The Big Day – The Bid Assessment

It was the Big Day. Alex, the Chief Executive, and the Firm – Prof Leaman and his surgical team – had been given their Bid Assessment slot. Alex had rehearsed his presentation and rewritten it several times; he had briefed the surgeons on their role and emphasised the need for them to stay “on message”; and he had prepared a time plan so that the 60-minute assessment interview could be used to give maximum impact.

He was so proud of St. Angela’s, and he was sure that the bid to be a national centre of excellence would succeed despite the fierce competition from the other bidders. But he was nervous. He had flashes of anxiety, a sense of foreboding, a quiet dread that all would not go to plan.

Prof Leaman was confident. He had briefed “his boys”. And he had even allowed the exile, Mr. Cordell, to join them to give the impression of unity. They travelled together in their best suits and shiny shoes to the corridors of power in Whitehall in silence.

St. Angela’s University Teaching Hospital

As they waited for the summons to appear before the assessment panel, Mr. Regan helped himself to the plate of biscuits. The presentation went well. Alex was an articulate advocate of St. Angela’s case. He knew the right words to impress the assessment panel which was made up of some of the world’s top specialists, including professors from the prestigious universities of the American east coast.

The cross-examination started well and Alex kept control. The Chairman of the panel asked about St. Angela’s sustainability plans. He had noticed Prof Leaman’s age and wanted to ensure that a succession plan was in place so the centre could be sustained for at least ten years. A series of spluttering responses followed that pointed to possible disagreements.

Alex, ever alert, tried to plaster over the widening cracks and to keep control. He sensed the Chairman’s alarm which was spreading rapidly to the rest of the panel’s members. Alex kept smiling manically at them while sending distressed eye signals to the surgeons.

They were having none of it. They were in full flight. Peace had broken down rapidly. Mr. Regan, full of nervous energy, challenged the assertion that Mr. Gonerill should be the natural successor to Prof Leaman.

Like an uncorked champagne bottle, he exploded with rage; swearing his head off, he claimed Leaman’s crown. Horrified, Alex, assisted by members of the panel, tried to calm him. But it was to no avail. Mr. Regan, perhaps on a sugar rush from all the biscuits he had scoffed in the waiting room, had lost his temper, again.

Mr. Gonerill, greatly irritated, had tried to shut him up by shouting over him and a row ensued. Mr. Cordell looked on in silent despair. Prof Leaman saw his legacy melting away. Alex saw his bid for a “centre of excellence” disappearing. The Chairman saw a rowdy bunch of dysfunctional surgeons who were certainly not a team.

After a pause for silence, order was restored. Alex humbled himself with an abject apology, trying desperately to rescue the situation. The Chairman thanked him and the team for their presentation, and politely showed them the door. They travelled home in silence, and in a seething rage. Continue reading →