EXCLUSIVE FOR TOP ENTREPRENEURS:

Choosing the Right CEO from Your Top Officers (2)

Choosing the right CEO from among your top officers is one of the most important decisions an entrepreneur can make. The CEO must be more than competent; he/she must embody the vision, values, and leadership spirit of the enterprise.

In the last publication, we reviewed a few key attributes to look out for when choosing the right candidate for the position of CEO. We looked at his understanding of the foundational vision of the organisation, his effectiveness on the job, his integrity, leadership qualities, and ability to expand and run with the vision without losing sight of the core values and the moral fiber of the business.

Other attributes include his ability to engage socially and maintain relationships that are vital for the development of the business.

Stakeholder Management Skills

A CEO does not operate in isolation. They must juggle relationships with employees, customers, investors, regulators, and even the media. The right candidate must demonstrate the ability to manage multiple interests without losing balance.

As the entrepreneur, you must be clear on who among your officers builds bridges across departments? Who can effectively translate information from the departments and hold meaningful meetings with the departments? Who maintains goodwill with external partners? Who can negotiate without creating enemies? Who can interface with the highest level of policy makers with competence and self respect?

A CEO who alienates stakeholders may deliver short-term wins but will destroy the company in the long run.

Respect for Organizational DNA

Every company has its culture (the unspoken way things are done), the values that shape interactions, the traditions that bind employees together. A CEO who does not respect this culture can create internal friction.

The right candidate is someone who embodies the DNA of the organization. For example, if your business culture is people-centered, a CEO who prioritizes profits over people will cause disillusionment. If your culture is innovation-driven, a CEO who prefers bureaucracy will suffocate creativity.

Culture fit does not mean rigidity, it means having the wisdom to preserve what makes the company unique while still driving change.

Humility and ‘Coachability’

Finally, a CEO must be humble enough to listen and learn. Arrogance is a poison in leadership because it blinds decision-making and alienates the team. An arrogant officer is easy to spot; he dismisses the ideas contributed by his subordinates and may not give credit to other people’s input.

As you evaluate your officers, ask: who listens carefully before responding? Who admits mistakes? Who seeks advice rather than pretending to know it all?

The business landscape will test even the most brilliant leader. A humble CEO will adapt and grow; a proud CEO will crash with the ship.

Understanding the Grounds and Times

Every business exists in an environment and there are characteristics that follow each environment. The right candidate must understand the environment and be ready to engage as much as is necessary and possible. He must know his terrain so as to make informed decisions and succeed. The norms of the environment will determine how you engage with it and a good candidate must know and embrace this knowledge.

Having examined the characteristics that the CEO should have, let me give you a few practical steps that will help you quickly identify the candidate with these attributes.

1. Observe over time – Don’t rush the decision. Leadership traits reveal themselves in consistent patterns. Take your time to make the choice.
2. Run scenario tests – Present likely officers with hypothetical challenges. Watch how they reason and respond.
3. Seek feedback – Consult other members of staff quietly. How do people feel working with each candidate? Who inspires creativity in the subordinates? Who commands respect effortlessly? Who encourages efficiency?
4. Consider succession, not just appointment – If the candidate becomes CEO, who fills their old role? Does it leave a vacuum?
5. Trust your instinct, but validate it – As an entrepreneur, your gut feeling is important. It is likely that you already have an idea who you want to hand the reigns of the management of your organisation to. However, you should still go ahead and balance that gut feeling with structured evaluation.

Entrepreneurs, remember this: your business is only as strong as the person who leads it day to day. Choosing a CEO from among your top officers is more than rewarding loyalty or seniority. It is about matching the right character, skills, and vision with the demands of the role. Choose based on who can safeguard your vision, inspire your people, and expand your legacy for generations to come.

In conclusion, I will encourage all entrepreneurs faced with the need to appoint a CEO, to hand over but still watch over. If there is any doubt, it is within your rights to make changes swiftly. Don’t be boxed into contracts that endow each CEO with a tenure; this might keep a very bad leader in position and ruin your organisation.

Lastly, when a CEO has been chosen and is doing well, please arrange adequate and satisfactory compensation packages.

Fatherhood with Ibe

What I Could Have Done Differently: A Father’s Reflection

When I read Chike’s story, I felt compelled to reach out to him. I was touched by his story and by the honesty of his intentions. I realised that there were some very obvious mistakes that he made and those are mistakes that many men make as fathers, unfortunately, it comes with the same devastating results. I had a long conversation with Chike about the choices he made and how they affected him. We agreed that he should turn his lessons into nuggets for other fathers. So, if you read Chike’s story published in this blog two weeks ago, now read his understanding of what he could have done differently.

Chike’s reflection:

When I sit alone these days, with nothing but the hum of my old ceiling fan and the aches in my bones, I think. I think about my life, about the choices I made, about the sacrifices that seemed so noble at the time but now feel like heavy chains dragging me into regret.

This reflection is based on my experience and the deep discussions I have had with Professor Kachikwu. It is not for my children anymore; they are gone — physically, emotionally, spiritually. They made their choice. This reflection is for the fathers who may one day find themselves standing at the same crossroads where I once stood. If my story can spare just one man from making the mistakes I made, then indeed my pain will not be entirely wasted.

1. I Should Have Kept Something for Myself

The greatest mistake I made was giving everything away. I sold my house, my land, my business, all to fund my children’s education abroad. At the time, it felt like an act of love. I told myself I was investing in their future. What I failed to realize was that I was also disinvesting in myself.

A man must understand: sacrifice should not mean self-erasure. Love does not require you to empty your pockets to the point of begging. I should have kept one house, one piece of land, one stream of income … something, for myself. If nothing else, it would have given me dignity in my old age.

To fathers reading this: do not gamble your entire future on your children. Invest in them, yes, but also invest in yourself. Children grow wings, but you must still have roots.

2. I Should Have Balanced Love with Discipline

I was so afraid of my children feeling unloved after their mother’s death that I leaned too far into indulgence. I gave them everything they asked for. I shielded them from hardship, from responsibility. I wanted to be both mother and father, so I compensated with excess love and little correction.

Looking back now, I see that I raised children who believed sacrifice was normal, that money would always appear, that their father’s life existed solely for their comfort. I should have taught them the value of gratitude. I should have shown them that love is not entitlement.

Fathers, learn this lesson with me: children need boundaries as much as they need affection. Teach them early that sacrifice is a gift, a debt to be repaid. Otherwise, they will grow blind to the weight of what you carried for them.

3. I Should Have Built a Community

When my wife died, I isolated myself. I made my children my entire world. I rejected the idea of remarriage, which I do not regret, but I also rejected friendships, support systems, and even my extended family.

I told myself I was strong enough alone. But no man is strong alone. The community you neglect in your younger years is the community that will fail to surround you when you are old.

If I had nurtured friendships, stayed close to siblings, or remarried wisely, maybe I would not be sitting in this loneliness. Children, no matter how much you love them, will eventually build lives of their own. You need people—your own people—when the nest becomes empty and silent.

Fathers, do not lose yourself in your children. Build a life that exists outside of them.

4. I Should Have Taught Them About Responsibility to Parents

I raised my children to pursue success, but I did not raise them to honour me. I told them, “Be the best. Be great. Make me proud.” But I rarely told them, “Do not forget the hands that lifted you.”

I assumed gratitude would come naturally. It does not. Gratitude must be taught, modeled, reinforced. I should have reminded them, through words and actions that family is a circle — you receive and you also give.

Fathers, teach your children not only to fly, but also to look back at the nest, to remember and nourish their roots.

5. I Should Have Built Wealth, Not Just Provided Comfort

I worked tirelessly, but my work was always reactive—meeting today’s needs, covering today’s bills, selling what I had to fund the next school term or the next plane ticket. I poured everything into ensuring my children had the best, but I never paused to think about tomorrow.

Looking back, I realize now that I was a provider, not a builder. There is a difference. A provider meets immediate needs, but a builder plants seeds that will yield long after his hands grow weak.

I should have grown my business instead of liquidating it. I should have thought beyond “how do I send them abroad?” to “how do I sustain this family long-term?” My mistake was thinking their success would automatically become my security.

Fathers, please hear me clearly: do not burn your ladder to build their staircase. Your children’s achievements will not necessarily feed you. Build wealth — buy land, invest wisely, start your own businesses — to cushion your old age. Building your own wealth is not selfishness; it is wisdom.

6. I Should Have Kept a Voice in My Own Story

Another mistake I made was silencing myself. In my eagerness to shield my children, I did not share my struggles with them. I hid my sleepless nights, my financial difficulties, my tears. I wanted them to believe their father was indestructible.

What did that create? Children who thought money fell from the sky. Children who never truly understood what it cost me to send them to school or to clothe them. I robbed them of perspective.

I should have told them the truth. I should have let them see the sweat, the cracks, the sacrifices. Not to make them feel guilty, but to teach them empathy. Because empathy is not learned in classrooms abroad; it is learned at home.

Fathers, don’t swallow your story. Tell your children what it costs to love them. Let them see you bleed, so that when they rise, they will understand the price of their flight.

7. I Should Have Prepared for Old Age

When you are young and strong, you believe you will always be so. But age comes like a thief in the night. One day you are climbing ladders and running errands, the next day you are counting your pills and measuring your steps.

I never planned for this stage. I assumed my children would be my plan. That was a mistake. Children are not a retirement plan. They are not a pension. They are not a guaranteed insurance.

I should have joined cooperative societies. I should have invested in health insurance. I should have saved systematically, no matter how small. Instead, I relied on sentiment—that my children would never forget me. And now, my body pays the price.

Fathers, plan for old age as though you will have no children at all. If your children rise up to help, let it be a blessing, not your lifeline.

8. I Should Have Guarded My Dignity

In my desperation to hold onto my children, I begged. I sent repeated messages, called endlessly, pleaded for crumbs of their time. I became what I never thought I would be — a beggar in my own children’s eyes.

If I had built a life outside of them, if I had held on to even a fraction of my strength, I would not have had to crawl for their attention. Children respect strength, not desperation. I gave them both my power and my pride, and now they see me only as a weight.

Fathers, love your children, support them, but never lose yourself chasing after them. Let your presence command respect, not pity.

9. I Should Have Raised Them in Partnership, Not Isolation

In refusing to remarry, I bore the burden of parenting alone. While my intentions were pure, my method was flawed. I closed myself off to the possibility of wise counsel, of extended family stepping in, of mentors playing a role.

I believed I could singlehandedly mold three children into responsible adults. But children need a village. They need uncles, aunties, grandparents, mentors. By isolating myself, I gave them only one perspective, mine. And when my voice grew weak, there was no one else echoing it.

Fathers, don’t carry fatherhood like a solitary cross. Allow trusted hands to help shape your children.One man alone cannot provide all the pillars a child needs.

10. I Should Have Known When to Let Go

Perhaps the hardest truth I now accept is that love must sometimes release. I held too tightly. I measured my worth by their success, their achievements, their approval. I wanted them to rise so badly that I forgot to rise myself.

If I had stepped back earlier, allowed them to struggle, allowed them to fail and rise again, maybe they would have learned resilience and responsibility. Instead, I cushioned every fall, carried every burden. And now, when I need them, they see me as another burden to shake off.

Fathers, know this: your children are not your second chance at life. They are their own people. Let them go early enough that they learn to come back by choice, not by obligation.

The Final Reflection

Sometimes, in my quiet moments, I wonder if my children will remember me after I am gone. Will they cry at my funeral? Will they even come? Will they speak of me as the man who gave them everything, or as the man who demanded too much? I do not know.

But I know this: I loved them, perhaps clumsily, perhaps excessively, but with every breath in my body. If I could start over, I would still love them. Only this time, I would also love myself. That is the lesson I learned … too late.