Chapter one (1)
Everyone who’s ever been trapped in a business meeting of questionable importance knows escape is hopeless. One is trapped, surrounded by other listless participants, held captive by adults who thrive on hearing themselves talk.
The boredom of this meeting itself was outdistanced only by the monotony of the speaker’s voice. On and on he droned, the cacophony of the sighing and weight-shifting challenging all present beyond their limits. His words were followed by even more uninspiring rhetoric. However, these words had meat.
" … and so, a decision has been made at the highest levels to make some rather significant changes around here."
Fourteen business-dressed attendees sat around a rounded-corner mahogany board of directors table. The owner of the table, McQuade Concepts, operated the top seven floors of a 20-year-old building in downtown Madison Grove. The 17-story marble-faced structure, home to Madison Grove’s third most successful advertising/public relations firm, was located in the heart of downtown, just an eight-block hilly stroll from the Lilly River.
Madison Grove was a town like so many others in middle America, one which had undergone several changes in the past century. The Lilly River provided the transportation venue to make the town a marginal merchant port in the 1770’s through the later 1800’s. In the second half of the 1900’s it became a banker’s town, with no less four major firms here, anchored in the city of 220,000 or so.
Then, the time came when all four banks became victims of the all-consuming bank merging which took place at the end of the 1990’s. And Madison Grove, under the proper administrative leadership, transformed itself into a more artsy city, a town proud of the ever-growing community of painters, sculptors, theater troupes and artists of any form.
This change brought a change of business to Madison Grove, and that is one of the reasons that there were enough advertising firms in town for McQuade Concepts to rank at least number three in the Madison Grove metro area.
Significant changes…HAH, thought Helen. The year was 1999 and significant modifications had been threatened since 1997 around here.
His Highness’s words were—as usual— filled with double speak. "Highest levels" refers to his father, the benevolent Henry McQuade. While it frustrated the new president, many who had known him for decades referred to Hank as “Sonny” or “Junior”.
"Junior" needs to let everyone know that despite his whimpering and waffling, he has his father’s approval on this, so we’d better heed, Helen surmised.
The "significant change" refers to something that is as frequent as the changing of towels in the bathrooms. From his graduate school textbooks, "Mr. Executive" surely thought that by modifying every little detail of his daddy's business he was proving his empowerment, "putting his stamp on the firm" as he called it.
Frankly, Junior is always changing something because he has no clue what it is that he is doing, Helen concluded long ago.
He’s constantly reinventing the wheel, clogging up some very creative minds with hyperbole and meaningless paperwork. If it weren’t for his father fluffing him into the V-P’s office years ago, Hank McQuade would be another wimpy pain-in-the-arse wannabe somewhere, without the advantage of having "Father" to cover his mistakes.
Helen Wade, 29, is a creative person with the title of Creative Associate. She has been under the employ of McQuade Concepts for over six years. The first four and a half years Helen worked hard for Henry McQuade, the firm’s founder, and a fair man. He is a thoughtful man, a good judge of character and inspiring on many levels. A year and a half ago Henry had a heart attack and decided that he had delayed promoting his only son as long as he could. It was time for the Boy to become a Man. Hank became president, at age 36.
Hank took his promotion as a badge of honor, ignoring the one fact that everyone in the office knew all too well: Hank McQuade wasn’t V-P material. He wasn’t president material; he hadn’t earned the position, he’d been born into it. His early company decisions showed his need for authority and control, rather than anything based on sound leadership principles.
A classic example is dress code in the office. During the 90’s, offices across America saw a move to casual dress, business casual dress, or some kind of relaxed dress code. The intent was to reduce stress, reduce budget-busting clothes-shopping sprees, and to improve morale.
Helen, a bit thin for her frame but not so much one needed to worry, generally wore skirts and little make-up. She didn’t see Hank’s input as much of a threat, but many were upset.
Hank decides he’s "going to be on the front edge of change" and demands a much more structured office dress policy. He claimed it would lead to a superior work culture. It lead to two resignations and a lot of grumbling. He hardly noticed. His "modifications" continued.
And they continue now, as Helen focused back into the meeting.
"These changes involve everything from creative input, account assignments, and work schedules … right straight through to compensation"
Junior paused. Heads around the table suddenly lifted up, attentions focused when the word "compensation" was pronounced. Something about futures and paychecks and take-home-pay now made this serious business.
He now had their attention, Helen thought. This better be good.
Dozens of local firms had been going through cost-cutting downsizing. Several friends have been affected, finding little or no work in this semi-sluggish economy. Why would this firm be any different?
Hank McQuade—balding, with a comb-over—loved the attention his last statement brought. Surely now they would realize who was calling the shots. Finally, if even for a brief moment, he felt the control that belonged to him. He paused to drink in the power of his birthright.
Associates shifted in their seats uneasily. He certainly had their focus.
"We have had some moderate success here at McQuade Concepts. We are proud of the level of service we’ve given our clients. We have won a few marginal awards. We have a fine staff … some of whom have a considerable amount of talent," analyzed the 37-year-old President of Operations. He attempted to gaze at several so-called marginal talents. His downplay of the firm’s successes was designed to justify any changes he was about to suggest.
"We pay salaries at or above average scale. We reward proper talent with sizable bonuses. We’ve managed to make several of you happy enough that you have worked for me or my father for over ten years. We’re doing several things right".
Like the pause at a wedding when the minister asks "Is there anyone here who would object to this union?", there was an eerie, anticipatory silence in the room. Any time "salaries and compensation" are mentioned in the same breath, employees are reluctant to chirp smart aleck comments.
"So we’re enacting a new compensation plan. We’re proposing to you a system that should allow you to make more choices about your focus and your concentration. As an employee of McQuade Concepts, you will not have to worry about the recent cutbacks that so many competing firms are experiencing. You’ll be able to make choices with your time, choices which can give you more time with your family, or less time at home … and a comp plan that in many ways allows you to set your own salary".
The icy silence was broken by the sound of a few cleared throats.
"Starting in two weeks, we will divide our accounts into Team Status and Floor Status. In many cases, we will certify our creative staff as Team-Eligible and Floor-Eligible. You will be notified of your particular status in writing, in the next five days.
"Team Status accounts will be, of course, worked on by teams. In this general regard, there will be little or no change. The difference will be in the process of who works on which team. Or rather … HOW you are selected to work on each team.
"Before I get to that, let me first tell you how we will process our Floor Status accounts. The smaller accounts, the newer accounts, the lower-maintenance accounts will be allocated for this status. These will be the accounts where heretofore ONE employee"—he held his index finger up in rehearsed, yet emphatic delivery—"worked them. Now … there will be ONE (the finger again) TEAM that works on them.
"This ONE Team may well "put their hands on" (cute finger quotes around his head) every account in Floor Status. As an assembly line worker put together the old Model-T’s, so too will McQuade Concepts process a higher volume … with greater quality … of accounts.
"This should go a long way towards improving production costs, turnaround time, and creative morale." Junior paused, and attempted that "leadership-type o’eyeballing”. He was not at all good at looking sincere doing this.
The sighs and the rolled-eyes elicited a few grins from those watching for reactions. Hank McQuade was so far into his canned speech he neither stopped to notice nor made mental notes as to his detractors.
"But the real excitement comes with the concept of Team Eligible Creative positions. With each sizable account, there will be drafting of talent by Project Managers. The PM’s will choose who they feel they need for particular projects, and that Creative Talent will report to the PM and work as closely on the campaign as possible. In some cases, it will be the only campaign that the Creative will involve him or herself with. In others, one well-liked Creative may be on several teams.
"Which of course, means more money," snickered McQuade. Poorly timed and poorly delivered thought Helen. This guy needs finishing school at Leadership 101.
"Because a team shares the profits made on a project. So … it … behooves … EVERYONE to minimize mistakes, hit deadlines, produce outstanding work."
Junior went on to over-explain three separate examples of how the new set-up would work better for the lowly employees of MC, Inc. and thus how their endearing loyalty will immediately be showered on the Deliverer of The Message, The Moses of The Plan.
Basically, the idea speaks to a P.M. choosing who he wanted to work with. And the folks that the P.M. picks have Project-Based-Management-Power. So they can make critical decisions involving many ideas, from color through slogans. And every team that makes the firm money gets a post-production bonus.
And, of course, it guarantees that the really popular or the obviously talented folks would go as "high draft choices". And that left little “unnoticeables” like Helen wondering if she’d ever be picked.
At the end of the meeting, Helen retreated to her cubicle for whatever peace and quiet she could find amidst the confusing thoughts in her mind. As she ends her twenties and moves onto her 30’s, Helen tried hard not to let her fears control her. She was as clearly concerned about her being selected on a creative team, as she was about maintaining her positive reputation as a hard-worker and valuable contributor to many projects. She also knew that sometimes she simply needed the world to rotate on its axis a few times in order for her to gain clear perspective of a situation.
One thing was certain: she wasn’t going to let Hank McQuade rent any space in her head for free.
Helen had lived in Madison Heights for almost all of her life, and certainly all of her adult life. This was not the first piece of disappointing work news she’d had to deal with. She knew that others would have opinions on the meeting.
Before long, half-past five had arrived, and with few deadlines looming on the horizon, several of the staff decided to hoist a few over at Phil’s after work. Phil’s was across the street and three doors away, and had occupied the corner of Manchester and Craig for over forty years. Three generations of Youngs had run the place during that time, and Helen wasn’t completely sure who exactly "Phil" was. She ate lunch there occasionally, but it wasn’t often that she met colleagues for drinks after work. At least it had been a while since she had.
But today offered an opportunity for reviews of Toy Boy McQuade’s presentation. Criticism came easy for this staff when discussing Hank, in direct opposition to the gang’s analyses of the elder McQuade’s management style. In fact, many of the thirteen who adjourned for the Critique Up TheStreet session pined for the days when Henry the Elder was running the show. He offered respect: genuine and a-plenty and that—more than anything—is what most McQuade associates missed most about his office. They discussed this at length that Tuesday evening, amidst beer, cocktails and diet Cokes. If insults and criticisms were sticks and stones, Hank McQuade would be one bruised administrator.
Helen spent an hour in Phil’s—more than usual—as she ate two different appetizers for dinner. She spent most of her time in long discussions with Patti Wright, Becky Brown and Tom Eubank, the three people whom she was closest with at the office. All were skeptical about the direction that McQuade seemed to be espousing, and all were clearly animated in their reaction to the announcements.
Patti, after two highballs, spoke loud enough for several tables to hear her, referring to McQuade in a number of derogatory terms. Tom seemed to have the most philosophical bend on the issue, claiming this may be the one way folks could reduce the number of undesirable team members one had to work with. Tom could be philosophical about the issue; as Assistant Creative Director, he may well be one of the team leaders who is given the authority to select his team members.
Helen spoke sparingly, afraid she may spew more of what Patti was speaking to, than participating in a positive direction with Tom. Afraid to be completely open, even with her closest work friends was a trait Helen had dealt with all of her life. For today, she was merely an observer. And not having any alcohol helped her to keep a lid on her public emotions.
Now, if I could get a grip on my private ones, she thought.