I was startled to hear of Ken Lay’s death. To me, it seems a sad and bizarre postscript to the last few years. His death might mean something in terms of closure for the former employees of Enron, but he as a person means nothing to me. The whole Enron affair meant nothing to me, nor to over 99.9 percent of my colleagues at Arthur Andersen, except for the fact that it took our firm from us. The political pressure to find a scapegoat killed an institution that was arguably one of the most important companies in American history. Unequivocally, Andersen was important to me.

I think that it’s immensely sad that people will remember Andersen not for what it was, but for how it ended (despite the Supreme Court’s unanimous overturning of the conviction of Andersen).

Just as the lessons from our parents lead us into adulthood, what I learned at Andersen has taken me into business better prepared than I could imagine — more so than any MBA or job training course. I realize now how much I learned there — not from the world-class training center in St. Charles, IL, but through on-the-job mentoring, coaching, and guidance.

It was a model that drew criticism — take bright kids right out of college, train them, and put them in front of clients for top rates per hour. But the model is imitated all over the professional services industry because it worked for Andersen. I have held management positions in two other organizations since Andersen’s demise, and I realize every day how the firm’s values are still with me.

I see colleagues and clients struggle with how to truly empower and manage people. What I learned at Andersen is that regardless of how young or inexperienced employees are, you trust them; treat them with respect; give them responsibility, guidelines, and good coaching; and expect the best of them. At Andersen, you started “managing” people in your third year. You became a “senior” consultant (or auditor), responsible for small tasks within a large project. Your manager in turn coached you in your new role. I was 25 when I became a “senior.” I started to learn management in a safe environment, feeling supported by the firm.

My husband has been promoted into increasing levels of management in his software company. Often, he’ll ask me for advice about how to motivate employees to deadlines, how to deliver tough performance evaluations, how to address disgruntled team members, and other issues. I’m surprised to realize that I have good answers, gained from years of experience — and I’m only 33.

Another mantra at Andersen was quality. It was instilled in us — standards could not be too high. Anything with the firm’s name on it had to be perfect. The term “good enough” was not part of our lexicon. I realize that still, when every time I review a product from our team at my current job, I’m running through the Andersen quality checklist in my mind. Correct spelling, grammar, and consistency are obviously required. But I’m also asking myself, Is the product the result of critical thinking? Does it pass the “So what?” test? Is there sufficient data for the conclusions? Did it follow established processes in its creation? Most important, does it address the client’s pain? If we weren’t truly invested in solving the client’s problems, that would show. It seems trite to say that we were taught to care, but, in a way, we were. We were taught to appreciate the management and economic challenges faced by our clients so that we could truly partner with them to help.

We also learned very early how to conduct ourselves to instill confidence in our clients. We had guidance in how to dress and communicate. There was the coaching and quality review to help keep us from making mistakes in our products before they got to clients. As a result, we learned to be mature and professional very early in our careers.

The firm also believed in meritocracy. The “up or out” culture seemed harsh from the outside. What it meant, however, was that there were known standards for what skills and abilities you needed to move up to the next level. There was tremendous positive energy in an environment like this. Your supervisors continuously gave you opportunities to practice new tasks and coached you. If you succeeded against the standards, you were promoted. If not, you knew why and what to work on for the next promotion cycle. It sounds simple, but I have since seen many organizations where employees are demoralized because they don’t know specifically what they need to do to be promoted, and the process descends into management “playing favorites.”

When the firm dissolved, I was consumed with anger, frustration, and sadness. I tried to focus on the work at hand, which for me was at a large, publicly traded company — about as far away from the energetic partnership in which I had grown up as you can get. After a couple of years, I went to a small, private firm where I have more latitude and more collaboration with others on the management team. Now, when I think about Andersen, I often find myself reflecting on what I learned in those formative years. I try to live up to the values with which I was raised in business. That, to me, is the legacy of Arthur Andersen.