Mind of Jacka: Take the Hit

A long time ago, in an office building far, far away (actually only about nine miles down the road), I worked as an internal auditor for Farmers Insurance. One of our responsibilities was fraud investigation. Not claims fraud. That was the responsibility of the claims department. So, when the Simpson’s house caught fire and Homer indicated they lost “the Picasso, my collection of classic cars…” we were not the ones who had to respond, “Sorry, this policy only covers actual losses, not made-up stuff.” (A Simpson’s deep cut for your dining and dancing pleasure.)

Our role was investigating fraud committed by the company’s employees, members of the agency force, and the agents’ employees. Very few of these were large losses. But the company had a zero-tolerance policy, so we went out when anything was missing. Actions of the employee, actions of the agent, actions of the agent’s employees, mysterious disappearances, merry mix-ups, we investigated them all.

On one investigation, after a day of digging, analyzing, and interviewing, I went to speak with the State Executive — the person responsible for agency operations within the state. (We were very clever with our naming conventions.) The meeting was intended to provide an update on what I had discovered.

I was immediately blindsided. The State Executive wanted to know why she hadn’t been advised of the investigation and proceeded to castigate me with colorful descriptions regarding my ineptitude.

Here’s the fun part. The day before, I had called the state office and spoken with the Division Manager — the gentleman responsible for the division in which the agent worked. I had given him the background on why I was going out and that, after I was done, I would visit the office to update him and the State Executive (his boss).

Apparently, he had not deemed it necessary to convey this information to the State Executive. (There are layers to this story, which I will avoid. Suffice to say, he might have been afraid to bring this situation to her attention. She was a person with a hair trigger temper who shot messengers, burned the letters bearing the message, and scorched the earth the messenger’s horse rode in on.)

As she continued to berate me, I looked over at the Division Manager. He looked back both sheepishly and fearfully. (It was a complicated look that he managed to pull off quite successfully.)

I let her rant and said nothing.

I could have thrown the Division Manager under the proverbial bus. But, why? The State Executive still would have been mad at me. But then there would be a new target for her fire-breathing act. (Did I mention hair-triggers? I’ll skip the nickname she gained in our regional office.)

The State Executive was unhappy, but I pledged that no such miscommunication would happen in the future and she began to calm down. The discussion turned to the investigation and there was little collateral damage to the department’s reputation.

I took the unwarranted hit. And from this one small action — by accepting this middle-of-the-road tongue-lashing (someday remind me to tell you the story of the first agency audit I ever did; meet me in the bar, later) — the department gained a stalwart ally in the Division Manager. He knew I had taken a blow to protect him. And there was an eternal gratefulness that was reflected in future actions. The positive image of internal audit was bolstered. And the Division Manager got a great lesson in how internal auditors can, on occasion, act like human beings.

I’ve got a slide I use in some presentations that says, simply, “Be Human.” Now, the main point is that we have to get off our high-horse throne and be a part of the organization. But there is another aspect of being human that is exemplified in this story.

Being human means having empathy. And that means understanding the situation people are in, determining the proper response, and trying to work with them, not against them.

Under different circumstances, my proper response might have been to defend the department and, in the process, provide a new target for her ire. But, in this situation, there was no need. We already had a good reputation in the company and this one mistake (even if we weren’t the ones who made that mistake) would not derail that reputation.

In general, internal auditors seem to struggle with the concept of errors, mistakes, and missteps. We seem to think that, in our clients’ eyes, we should never do anything wrong. And we fear that, if we reveal mistakes, we reveal weakness, leading to the loss of influence.

Nothing is further from the truth. Not only should we allow others to see those mistakes, but sometimes the right thing to do — the empathetic thing to do — is to take the hit for someone else.

Communication matters. Circumstances matter. Empathy matters. And being human matters.