LITMIR.BIZ

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Fail. Learn. Repeat.: The Truth Behind Building Businesses, about his inspiring entrepreneurial journey. In a chapter entitled ‘It’s Good to Get Crapped on Sometimes’, Nic writes: ‘Matt is an intelligent and driven guy with a mean streak in him and an aggressive approach to business that would quickly teach me a very important lesson … I walked into Matt’s office and told him that I was resigning. He sat back, paused and then laid into me like I’ve never experienced before or since … I walked out of that room a shattered and shat-on man.’

      Nic is right. I didn’t hold back and I let him know what I thought of his decision in no uncertain terms. What he may not understand is why I chose that particular line of discourse. I badly wanted him to remain at the company, and after a soft, pleading approach had failed to work, I decided to scare the living daylights out of him. Ironically, it was my deep respect for his talents more than anything else that drove me to this. I wanted him to stay.

      We are taught that we should never yell in the office, and of course constant and uncontrolled anger does not result in effective management and strong leadership. While I am not typically a shouter, in my drive to succeed I have been known to raise my voice on occasion – but always more out of passion than anger. I never feel good about shouting, but when I do it I reflect on why it happened, and if needed I apologise. You probably think that raising your voice in the office is a no-no, but the issue is not as black and white as you might guess. According to an article by Michael Schrage in the Harvard Business Review,9 the occasional yelling in the office isn’t ‘necessarily a bug; it can be a feature – a poignant one’. Schrage observes: ‘When I look at the organizations that seem to have the greatest energy and drive, the conversations aren’t whispered and the disagreements aren’t polite. Raised voices mean raised expectations. The volumes reflect intensity, not intimidation.’

      He goes on to say that if you are yelling because you want to humiliate and demean people, ‘you’ve got bigger professional issues than your decibel level’. But if you are raising your voice because you care, which is part of who you are as a person and communicator, ‘your employees should have the courtesy and professionalism to respect that’. In fact, you would be in good company: Steve Jobs, Jeff Bezos, Martha Stewart, Bill Gates, Alex Ferguson, Larry Ellison and Jack Welch were successful, visionary, competitive and demanding. And each had a well-deserved reputation for raising their voices. They yelled, and yelling was an integral part of their leadership and management styles.

      Nic went on to become a stylish-socks entrepreneur. Prior to that he had again joined forces with Vincent to create the mobile startup Motribe, which was eventually ‘acqui-hired’10 by Mxit. Mxit was South Africa’s biggest social network at one stage, but it disappeared as fast as it arrived when its own mobile ‘burning platform’11 eventually crashed, taking many businesses down with it.

      Despite the impending resignations, which created an almost impossible deadline, we began to build the site in earnest. For a month, parts of the team worked very long hours to create the site. We were determined to launch it before Vincent left. It was during this period that I broke the news of my own resignation to Hoosain.

      It was not well received, as I had expected. I knew the timing was hardly perfect, but my decision reflected a mix of emotions and ambitions I had harboured for a long time. I had reasoned that it would never be a ‘good’ time to leave – although in all honesty I knew that leaving just after a major site relaunch was far from ideal.

      It was not a job I was leaving, it was a family. Such separations are difficult, messy, and there are no winners and often no solution. Trevor and I clashed in his office. Emotions ran high. I received late-night texts from Hoosain calling me ‘unethical’ for making the move. That upset me, but it was easy to rationalise: they were upset, they didn’t mean it. This was a case of colleagues who work well together and like each other going through a break-up.

      The uneasiness between us culminated in a meeting in Trevor’s office, where he looked at me and said, ‘So, what have you got to say for yourself? I’m listening …’ I explained that I needed to move to Cape Town and that it was a core lifestyle decision. He said to me, ‘What is it that you want? Money? Shares? Name it and I will give it to you.’ As tempting as that offer was, even if only briefly, my decision was made.

      What I didn’t say to Trevor was that I was also worn out by South African politics. Despite my parents being activists, I had become more and more aware that I was primarily a technologist and not a political activist. The hoax email spy saga, which had weighed heavily on my mind, had made me realise that staying at the Mail & Guardian would increasingly push me away from geekdom towards becoming more of a political animal. I didn’t want my ultimate mission to be sidetracked. It was time to leave, and with my head held high.

      Trevor was angry. Hoosain was shocked. I became emotional. My second child, Stella, had been born five weeks premature. The day before I had been at her side in high care, watching her fragile and vulnerable little body hooked up to a beeping heart-rate monitor and wires. I was able to hold her tiny little hand through a small port in her transparent plastic enclosure. It was too much. Thinking of that in Trevor’s office, I burst into tears.

      The thing is, I had a special relationship with Trevor and Hoosain. When I first arrived at the M&G, Trevor didn’t know what to make of me and this new thing called the internet. I had proudly announced that my father was from Zimbabwe, like himself. (And had been conscripted into the Rhodesian Army against his will, fighting on the wrong side of the civil war there.) I don’t think that did me any favours.

      Slowly but surely I had won Trevor over. He became internet-crazy. I would send him articles and stats, and wax lyrical about a new internet future when the geeks would take over the world. I was influenced by a Swedish book titled Netocracy, which described a new world order of ‘Netocrats’ that would smash existing business networks and establish a new elite internet class.12 I felt and believed that we were part of a historical wave that would forever change not only business but all of society.

      Trevor became something of a zealot like me. At staff meetings he would talk about how the online division was the future of the company, and he backed me in everything I did. I needed political and management support to change things and raise the profile of the new online division, and he gave it to me. He once called me into his office after overhearing me arguing on the phone with mechanics that were servicing the car I wanted to purchase.

      ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked. I explained that the car dealership had been messing me around and that my car was taking ages to get ready. He could see my irritation and said to me, ‘Fetch Hoosain.’ When Hoosain arrived Trevor said, ‘Matt needs a new car. Go get him what he wants.’

      Of course, I was grateful for the help with the car, but I was even more moved by the immense faith and kindness that was being shown to me. The memory of that generosity would influence me in my own business in years to come. That simple act of kindness stayed in my mind, and re-enacted itself through me, the vessel, time and time again. It shows the power of compassion and unselfishness, and how one act, somewhere in time, can have a huge impact in years to come. No wonder my break-up with the M&G was uncomfortable.

      As it turned out, we completed and launched the new site a month before I left the company. On Vincent’s departure, I tried to cover all the bases. I contracted an expert company to look after and optimise our server infrastructure. There was so much hype around our imminent launch: we had even released blurry spy shots of the new design on a well-read blog site, and it had been enthusiastically received. But I knew that if the site failed, that hype could turn against us dramatically. I also did not want to disappoint Trevor, Hoosain, our readers and our fans.

      The new M&G Online went live in 2008 with minor hiccups – and it held up well under massive traffic. The site looked great. The blogosphere, media and our readers raved about it. I received congratulatory emails and phone calls from our partners and competitors, including 24.com. Finally we had an international site of stellar repute.

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