THE MANAGEMENT COUNCIL

by Wayne Lerner

The elevator chime echoed throughout the lobby, bouncing off the white concrete walls. Stepping into the foyer, darkness engulfed him, arriving before sunrise as he did daily. Unlocking the double glass doors and re-locking them behind him, he stood immobile, taking in the quiet, smelling the fresh flowers which greeted visitors to the executive floor.

How nice is this?

He paused to take a deep breath.

No drama, no quarrels, no personalities to manage. Today’s the day.

Opening the door to his suite, he placed his briefcase behind the desk and sat down to reflect on the upcoming events. The sun peaked its head over the skyscrapers to the east, its rays warming the office.

He turned to take in the magnificent view. The arrival of the sun always brought joy to his heart, a sense of comfort to his soul, and a new dawning. With it, new opportunities and, yes…new distractions.

Time to call James. This won’t be pleasant.

Divorcing my wife after 45 years, for a much younger woman.

He punched in the numbers on his multi-line phone, grabbed the long-corded receiver and paced his office. Speaking in muted tones to his lawyer even though no one else was present. The pain of his decision deserved to be muted.

He stopped pacing, sat down in the brown, leather chair which had accompanied him throughout his career, and placed the handset in its resting place. A short conversation, over before it began. Neither the process nor the outcome were in question. Only the cost from the announcement’s fallout.

I must resign. The pressure on the Board will be too much to manage. 

I will not hurt the company. Not after all the years we sacrificed to achieve greatness.

Three baskets rested on the credenza behind the desk. Quotes of varying kinds, collected over a lifetime of living and reading, awaited him.

It’ll be ok. PR will blame it on my age. Insiders will know the truth.

Rummaging through the baskets, he was interrupted by a call on one of his many private lines. Looking at the caller ID, this one he had to take.

Gene was checking in. His number two, his confidant and ally. Gene knew how the day would play out; his role critical to the plan.

Raising the receiver to his ear, he gave his usual morning greeting. Remaining silent, he smiled as he listened to the report.

Excellent. Better than I’d hoped. The transition will be smooth. At least, the first part. Now, onto part two.

He took a key from his front right pocket; one of a kind. He slid open the desk drawer, removing the contents. Pushing a button on the floor of the drawer, a secret compartment built into the desk opened. In it rested a manila envelope, sealed with tape and his signature.

Gene has a copy of the plan and my resignation letter ready to go. He’ll give them to June when the first shoe drops. She’ll know how to put them into play.

The grandfather clock in the corner of the office voiced its hourly greeting. For decades, this same clock entertained patients in his father’s general practice office in rural Iowa.

I love the Westminster chime. It resonates with my soul and reminds me of a time long ago when life was simple.

******************************

7am.

The lights in the executive suite flickered on. The ominous humming began quietly, rising to a crescendo in a matter of minutes. The sound was irritating to visitors to the floor but white noise to those who worked in the area.

Gene walked through the suite on his way to his office. He waved as he passed the CEO’s door, careful not to disturb him. All knew this was his quiet time, thinking time, planning time. Not talking time.

Gene laid his briefcase on the desk, removing a file marked confidential. He called his wife to let her know he arrived safely and steady her nerves about the turmoil the plan would cause, rippling throughout the organization. His closest advisor, she was both brutally protective of her husband and his toughest counsel.

Now to make the calls.

For the next 20 minutes, he spoke to his colleagues on the Council. Never once letting on that he knew more than he was telling them.

Hanging up the phone, he repaired to the supply room to pour his second cup of coffee of the day.

Returning to his office, he looked at the documents once again. He knew each word by heart.

Once the merger announcement is made, I’ll resign and ask them to do the same. Copies of my resignation letter will be distributed as a guide to follow. They know the routine when such things happen. They won’t suspect the truth.

*******************

The clock’s solitary chime broke his train of thought. 7:30. A parade of staff would clatter through the lobby to their desks.

Was that a C major or a G sharp? Never could tell. Love the arts and sports but was never good at either.

He stared at the clock, mesmerized by the rhythmic ticking and the swinging movement of the pendulum. His mind wandered as it did most mornings when he was alone.

Became a man of science, dedicated to research. Gave all that up to lead this organization. Not the legacy I thought I’d have.

June walked into the office with his favorite mug, steaming with English tea. A biscuit rested on the plate next to the cup.

Not a word was said but much was communicated. 20 years together, they could finish each other’s sentences. No one understood him as well as she did. Not even his wife.

Trustworthy to an extreme, loyal to a fault, she faced his friends and foes with poise and fortitude.

She placed the drink on his desk and looked into his eyes. A tear dropped onto her cheek. He held out a tissue for her which she took, holding his hand a bit longer than necessary. The end of a chapter; a lifetime of working together.

He nodded his head in thanks. She responded in kind, closed the door to this office, and returned to her desk to line up the calls she would have to make when the meeting ended. Many more tissues would be needed that day.

30 minutes to go. It’ll be an active morning, that’s for sure. Good thing, this will all be over by mid-afternoon.

I’ve got a flight to catch.

**********************

Eight chimes sounded in his office. He opened his door to welcome his team to the meeting. Standing, he greeted each person by name as he did every time the Council met. Never one to mix personal feelings with professional responsibilities, he was a gentleman, after all, and strove to treat co-workers with with dignity and respect.

The members took their seats and opened the agenda folder on the conference table in front of them. Much to their surprise, the folder was empty. Looks of astonishment appeared on each of their faces.

Funny how everyone always takes the same seat at these meetings. Today, that will change.

Every week, the agenda was prescribed with times, dates, responsibilities, all geared to making sure the organization was meeting its goals. One hour was long enough to find out who was accomplishing their objectives and who wasn’t. Laggards were counseled, encouraged and, eventually, discarded. The organization depended on all pulling their weight.

Gene was the last to arrive, closing the door behind him. He took his place opposite the CEO, the best vantage point to watch his colleagues’ faces and their non-verbal behavior. Early in his career, he learned to listen and observe. People’s true motivations always came to the surface.

June entered the office, soundlessly, distributing a single sheet of paper to each person, face down.

The CEO opened his portfolio, took a deep breath and revealed the true nature of the meeting. No one said a word. Not just because they were speechless. They were in shock. No one saw it coming.

Gene asked them to read the paper June had placed in front of them. The instructions were clear. Letters of resignation were to be turned in by noon. The public announcement would be made at 1pm. Until then, nothing was to be said.

Both Gene and the CEO knew what was going to happen. Immediately after the meeting, each member would scurry back to their offices, close their doors and start making calls to their family, headhunters and their attorneys. The news would leak out by 9:15 am.

The 8:30 chime brought the meeting to a close. Nothing more had to be said. Shoulders slumping, eyes cast down, the executives exited the office suite they knew so well. Gene stood and shook each person’s hand as they left the room. Words of encouragement were whispered in their ears.

Perfect. Going according to plan. Leaks are the best way to soften the blow of change. I’ve got a few calls to make myself.

Gene waited until the others departed before gathering his papers to leave. He looked at his boss, his mentor, across the table. His eyes expressed his thanks for all he had done for him over so many years. Words were unnecessary.

In short order, the scepter of power would rest in his hands. With it, the responsibility for creating the next chapter in the organization's future.

He walked back to his office, taking his usual seat at the round conference table. The table where he conducted all of his business, pleasant or otherwise.

The phone rang, shaking him from his stupor. Taking a long drink from yet another cup of coffee, he began his most challenging journey, as the soon-to-be new CEO.