Who Do You Answer To?

“Report to” and “answer to” are not the same thing.

I “report to” my boss. But my boss is not who I “answer to.”

It took seemingly forever for me to understand the difference. That “the boss” is almost always a mere piece of some larger whole. And that  - invariably – the “whole” is who I ultimately answer to.

My cross country coach was, in the broader scheme of things, merely a part of the team. It’s leader, to be sure, but inspired strategy, without runners capable of executing it, is useless.

Then came decades of defending homeowners against their neighbors’ aggressions. One owner – (often the husband, back then)  - issued my marching orders. But his marriage and his family ultimately bore the consequences of whatever I did, on his orders.

Then came decades of guiding neighborhoods through the fracturing caused when one faction weaponizes “rights and duties” to conquer an opposing faction that lays claim to the same space. One faction  - (often a board, but sometimes a  self-proclaimed “speak-truth-to-power” rebel group) – issued my marching orders. And sure, as a lawyer, my client was my boss.

But the guidance I gave to clients began changing as I grew increasingly aware that the neighbors, for whom their neighborhood was “home,” ultimately bore the consequences of whatever I did, on the orders of my “boss.”

Meanwhile, I founded, then nurtured, the law firm from which I later retired. Its employees reported to me, its founder. But I understood that I actually answered to them. After all, they were the ones who would ultimately bear the consequences of my decisions.

Odds are that each of us common interest community professionals will, over the course of our professional careers, eventually arrive at some “speak truth to power” crossroads. That moment when your boss commands “Do This,” and your gut silently screams “DON’T YOU DARE!!”

Now, 20-20 hindsight reveals that to truly “speak truth to power,” one must first discern what is “power” and what is “truth.”

“Power” is the easy part. As life teaches each of us, “boss” is simply shorthand for “they-who-hold-power-over-me.”

“Truth” is more elusive.

In my experience, “truth” is shorthand for whatever “whole” the boss fleetingly holds power over. And my gut’s silent scream is that whole’s plea that I not actually inflict the harm that obeying my boss will inevitably cause.

A professional can advance in their career for decades, dutifully obeying the orders of this boss or that, unaware that they ultimately answer to someone else, on whose behalf they will  -  one day  -  be called upon to act. Unaware, that is, until the moment of truth unexpectedly arrives.

Paradoxically, pausing to reflect on, and gain clarity about, who you ultimately “answer to” is, itself, empowering. It can supply the moral courage needed to say “No!” to the boss, when to carry out their order is to inflict harm on the very group they claim to represent.

Of course, the relevant “whole,” whose truth is entrusted to your care, changes over time.

My “truth” was the team. Then the marriage and family. Then the neighborhood. Then the law firm. Each one, a “whole,” of which the “boss” was merely a part.

The relevant whole is who I answer to. Always.

And of late, I’ve been observing a metamorphosis of sorts among colleagues who, like me, are entering the twilight of their “common interest community” professional careers.

Cam, Jill, Stephen, Bob, David, Cliff, and unnamed others, have simultaneously stepped back from the day-to-day work of guiding specific associations and stepped up to continue serving the “whole” that each professional in this group must ultimately answer to: Those unnamed millions for whom the American Dream takes the form of owning a home enfolded within a common interest community.

This common interest community housing model that created much of the nation’s attainable housing is seemingly being pounded by one existential threat after another, with no relief in sight. And we, the village elders of this housing model on which millions have come to depend, cannot turn our backs on what we see taking place on our watch.

We are as powerless to turn our backs as was Cecil the Seasick Sea Serpent, during the Saturday morning Beany and Cecil cartoons of our youth. As we seniors well know, Cecil “answered to” Beany Boy. And each Saturday, with Beany’s survival in question, Beany would always cry out “Help, Cecil! Help!” To which Cecil would steadfastly respond “I’m a-comin’, Beany-boy!”

Our “whole” is everyone everywhere who owns a home in a common interest community or hopes that they one day will. And may our legacy be that, in this, their hour of need, we stood as steadfast as Cecil in our resolve to preserve and protect the housing model upon which they depend.