Schneider on apparel and fighting cancer

A breast cancer survivor who ran one of the most notorious brands in fashion is now CEO of Susan G. Komen, working to raise money for a cure.

Paula Schneider, a breast cancer survivor, took adeeply personal job as chief executive of Susan G.Komen, which is best known for its fund-raising walks.

New York: Paula Schneider has run two organisations that could hardly be more different. She was chief executive of American Apparel, and is now CEO of Susan G. Komen, the breast cancer foundation.

Schneider grew up in California and spent most of her career in the fashion business, working in executive roles at BCBG Max Azria and Warnaco Swimwear before taking over American Apparel in 2015.

American Apparel was a mess when she arrived. Dov Charney, the company’s founder, had recently been ousted by the board after tawdry allegations of misconduct, and the business was haemorrhaging money. During her nearly two-year tenure, Schneider filed for bankruptcy protection and took the company private.

In 2007, I was at Warnaco when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was self-discovered.”

 – Paula Schneider | CEO of Susan G. Komen and former CEO of American Apparel

She left American Apparel in late 2016 and began consulting, helping Kanye West with his fashion line. Then, last year, Schneider, a breast cancer survivor, took a deeply personal job as chief executive of Susan G. Komen, which is best known for its fund-raising walks.

This interview, which was condensed and edited for clarity, was conducted in New York City.

What was your childhood like?

We grew up outside San Francisco. My dad was a fireman and my mom was a housewife. My brothers were like the No. 1 and 2 best Frisbee players in the world. So I practised playing Frisbee every day, and we did Golden State Warriors halftime shows. We could throw it over the head, behind the back, we could catch it through our legs, the whole nine yards. And we had Noodle the Wonder Dog, who caught the Frisbees.

What was your first job?

$735 a month was Paula Schneider’s salary as a teacher

I went to college at Chico State and got a degree in costume design and theatre. Then I went back to graduate school and got my teaching credentials so that I would have something to fall back on. I was a teacher for a year, and my salary was $735 a month. And I thought, “I’m never going to have a swimming pool if I do this. And I really want a swimming pool.”

While I was teaching, I started working at a clothing store so I could supplement my income, and then I started going down to LA and thought, “Wow, this is an interesting world.”

What has been the most difficult moment of your career?

In 2007, I was at Warnaco when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was self-discovered. I felt a lump. I had had a mammogram 11 months before, but it was really superaggressive. It was triple-negative breast cancer, which is one of the most deadly forms.

At work, I was in the middle of a massive restructuring. We were going from our own factory base to an outsourced factory base, and we had layoffs. I said to my doctor, “I’m right in the middle of this massive thing; if I wait three weeks, will I die?” And he said, “No, but you probably shouldn’t wait more than that.”

So on a Tuesday I finished up the layoffs, which were hideous. On Wednesday, I told my team that I had cancer. And on Thursday, I went to chemo. Probably the worst week ever.

Were you able to keep working?

Sort of. I went through a year of living dangerously with chemo treatments and mastectomy, radiation. Whenever I could stand up, I was at work. My office was on the second floor, so I wouldn’t let myself go to work unless I could make it up the stairs. I’d stand there and look at them like they were Mount Kilimanjaro, but I wouldn’t take the damn elevator. That was sort of cheating, to me. You try to be yourself as much as you can through treatment.

A reader on LinkedIn, Monica Finch, asks if that experience changed the way you lead.

I don’t sweat the small stuff. I can have fires burning all around me, and I will stay perfectly calm. When you think you’re going to die, you learn that other things are just not that important. If you don’t make a shipment that’s not going out on time, you can handle it.

How did you wind up at American Apparel?

Dov was no longer CEO, but he was very much involved in the search. He was literally running the organisation from the hamburger stand across the street. He had been temporarily suspended, and he was actually the one that called me and said, “We’re looking for a new CEO” I said, “How can you be looking for a new CEO when you’re not technically there?” And he said, “Well, I’m part of the process.” I ended up getting the job. The same day that I got hired, he got fired.

Why did you take the job?

It was in my wheelhouse. It was manufacturing. It was huge, massive, challenging. But it was also a little bit mission-driven. There were 9,000 people working for the organisation, mostly in cutting, sewing, pattern making, all of the things that are lost arts. If that company were to cease to exist, all of those people would not have other places to go to.

What surprised you when you arrived at American Apparel?

$400m American Apparel lost in five years before hiring Schneider

Everything surprised me. I had never seen anything like it. I had a warehouse of mannequins that were in all kinds of sexual positions. We couldn’t use them in the stores, but there had to be a million dollars that was spent on those mannequins.

What had gone wrong at that company?

Well, the organisation had lost $400 million in the five years before me getting there, so it wasn’t healthy by any stretch. I don’t think even the board understood how close to the edge it was. I got there and did my first 13-week cash flow analysis and saw we were going to hit the skids. That’s when I started to furlough employees. They felt like I was taking money out of their pocket, when what I was really trying to do was save the whole organisation.

I understand things got heated.

It was the right business decision, but when you’ve got a work force that is barely making it, it’s hard. Think of cutters and sewers working for minimum wage. If you’re giving them one less day a week to work, it’s really hard for them to support their families. I get that.

Then there was a group that filed for a union bid. And they’re out there every day saying, “Paula Schneider’s going to move manufacturing to a different country. Paula Schneider’s a liar. Paula Schneider did this.” I had bodyguards during that time. My daughter had bodyguards at college. There were threats made. It was a pretty intense period.

How had Dov’s behaviour affected the company culture?

I can’t really talk to what Dov did or didn’t do. I think there’s enough articles that were written about that over the years. There were certainly a lot of challenges at American Apparel. If the #MeToo movement had been going on then, my guess is that there would have been a lot harsher outcomes at the time. I’m sure there’s going to be a great movie about it someday, because “The Wolf of Wall Street” ain’t got nothing on this.

Why did you accept the role at Komen?

It’s a personal journey to make a difference here and have a different kind of legacy, because this [expletive]’s got to stop. My mom died of metastatic breast cancer. I had it. My sisters had melanoma. My brother died of metastatic prostate cancer. I have two daughters.

What are your priorities as CEO?

I’m trying to take my knowledge of what has transpired even just for me, and really be empathetic towards groups that are not able to get the health care they need. If you are African-American, you are 41 per cent more likely to die of breast cancer than your white counterparts that get the disease. And it is the No. 1 killer in the Latino female population.

A reader on Twitter, Micah Goldfus, asks how you’ve translated your business experience to non-profit leadership?

In certain areas, there’s more sense of urgency in the for-profit segment than the non-profit segment, and it should actually be the reverse. Because there’s more to lose in the non-profit segment. We have to move faster. We have to take more risks.

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