RIP Frank

I thoroughly enjoyed working for Frank Gaudette, Microsoft’s Chief Financial Officer (CFO), in my role as vice president of human resources and administration. Within the first year of this assignment, Frank had added many other responsibilities to my job: real estate and facilities, transportation services, food services, corporate security, administrative services, corporate library, employee stock option services, and Microsoft Press, the book publishing business.

Running a large corporation is similar to that of running a city. Lots of behind the scenes services that require leadership and management. They are not glamorous, but they are required. Many of these groups had lacked analytic management and were ripe for constructive re-engineering. 

Frank could drive his senior managers crazy by announcing a new exciting strategic agenda on Friday afternoon, and then change it all on the following Monday morning. When employees would complain, Frank would say, “I reserve the right to wake up smarter each morning.”

Not only have I borrowed and used this sentence from Frank, I’ve also worked diligently to apply the principle in my own life.

Frank was an energetic, enigmatic leader. In those days most technical employees (single and in their 20s) worked 6-7 days per week for the simple reason that Bill Gates did the same. As such, Frank expected the same of his finance employees. I was unaware of this when he became my boss.

In my life I’ve constantly and proactively worked to balance work life, family life and church leadership responsibilities. Sometimes I do better than others. 

But for me, these three are not created equal. I’ve always felt that, if required, I would readily sacrifice my job rather than the other two. What this means is that I would not agree to work 7 days per week, endlessly, simply because everyone else was doing it; and thus risk the destruction of my marriage, my relationship with my children and the commitment I made long ago to serve others. I’ve learned to be very organized; to pack a lot of work into short bursts, to work at home, very late into the evening, to arrive at work 2 hours before others, etc. I’ve learned that I can’t create more than 24 hours in a day, but that I can get much more out of 24 hours by being very purposeful.

In 1992 Frank's finance employees would come to work on the weekends with very little to do. They would read the newspapers, play computer games, etc. And there would be an assigned “watcher” in each hallway. Frank would come to the office in his workout clothes (sweat pants and a t-shirt). He would always make at least one lap around all the hallways to make sure his finance employees were hard at work. The “watcher” was assigned to give the silent alarm when Frank was approaching a particular hallway. Down would go the newspapers and up would come the spreadsheets. It was a game and it was silly. But no one was willing to call Frank’s bluff.

On a particular Monday morning I was summoned from my HR office to Frank’s finance office in the main headquarters building. The conversation was brief, but extremely instructive on several levels.

“Murray, I understand you don’t work on weekends.” (Someone had ratted me out!)

“Frank, if there is a problem or emergency, of course I’ll be here. But otherwise, I’ll be helping coach my kids’ sports teams on Saturday and I’ll be going to church and spending time with my family on Sunday. I work from home on weekends and everything gets done.”

There was a pregnant pause. He had a very serious look on his face. I thought he might fire me right then and there. Looking right at me and speaking in a very gruff voice, Frank said, “Murray, never stop doing that!”

And the meeting was over.

I realized that Frank was trapped within a larger system, one in which he could not escape. But he would not force me into the same trap. I loved Frank for that and wished I could have helped him escape from his trap. But fear is a mighty master.

In late summer 1992 Frank was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He got very sick, very quickly and was admitted to Virginia Mason hospital in Seattle. I frequently visited him during the daytime hours. Our relationship grew much closer.

On one particular visit Frank was not feeling well. He was very tired and very weak. But he had an important meeting he wished to participate in over the phone. 

Microsoft owned shares in Santa Cruz Operations (SCO) and he was the assigned board member. An SCO board meeting was being held that morning and they had arranged for Frank to call in from the phone in his hospital room. But they did not know how ill he was.

Not only were there no cell phones in those days, there were no phones (in hospitals) with a speakerphone feature. Frank was too weak to sit up. So had asked me to assist him – and this speaks to the unusual friendship of trust that we had created. He asked me to lie next to him in his narrow hospital bed and to place the black telephone handset adjacent to our two ears. 

Frank was in his hospital gown and I was in my regular clothes. We were literally “cheek to cheek”. He then told me to poke him if he fell asleep (which he did) or if the folks on the other end of the line asked him a question (which they did). For the next 25-30 minutes we lay side by side, inches from each other, with the black telephone handset up against his right ear and my left ear. It wasn’t awkward at all. Eventually the meeting concluded, he thanked me, and I left. It would be one of the last times I ever saw him.

And as I write this I feel great love and tenderness for this good man who was such a great fighter to the very end.

At 4AM on April 23, 1993 (a Friday) I was instantly awakened in my bed by a loud whooshing noise that rushed through our bedroom as if the windows were wide open and a big wind was blowing. But the windows were closed, there was no storm and my wife slept through it. I remember sitting up, suddenly wide awake. My abrupt movement awakened my wife Joyce. 

I was not afraid. It was neither a nightmare nor an intruder. It was some kind of special message or messenger from heaven. The message was crystal clear -- I knew immediately that Frank had died. I was saddened, but peaceful. And very grateful for this unusual gift. On his way to heaven, Frank’s spirit passed through my bedroom. Amazing!

When I arrived at my office that morning, my assistant Cheryl said, “Mike, I have bad news for you. Frank Gaudette died last night.”

I simply replied, “Thanks.”

Frank was 57.