I’ve been threatening for years to put together a presentation titled “Everything I needed to know about Leadership I learned while running a guild in World of Warcraft.” I still might someday, but I’m annoyed with myself for continually talking about it and not doing it, and one of the points I want to make is top of mind today so I’m just going to write it down in a post and consider it pre-work for my epic future Agile Alliance presentation.
I started playing World of Warcraft shortly after it was released in 2004. I had a small group of friends who had been playing City of Heroes together and we all decided to try it at the same time. When enough of us had gotten the game and decided to stick around to do so, we started a small guild (a guild, for those of you are unfamiliar, is a means to communicate and share resources in the game with a specific group of people). Eventually we met another guild that was populated by people who we thought were neat, and we decided to merge the two guilds together.
For some reason I agreed to lead this new guild.
I won’t go into a lot of detail as to why a guild needs leadership, because it’s not really relevant to this post, but the very short version is that there is a lot of content in the game that requires large groups to complete, and part of running a guild is to help schedule teams to take on that content and establish agreements around how any rewards won from beating it would be distributed among the group. Guild leaders also establish the culture of the guild (ours was considered a “casual” guild, with mostly older players who had responsibilities that prevented them from devoting excessive amount of time to the game) and will also set up rules around acceptable behavior by guild members.
When we formed our guild, we had one rule: Don’t be a Jerk.*
For a while, that worked just fine. Everyone understood what being a jerk meant, and we were all pretty good about not being one.
But then the guild grew. We kept adding people who we didn’t know as well as the original members. As our numbers expanded, the line on what everyone accepted as “jerkish” behavior began to get fuzzy. Common sense, it turns out, is not so common. Especially when you’re dealing with a diverse group of individuals who are paying for the privilege of playing a game. People with different backgrounds, who come from different regions of the world, and have a variety of socioeconomic situations, genders, ages, and sexual orientations (not to mention skill levels). Heck, one of our prominent members was a retired grandmother who used to send me cookies every Christmas.
Mardi, if you’re still out there my address hasn’t changed.
Eventually something happened that I, and the folks who helped me run the guild, couldn’t ignore. I don’t remember what it was, specifically. All I remember is that our response to the thing that happened was to create a new rule, so now we had two of them. It wasn’t too long before another incident got our attention, so we created a third rule. Then a fourth. A fifth. You get the point.
When I finally stopped playing the game in early 2009, I believe our rule book was three pages long.
We would make broad announcements about how we have “noticed certain behaviors” and how those behaviors “violate the spirit of our core value of not being a Jerk.” If the person in question continued doing the “thing” we had created the rule for, we could point at the (newly expanded) rules list and accuse them of violating it, thereby justifying our decision to remove the person from the guild.
You know what we never did in any of these situations (before it was too late)?
Talk to the person in question.
Instead of having an open, honest discussion about whatever the infraction was that caused us concern we avoided confrontation entirely and hid behind bureaucracy.
Our reward? More headaches. The bureaucracy that was protecting us from being the “bad guys” continued to grow and become more complex, and eventually got to the point where we spent more time managing rules and people than, you know, playing the damn game.
Eventually it got to be too much for me and I quit playing. All the enjoyment had been sucked out of the game for me, and I walked away. I still have friends who I met playing WoW, and some of them are still playing and in the guild I helped create, but I canceled my account almost 14 years ago and haven’t looked back.
So what does any of this have to do with Leadership in the professional world?
The first, and most important, lesson I took from this was that creating rules to deal with people problems is a no-win scenario. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have rules, codes of conduct, etc…but if you’ve got someone on your team who isn’t working well with others in some capacity, creating some kind of rule, procedure, or process to deal with that person is not being a Leader. It’s managing (and managing poorly, at that).
The other big lesson I learned is that by creating a rule that applies to all members of a team when only one person is responsible for doing the “thing” that caused the rule to be made, you create a situation where the unintended consequence of your action is to cause people who have nothing at all to do with the situation to suddenly worry that THEY were the reason the rule was created. For example, say you have a person in your organization who has some kind of issue with body odor that is disturbing others and instead of having a conversation with that person you send out an all-users e-mail reminding the entire company that “we all have to work together in small spaces” and to “please be mindful of how our personal hygiene might impact those around us.” The person who inspired the e-mail might not think it is about them, or they might realize it is and get horribly embarrassed and/or resentful. Even worse, people who had nothing to do with the original announcement may start wondering if they are the reason the email was sent in the first place.
This lesson shows up in the Agile Manifesto, of course. “Customer Collaboration over contract negotiation” is one of the four values found in the manifesto. Talking with people and working out situations directly is much more effective than hiding behind contracts (and what is a list of rules in an organization but a contract that one agrees to abide by to continue working there?), and how can we argue with the fact that most effective means of communicating information being face-to-face communication?
If I knew then what I know now, I’d have spent a lot more time talking to people and a lot less time managing a list of complex rules. The short term discomfort of having a difficult conversation pales in comparison to the drudgery and annoyance of dealing with the red tape of a ridiculously long rule book.
*In the interest of full disclosure, the word wasn’t jerk. I think you get the drift, though.
