How to Give an Order
Before Thanksgiving, Lefty phoned Donnie in Florida. The order was short: meet four people, book two adjoining rooms opening onto the pool, rent a big car. Four people, and no questions. A couple of hours later Sonny Black called and added: do what one man says, and don’t spare the money, Sonny would pay it back later. Donnie tried to find out what was going on. He was told he’d find out tomorrow.
As orders go, that’s a good one in form. It has what to do: the rooms, the car. Whom to listen to: one man, not all four. Who pays: Sonny. The only thing missing is the purpose. That was hidden, because a crime was being prepared.
In ordinary business, hiding the purpose does harm. A man who knows why will work out how by himself. A man who’s only been told what will do exactly what he was told, even if circumstances change.
Goal, Deadline, Man
This is how the Don gave orders. Once the hotel on the seafront started complaining: the linen was arriving late, and the manager was angry. The Don sent for the shift supervisor and said, “In a month the manager has to stop ringing me in the mornings. How, you decide. If you need people, tell me.” A goal, a deadline, and the method left to the one doing it. She moved that hotel’s delivery to the first run of the morning, and in three weeks the calls stopped.
A good order is short, clear and doable. Short, because a long one gets forgotten. Clear, because an unclear one gets carried out the way the man sees fit. Doable, because an impossible one teaches people that orders don’t have to be carried out.
And know what you want from a man before you open your mouth. Half of all bad orders are born of a boss thinking out loud. The subordinate walks off with three different tasks and does whichever is easiest.
The Fewer Orders, the Better
A boss who gives orders all the time teaches people to wait for orders. They stop thinking. Then he complains that he’s surrounded by people who only do as they’re told.
The Don gave two or three orders a week. The rest of the time he asked, “How are things at the hotel on the seafront?”, “What’s happening with the press?” People told him themselves what they meant to do. He nodded, or asked one question. An order was the last resort, not the first.
An Order Through a Go-Between
The Mafia has its own way of giving orders, and it’s worth knowing, if only so you can recognise it.
Lefty flew down to Florida, to the club that the agent Tony Rossi was running undercover, and got on to the subject of money. Donnie started to speak, but Lefty stopped him and told him to go and talk it over outside. Donnie and Rossi would step out into the yard, settle something, and Donnie would come back and pass the figures to Lefty. Back and forth like that, they agreed on the payment.
Rossi was surprised. Donnie explained to him that Lefty believed they couldn’t get him for extortion or conspiracy as long as he took no part in the conversation. All the wiseguys thought that way, he said.
The senior man sets the terms, the junior man carries them, and the senior man takes part in nothing that can be quoted later. It gave no protection from the law: Lefty went to prison all the same. But as a way of bargaining without losing face, it works in the office too. A boss who haggles over trifles himself loses clout. Let a trusted man do the haggling.
The Go-Between Who Orders Nothing
David Critchley, a historian of the American Mafia, writes about letters found on Giuseppe Morello when he was arrested in 1909. The letters show that Morello was a go-between for extortion victims and the extortionists themselves. He used his influence to settle the matter for less than had been demanded, and the victim was left in his debt. Critchley notes how practical the role was: it kept Morello at a distance from any direct part in a serious crime. He was paid not in money but in favours.
The go-between looks like a peacemaker, and takes his power in the form of debts. He never gives a single order that can be proved. But notice: it was the letters in his apartment that revealed his role. We’ll come back to paper.
An Order Dressed as a Request
Bernardo Provenzano, who ran the Sicilian Mafia from hiding for many years, communicated with his men by notes. The intercepted letters are polite, even affectionate: blessings, wishes for good health, assurances that the writer was entirely at the recipient’s disposal. Inside the Mafia he was known for a saying: eat, and let others eat.
When you’re the one with the power, an order dressed as a request works better than a threat. The man saves face. And he still can’t say no.
It works for an honest boss too. “Could you look over the accounts by Friday?” goes down better than “Look over the accounts by Friday.” Just remember that a request works as long as there’s respect behind it. If there’s no respect, a polite request is just a request, and the answer will be “I can’t.”
The Bottom Line
An order is a goal, a deadline, whom to listen to and who pays. Leave the method to the man doing it, and know what you want before the conversation.
And from the other side, learn to recognise when you’re being commanded through a go-between. A boss who never says anything straight, but always “I was asked to pass on”, leaves you answering for his words. Check with him in person. And when you’re asked, very politely, to do something you can’t refuse, that’s an order. Carry it out as an order, but ask as you would of an order: who answers for it if something goes wrong?