How to Lead Now

The program was all about re-creating pride in people who still had far more to contribute to the organization, Burch says. He called the program the Master's Group, after the famous golf tournament, and each of the masters was given a green jacket that resembled the jackets awarded at the Master's Tournament.

All of the masters -- and there are now some 700 of them -- meet once a year in San Diego, and each team also gathers once or twice annually. The upshot: Masters in Burch's division have exceeded sales quotas and beaten overall sales-force averages in seven out of the past nine years. "It was like recharging a battery," says Shumsky. "A lot of energy and enthusiasm came out. What makes it go is that it's accepted that senior people are now respected for what they bring to meetings, and their mentoring is invaluable."

Then there's Cadagin, at Fannie Mae. She is a high-spirited MBA and former Deloitte Touche consultant who exudes positive vibes. Cadagin had been at Fannie Mae for some eight years when she was asked to lead the relocation of the data center in July 2001. Most thought that it would be a relatively small project that could be accomplished by Labor Day. "At first we thought we could pull up 30 or 40 moving vans and do it over the weekend," she says. "But we had to lay over very complex calendars to see what businesses were running on the weekends and minimize the impact."

Her team finally settled on 13 separate moves over 13 weekends, starting in February 2002 and ending the following July. A core group of 175 data-center engineers would work on the majority of those weekends, though the entire effort would involve 550 employees. Each move had a project manager who wore a red baseball cap, which became a badge of distinction for everyone who got one. The project-manager jobs largely went to people who had never before assumed managerial responsibility. "These people all got bigger jobs," says Cadagin, now vice president of finance and portfolio technology. "I told them, 'You own it. You run with it. Come back and tell me what you want to do.' "

A ritual was quickly established. On the Wednesday before each move, Cadagin gathered the team for a 3 PM kickoff. She divided the group into teams, spelled out assignments, introduced project leaders, and set rules. She shared her fears about what service interruptions would do to the business. She said that if the workers were too tired to drive home after their work, the company would foot the bill for an overnight hotel stay. "Don't take risks," she'd say. "We need you too much."

Like a football coach preparing the team for a play-off game, Cadagin used humor to psych up the group. "Have no fear," she told them. "Whatever happens, report it. I know you guys. If a server gets dropped on the floor and breaks into seven pieces, you're going to think, 'A little Super Glue, a little duct tape, and no one will know.' We have plenty of people to help. . . . Be friendly. You won't know everyone on this project. I know how introverted you geeks are. Introduce yourself, and make new friends." Each meeting ended with her giving the sign-off made famous by the TV series Hill Street Blues: "Let's be careful out there."

She certainly made good on the promise she had made to feed them throughout the whole process. On Friday at 5 PM, the move would start -- not with packing, but with eating. More than 100 people would dine together first. Between 9 PM and midnight, all of the gear would be packed and moved. In Reston, snacks would be served at midnight. On Saturday morning at 8, the full breakfast would come out. And they would continue to work, sometimes into Saturday evening.

In short, Cadagin made it a fun project. She created a sense of community around it. And throughout the move, she made herself conspicuous. She was always there and always visible. She'd walk the floors throughout the night, constantly thanking people for helping out. "I had an incredible amount of respect for what I was asking these people to do," she says. "I couldn't ask them to work these hours and then just check in during the morning." At the end, she convinced the company to hand out bonuses to all employees involved in the relocation.

When the project was finally completed, she threw a picnic for everyone who had worked on the move, along with their families. There was face painting for the children, and the red hats took their turns in the dunk tank. "We did tours of the data center so that the kids could see what had kept their fathers or mothers away for the weekend," says Cadagin. "I had no life for six months, and yet I was sad about seeing it end."

Fannie Mae's CEO, Franklin Raines, delivered the ultimate accolade at a cocktail party that was thrown last September for everyone involved in the relocation. "You performed open-heart surgery on the company for 13 weeks in a row," he said, "and we didn't even know we were operated on."