests nailed me cold. My passion for new and different challenges, my hardworking, ambitious side, my love of socializing and interacting with others--all there. But so, too, were my tendency to get snappish at stressful moments and my "low interpersonal sensitivity" (i.e., extreme bluntness). DDI doesn't make yes-or-no job recommendations for candidates. Yet I came away with the strange--and somehow disturbing--conclusion that, warts and all, I could, with a lot of practice and probably a lot of therapy, be Kelly Myers. I didn't have much time to think about that, though. Thankfully, I had a story to write.

Jennifer Reingold (jreingold@fastcompany.com) is a Fast Company senior writer.