Over thirty years ago, as I was pursuing my Masters degree in Physics and before I went to medical school, I worked at Texas Instruments as an engineer.
Texas Instrument ( fondly known as “TI”), – although best known at the time as the “calculator” company – was technology diverse, with divisions in Defense, Consumer Electronics, Oil Exploration Technology, and most importantly- Semiconductors.
However, the one thing that underpinned all of these different fields was how they managed and enabled their key innovators – an internal innovation architecture called the Technical Ladder.
You see, early on TI recognized the value of the individual contributer – the Lone Ranger- to create radical breakthroughs and new products.
They recognized that often the most creative breakthroughs often came from a single person, working outside the team, locked away in a lab somewhere. A person whose creative engineering ability seemed to be inversely proportional to their managerIal and communication skills.
This insight, deeply ingrained in TI mythology, likely stemmed from the invention of the Integrated circuit by Jack Kilby. In the fall of 1958, as a new hire, Mr. Kilby didn’t yet qualify for the TI’s company wide 2 week vacation. Finding himself with two weeks off downtime, and working against the company’s current approach to developing an integrated circuit, he did indeed go in the lab and create one (see photo above). Lots of lessons on innovation to learn here, including that sometimes mythology is true. Jack Kilby won the Noble Prize in Physics in 2000.
Anyway, to take advantage of these Lone Ranger creatives TI developed a Technical Ladder. Basically, this was a parallel promotion track to the standard managerial track for the rare, highly creative individuals within the company that would allow advancement up to the divisional president level. These folks, although assigned to a variety of the technical projects throughout the clinic, also had their own discretionary budget to play with. They usually only had two or three people reporting to them (of which I was one). They also tended to be, at least in my case, unique characters.
These were rare individuals, with their badge modified ever so slightly to indicate their status. In a room of 30 very smart engineers, when the lone TI fellow spoke, it carried as much weight as if a senior vice-president had dropped in.
So what’s the key point here, applicable to large healthcare organizations?
Well, healthcare has a lot of bright people working in it, with a strong culture of patient focused, person to person communication skill.
However, we all know of that one brilliant physician who has limited people skills. You know – the one that butts heads with HR, struggles with the staff, and, horror of horrors, may even have a low Press-Gainey scores! The smartest, if not most irritating one in the room.
So, what to do with these people, the really smart, but non-team players?
One thing to consider Think long and hard before disposing of these people who don’t fit the mold. Consider the possibility that the problem may actually not be them, but you i.e. perhaps your mold design is wrong.
As TI did, consider creating a different career track for these individuals. Put them in a position to succeed, rather than fail.
Deep domain knowledge matched with creative ability can trump the ability to work well in teams – so if you discover these creatives in your mist, hold on tight with all you have, because they may well be your future.
Bottom line: Don’t throw away the creator of healthcare’s next integrated circuit.