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Conversations in Management

Robert Browning

And I chiefly use my charm

On creatures that do people harm,

The mole and toad and newt and viper;

And people call me the Pied Piper.

Something happened in Hamelin, Germany on June 26, 1284. No one knows exactly what happened, but sixteen years later an unusual stained glass window was installed in the local church to commemorate the event. That window showed a piper clad in pied (brightly colored patches of cloth sewn together) and several children dressed in white. The story associated with the window was that of the Pied Piper. Almost everyone knows the legend of the Pied Piper and one of the most popular versions of the story was the one written in 1842 by Robert Browning. Browning wrote the story in verse and through clever word play put a humorous cast on an otherwise dark tale. As the story goes, the people of Hamelin were plagued by an infestation of rats. This was no ordinary infestation. Not only were the rats eating everything in sight, but they made so much noise that folks had to raise their voices to be heard over the din. The local officials were stymied (some things never change) when a Piper mysteriously appeared who agreed to rid the town of rats for 1,000 guilders. Though a princely sum, the Elders jumped at the offer and in short order the man in pied, piped all the town’s rats into the Weser River where they unceremoniously drowned. The Piper did, however, let one rat survive in order to warn all of ratdom against ever entering the city again (a rather nice value added touch if you think about it). As you may have guessed, once the rats were gone the officials began rethinking the deal and tried scaling back the contract by a robust 95%. Dissatisfied, the Piper waited until the town’s adults were in church and then piped all their children to Koppelberg Hill. Once there, the hill magically opened and the kids marched in at which point the hill, just as magically, closed. Reminiscent of the one surviving rat in the earlier piping episode, the Piper left behind one child to tell the story. (Readers concerned about the children’s ultimate welfare will be pleased to know that they later turned up in Transylvania where they led comfortable though eccentric lives.) Now the moral of the story is to always keep your word—deliver on your promises. But without pushing the legend too hard, there’s another lesson as well. It has to do with loyalty and two faces of leadership.

The Pied Piper was unquestionably a charismatic leader. He arrived on the scene just in the nick of time and gained the enthusiastic support of the entire town. He operated with a clear objective and produced measurable results. In business parlance, he eliminated corporate inefficiencies, exceeded customer expectations and provided an excellent return on investment. Unfortunately, after the Elders cheated him, he showed a different aspect of leadership. This time around he was a divider—the children followed him but the adults didn’t. He also operated with a hidden agenda—revenge. His piping was now used to inflict harm because he’d decided that rats and adults were one in the same. Saddest of all, however, was that his loyal followers ended up paying a steep price too.

Following the wrong kind of leader can lead to genuine misery (just ask the guys at Enron). Whether at work, in politics, the church or community groups, there will always be those who lead to make things better and those who lead for their own benefit. But following is a voluntary activity. It’s up to you to determine where your loyalties lie. So pay close attention and make your choice carefully. If you don’t, when it’s time to pay the piper you might find yourself on the way to Transylvania.

—Ebert