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Sometimes, friendly acquisitions feel more like friendly fire. After all, a job lost is a job lost. Such was Lek Pharmaceuticals' concern over its recent sale to a larger interest. Based in Slovenia, the home-grown industry feared losses of employment, identity, and creative freedom. Lek employed people in 20 countries, so even the slightest change would have loud repercussions. But Lek's strategic planning director was charged with just that: change. How was he to conduct this transition? And wasn't there a pill for this?

Pat Tallon is the corporate attorney for Monitor Technology's parent company and has been asked to mediate a job-performance conflict between Chris Kerns, the manager of MT Engineering, and Shannon Allen, an engineering-support technician who works for Kerns.

As one of the world's leading manufacturers of houseware products and cleaning products, Hayco produced over five million brushes a month in its Shenzhen plant in 2003. When setting up its new factory in Shenzhen in the mid-1990s, Hayco had to decide how best to manage the issue of staff welfare for its growing number of factory workers. Senior management firmly believed that providing for the well-being of the company's staff would be crucial to ensuring low staff turnover and good workplace morale and, therefore, provided a "Hayco home-away-from-home" for the workers. The labor market has generally always been in favor of employers, and in the mid-1990s many factories were providing just the bare minimum of facilities and benefits for workers (in fact, the working conditions in many factories were appalling). In such an environment, why did Hayco invest money and effort in building the Hayco home-away-from-home? What message or management philosophy did such benefits convey?

Norman Windom, the chairman of Tiverton Media, may not know much about the world of popular music, but he does fancy himself a careful planner and a superb judge of managerial talent. That's why he's been grooming COO Sean Kinnane, a Wharton-minted numbers man, to take over an important division, Aleph Records, and one day Tiverton itself. But Derek Solomon, Aleph's 68-year-old CEO and founder, remains a creative force and a father figure to the label's artists. What's more, he's touchy about anything that might slow down Aleph's responses to the market's ever-shifting preferences--or that might call into question his indispensability. Though Sean dutifully participates in Tiverton's broad-based and elaborate executive development plan, he senses that Aleph's future leadership structure is uncertain. As impatient as he is ambitious, he announces that he's leaving Tiverton for more suitable pastures. Several of his associates, also unsure about their fate within Aleph, are following him out the door. In one fell swoop, they've torn Norman's proud succession plan apart. What kind of plan should the board adopt going forward? Commenting on this fictional case study in R0406A and R0406Z are Francis N. Bonsignore, a senior vice-president at Marsh & McLennan; Michelle L. Buck, a clinical associate professor of management and organizations at Northwestern's Kellogg School of Management; Jon Younger, who heads leadership development at National City Corp., a financial holding company in Cleveland; and Thomas Leppert, the chairman and CEO of the Turner Corp., a large construction company in Dallas.

Nearly all areas of business--not just sales and human resources--call for interpersonal savvy. Relational know-how comprises a greater variety of aptitudes than many executives think. Some people can "talk a dog off a meat truck," as the saying goes. Others are great at resolving interpersonal conflicts. Some have a knack for translating high-level concepts for the masses. And others thrive when they're managing a team. Because people do their best work when it most closely matches their interests, the authors contend, managers can increase productivity by taking into account employees' relational interests and skills when making personnel choices and project assignments. After analyzing the psychological tests of more than 7,000 business professionals, the authors identified four dimensions of relational work: influence, interpersonal facilitation, relational creativity, and team leadership. This article explains each one and offers practical advice to managers--how to build a well-balanced team, for instance, and how to gauge the relational skills of potential employees during interviews. Understanding these four dimensions will help you get optimal performance from your employees, appropriately reward their work, and assist them in setting career goals. It will also help you make better choices when it comes to your own career development. To get started, try the authors' free online assessment tool, which measures both your orientation toward relational work in general and your interest level in each of its four dimensions.

Anyone who has ever managed people who abuse time--whether they are chronic procrastinators or individuals who work obsessively to meet deadlines weeks in advance--knows how disruptive they can be to a business's morale and operating efficiency. But lessons in time management will have no impact on these employees. That's because real time abuse results from psychological conflict that neither a workshop nor a manager's cajoling can cure. Indeed, the time abuser's quarrel isn't even with time but rather with a brittle self-esteem and an unconscious fear of being evaluated and found wanting. This article describes four types of time abusers typically encountered in the workplace: Perfectionists are almost physically afraid of receiving feedback. Their work has to be "perfect," so they can increase their likelihood of earning a positive evaluation or at least avoid getting a negative one. Preemptives try to be in control by handing in work far earlier than they need to, making themselves unpopular and unavailable in the process. People pleasers commit to far too much work because they find it impossible to say no. Procrastinators make constant (and often reasonable-sounding) excuses to mask a fear of being found inadequate in their jobs. Managing these four types of people can be challenging--time abusers respond differently from most other employees to criticism and approval. Praising a procrastinator when he is on time, for instance, will only exacerbate the problem, because he will fear that your expectations are even higher than before. In fact, some time abusers, like the perfectionist, may need professional treatment. This article will give you insight into why they are the way they are--and what can be done to help them manage their problems.

By making the most of organizational capabilities--employees' collective skills and fields of expertise--you can dramatically improve your company's market value. Although there is no magic list of proficiencies that every organization needs to succeed, the authors identify 11 intangible assets that well-managed companies tend to have: talent, speed, shared mind-set and coherent brand identity, accountability, collaboration, learning, leadership, customer connectivity, strategic unity, innovation, and efficiency. Such companies typically excel in only three of these capabilities while maintaining industry parity in the other areas. Organizations that fall below the norm in any of the 11 are likely candidates for dysfunction and competitive disadvantage. To determine how your company fares in these categories (or others, if the generic list doesn't suit your needs), the authors explain how to conduct a "capabilities audit," describing in particular the experiences and findings of two companies that recently performed such audits. In addition to highlighting which intangible assets are most important given the organization's history and strategy, this exercise gauges how well your company delivers on its capabilities and guides you in developing an action plan for improvement. A capabilities audit can work for an entire organization, a business unit, or a region--indeed, for any part of a company that has a strategy to generate financial or customer-related results. It enables executives to assess overall company strengths and weaknesses, senior leaders to define strategy, mid-level managers to execute strategy, and frontline leaders to achieve tactical results.

Norman Windom, the chairman of Tiverton Media, may not know much about the world of popular music, but he does fancy himself a careful planner and a superb judge of managerial talent. That's why he's been grooming COO Sean Kinnane, a Wharton-minted numbers man, to take over an important division, Aleph Records, and one day Tiverton itself. But Derek Solomon, Aleph's 68-year-old CEO and founder, remains a creative force and a father figure to the label's artists. What's more, he's touchy about anything that might slow down Aleph's responses to the market's ever-shifting preferences--or that might call into question his indispensability. Though Sean dutifully participates in Tiverton's broad-based and elaborate executive development plan, he senses that Aleph's future leadership structure is uncertain. As impatient as he is ambitious, he announces that he's leaving Tiverton for more suitable pastures. Several of his associates, also unsure about their fate within Aleph, are following him out the door. In one fell swoop, they've torn Norman's proud succession plan apart. What kind of plan should the board adopt going forward? Commenting on this fictional case study in R0406A and R0406Z are Francis N. Bonsignore, a senior vice-president at Marsh & McLennan; Michelle L. Buck, a clinical associate professor of management and organizations at Northwestern's Kellogg School of Management; Jon Younger, who heads leadership development at National City Corp., a financial holding company in Cleveland; and Thomas Leppert, the chairman and CEO of the Turner Corp., a large construction company in Dallas.

Norman Windom, the chairman of Tiverton Media, may not know much about the world of popular music, but he does fancy himself a careful planner and a superb judge of managerial talent. That's why he's been grooming COO Sean Kinnane, a Wharton-minted numbers man, to take over an important division, Aleph Records, and one day Tiverton itself. But Derek Solomon, Aleph's 68-year-old CEO and founder, remains a creative force and a father figure to the label's artists. What's more, he's touchy about anything that might slow down Aleph's responses to the market's ever-shifting preferences--or that might call into question his indispensability. Though Sean dutifully participates in Tiverton's broad-based and elaborate executive development plan, he senses that Aleph's future leadership structure is uncertain. As impatient as he is ambitious, he announces that he's leaving Tiverton for more suitable pastures. Several of his associates, also unsure about their fate within Aleph, are following him out the door. In one fell swoop, they've torn Norman's proud succession plan apart. What kind of plan should the board adopt going forward? Commenting on this fictional case study in R0406A and R0406Z are Francis N. Bonsignore, a senior vice-president at Marsh & McLennan; Michelle L. Buck, a clinical associate professor of management and organizations at Northwestern's Kellogg School of Management; Jon Younger, who heads leadership development at National City Corp., a financial holding company in Cleveland; and Thomas Leppert, the chairman and CEO of the Turner Corp., a large construction company in Dallas.

Following the dot-com bubble burst in August 2001, Libby Sartain, new chief of people and senior vice-president of human resources at Yahoo!, must determine the direction of human resources management at the traumatized media company. Suffering revenues, a collapsed stock price, several executive resignations, and recent layoffs have created anxiety and fear among employees. Furthermore, new CEO Terry Semel, former co-CEO of Warner Brothers, had arrived in May but had not yet provided his new plan for the company. Considers how Sartain, previously VP of people at Southwest Airlines, understands the problems facing Yahoo! and the role of human resources in facilitating organizational renewal.

Many companies have tried to copy Toyota's famous production system--but without success. Part of the reason why, says the author, is that imitators fail to recognize the underlying principles of the Toyota Production System (TPS), focusing instead on specific tools and practices. This article tells the other part of the story. Building on a previous HBR article, "Decoding the DNA of the Toyota Production System," Spear explains how Toyota inculcates managers with TPS principles. He describes the training of a star recruit--a talented young American destined for a high-level position at one of Toyota's U.S. plants. Rich in detail, the story offers four basic lessons for any company wishing to train its managers to apply Toyota's system--rather than go through the cursory walk-throughs, orientations, and introductions of most companies. First, there's no substitute for direct observation. Toyota employees are encouraged to observe failures as they occur--for example, by sitting next to a machine on the assembly line and waiting and watching for any problems. Second, proposed changes should always be structured as experiments. Employees embed explicit and testable assumptions in the analysis of their work. That allows them to examine the gaps between predicted and actual results. Third, workers and managers should experiment as frequently as possible. The company teaches employees at all levels to achieve continuous improvement through quick, simple experiments rather than through lengthy, complex ones. Finally, managers should coach, not fix. Toyota managers act as enablers, directing employees but not telling them where to find opportunities for improvements.

With the battle for the best and brightest people heating up again, you're most likely out there looking for first-rate talent in the ranks of your competitors. Chances are, you're sold on the idea of recruiting from outside your organization--developing people within the firm takes time and money. But the authors, who have tracked the careers of high-flying CEOs, researchers, software developers, and leading professionals, argue that top performers quickly fade after leaving one company for another. To study this phenomenon in greater detail, the authors analyzed the ups and downs of more than 1,000 star stock analysts, a well-defined group for which there are abundant data. The results were striking. After a star moves, not only does his performance plunge, but so does the effectiveness of the group he joins--and the market value of his new company. Moreover, transplanted stars don't stay with their new organizations for long, despite the astronomical salaries firms pay to lure them from rivals. Most companies that hire stars overlook the fact that an executive's performance is not entirely transferable because his personal competencies inevitably include company-specific skills. When the star leaves the old company for the new, he also leaves behind many of the resources that contributed to his achievements. As a result, he is unable to repeat his performance in another company--at least not until he learns to work the new system, which could take years. The authors conclude that companies should focus on cultivating talent from within and do everything possible to retain the stars they create.

"It's worse than I thought....She's completely lost her mind," says Harry Beecham, the CEO of blue chip management consultancy Pierce and Co. The perplexed executive was in a hotel suite with his wife in Amsterdam, the latest stop on his regular trek to dozens of Pierce offices worldwide. In his hand was a sheaf of paper--the same message sent over and over again by his star employee and protegee Katharina Waldburg. The end of the world is coming, she warned. "Someone is going to die." Harry wouldn't have expected this sort of behavior from Katharina. After graduating with distinction from Oxford, she made a name for herself by single-handedly building Pierce's organizational behavior practice. At 27, she's poised to become the youngest partner ever elected at the firm. But Harry can't ignore the faxes in his hand. Or the stream of consciousness e-mails Katharina's been sending to one of the directors in Pierce's Berlin office--mostly gibberish but potentially disastrous to Katharina's reputation if they ever got out. Harry also can't dismiss reports from Roland Fuoroli, manager of the Berlin office, of a vicious verbal exchange Katharina had with him, or of an "over the top" lunch date Katharina had with one of Pierce's clients in which she was explaining the alphabet's role in the creation of the universe. Harry is planning to talk to Katharina when he gets to Berlin. What should he say? And will it be too late? In R0404A and R0404Z, four commentators offer their advice on this fictional case study. They are Kay Redfield Jamison, a professor of psychiatry and a co-author of Manic-Depressive Illness; David E. Meen, a former director at McKinsey & Co.; Norman Pearlstine, the editor-in-chief at Time Inc.; and Richard Primus, an assistant law professor at the University of Michigan.

For men, ambition is considered a necessary and desirable part of life. Most women, however, associate ambition with egotism, self-aggrandizement, or manipulation. Getting to the bottom of why this is so required study of what ambition consists of--for both sexes. In childhood, the research uncovered, girls are clear about their ambitions. Their goals are grand and they make no apologies for them. In nearly all childhood ambitions, two distinct factors are in place: the mastery of a special skill and recognition for it. And what's true in childhood is no less true in later life: We all want our efforts and accomplishments acknowledged. Yet, there are dramatic differences in how women and men create, reconfigure, and realize (or abandon) their goals. Most women are demure when praised for their achievements. Research shows that such behavior varies according to social context: Women more openly seek and compete for affirmation when they are with other women, but behave differently when competing with men. The underlying problem has to do with cultural ideals of femininity. Women face the reality that to appear feminine, they must provide or relinquish scarce resources to others--and recognition is a scarce resource. Although women have more opportunities than ever before, they still come under social scrutiny that makes hard choices--such as when and whether to start a family or advance in the workplace--even harder. There are no easy solutions, but there are ways women can hold fast to their dreams. They must band together, learn to blow their own horns, and structure their lives in a way that promotes recognition.

In the late 1990s, Fleet Bank was facing high and rising employee turnover, particularly in its retail operations. Overall turnover had reached 25% annually, and among some groups, such as tellers and customer service reps, turnover was as high as 40%. Using a new methodology developed by Mercer Human Resource Consulting, Fleet set out to determine why so many employees were leaving and what could be done to retain them. Fleet's analysis showed that people were leaving not so much for better pay but for broader experience, which they thought would enhance their marketability. Additionally, the analysis revealed a link between the turnover problem and the company's busy history of mergers and acquisitions. Fleet's mergers and acquisitions frequently meant that it had to consolidate operations. That consolidation resulted in layoffs, which provoked higher levels of voluntary turnover, perhaps because remaining employees began worrying about their job security. Although the obvious solution to the turnover problem might have been to compensate the remaining employees--say, with higher pay--the more effective and less costly solution, Fleet discovered, was to focus on employees' career opportunities within the company. Those who moved up the hierarchy, or who even made lateral moves, stayed longer. Its solutions required only modest investments that, in the end, saved the company millions of dollars.

"It's worse than I thought....She's completely lost her mind," says Harry Beecham, the CEO of blue chip management consultancy Pierce and Co. The perplexed executive was in a hotel suite with his wife in Amsterdam, the latest stop on his regular trek to dozens of Pierce offices worldwide. In his hand was a sheaf of paper--the same message sent over and over again by his star employee and protegee Katharina Waldburg. The end of the world is coming, she warned. "Someone is going to die." Harry wouldn't have expected this sort of behavior from Katharina. After graduating with distinction from Oxford, she made a name for herself by single-handedly building Pierce's organizational behavior practice. At 27, she's poised to become the youngest partner ever elected at the firm. But Harry can't ignore the faxes in his hand. Or the stream of consciousness e-mails Katharina's been sending to one of the directors in Pierce's Berlin office--mostly gibberish but potentially disastrous to Katharina's reputation if they ever got out. Harry also can't dismiss reports from Roland Fuoroli, manager of the Berlin office, of a vicious verbal exchange Katharina had with him, or of an "over the top" lunch date Katharina had with one of Pierce's clients in which she was explaining the alphabet's role in the creation of the universe. Harry is planning to talk to Katharina when he gets to Berlin. What should he say? And will it be too late? Four commentators offer their advice in this fictional case study. They are Kay Redfield Jamison, a professor of psychiatry and a co-author of Manic-Depressive Illness; David E. Meen, a former director at McKinsey & Co.; Norman Pearlstine, the editor-in-chief at Time Inc.; and Richard Primus, an assistant law professor at the University of Michigan.

"It's worse than I thought....She's completely lost her mind," says Harry Beecham, the CEO of blue chip management consultancy Pierce and Co. The perplexed executive was in a hotel suite with his wife in Amsterdam, the latest stop on his regular trek to dozens of Pierce offices worldwide. In his hand was a sheaf of paper--the same message sent over and over again by his star employee and protegee Katharina Waldburg. The end of the world is coming, she warned. "Someone is going to die." Harry wouldn't have expected this sort of behavior from Katharina. After graduating with distinction from Oxford, she made a name for herself by single-handedly building Pierce's organizational behavior practice. At 27, she's poised to become the youngest partner ever elected at the firm. But Harry can't ignore the faxes in his hand. Or the stream of consciousness e-mails Katharina's been sending to one of the directors in Pierce's Berlin office--mostly gibberish but potentially disastrous to Katharina's reputation if they ever got out. Harry also can't dismiss reports from Roland Fuoroli, manager of the Berlin office, of a vicious verbal exchange Katharina had with him, or of an "over the top" lunch date Katharina had with one of Pierce's clients in which she was explaining the alphabet's role in the creation of the universe. Harry is planning to talk to Katharina when he gets to Berlin. What should he say? And will it be too late? In R0404A and R0404Z, four commentators offer their advice on this fictional case study. They are Kay Redfield Jamison, a professor of psychiatry and a co-author of Manic-Depressive Illness; David E. Meen, a former director at McKinsey & Co.; Norman Pearlstine, the editor-in-chief at Time Inc.; and Richard Primus, an assistant law professor at the University of Michigan.

The decade of the 1990s was one of increasingly bitter public criticism of the major US tobacco companies on the part of a number of anti-tobacco advocacy groups, who were collectively known as the tobacco control movement. In their zeal to limit cigarette smoking, it was hardly uncommon for such groups to vilify tobacco companies on moral and ethical grounds. So it was no small surprise when, in the spring of 1997, Matthew Myers, executive vice-president of one of the nation's leading tobacco control groups, the National Center for Tobacco-Free Kids, was invited to sit down with representatives of the tobacco industry to discuss a grand compromise: billions in damages to be paid by the industry in exchange for protection from further legal liability due to the health effects of its products. This case, based on the book "Smoke in Their Eyes; Lessons in Movement Leadership from the Tobacco Wars" (Michael Pertschuk, Vanderbilt University Press, 2001), effectively tells the story of the historic behind-the-scenes tobacco settlement negotiations, which involved the attorneys general of several states, private attorneys, tobacco industry representatives, and Myers, as the lone representative of the tobacco control movement. The case, however, is not designed as a vehicle for discussion of tobacco issues per se (although it can serve that purpose) but, rather, for discussion of the dynamics of negotiations--in particular, the difficult but not uncommon position of Matthew Myers as one who, while attempting to forge a compromise, must also find ways not to lose the support of those in his movement who have more radical views. HKS Case Number 1737.0

Choosing the right summer internship can often mean landing a plum position in the company after graduation. Ria Kumar arrived fully prepped for the summer slot interview having studied industry reports, research articles, and analyst reports. She talked to alumni and even spent time at the local Wal-Mart studying the merchandising assortment and product placement. Not surprisingly, she was offered the 12-week internship. The disguised (A) case describes Kumar's 12 weeks and allows students to think about the issues her experience brings forth. Were there red flags? Was her supervision appropriate? Would she be offered a position post graduation? Would she want it? In the (B) case, Kumar decides to work part-time in the local Wal-Mart to gain an "in-store" perspective. Again, she behaved proactively as part of her strategy to get the job offer. The in-store-experience, however, left an unfavorable view of the organization in Kumar's mind. What had her expectations been when she started the part-time job? What did this suggest about corporate management practices?

Choosing the right summer internship can often mean landing a plum position in the company after graduation. Ria Kumar arrived fully prepped for the summer slot interview having studied industry reports, research articles, and analyst reports. She talked to alumni and even spent time at the local Wal-Mart studying the merchandising assortment and product placement. Not surprisingly, she was offered the 12-week internship. The disguised (A) case describes Kumar's 12 weeks and allows students to think about the issues her experience brings forth. Were there red flags? Was her supervision appropriate? Would she be offered a position post graduation? Would she want it? In the (B) case, Kumar decides to work part-time in the local Wal-Mart to gain an "in-store" perspective. Again, she behaved proactively as part of her strategy to get the job offer. The in-store-experience, however, left an unfavorable view of the organization in Kumar's mind. What had her expectations been when she started the part-time job? What did this suggest about corporate management practices?