Back in 2009, I’d taken a job with a reputable company, selling insurance policies. They hired me based on my sales background, and on the extensive professional network I’d accrued over the years. I was a shoe-in for this job, and there was no question in their minds I was destined to do well by them. However, for some odd reason, month-by-month, my numbers continued coming in low.

I wondered: “Is my poor performance tied to the barrage of ‘No, thank you’s’ I’m receiving on a daily basis? Is it the result of my having to place over 175 grueling cold calls every week? Is it the discomfort of discussing death and disability with total strangers for hours on end?” By the end of my first year, the cumulative stress began taking its toll, and I started having ocular migraines—one of which was so intense, it landed me in the hospital.

My manager knew I was miserable, but he believed in my capabilities, so he offered me another role in the company: District Recruiter and Trainer. I was still required to hit my production numbers, but I would be selling a job position rather than a product, so it seemed like a perfect alternative for keeping me on board.

And it was perfect—for a brief period of time. I had the highest conversion numbers of college interns-to-new agents in our district, and some of my interns went on to become top-performing agents themselves.

In spite of the results I was achieving, I barely liked this job, but I dragged myself through it, regardless—for 2 more years. Eventually, my position was downsized, and I left the company with no fanfare and a modest severance.

For over a decade, I imagined that this failed chapter of my professional life was the result of having neglected to do my due diligence, and then taking on a poor-fit job, trying to convince myself I could make it work. That theory made sense on paper, but there was another as-yet-unidentified element beneath the surface that I never quite put my finger on until I discovered a book called “The Infinite Game” by Simon Sinek.

In the chapter “Performance vs. Trust,” Sinek describes 2 basic types of organizational cultures. In “Culture A,” they hire, train, promote, and fire, strictly based on high performance, utilizing two specific metrics:

  1. The individual’s proven ability to proficiently execute job-related tasks—assessed by their results and output.
  2. The individual’s potential to consistently perform at a high level.

If the prospective employee scores high in both areas, he or she is hired. If they continue to score well during their tenure, they are promoted. Those who don’t show improvement within a given period of time are terminated.

Sinek showcases one company in particular whose employee selection and advancement criteria epitomized this approach: General Electric—specifically when legendary CEO, Jack Welch, was at the helm. Over the course of his tenure, Welch was obsessed with creating one of the most profitable and enviable companies in the world.

He set out to achieve this vision by way of continuously firing employees who landed in the bottom 10% of his performance metrics. Those who fell short were cast out of the company, and replaced with more aggressive recruits. Welch was uncompromising in his determination to amass an optimal work force solely comprised of high-achieving, high-producing staff. In time, his vision for the company was fully realized with GE’s growth and profit margins surpassing all stockholder expectations.

When Welch finally stepped down as Chairman in 2001, the company had become a giant in the industry, achieving preeminence status, and his methods were viewed as the new Gold Standard of operations. What was unknown at the time, however, was that Welch had unwittingly set the company on a track that was doomed for disaster.

The entire organization had morphed into a state of hyper-competitiveness. Employees were embroiled in back-biting and subterfuge. And, in many cases refusing to cooperate with one another—withholding vital information from key players, desperate to thwart any one associate or department from gaining an edge over another. Welch’s legacy of culling the company’s work force had given birth to a self-sabotaging, toxic culture, and it would eventually cause GE to implode.

When the stock market plummeted in 2008, the company required millions of government bail-out dollars, simply to stay afloat. Executives, managers, and frontline workers blamed one another for the company’s failings, as the ripple-effect of Welch’s approach to success reached critical mass. He’d engendered such disunity throughout the company, that when faced with a crisis, the leadership and staff had no skills for navigating themselves out of this unprecedented freefall that was now rendering GE unsustainable.

This is not to say that high performance and productivity aren’t critically-important for an organization to succeed. However, if the only metric in place for steering a company’s success curve is assessing output levels, the business will inevitably find itself in dire straits, as was the case with GE, which brings us to “Culture B.”

In “The Infinite Game,” Sinek cites the elite Navy SEALs as a culture that regards trustworthiness as critically-important as high performance levels.

Unlike Culture A’s model, which bases its promotions solely on performance and output levels, this alternative model of coupling trustworthiness with high performance creates something altogether different.

For a SEAL, the concept of high performance is a no-brainer, and can be simply identified, for example, as one’s proficiency in a technical skill, such as the ability to use a weapon or to creatively out-maneuver an enemy.

Trustworthiness, on the other hand, might be more difficult to measure when first considering this concept. However, when you think in terms of how Navy SEALs are indoctrinated, and thus, expected, to do the right thing, (such as having each others’ backs in a firefight, or ensuring the wellbeing of their fallen comrades’ families) it becomes self-evident who possesses this quality—and who does not.

Additionally dissimilar to Culture A, even if a SEAL displays only moderate proficiency within a given skill set, if he or she exhibits high levels of emotional intelligence and trustworthiness, it is understood that they’re likely to lead the entire group in performing at a much higher level.

Applying this model to the context of a thriving sales team, it stands to reason that the qualities of emotional intelligence and trustworthiness are essential for continued success. That’s not to say there’s something wrong with driving revenue and wanting big profits, but the practice of pursuing higher and higher numbers at any cost is a disaster waiting to happen.

And that was the unnamed elephant in the room that I found so odious and draining during my time with the insurance company. The environment wasn’t as cut-throat as that of GE, but the most high-producing agents were showered with praise, exotic vacations, bonuses, and promotions regardless of whom they’d stepped on to achieve their results.

Beyond financial gain, there was no incentive for mutual trust and support. We shared no common objective that would’ve been optimally achieved through collaboration. We weren’t encouraged to have each others’ backs, nor to call each other out on ethics violations. We were basically a group of individuals, fending for ourselves—occupying office space under one roof, and working for a company whose product we were each selling for our own, personal gain.

According to Sinek’s research, the most successful companies focus on improving the skills and output of all their employees, not only on their exemplary ones, while simultaneously elevating everyone’s trustworthiness.

And in work environments where the leadership engenders a culture of mutual support, the trustworthiness comes full circle: The business owners can count on their employees to have the company’s back in times of need. Employees will find ways to shave costs, get creative with product delivery, and even forgo bonuses and take furloughs if it means saving the organization and the work family they care about.

Additionally, these organizations tend to be resilient and wildly profitable through the ups and downs of any market fluctuations—including crisis situations, such as the Pandemic.

If you are a business owner hoping to make a long-term impact, and envisioning your organization thriving in the world after you are gone, there’s no question that the Culture B model is the one to follow. The same can be said for anyone seeking employment with a team-oriented company that holds the likelihood of a long-term, fulfilling career.

Cultivating trustworthiness in a high performance work environment takes time, but your legacy will be worth the effort.

Patagonia, for example, has employed this model from its inception, and has continued thriving without a lag in their market dominance or product superiority for 48 years…and counting.

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2 Responses to High Performance Alone Does Not Guarantee Success
  1. Fantastic article, Chris! I knew some of your story at the insurance company. But I now see more of the alchemy by which you transformed those painful years into some powerful insights. The two paths you articulate resonate strongly with me, as I believe they will (and already have) with many others. Healthy, sustainable, human-compatible work cultures are the way to go. Of course they’re more challenging to build and maintain than “dogfight cultures.” Articles like yours help remind us why taking the high road is the right choice.

    • Thanks for the comment Jake! I’m not sure they are harder to build. I do agree that a focus on the long-term, especially when the survivability of your business is on the line, can make it difficult to stay the course. The book I mention goes into detail about creating a “just cause” for your business. Employees tend to sacrifice for that cause in times of dire need.


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