management and operations, and in
developing the message Xerox imparted
both internally and externally.
Liu says a general counsel should have
a full seat at the executive leadership
table; it’s his or her duty not to merely
execute a CEO’s strategy, but to help
create and guide it. Burns rewarded Liu
this summer with a promotion from senior
vice president to executive vice president.
He says the stereotypical traits
assigned to Asian-Americans—
hard-working, diligent, detail-oriented—are
both a blessing and a curse: Asian-Americans claim more than their
proportionate share of the jobs in lower
and middle management, but often stall
below the upper echelons because they
are seen as not creative or aggressive
enough for the C-suite. You know the
glass ceiling? Liu puts significant time
and effort into helping other Asian-Americans break through what he terms
the bamboo ceiling.
As general counsel, he says, his work is
divided: one-third as a lawyer, one-third
as a corporate executive, and one-third
as the supervisor of 150 in-house lawyers
and working relationships with dozens of
outside firms.
Sandra Goldstein, head of litigation at
Cravath Swaine & Moore, one of those
outside firms, says, “When the rubber
meets the road, there is no one better
than Don Liu at weighing risk and reward
and recommending the tough judgment
call. For example, in securities litigations,
companies often opt to negotiate a
settlement if they can’t knock out the case
early on a motion to dismiss. Not Don.”
She cites a recent case in which Liu dug in
his heels for years to ride out a significant
securities litigation; in the end, Xerox won a
summary judgment.
“We’ve also seen Don’s good judgment
on the corporate side, including his
decision to walk away from a billion-
dollar acquisition because he didn’t get
the deal protection terms he wanted,”
Goldstein says. “He read the situation
perfectly, and the other side ended up
caving and giving him even more than he
had originally asked for.”
In-house, Liu’s style of management can
be blunt. “Working for me can be tough,”
he says. “I will say in a very inopportune
manner, ‘This was not good. I am not
happy with it. We need to do a better job.’
I am not calling you stupid. In fact, there is
an underhanded compliment that comes
along with that: You are capable.”
Liu is a listener, and tends to give his
lawyers considerable leeway. He recently
disagreed with Paul Webber, one of his
lawyers, over a multimillion-dollar billing
dispute with a Xerox subcontractor. Liu
saw potential serious liabilities, and urged
Webber to develop a settlement strategy.
Webber warned that Liu was misreading
the threat, and that Xerox should not
give in. Liu finally told Webber to put
together a presentation and a request for
information, which Liu reviewed and then
forwarded to the other side. Later, Liu got
a call not from an opposing lawyer but
from the subcontractor. “We looked at the
evidence that you asked us to review,” the
subcontractor said, “and we don’t think
we have a case. I want to apologize for
bothering you.”
Even though it was 8: 30 a.m. and
Webber was on vacation, Liu immediately
called him and offered a mea culpa. “I
was wrong,” Liu said. “You did everything
I could ever ask one of my attorneys
to do. When you are right, tell me I
am wrong. Because of that you saved
millions for the company.”
“This was definitely one of the more
challenging experiences I’ve had in
working with a boss, but ultimately one of
the more gratifying as well,” Webber says.
“Don Liu presses his lawyers hard, and
makes them defend their positions. This
is his method for gauging both the quality
of our analysis and our level of conviction
regarding the advice and counsel we are
providing the company.”
One day a month, he reports for duty
on Xerox’s 1-800 complaint line. If a Xerox
customer keeps saying, “I want to talk to
your supervisor,” the telephone eventually
rings on Liu’s desk. Sometimes it’s a
corner print shop, akin to something his
dad might have built up; sometimes it’s
a big corporation. Many calls are about
malfunctioning printers and copiers.
Liu listens, takes notes, and makes the
connections within Xerox to help the
customer. “That’s very fulfilling, because
they are so thankful,” Liu says.
Sometimes the customer assumes
that, like many customer service jobs,
this one has been outsourced, and asks
what country he’s in. He happily tells
them they’re talking with corporate
headquarters in Connecticut.
When considering the future, Liu feels
pretty good about sticking around at
Xerox for the long haul. He and Jin—
who stayed home for 15 years with their
kids Jessica, a sophomore at Haverford
College, and Alexander, a senior in high
school, before returning to law practice in
2013—have a house they built in Westport,
Connecticut, a few years ago, but they are
thinking about downsizing. They spend a
lot of time for both business and pleasure
in Manhattan, where they have a place in
Midtown, near the apartment where Liu’s
mother moved after his father passed
away three years ago. Only half-joking,
Liu says he would like to write a book
someday—but not about law or business.
An unabashed softie as a parent, he’d like
to write a reply to Battle Hymn of the Tiger
Mother, the tough-love book by his friend
Amy Chua, a Yale law professor. Liu says
he would call his book Confessional Ode of
the Pussycat Father.
Driving into Manhattan for dinner
with friends in Koreatown after a long
day at work, Liu pushes his BMW 650
convertible well past the speed limit. “I
like to drive fast,” he says. A quick risk/
reward analysis follows. The reward is
that the trip takes 10 minutes less than
the digital maps predict. And the risk of
a speeding ticket is acceptable—for Liu,
only a minor gamble.
