Several months ago, an old and very close friend – let’s just say her name is Annie - had some bad news on the business front. After twenty years with her company, during which she had forged a very successful career for herself, Annie was being let go.
The issue wasn’t performance. It was bean counting.
There was a relatively new CEO in her division – let’s call him Mr. Big - who came from a numbers background (nothing to do with the division he was brought in to run) decided that the only way to make his numbers in the coming year was to roll a few heads.
Fair enough: nothing that hasn’t been done before.
Mr. Big decided to roll most of those heads from the ranks of those with management titles, figuring that he could both save on those big, fat management salaries while also flattening the organization and thus, I suppose that he supposed, winning him the admiration and affection of the masses who’d been held down, oppressed even, by having to report to managements with big, fat management salaries.
Fair enough: nothing that hasn’t been done before.
What Mr. Big didn’t do was a) ask for advice from folks who’d been around a lot longer than he’d been, and who actually knew something about the business; or b) take into account the actual role played/value brought to the organization by the rolling heads that he apparently assumed were “just” managers. And what, after all, do managers do? (Other than men of action, like Mr. Big.)
My friend Annie, as I’ve said, has had a very successful career. While she has never quite made it to the EVP level, she has been an SVP, and was someone who’s always had the ear of the upper-upper echelons in her company.
I’m of the belief that Annie never got to be an EVP because she’s perceived as a bit too much of a straight-shooter, and has never been one who holds back from speaking truth to power. She’s plenty tough, and I’ve always guessed that, while they value her candid advice – she is, after all, one smart cookie - Annie scares the bejesus out of a lot of the men in charge. Especially, I’m guessing, Mr. Big.
Am I making Annie sound like a barracuda, a bull in the china shop?
Hope not.
She’s an extremely nice, warm, kind, generous, thoughtful person who is on the short “go-to” list for a long roster of friends and family when they need help of some kind, a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, someone to unload on. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t want Annie around in their time of need. A friend indeed.
And if you’re not in need, she’s someone you want to have around then, too, as she’s a lot of fun.
Annie’s also someone who’s more than just a manager pulling down a big, fat management salary.
She’s always been hands-on, and very closely involved in the inner-workings of whatever it is she’s working on.
And over the many years that Annie’s worked at her company, she’s been exposed to – make that performed – just about every business function there is: business development, product design, sales, service delivery, contract negotiations, pricing, personnel development, client relations, management of a business unit (P&L). You name it, if it’s really important, Annie’s probably done it. And done it well.
So what had happened over the years was that, even when she had moved on to a new function, people continued to ask Annie’s advice.
Annie developed a particular gift as a fixer, with an uncanny ability to un-f-up client engagements and customer relationships that had gotten f’ed up. She had a reputation internally as the Red Adair of the company, able to parachute into the forest fire, put the fire out, and save all the fire fighters in the process.
As I mentioned, Mr. Big didn’t ask anyone’s advice or permission when he decided how he wanted to count his beans, and laying off Annie turned out not to be his wisest move.
He realized this in near real-time when – so Annie was told – he got a cheerful earful about what a bad decision it was to get rid of Annie. Shortly after he told her she was out, Mr. Big ran into her in the hall and said, “Oh, by the way, you’re the only one we’re letting go who’s on the approved consulting list.”
Gee, thanks.
A few weeks later – she was still around, as she had been given a few weeks to clean up some loose ends and take care of her“transition” – Mr. Big asked her if she could stay on for a few more weeks.
Perhaps he expected eternal gratitude, but Annie (after speeding her way through the initial Kübler-Ross stages of lay-off grieving) was already lining up consulting and permanent opportunities in the outside world. The news traveled fast in her network, and she was hearing from both clients and competitors about doing work for them. Actually, as he phrased it, “If you need more time.”
In fact, Annie wasn’t the one who needed more time; Mr. Big was the one who needed more of her time.
Meanwhile, a couple of key employees interpreted the recent lay-offs as a signal that the company was on the downward slide. Or just not the kind of place where they wanted to be. A couple of folks called Annie and told her that, given all the help she’d been to them, they just couldn’t imagine doing their jobs without her. So they left.
One of the folks leaving decided to let Mr. Big’s boss – Mr. Bigger – know what she thought of the decision to get rid of Annie. So she shot him off an e-mail.
Mr. Bigger followed up asking that woman if she’d mind doing her exit interview with him.
Which, of course, she didn’t.
The next thing we knew, Mr. Bigger – who’d apparently made a few more inquiries – called Mr. Big on the carpet. And fired him.
Mr. Bigger then called Annie and asked her to stay on on a part- time consulting basis for the next couple of months, and that they’d figure it out from there.
And the best part?
Annie’s severance pay was paid out in a lump sum. And, what with her earning a big, fat management salary, and what with those twenty years at the company, and what with what was probably a bit of concern about laying off une femme d’un certain age. Well, let’s just say that the lump sum was not exactly an early lump of coal in her stocking.
I have had a big, fat old grin on my face since I heard Annie’s news.
Needless to say, she has, as well.
Annie hasn’t quite decided what she’s going to do with all this, but she’s sitting these days in one mighty comfy catbird seat.
Turns out that “no one is indispensible” may be a bunch of malarkey.
Nice to know that sometimes the good guy does win.
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