The business of life (Chapter 20 – from a dark place)

Although I was no stranger to the death of loved ones, having already lost both my sister and my father and other close relatives, nothing had prepared me for the loss of my wife.  Yes, I had mentally rehearsed the situation over and over in my mind in the preceding months as her health continued to deteriorate, trying to imagine how I would cope. At the same time I had been desperately hoping that somehow she could survive and return to her former self.  But the reality of her death, the awful, aching sense of loss, was something horrifyingly new.  Without Jean and with the certainty that she would never return the house seemed emptier than ever.

Work seemed an irrelevance and I stayed away for several weeks, never phoning or attempting to keep up to date with what was happening.  There was a human side to Gregg after all and he made it known he wouldn’t push me to return before I was ready.  With my son away at school and my daughter often out doing the sort of things that teenage girls do, life seemed hollow.  I prowled the empty house in the evenings half expecting to receive some sign from the heavens that I was not alone but all that remained were reminders of the life we had shared.  One morning, sometime in October, I awoke to find the sun was shining and I set out on a new bike I had bought not long before in an effort to distract myself.  It was one of those magical, calm days when the sun shone as it only seems to do in autumn and I cycled deep into the Dales, soaking up the beauty around me.  The world was carrying on and I had to join in.  The next morning I returned to the office.

A welcome distraction came in the form of an invitation to run a session at a pan-European meeting of our HR directors in Geneva.  I decided to take a few days holiday, took my son out of school and together we drove to Switzerland.  Already a skiing enthusiast at the age of fifteen he cajoled a visit to a ski resort from me and a new ski outfit.  Following my session we drove to Les Diablerets only to find that the snows had yet to arrive and the sun was shining brightly.  “No problem,” beamed Alex, “there’s a glacier that’s open all year round.”  The following morning, subjugating my fear of heights, I joined him on the cable car that took us to 3,200 metres.  Alex quickly disappeared on a set of hired skis while I was content to sit on a terrace in the warm sun.  Surrounded by high peaks set against a deep blue sky, I read an old copy of Women in Love for the second time and felt at peace.

When I became Managing Director I had joined the industry trade association (the Lighting Industry Federation) sitting on the governing council (comprising some 16 CEOs of the largest members).  I had been a little over-awed initially, not only as the youngest member on council, but being the only one who had not spent his entire career in that same industry.  I felt I had been talked down to and treated very much as the junior.  So, having kept a low profile for the first couple of years was then astonished to be asked to take up the role of president.  At first I couldn’t work out what had raised my profile to warrant the appointment.  But by the time I made my acceptance speech and took the chain of office in one ofLondon’s oldest clubs overlooking The Mall and with a Government Minister as my guest, I had worked out what lay behind it.

Long held, polarised and explosive views were held across the membership on a range of partisan issues.  The association (which set technical standards for the whole industry and ran a highly effective parliamentary lobby group) was facing a particularly critical issue at the time that threatened to pull the association apart.   I perceived that none of my largest competitors wished to be seen to preside over an issue that could be a PR disaster for them.  Ranged against them were a large number of members (of smaller firms) in the association holding the opposing view.  Had I been elected as a scapegoat?  Was I being set up to fail?

Deciding on a policy of diplomacy for my year of office, I felt I had to ensure that all views on the subject were heard and taken into account before a decision was made.  I had clear views of my own as to which route the association should take but reasoned that making these views known was only going to make my task harder.  And anyway, I calculated that my own company could exist equally well under whatever regime emerged.  Attempting to force my views on council was not going to work given my image as an outsider who was believed to know less of the industry than anyone else around the table.  Therefore I decided that the process should take priority, be seen to be inclusive and fair and should lead to whatever the membership ultimately decided.

I ran my council meetings in the classic chairman’s style, ensuring that all views were fully explored but never revealing a viewpoint of my own.  I found that by a policy of correct process, questioning and ensuring everyone’s opinions were sought, all relevant opinions and options could be uncovered.  I carried this process through to the wider membership, travelling to regional meetings up and down the country.  At these meetings, where I again chaired the sessions to ensure that every aspect of the subject was explored, I also never revealed an opinion.  I also held one-to-one meetings with the holders of the most entrenched views (large and small companies), always travelling to meet them in their own offices.  At the end of the year when the time came for a decision, the vote was almost unanimous, with everyone feeling their view had been heard and considered with the right decision made.

One surprising and pleasing outcome for me was that several of those who had held some of the most rigid views at the outset felt able to cross over to the opposing side without losing face.  Additionally, the few members who voted against the final decision, came to me later and said that although disappointed they felt that the process had been fair and the decision was one they could support.

By this time I had found love and companionship again and had married Denise.  A hilarious and old fashioned event took place some months before our marriage that showed yet another face to Gregg.  Having taken Denise with me to an industry function in London, I had duly filled out my monthly expenses sheet and sent it off to Gregg for authorisation with receipts attached (why MPs and civil servants can’t go through the same simple procedure still eludes me). A few days later I got one of my lunchtime calls from Gregg, who proceeded to pose questions about the industry event and my accommodation arrangements in more delicate terms than his usual style.  After a lot of beating about the bush, and in a decidedly embarrassed manner, he shared with me his concern that taking a woman who was not my lawfully married wife to a hotel for an industry function would damage my reputation!  Even when I shared the date for our impending marriage he expressed his delight but wouldn’t budge from his ‘grave concerns’ in the interim!

I was happy at the good fortune that life had once more bestowed upon me. However, I began to recognise some fairly profound changes in myself that seemed to have occurred since Jean’s death.  My entire being had previously been focussed upon achievement of my business goals.  I was always clear and focussed upon what needed to be done and prided myself on logical and rational decision making.  The exception had always been my immediate family but looking back I realised that even with them I seemed to have been somewhat removed from a real understanding of their feelings and emotions.  I understood anger and rage well enough, having always been quick to be roused but as far as others outside my close family circle were concerned, nothing had ever really touched me. People must have felt me to be cold and lacking empathy in my decision making when they themselves felt understanding and compassion was called for.

Now, since Jean’s death, I found myself crying for the first time whilst watching films.  I remember sitting sobbing uncontrollably through Truly, Madly, Deeply.  Even music began to touch me on a deeper level than ever before.  Knowing my love of Bach Denise bought me a CD of the Brandenburg Concertos.  As I listened to the opening allegro of the 6th for the first time, tears flowed down my face at the sheer joie de vivre the music conveyed. It touched me in a way that I had never experienced before.  On these occasions it was as if a veil had been lifted from my senses and I was experiencing the colours, sounds and sensations of raw emotion for the first time.  I knew it was connected with Jean’s death but it was some ten years later before I could finally begin to understand what had happened.

In an effort to improve selection of candidates for key roles in the businesses I was then running, I started a process of qualification for a range of psychometric instruments.  In the qualification process for one, the Myers Briggs Type Indicator, I was assessed as an ENTJ (Extraverted Thinking with Introverted Intuition).  Without going into a lengthy explanation, I found that there was a ‘shadow’ or hidden side to my behaviour.  As it was the fourth and least preferred of my four key behavioural functions, my preference for ‘Feeling’ in decision making was underdeveloped.  Whilst someone who has ‘Feeling’ as a preferred function for decision making would be sympathetic, tender hearted, assessing impact on others, compassionate, guided by personal values and be striving for harmony, these were not behavioural qualities I had ever used.  These underdeveloped aspects of behaviour (which differ from person to person) are referred to as the ‘shadow side’ of behavioural preference, usually only being revealed at times of great stress or under the influence of drink or drugs as behaviour completely unnatural to the individual.  Being unfamiliar in using this side of my personality it was manifesting itself in almost childlike ways.  I can still cry at films that reveal emotion but over time I have also learnt to understand others in ways that would never have occurred to me previously.  Life is richer as a consequence but sometimes much more complicated now I can see more than one perspective!

When Martyn left I hadn’t replaced him feeling at the time that none of his team (good as they were) was ready for the role he had carried out and I didn’t wish to bring an outsider into the company.  I already knew the majority of our medium and large customers well and built on these relationships with regular visits.  I maintained a regular schedule of visits to major customers by accompanying our regional managers or sales people on their visits.  In this way I was able to demonstrate my commitment to customers and sales force and, importantly, ensure I was hearing directly from both on their views concerning our strategies and service compared to competition.

One of the strangest situations I ever had to manage was that with our largest customer.  The owners (tax exiles) worked initially from beautiful offices overlooking the lake a few kilometres outside Geneva and then moved to Monaco where the tax regime was even kinder.  They had built one of the largest electrical distribution businesses in the UK and were spreading across Europe but had the strangest (and possibly the most Machiavellian) management structure and systems I had come across before or since.  There was no one person in charge of the UK and buying was spread between four regional general managers.  The buying process (designed to drive price down) was in fact so fragmented that, despite their size and potential clout, they were paying prices considerably above anyone else of their size (and many smaller firms).  Whilst I enjoyed the profits that flowed, at times their purchasing was so out of line on price I had to feed the senior management with a series of hints that would then lead them to ‘put the squeeze’ on me.  I just couldn’t run the risk that they would find out how terrible their prices actually had become!

I was now totally immersed in and enjoying every aspect of my role.  But whilst I was widening and deepening an understanding of my colleagues, our customers and the industry and steadily improving results, events were quietly and inexorably moving towards the most challenging set of circumstances I had ever had to deal with.

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2 responses to “The business of life (Chapter 20 – from a dark place)

  1. Hi Tony,

    I am enjoying reading the story of your career and your life. The lessons you’ve learned can apply to all of us.

    Nancy

  2. Thank you Nancy. I’m certainly learning a lot going over it all with the benefit of the perspective that age and experience brings.

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