How to Keep a Diva

tl;dr-

• In his book 'How Google Works,' former Google CEO Eric Schmidt writes the following; "If you read any management textbook, it says ‘don’t hire the divas’ because they’re nothing but a pain in the ass ... but the people who are the divas—who believe—are the ones who will drive the culture and company to excellence ... they expect a lot, they drive people hard, they’re controversial, and they care passionately."
• Eric argues that 'divaism' - often portrayed more negatively than positively - is a hallmark of deep investment and passion in an organization's mission, making them key candidates for critical roles that organizations require to function effectively
• Yet, despite their benefits, management theory around diva employees often leans toward a form of tolerant exploitation; while an enterprise may 'need' a diva in the short term, many approaches focus on an almost cat-and-mouse dance of how to essentially exploit the diva ("Remember, the aim is not to fire the diva as that would be counterproductive") until they are no longer beneficial to the enterprise ("Continually assess -- is this diva worth keeping?")
• When divas become aware of this management style - tolerance as opposed to true partnership or advancement - the most likely result is separation (popular wisdom suggests around 47% of high performers leave their organization each year); the worst case is when divas become knaves, using their talents to enrich themselves at the cost of others on a team or in an organization
• However, it should be noted that not all organizations may even require high performer individuals (including divas); there may not be enough resources available, the enterprise may not be ready for ideas high performers often bring, or simply the manager needs a job done 'adequately' vs excellently
• Bottom line: hiring & retaining top talent should always be treated with care and planning; haphazardly hiring talented individuals but failing to provide appropriate resources or opportunities may simply be less effectively than hiring a less productive - but ultimately easier to manage - employee

Side note - I was going to use the picture of Bowen Yang and Simu Liu singing karaoke before I realized I used it before in another article earlier this year. Still a great photo though.

Ever since I started in the life sciences industry 15 years ago, I've always received variations of the same core feedback - 'You're brilliant but somewhat difficult; can you keep being brilliant but be less difficult?' Some of this was certainly due to my immaturity as a professional, and I've consciously focused for many years now on refining my communication style, my presence, and also my political sense on how to navigate different organizations. However, particularly this year, I've finally come to peace with the fact that I will always be somewhat difficult to work with because, at the end of the day, I'm a diva.

I've been confronted with the same choice many times in my career over the years - just do the bare minimum and coast, or invest all-in and shoot for excellence. Nearly every single time, I've chosen the latter because - look, if both myself and the enterprise I serve are investing time and money in this partnership, then I'm going to own up to my end of the bargain and bring as much of my best self every day to each task. There have been, of course, times when I've waffled - generally when I sense a lack of return on my investment - but it remains a compulsion. As one colleague told me recently, "you are not the type of person to see a problem and not instantly try and figure out how to solve it."

As Eric writes above, one hallmark of my divaism is an unrelenting expectation of others around me, particularly those I work closely with. I'm not going to lie; I'm incredibly demanding and I don't mince words. I push frequently people I work closely with to advance, whether that is thinking, execution, or management. Leadership too is not spared. Part of this is my genuine commitment to the organization I am employed by ('why shouldn't we try to improve to fulfill this mission?') and part of it is my own ego ('why shouldn't I be working with people who are as dedicated as I am?'). Either way, this gives me a biting edge that some people find refreshing, and others find uncomfortable (or, at times, dismissive).

One of the challenges I've grappled with this year is how many of my learned behaviors have interacted with my divaism in a rather unfortunate way. As with many other Asians and Asian-Americans, I was taught to be quiet; 'head down, work hard, speak little' and allow the fruits of your labor to be recognized by the organization. This is the literal opposite of divaism - it is being the supporting actor, the go-for, the person who often 'selflessly' gets things done 'for the greater good.' The latter portion is what I've particularly struggled with over the years, as I've realized that my innate, intrinsic motivation to excel coupled with a learned instinct for silence does not allow me to grow past a certain point and create maximum value. As a colleague recently told me, "people like you are easily taken advantage of; once someone recognizes you're a self-starter and that you'll work hard and excel without prompting, they may just rely on you without thinking they need to do anything differently.'

It wasn't easy to hear. This wasn't because I hadn't experienced things like this before - I have - but because it was difficult to accept this simply just could be the status quo I face unless I change and fully embrace my inner diva. Though I will always carry with me that communal mindset - truly, I enjoy helping out and creating value wherever I can - I can also no longer deny that doing so without picking and choosing the right people or the right moments is simply holding me back. Instead of giving freely and automatically, I should also clearly communicate what I expect in return - and that includes the expectations I demand of my colleagues and the enterprise I serve.

At the end of the day, I'm grateful to have realized this at the ripe old age of 37. There's still time - at least I hope there is - for me to live up to the promise and potential I show. Though I wish that I felt ready to embrace this side of my earlier in my life, perhaps it required this awkward meandering I’ve done over the past fifteen or so years - more if you included schooling - to get here. Either way, I should probably make the most of it.

It’s showtime.

Talk soon.

-WY