Reggie’s Creatives Play Havoc
“I must have silk.” The words still rang in my ears after all these years. It was my first real encounter of precious “creatives” meeting bureaucrats at the Western Theatre all those years ago where I first learnt about Prima Donnas in the great Costume Department Dispute. It was still fresh and vivid in my mind as I sat in the planning meeting at Reggie’s to discuss how the row in the fundraising committee was going to be handled. There was some urgency as the upset was starting to overshadow the forthcoming fête.
Illustration by Bill Morris
“How do you cope with a problem like Dr. St. Clair?” Sue, the disputes procedure chair, groaned as she opened the meeting. “He recognises no authority but his own; he is dismissive of all except those who are useful to him; and now he proposes to bust the budget for the fete.” Sue, as the Chief Executive’s deputy, was tasked with getting Dr. St. Clair under control, and settling the row before it spoiled the fundraiser’s fête. The problem was compounded for her as Dr. St. Clair was in charge of the Medical Advisory Committee as he was a recognised senior paediatrician; and he was a charismatic charmer, when it suited.
There were five committees working on how to spend the endowment for Reggie’s new building—
— and the all-important (in the eyes of the Chief Executive and the bureaucrats) Financial Control and Project Management Committee. There were sensible people on this group but they didn’t understand (or tolerate) creative types.
The heart of the dispute that was going to derail Reggie’s fundraiser was bunting. Yes, bunting. Bunting is a simple creation of small pieces of coloured material, like little flags, fixed to a line which can be strung through trees, between fête stalls, and across tables to give a festive feel to things. It is cheap and inconsequential; it’s just for effect. It’s the sort of stuff that gets thrown away, or packed in a box and forgotten, at the end of the party.
But at Reggie’s, Dr. St. Clair had become fixated on having only the best quality bunting available. In fact, there was none that would satisfy his taste so he commissioned, on behalf of Reggie’s, a unique tailor-made bundle. He got the posh ladies – the “friends” – on the steering committee to agree, and off they went to the designers who created flags with Reggie the rabbit’s face on them. “Marvellous,” he said approvingly, “we’ll need miles of it, and send the bill to the Financial Dept, or whoever pays the bills.”
Reggie’s Dispute goes on a Roll
The invoice caused havoc. It went from the Steering Committee to the Fundraising Committee and back again. It got passed to the Design Committee to see if they could help. They sent it to the MAC who shelved it. When the suppliers threatened court action, it was re-sent to the Chief Executive’s Office.
Alex and the bureaucrats went into action. He set up an inquiry and asked the Chairman of the Financial Control and Project Management Committee to “sort it.” Sue was asked to “do some OD” and settle the dispute. The Fundraising Committee was asked to pay the bill out of its raised funds. But it did not have enough money as the bunting was rather expensive so they duly returned the invoice to the Chief Executive’s Office marked “for payment”.
And so the bureaucratic whirligig went round and round and everyone got upset, and the supplier was still waiting for a cheque. Meanwhile Dr. St. Clair charmed the ladies, made faces at the children, and had lunch with the benefactor. He was completely unaware of, or didn’t care about, the events he had set in train. This is the world of creatives – all that bureaucracy and management stuff: such a bore, such a chore, and nothing to do with him.
Creatives can also be mischief-makers. Dr. St. Clair rang the local paper’s editor with a story which was not about the bunting or the fête. It was much more serious and, if printed, could have cost our weary Chief Executive, Alex, his job. Alex got wind of the contact and moved to shut it down with all haste. “Sue, sort it!” he barked. “Do some team-building, or something; get a plan to contain the situation; and pay the bunting bill out of your budget.”
Sue, ever calm, put the invoice to one side while she formulated a plan to smooth everything and get a successful fete underway. My job was to work on the smoothing bit while she sorted the fête. My experience of creatives and their clashes with the bureaucrats all those years ago at the Western Theatre was there to be mined. It was just like the dispute in the costume department. That one was about the need for “quality” materials and its expression in this case was silk; yes, silk.
I Must Have Silk!
Illustration by Bill Morris
Silk is a lovely flowing material, soft and delicate. It is still made in the same way as in ancient times in China. Silkworms feed on mulberry leaves and create a delicate thread. When the worms are boiled, they release their precious efforts and die. The thread is then cleaned, weaved, dyed, and wound into rolls, called bolts, which command the highest of prices. Silk represents “quality” and its currency is universal.
It was the centre of a very emotional dispute in the costume department when the creative director wanted the star actress’s dresses made up in silk for its sumptuous flowing properties, and the Head of the Department, trying to control her budget, said polyester would have to do.
Polyester!!! Well, you can imagine the reaction and expletives that followed that suggestion. The creative director saw this as a point of principle and stood his ground; only silk would do. The Head of Department saw this as a challenge to her authority and refused to entertain anything but polyester.
The dispute escalated rapidly. This is a serious situation in a theatre as the schedules are very tight and you can’t miss “opening night”. The Head of Department went up through her chain of command to the theatre’s General Manager. She deputed Debs, her Director of HR and OD, to sort it. Debs, if you recall, had the same role as Sue at Reggies. Both are “go to” people, known as “goats” in the trade, who fix problems for the top people.
The problem in a theatre is to know who the top people are. It is full of the high octane type of creatives who do not recognise the concept of a boss, and they certainly don’t recognise the authority of a manager – a bureaucrat. Through this dispute, I learnt that theatres are good at “solving” this sort of problem. The Western Theatre was a relatively large nationally recognised enterprise even though it was in a provincial town. As a result, it attracted some of the best actors, directors, and costumes and set designers in the country.
The Western’s costume department had sub-departments where specialist costumiers made wigs, shoes, hats, coats, and clothes for any period. Working in a big open plan floor with lots of windows and light, there was no place to hide when having a row. And rows were common when two people wanted to use the cutting table or pressing iron at the same time. Materials and threads cluttered the place, and work in progress costumes on the tailors’ dummies signalled constantly “12 days to go, vast tracks of work undone.”
Tantrums and Tarantellas
The Creative Director for the Western’s forthcoming play about a Queen had designed a costume fit for a queen. He had instructed the costumiers in the details required and they loved his creation. The seamstresses enjoyed working for him, and he was a favourite of the Western’s Artistic Director. When told they had to use polyester, the seamstresses went straight to the Creative Director, who in turn appealed to the Artistic Director. And, for good measure, they engaged the support of the actress playing the queen.
Tantrums, and howls of derision and pain ensued, as the posse of creatives danced the lively tarantella, stamping their feet, to make their point – only silk would do. Debs, our “goat”, had to calm them, get them back to work, and work out what to do about the silk-polyester impasse. It might have seemed easiest to pay up for the silk. But Debs could not erode the authority of the Head of Department. The budget was the budget, and there were rules after all.
So canny old Debs worked out an arbitration framework where, with lots of talking, tea and calming, the sides could be inched towards each other to a compromise. Working with her, I learnt to deconstruct a dispute, manage the arbitration process, assuage the concerns, drink lots of tea, and bring the row to a close.
The key person who could have tipped this either way was the actress. So we worked on her on the values of silk – but was it needed for every dress in the play which had a number of costume changes? Working with her, and through her with the Creative Director, we agreed where another similar material might do.
Reframing is a good strategy in such cases. And so it was, Debs (and me in tow) got an agreement on where silk, and its look and feel, was essential, and where something similar might work – but never using the word “polyester”. Calm and order restored, bolts of silk were ordered, but not too much, and its substitute too was ordered, in large quantities. “Silk-polyester, it’s a fine substitute” said the budget holder. And they all worked hard to meet the opening night deadline.
Bunting or “Quality” Bunting
Back at Reggies, the bunting dispute raging, we convened lots of calming meetings, drank buckets of tea, and assuaged lots of hurt feelings. The committees kept meeting and the financial controllers kept a beady eye on everything. Meanwhile, Sue and I had met with Lady Honoria, St. Angela’s chairman, and engaged her in the problem. She was very experienced in such matters and understood her role in bringing the bunting dispute to a close. Being a titled lady, Dr. St. Clair gave her his fullest attention. He was charmed by her.
Lady Honoria felt the need for a competition to see who could design the most exciting bunting for the fête. Of course, Dr. St. Clair’s design, supported by the posh ladies (the Friends), was the top contender, but, Lady Honoria felt the children should have a say, and maybe the wonderful nurses who looked after them, and even some of the other paediatricians. And so it followed that Reggies was awash with samples of different designs for bunting. There was much excitement on the day of judging which she hosted in a lovely garden party at her town house. Even Dr. St. Clair in discussion with the benefactor thought it was well done.
It was all very difficult to judge. All the designs were marvellous so the judges compromised and chose three designs for the bunting winner. Taking the conclusion to an order as soon as possible, the bunting-makers were asked to supply a special short line of Reggie the rabbit flags for the top table, and miles of cheap flags in multiple colours and shapes for the trees, the stands and the chairs.
Lady Honoria was such a pro. Using her good name, we even got the outraged supplier, whose bill had not yet been paid, to agree payment for a smaller order, and to donate the outstanding unpaid funds as sponsorship for the fete.
Calm restored, the fete was a great success and the bunting looked lovely, even though most of it was the cheap stuff. Dr. St. Clair agreed with the other senior doctors that Lady Honoria could chair the MAC as he was far too busy being a paediatrician to run a committee. And the Financial Control and Project Management Committee kept a tight rein on the budgets so that only they could authorise future invoices.
Alex was relieved and pleased with the approach. The dispute was off his desk and he could get on with planning the new building. But, rumbling in the background, there was the problem of the new computer system in the supplies department. And it was just about to present him with a new public relations crisis when it failed to ensure that there were enough nappies, without which a children’s hospital is in deep trouble. The head of nursing had authorised the release of much petty cash for her nurses to get emergency supplies from the local supermarket. There was a 2-for-1 offer —
The editor of the local newspaper got wind of it and sent his photographer over to get a priceless picture of the crocodile of nurses carrying the nappies back to St. Angela’s, and the evening’s headline:
Old Lady by the Sea 