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 →

A Serious Case of the “Concerns”

There was that word again – “concerns”. It was always said with the utmost gravity followed by a meaningful, threatening, pause, and an intense stare. Everyone around Prof Leaman had a case of the “concerns”. I remembered this rather theatrical organisational syndrome from my early days as a newly-minted intern at St. Angela’s working for Sue on the case of the evil MacCawdor. He used it regularly to create a menacing atmosphere.  Continue reading →

The Cake Lady, Maria

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 →

 The Knife

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.

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 →

The Return

It 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 →