Buzzwords don’t have to be long to be grating.

Take, for example, the word “team,” which I freely confess appears quite often in this space.

Only my use of “team” doesn’t grate at all, because (1) I rarely couple its use with even-more-grating sports metaphors, and (2) I’m (usually) careful to limit its usage to denoting collections of people who are working toward the same goal, and who trust each other to be working toward the same goal.

Use #2 comes from an old but very useful model developed by a researcher with the unfortunate name of Bruce Wayne Tuchman, unfortunate because, in addition to being named after Batman’s alter ego he also shares a middle name with a disproportionate number of murderers, not that he was ever suspected of such villainy; not that any of this has much to do with the point of what follows; also, if your middle name also happens to be “Wayne” I hope you haven’t taken offense; and if your middle name happens to be “Wayne” and you have taken offense I sincerely hope you have no murderous tendencies.

Where was I? Oh, yes, “team” and its misuse.

Regular readers, and even more so those who have read Leading IT: <Still> the Toughest Job in the World will recall that one of the eight tasks of leadership is managing team dynamics. Even the less-enlightened usually understand teamwork matters, and so use “team” where “group,” “bunch,” or “committee” might be more accurate.

For that matter, propagandists sometimes disparage team-ish collections of people who are aligned to a shared purpose the propagandist disagrees with by using terms like “crowd,” “gang,” or “mob” to deride them.

So if you ever read something about the “KJR crowd” to refer to those who don’t accept the notion of internal customers, you’ll know what’s going on. I haven’t, but I’d like to. Persecution is good publicity, after all.

Huh. I keep sliding away from the point. Let’s get back to it.

To be more exact than I usually am, all teams are groups, not all groups are teams. It’s a square/rectangle kind of thing.

What distinguishes teams from other groups is that they’re populated with people who both trust each other and are all trying to accomplish much the same thing.

Like, for example, the exact opposite of our current Congress … a point I make not to lose subscribers who are tired of my alleged political commentary but to illustrate with a well-known example. Once upon a time, most members of Congress really did share the common purpose of wanting to improve this country and really did trust each other to have this shared purpose, no matter how much they disagreed about how to improve things.

It’s an important distinction for all teams, whose members aren’t expected to agree with each other about everything, but whose members are expected to reach compromises they can all agree to.

While we’re at it, let’s look at other sorts of group that are common in business situations to see how and whether they should differ from teams.

Start with committees. As with teams, members of effective committees trust each other. Unlike teams, they generally lack a shared sense of purpose: Members of committees are there to represent their own team’s interests. See “Congress,” above, only with trust restored.

Then there are departments … under the best of circumstances, teams of teams. It’s an interesting dynamic. In a department, all members of all teams should share the department’s purpose — its charter and goals.

But individual members of one team need not trust individual members of other teams, not that this would be a problem if they did. But they do need to trust the other teams that make up the department taken as a whole.

Similar logic applies as you move up the organization, from departments to divisions, divisions to business units and so on.

So when an executive refers to the enterprise and everyone in it as a team, there are three possibilities.

One is that everyone does trust the parts of the organization they aren’t personally members of. The second is that the executive would like it if they did.

The third? A sports metaphor is in your future.

Trust me.

I just knew it: “Scientists find link between people impressed by wise-sounding, ‘profound’ quotes and low intelligence,” Helena Horton, Daily Telegraph, 12/3/2015

Which perhaps explains your average mission statement.

For years … decades, I think … I’ve preached from this pulpit that corporations have only three bottom-line “goods” — to increase revenue, decrease cost, and manage risk better.

I’ve also preached another, complementary gospel — that mission statements are worthless, but the mission is preeminently important.

Then Scott Lee and I wrote The Cognitive Enterprise, which led us to re-think the fundamentals of business.

The result was the realization that there are really four bottom-line goods, the fourth of which is mission achievement.

Which led several of you to ask, in response to last week’s column where I pointed this out, “Huh?”

(It also led to one subscriber, irate because I suggested Donald Trump and Equifax might not be my favorite endorsers, to become an unsubscriber. As the offending statement constituted 2.6% of last week’s content one wonders how my former subscriber copes with this.)

Let’s get back to getting to the point: What’s this about mission achievement being a bottom-line good? Doesn’t this seem like too much of a touchy-feelie, warm fuzzy sort of position for KJR to take?

To understand how this works, Sherman, set the WABAC machine to 2007, when neither the economy as a whole nor General Motors in particular had melted down. To oversimplify the situation slightly, General Motors had a business model in which the purpose of selling automobiles was to sell financing contracts through its GMAC subsidiary.

Because it made little profit from selling the automobiles themselves, the desirability of your average GM car, let alone its engineering, was of little apparent interest to the folks running GM back then.

So little so that GM offered rebates … bribes, really … to consumers to persuade them to buy (and finance) its products.

Then the great recession happened and GM’s already fragile business fell apart completely.

Desirability and engineering weren’t part of GM’s pre-melt-down business model. They were critical underpinnings of its long-forgotten mission: to build cars people want to buy.

Mission, that is, not mission statement, about which the best that might be said is that they achieved grammatical and syntactical correctness. That they’re both lifeless and devoid of useful information? Keep that opinion to yourself.

Before I go on, a suggestion: Rip out the mission statement you have and replace it with something prosaic and clear, like, for example, “We provide information technology that’s optimally matched to the enterprise’s needs.” Or, if you’re more enlightened, “We collaborate with our business counterparts to achieve operational excellence and intentional business change, in part through the use of information technology.”

And … returning to the point again, it’s easy for some business executive to focus on the business’s mission, because it’s embedded in the business model. These are the better-mousetrap-style businesses, whose mission is to sell products people want to buy, and whose business model is to manufacture products people want to buy at a low enough cost to sell them at a price customers can afford while maintaining profitable margins.

But there are plenty of businesses whose business models are, in one respect or another, akin to the pre-meltdown GM, where the connection between mission and business model was sufficiently indirect that executives could ignore it for a decade or two.

While less common, especially among large enterprises, there are plenty of businesses that make the same mistake only backward: They’re so focused on their mission that they ignore their business model.

In the early days of eCommerce this was endemic, encouraged by cheap and easy-to-get investment capital. The world was awash in enthusiastic web entrepreneurs who were convinced that if they just got lots of page views they could figure out how to make money from it later.

The unfortunate word “monetize” was coined to capture this business philosophy and make it seem plausible.

Charitable non-profits are also prone to this problem. With all the best of intentions they spend every dime they have and more dimes they don’t doing everything they can to fulfill their mission.

Especially, their good-hearted employees are too-often unaware that “non-profit” does not mean “can operate in the red indefinitely.”

Well-run non-profits never lose sight of their business model — accomplishing their mission attracts members of the philanthropic community, grant-making organizations, or both, creating a sense of affinity that cause them to donate to the cause.

So the big three — revenue, cost, and risk — are still there. It’s the business model that makes them happen, and makes achieving the mission financially possible.

But achieving the mission is what allows the business model to continue to work.