I am currently reading Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad. Excellent book. It's categorized by booksellers as a novel, but it is essentially a collection of stories stringed together by each character's connection to the book's most realized protagonist – the music-industry executive, Bennie Salazar. I love that kind of staff. Yet, it's not the author's writing skills that make this book important to me, it's the vivid emotional familiarity of people and situations. Good writers manage to reach their audience in that way: you read a dialogue or an internal monologue and your heart aches with the painful recognition.
Let's leave the introspective explorations for some other discussion, though. In light of this post's title I want to describe one particular scene in the book that seems to be taken straight out of my own experience with many a boss.
Bennie Salazar, the President of the record label he founded some years ago, is in his car with his right-hand and catch-all Sasha. They just listened to the new material of one of the company's signed acts. Sasha rules the two punk sisters unlistenable. Bennie woefully wonders, what happened in the two years since he'd signed them on. Sasha reminds him that it has been five, not two years. She even gives him a precise time reference: she went to the contract signing straight from Windows on the World, i.e. when the Twin Towers were still intact.
Oh my God! Did that ring a huge bell in my head? Situations like this occurred with uncanny regularity throughout my entire career, no matter who the boss was. We could be in the meeting with some bankers, for example, pitching the expansion of credit lines, and I would show a chart explaining how the company has been adding $40 million to its volume annually for the past five years. Afterwards, the boss would ask me, if those numbers were true. Are you fucking kidding me? You've only seen the chart like a million times.
And then there are endlessly repetitive requests: Could you send me that report for May (just sent it two days ago, but he doesn't recall)? What was the bottom line in that forecast you compiled (what did you do with your copy of it)? Let's finalize that new venture prospectus, okay ("we" did day before yesterday – it's on your desk)? And so on and so forth.
Sometimes it seems that the stress of running their own businesses causes these people to experience some form of amnesia or the early onset of Alzheimer's. But that's not it, because their brains appear to be functioning just fine otherwise. The fact that this memory issue is such a frequent occurrence among the entrepreneurs of various cultural and social backgrounds, operating in different industries, seems to indicate a psychological rather than physiological phenomenon.
It's my opinion that, when it comes to the retention of any type of information, these people have a luxury of allowing their brains to be extremely selective. It's not like they make a deliberately verbalized decision, "I choose not to remember this." But somewhere, deep in their subconsciousness, the opportunity to rely on various subordinates as human data-banks renders the memorization of routine data redundant. It doesn't matter to them that this makes them look somewhat slow. The value of your time wasted on verbally repeating and emailing the same things over and over again matters even less.
It's possible that the general improvement of memory functions attributed to Ginkgo can lower this mental resistance to absorbing information. It may force certain tidbits to stick inside automatically. Hey, if you are desperate enough, why not try it? Just put it on his desk when nobody is looking and see what happens.
