The Disloyal Underlings

The Cake Lady, Maria

Final final lear

Maria was a cheery soul, always smiling and ready to help. Over her many years at St. Angela’s, she had seen much, but, as is typical of the invisible little people of any organisation, she said nothing.

Her husband, Juan, was a driver of the hospital’s shuttle bus that took people from St. Angela’s to the Hill and back again. All day and every day, to an fro, Juan listened in silence to the constant chatter in the bus, taking it all in, as unguarded comments, opinions and plots spilled out as if he wasn’t there. But he was there.

From time to time, Maria and Juan joined their friends from the porters and drivers pool, the cleaners and receptionists, and the telephone “girls” and ward clerks, for get-togethers. Over much food and merriment, they celebrated as a community of little people their many cultures. All of them were proud of the service they gave to the hospital, its staff and its patients.  Continue reading

All is Not What it Seems

 The KnifeFinal final lear

There comes a time in every top lion’s life when he is going to be challenged for the king’s job by younger and fitter underlings, and, eventually, he is going to have to give way, move on and leave the field.shutterstock_387995215

First come the challenges, then the fights and struggles to maintain control, and eventually the pain of letting go, feeling loss, and coming to terms with isolation.

Prof. Leaman was the picture of a great patrician. He was tall and lean with an upright bearing, and he spoke with the confidence of a highly educated man. On meeting him, despite these attributes, and his aggressive bluster, I observed, fleetingly, moments of sadness in his angular face as he recognised his inevitable fate.

Jenny, his fusspot secretary, eventually released an appointment for me and gave me my instructions for meeting the great man. Rowing Club, 7.30 am sharp and finish at 8.00 am. Surgeons are early birds by nature as they have much prep and planning work to do before they start their morning lists of operations.

How should I use this precious 30 minutes? We would have to use some of that time to get to know each other, and then use what was left to discuss the problems that had been outlined to me by Sue – yes, she had stopped running down the corridors for a few minutes to give me the brief.

Well, I need not have worried. I didn’t get a word in edgeways. His opening salvo included: “What do you do? You appear to be some sort of graduate.” On explaining my background, and qualifications, in an effort to establish some rapport and gravitas, I was met with: “What’s this nonsense degree in a meaningless subject…”

Leaning forward and peering over his specs, he told me that his underling, Mr. Cordell, had let him down; he (Leaman) had brought him in, taught him everything, and now he’s gone and punched his colleague. “Can’t stand him,” he barked. “I’ve sent him into exile at the Hill – get rid of him.”

And with that, he was gone. Continue reading

Going Back, Older & Wiser

The Return

Final scroll for learIt was ten years since my internship finished at St. Angela’s when I was asked back to help with a surgical team that had some undefined problems involving poor working relationships.

Those ten years were well-spent in research, consulting and reading about dysfunctional organisations, psychopaths and political machinations. I was older and wiser as a result so I agreed to go back to St. Angela’s, the place of my nemesis, to satisfy, in part, my curiosity. How was the place after its merger? Who was in charge now? Had it improved over the intervening years? And what about that rowing club? Who was on the way up, and who was on the way down?

Remember Alex McLeod, the rower, who had been pushed-out by Robert MacCawdor, the then Director of Planning, who had knifed his boss, Duncan, for the job only to be replaced by the returning Alex during the merger? He got promoted to Chief Executive after his successful tenure in strategic planning and investment management.

St. Angela’s was by now classed as a “successful” place providing good services, churning out well-recognised medical research, and winning lots of rowing cups and medals.

Alex, as Chief Officer, had the best office on the executive floor with large dual aspect picture windows overlooking the river and its ever-present rowers practising for the next race and “8s” week. Helen, my saviour, was still there looking after the little people on the first floor and loyally supporting Alex. And Sue was still there, running down corridors with her sheafs of papers, and now, those modern gadgets that make everything even more pressing. She was certainly very busy.

Well St. Angela’s – I’m back to delve around in your murky corridors once again. What have you got for me? Continue reading

The End of the Tale, for now…

How did we get here?

Picture10Robert MacCawdor, now the confident Director of Planning, having rid himself of those pesky lieutenants: the “rower”, the “techie”,  and “teflon man”, and having surrounded himself with his ever-faithful adjutant, Lady M, and his “eyes and ears,” the three watchers, felt quite at home in his large comfortable chair looking out of the executive floor office’s picture window at the rowers practising on the river in the soft early morning light.

The Commander was happy. Lady M was delivering the strategy and financial plan. His PA, May, the “poisoner”, and his “special projects” duo – the “thief” and “noddy”, known collectively as the three watchers, kept an eye on the first floor people. And that irritable Director of Development, Sue, was so busy she did not have the time to delve too deeply into his Planning Department’s murky affairs.

There was just one problem that preyed on MacCawdor’s suspicious mind – that annoying little intern, the “team-builder” as she was referred to in derogatory terms. What did she know? Who had she been seeing? What did she tell them? Despite his carefully woven network of surveillance, he did not know. Time to act. The merger, meanwhile, exacerbated the general atmosphere of menace, fear and relentless pace. Continue reading

Hunting the Witnesses

“Get Out of There”

Scroll & Title - Blog 9The three lieutenants – the rower, the techie and teflon man – all gone. An atmosphere of fear pervaded the first floor offices as Lady M stalked the corridors to find out who knew what about the illegal transfer of funds. Her job was to identify any whistle-blowers and fix the problem for the ever-impatient MacCawdor.

Sue called in the interns for a meeting when MacCawdor complained of poor feedback from the team-building events. The Commander got wind of “concerns” about “amateurs” and serious wastes of professionals’ time. MacCawdor asked Lady M to investigate. The first floor corridor of St. Angela’s buzzed feverishly with rumours.

dripping-bloodDrip, drip, drip. The poisoner did her job. She added to the menacing atmosphere by having tea and chats with the top executives’ PAs and secretaries about the terrible state of things and the unspecified “concerns”. I felt the heat of the spotlight on me; I felt fear. Continue reading

Vanishing Lieutenants

Reconnect, or Disconnect?Scroll & Title - Blog 8

Duncan McNiel, the affable Director, gone. His PA, Amy, gone. So what happens to the team-building programme now? Sue, the Development Director and pupil master of us naive interns, was by now a very busy person as she had been given an extra job by the Commander – managing communications. She said the programme had to be “re-anchored” with the new director, Robert MacCawdor, and to keep her informed. “Catch you later” was her stock phrase when running away from you down the corridor in her frenetic busyness, always with a rictus smile on her face. She meant well but she was too busy, over-burdened, and stressed.

The “re-anchor” meeting with Robert MacCawdor did not go well. Of the team-building meetings that had gone before, he said with intense menace, even hatred, “What did we learn from this?” He was frank; he saw no point in the programme as the team was fine but he would tolerate it as it was what the Commander wanted. He instructed, May, his PA, to issue the necessary invites to his team-briefing sessions.

The message was loud and clear: the team is fine and don’t interfere. With his cold staring blue eyes, he communicated intense contempt for me. For the first time in my working life, I understood what theoreticians called coercive power. I felt fear.

St. Angela's University Teaching Hospital

St. Angela’s University Teaching Hospital (illustration by Bill Morris)

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Knifing the Leader

My First Assignment

Poster publish nowI learnt about the inadequacy of “team-building” on my first assignment for The Commander, and his side-kick, Sue. They had spotted some problem, unspecified, in the planning department of St. Angela’s. It was a general gut feeling that all was not well; there had been talk about “tensions”.

On the surface, it looked like an impressive set-up with some very talented people employed to develop St. Angela’s strategy and operational plan under its affable director, Duncan McNiel. Ah, team-building – you do your diagnostic interviews, design the programme of exercises, and deliver them and sign off. With a bit of reading, I thought it would be a piece of cake.

I was taught all those years ago by a wise professor who had consulted widely with all the top companies. I think, judging by his fabulous Mercedes car, that he was successful. He was an enthusiastic local dramatist and his golden tip to us, his eager students, was to always “go behind the curtain”. There is in all organisations according to him, a front-stage, and a back-stage. If you want to earn big money, be a back-stage player. That was his advice but, at the time, I did not really understand what he was talking about. Continue reading

The Winter Storms and Introducing St. Angela’s

The Angry Seas

The winter storms have arrived and the steel grey sea is being whipped into a mass of white frothy foam before it crashes in pounding waves on the rocks. The leaden sky is streaked now and then with a shaft of light from a weak winter sun which gives the sea a strange silvery illumination. It can be quite spooky.

You really feel nature’s force here as the jet-stream fuelled winds barrel over the ocean to batter this exposed coastline and discharge its watery load. Winter has arrived.

Hole_in_Wall (2)

Hole in the Wall

A couple of years ago, one particular storm was so powerful, the sea reached in and greedily gathered the boulders on the shoreline, dragged them out to the deep, and then rushed back in a fury and threw the stones at the shore, and our little harbour wall. It was a clean bowl and the resulting hole in the wall was quite sculptural, but devastating to witness.

Calm after (2)

Calm After the Storm

Once the storm has blown itself out, and moved on, calm does return. The damage done is there for all to see, and to remind us of who is really in charge. Such storms give you time to reflect as you shelter inside.

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Back Home Again

Brawn rock

The Brawn

After a marvellous summer of travelling, I’m here back at my beach house again and all is calm before the winter storms arrive. The Brawn, a local landmark, is still there standing defiant against the waves.

Paddle Boarders

Paddle Boarders

 

 

 

The paddle-boarders are out, enjoying the last of the warm summer sea, which is so crystal clear that you can see the rock formations similar to those in the Dingle.  And the sheltered landing for the local hobbyist fishermen has been repaired so they can stand on the rock fishing for sea bass in the evening to their heart’s content.

Sheltered Landing Bay

Sheltered Landing Bay

 

Rich memories of this summer include the ubiquitous lobster and sea food in Boston, the instantly refreshing Aperol and Prosecco spritzers in Trani, and the ‘A’ level cheese experience in the Dingle.

 

Boston's Finest Seafood

Boston’s Finest Seafood

Dingle's Finest Cheeses

Dingle’s Finest Cheeses

 

 

 

 

 

A Bumper Crop

And my first attempt at growing vegetables has been successful. I’ve had a bumper crop and there are generous provisions of vegetable soup in the freezer for the coming winter.

Veggies

Bumper Crop

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The Dingle

Dingle Peninsula

Dingle Peninsula

Time for another holiday by the sea in my summer of transition. I first came across the Dingle many years ago in the David Lean movie Ryan’s Daughter. Its memorable scenes shot on the sandy beaches and isolated rugged coast of West Ireland have always stayed with me.

Dingle Beach

Dingle Beach

Here, facing the full force of the Atlantic ocean, the wind is bracing, the sea is rough, and it’s cold, despite a full late summer sun and a near cloudless sky. The precipitous cliffs drop away dramatically to the sea and there is much evidence of the power of the elements to cut into the rock creating deep fissures in the cliff face.

Cliff Face

Cliff Face

Dingle Gin Ice Cream

In the little town of Dingle, I came across a marvellous invention. Murphy’s Dingle Gin ice cream. The subtle flavour of the juniper berries emerge as the ice cream melts in your mouth and the alcoholic kick follows as a rather pleasant aftershock. Murphy’s also does Dingle Salt ice cream which, despite first impressions from the name, is very good too – the salt seems to bring out the flavour of the vanilla and cream within which it sits, and, being big dairy country, this place is home to what can only be described as an ‘A’ level cheese shopping experience. Continue reading