A Barnyard of Entrepreneurs 9: Where's Our Vision?

The hens were all gathered in the coop for the evening.  Rooster was checking ESPN scores on his smartphone.

Brown Hen leaned over.  "Rooster, do you have a Vision for the barnyard?"  She scratched.  "Every management Svengali says you need to have a Vision for your organization."

Rooster looked up.  "Well, Hen," he started.  "I guess my vision is to make sure the marinated corn feed crumble arrives three times a day."  And then he thought, "And that Black Rat and his friends don't eat it all before we do."

Brown Hen sighed.  "That's your Vision?"  She sighed again.  "A Vision is supposed to provide guidance and inspiration.  It's supposed to create an attractive future destination, one we're all marching toward.  Together."

Rooster leaned into his smartphone.  The Sox were up by 1 run in the ninth with two down.  Man on third.

"Crumble three times a day," clucked Speckled Hen.  "Sounds like a formal summary of aims and values."  She scratched the dirt.  "That's a Mission Statement, if you ask me."

Rooster looked up, thinking to himself, "Is there still a lefty they can bring in from the bullpen?"

"You're both wrong."  Red Hen rose from her nest.  "What we've got here is a Purpose Statement.  Three good meals a day--that's my purpose."  Then she chuckled.  "Vision Statements are just so 20th century.  They went out with the hula-hoop."


Rooster glanced up again.  The hens saw he was listening.  This was obviously important stuff.  Of course, they didn't realize Rooster was trying to calculate how many games out of first place the Sox would be if they won.

"I'm thinking what we're really discussing is an End State," said White Hen.  "And it's a good End State, too, eating three times a day.  But Vision?  Mission?  Purpose?  I don't think so.  We're just establishing what success looks like.  Everybody knows that's an End State."

Rooster smiled. Strike 3.  The Sox had won.  He suddenly realized how exhausted he was from keeping Rat and his buddies out of the feed all day.  It was really hard work.  And what were the hens chattering about, anyway?  His head fell forward.  He drifted off.

Brown Hen looked over at Rooster and frowned.  This was a fine how-do-you-do.  Rooster just didn't get it.

"We're in an organization with no Mission.  No Vision.  No Purpose.  No End State."  She looked at Rooster accusingly.  "How can he sleep with such confusion?"

"He's about as strategic as a doorknob," clucked Speckled Hen.

"I"ll say," added Red Hen.  "All he worries about is making sure we have three meals a day."

Then she looked at Rooster, who was now starting to snore.  "Who ever thought he could run this place, anyway?"