Chapter 2
We can’t solve problems with the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.
ALBERT EINSTEIN
While my career had been progressing well at Newton, the opportunity to become chief executive just seven years after joining was unexpected – most of all by me. The takeover of the firm by Mellon Bank, an American company, had been long planned and took several years to complete. It seemed probable that some members of the management team might decide to move on. As part of the four-strong Investment Strategy group, I was a potential candidate for the role of chief investment officer (CIO). I was keen to get the job if it became available – I loved making the big strategic investment calls, enjoyed life at Newton and got on well with my colleagues. I was feeling restricted by my existing role: at the time, one piece of US economic data was driving bond markets around the world – the employment figures released the first Friday of each month. My whole working life revolved around this data point. In particular, one long weekend sticks in my memory. My husband and I had taken our children to visit their grandparents and instead of enjoying our family time I was glued to the news. The data was much stronger than anticipated, my positioning was all wrong and I felt distraught, helpless and rubbish at my job. This was obviously an overreaction, and as Richard and I discussed my loss of perspective, it was clear that I needed a new, broader challenge.
So I was delighted when Mellon’s UK-based chief offered me the CIO role, which offered the opportunity to lead a talented team, as well as to expand my horizons. My new boss told me that he would fill the other vacancy himself, adding the Newton CEO position to his responsibilities. Next morning, one of my colleagues stopped by my desk and quietly mentioned that the other senior investors had met and unfortunately they didn’t want me to become the CIO. Taken aback, having thought I had their support, I asked if they would meet me to explain why. As we went into the room, I mentally ran through my options, realising that I would probably have to leave, given what seemed (to me) to be a vote of no confidence.
It turned out that my colleagues thought, reasonably, that it was important for the CIO to have an equities background since most of the firm’s assets were invested in the stock market. The conversation turned to my leadership skills, and there it was clear that I did have a following. Before I knew it, the suggestion was being made that I become the chief executive officer instead.
My first reaction was a sense of relief. I loved working at Newton and didn’t want to leave. I also knew this meant that it was in relation to the specific role that my ability was in doubt rather than an objection to me as a person. At the same time, I was disoriented by what had just happened. We all left the room and I ducked into an adjacent one and gathered my thoughts. I called my husband and told him ‘I’m not going to be the CIO any more, I’m going to be the CEO.’ ‘What does that entail?’ he asked and I answered, truthfully, ‘I have no idea.’ What I did know was that I believed in what Newton had to offer our clients, in the team and the process, that I could lead and that this was an unusual, perhaps once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
It was never articulated in these precise terms but I believe one reason why colleagues were prepared to back me as CEO was because of my collaborative style of leadership. We obviously faced a number of challenges immediately following the takeover, and my first task was to rebuild confidence. Where there was a problem, it was my job to come up with a solution. While I certainly didn’t have all the answers and frequently needed the input of colleagues, I had a clear sense of what we were trying to achieve.
I’ve often reflected on that bizarre day. I was only 35 and had no business experience or management training. The firm managed some £20 billion of assets. I had no real idea of how challenging the next few years would be – but also how fulfilling it would be to eventually come out the other side, when we had – together – achieved real progress as a company. I realise now that the decision to say yes rather than what might have seemed a more sensible no to the CEO role, was, in fact, the making of my career. A moment of disruption was my great opportunity.
That experience, particularly in those early years, taught me the importance of focusing on long-term goals, rather than on all the steps we can’t see clearly in the moment but know we need to take to get there. A bridge will often open up when we get stranded, as long as we don’t get distracted or lose sight of that end goal. My six daughters have heard me tell them to ‘leap before you look’ so many times that they now chant it whenever one sister is dithering, but all too often I have seen women (more than men) focus more on what might go wrong than on the prospect of success. We’ll return to this in Chapter 7 – it is vital to recognise and counteract this tendency to hold ourselves back if we’re to be able to capitalise on the opportunities ahead of us right now.
As a novice CEO (and frankly also when experienced) I made many mistakes. Just one day into my new role, I took a call from a tabloid newspaper. I had never had any media training and this was long before companies had ‘corporate communications’ teams. The journalist asked sensible questions about my vision for Newton, which I answered tentatively. She then probed into my family life. Here I felt on firmer footing and happily obliged with some candid information and thoughts on combining family and career. The next morning everyone was very quiet in the office and when I asked if all was OK, a copy of the paper was handed across. There was a rather sensational story on page three entitled ‘Billion Dollar Babe’, describing me as ‘the pinstripes’ pinup’. Richard correctly pointed out that those descriptions were wholly inaccurate (my comment at the end that ‘five [children] is plenty’ has also come back to haunt me), but I felt embarrassed and frivolous for contributing to the piece. After that experience, I didn’t talk to the press for several years and only agreed to do interviews again when I wanted to draw attention to the issue of women in the workplace.
I can see now that in the broader scheme of things that silly newspaper article was not a big deal, but at the time everything felt magnified. The whole experience of my early days as a CEO was a very steep learning curve, with many moments of self-doubt before I emerged on the other side, older, wiser and just possibly better at my job than if I had taken a more conventional route to get there, if only because I had to learn so quickly.
Happily, I did make a few good calls in those early days. One was to shut out the siren voices telling me to reinvent Newton, to develop new strategies that weren’t core to our strengths. I had already learned – in life as well as at work – that we cannot always please everyone and that it’s a mistake even to try. In business, the key is to offer something of value to some people; in life, to know what matters to you, a framework for the myriad decisions each of us needs to take. At that moment at Newton, it was more important than ever to focus on what we did best, to ensure our clients were being well served and that they had confidence in us to continue performing. We were not static, however, the marketplace was changing around us so we consciously evolved our investment services rather than sticking rigidly to what had worked in the past. As author, analyst and former trader Nassim Nicholas Taleb puts it, we were ‘antifragile’, seeking opportunity from change. At the same time, I needed to nurture the culture that had been so central to the business since it was founded. I was merely (and just about) first amongst equals, carrying the ultimate responsibility