The Sunday Times
'Ricardo Semler tells how Semco uses a revolutionary way of working to run a profit making company with a work force who love their jobs.’
Rocco Forte, Management Today
‘The Seven-Day Weekend will certainly encourage managers to look very carefully at their management practices.’
Guardian
‘Ricardo Semler is our kind of capitalist.’
Book Description
The new book from the author of Maverick! which sold 1.1 million copies worldwide.
--This text refers to the
Paperback
edition.
Product Description
Email and paperwork have invaded homes. Most people know how to work on Sunday evening, but no one yet knows how to go to the cinema on Monday afternoon. A new way of work is needed. A new way of working has emerged at Semco of which the tell-tale signs are: hammocks where people rest during the day; Retire-a-Little plans; the end of the head office; and the abolition of control and boarding school mentality. The results have been inordinate success for 20 years; practically non-existent turnover; and an organization that covers an enormous range of business activity, from machinery to environmental consulting, and from real estate advisoy services to new business start-ups, smoothly and coherently. It's time for a new way of work to be created. This book shows how this can be achieved.
From the Publisher
The new book from the author of Maverick! which sold 1.1 million copies worldwide.
About the Author
Ricardo Semler, president of Semco S/A, the Brazilian machinery manufacturer, service provider and software company is internationally famous for creating the world's most unusual workplace. At Semco, workers choose their bosses. Financial information is shared with everyone. A high percentage of the employees determine their own salaries. And self-managed teams replace hierarchy and procedure
Excerpted from The Seven-day Weekend by Ricardo Semler. Copyright © 2003. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
On a leafy side street in São Paulo, Danilo Saicali approached the headquarters of Semco Corporation on the first day of his new job. Toting a briefcase and clad in a dark suit and tie, Danilo was poised to run Semco's New Ventures unit. He'd been a partner and CEO at Arthur Andersen and then at Amway, so he was bringing years of knowledge and seasoned authority to Semco, a 50-year-old company with annual revenues of $160 million. He'd be part of a close-knit team managing Semco's diverse businesses in machinery, real estate, environmental services, and as an investor in high-tech businesses.
But Danilo was joining a company better known around the world for what it doesn't do.
Semco has no official structure. It has no organizational chart. There's no business plan or company strategy - no two-year or five-year plan, no goal or mission statement, no long-term budget. The company often does not have a fixed CEO. There are no vice presidents or chief officers for information technology or operations. There are no standards or practices. There's no human resources department. There are no career plans, no job descriptions or employee contracts. No one approves reports or expense accounts. Supervision or monitoring of workers is rare indeed.
Most importantly, success is not measured only in profit and growth.
Danilo knew all this on his first day because he'd heard it from me, and I am Semco's major shareholder. Just before Danilo accepted the job, we sat down for what I call my 'scare off' meeting. Even people who understand our philosophies may not be prepared for what it really means to work at Semco. I briefed Danilo: He'd have no office, no permanent desk, no secretary, no parking place, no official title, no business cards.
Semco had agreed to pay Danilo a substantial salary for his talents, but we weren't prepared to give him his own desk. Money is one thing. But the rigid structures of the past are another.
Danilo was a little taken aback. But I'd seen that before. Fifteen years earlier, a prominent Brazilian politician, Senator José Macedo, invited me to the far north of Brazil for a conference. This wonderful self-made man had begun his working life as a soap salesman. By the time I met him, he was a billionaire in the flour, biscuit, beer and car dealership businesses.
I spoke to the conference for an hour about Semco and its strange practices, and then Senator Macedo opened the question and answer session. Sitting in the first row, he looked back over his shoulder at the hundreds of people who filled the hot, humid auditorium and asked: 'Mr. Semler, before answering other questions, can you please tell us what planet you're from?' It took several minutes for the room to quiet down - I can still hear the good-natured laughter to this day.
So anyone picking up this book may first ask, what is Semco?
I can't tell you. If you ask me to describe it in conventional business terms, I'd have to admit I have no idea what business Semco is in. For the last 20 years, I have resisted defining Semco for a simple reason: Once you say what business you're in, you create boundaries for your employees, you restrict their thinking and give them a reason to ignore new opportunities. 'We're not in that business,' they'll say.
Instead of dictating Semco's identity, I let our employees shape it with their individual efforts, interests, and initiatives.
But that, together with stories like Danilo's, may make Semco sound like a company with an offbeat management style that wouldn't succeed any place else. Nevertheless hundreds of corporate leaders from around the world have visited São Paulo to find out what makes us tick. Some, like representatives from the Royal Hospitals in Australia, schools in Finland, the Amsterdam police department and a few dozen private or public companies around the globe, have gone home and emulated us. But many more have gone away shaking their heads in bewilderment. At its peak, there was a 17-month waiting list for the bi-weekly tour of Semco (with each tour including 35 outside companies). At that point we cancelled the program because our workers were beginning to feel like animals in a zoo.
The visitors were curious about Semco because they want what we have - huge growth in spite of a fluctuating economy, unique market niches, rising profits, highly motivated employees, low turnover, diverse product and service areas. In short, sustainability.
Our visitors want to understand how we achieve that. How has Semco increased its annual revenue between 1994 and 2001 from $35 million a year to $160 million when I rarely attend meetings and almost never make decisions? When with a show of hands, employees can veto new product ideas or whole business ventures?
But Danilo was joining a company better known around the world for what it doesn't do.
Semco has no official structure. It has no organizational chart. There's no business plan or company strategy - no two-year or five-year plan, no goal or mission statement, no long-term budget. The company often does not have a fixed CEO. There are no vice presidents or chief officers for information technology or operations. There are no standards or practices. There's no human resources department. There are no career plans, no job descriptions or employee contracts. No one approves reports or expense accounts. Supervision or monitoring of workers is rare indeed.
Most importantly, success is not measured only in profit and growth.
Danilo knew all this on his first day because he'd heard it from me, and I am Semco's major shareholder. Just before Danilo accepted the job, we sat down for what I call my 'scare off' meeting. Even people who understand our philosophies may not be prepared for what it really means to work at Semco. I briefed Danilo: He'd have no office, no permanent desk, no secretary, no parking place, no official title, no business cards.
Semco had agreed to pay Danilo a substantial salary for his talents, but we weren't prepared to give him his own desk. Money is one thing. But the rigid structures of the past are another.
Danilo was a little taken aback. But I'd seen that before. Fifteen years earlier, a prominent Brazilian politician, Senator José Macedo, invited me to the far north of Brazil for a conference. This wonderful self-made man had begun his working life as a soap salesman. By the time I met him, he was a billionaire in the flour, biscuit, beer and car dealership businesses.
I spoke to the conference for an hour about Semco and its strange practices, and then Senator Macedo opened the question and answer session. Sitting in the first row, he looked back over his shoulder at the hundreds of people who filled the hot, humid auditorium and asked: 'Mr. Semler, before answering other questions, can you please tell us what planet you're from?' It took several minutes for the room to quiet down - I can still hear the good-natured laughter to this day.
So anyone picking up this book may first ask, what is Semco?
I can't tell you. If you ask me to describe it in conventional business terms, I'd have to admit I have no idea what business Semco is in. For the last 20 years, I have resisted defining Semco for a simple reason: Once you say what business you're in, you create boundaries for your employees, you restrict their thinking and give them a reason to ignore new opportunities. 'We're not in that business,' they'll say.
Instead of dictating Semco's identity, I let our employees shape it with their individual efforts, interests, and initiatives.
But that, together with stories like Danilo's, may make Semco sound like a company with an offbeat management style that wouldn't succeed any place else. Nevertheless hundreds of corporate leaders from around the world have visited São Paulo to find out what makes us tick. Some, like representatives from the Royal Hospitals in Australia, schools in Finland, the Amsterdam police department and a few dozen private or public companies around the globe, have gone home and emulated us. But many more have gone away shaking their heads in bewilderment. At its peak, there was a 17-month waiting list for the bi-weekly tour of Semco (with each tour including 35 outside companies). At that point we cancelled the program because our workers were beginning to feel like animals in a zoo.
The visitors were curious about Semco because they want what we have - huge growth in spite of a fluctuating economy, unique market niches, rising profits, highly motivated employees, low turnover, diverse product and service areas. In short, sustainability.
Our visitors want to understand how we achieve that. How has Semco increased its annual revenue between 1994 and 2001 from $35 million a year to $160 million when I rarely attend meetings and almost never make decisions? When with a show of hands, employees can veto new product ideas or whole business ventures?
