The dreaded management committee meeting

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...Steve picked up the pile of reports and project plans, along with his laptop and tablet, and headed out his office door to the board room for the by now, mythic, Management Committee meeting. He nodded to Karen who gave him a look that was oddly similar to the anxious expression his mother would give him when he left for an after-school work out at the boxing gym back in high school.

He reached the board room door just as Judy arrived from the opposite direction. He stepped aside and said, “please, go ahead.” She smiled, and as she stepped through the door, she turned her head back toward him and in a stage-whisper said, “Abandon hope all ye who enter here.”

Jesus Christ, he thought, can it really be as bad as everyone keeps saying?

Steve looked around the room and saw about a dozen people, some sitting, some standing, chatting. In addition to Linda, who was sitting at the first seat at the front of the table engrossed in her laptop, he saw MJ, Mike, Kelly and Judy, who was standing at the front of the room readying the projector and generally organizing the proceedings to come. He didn’t know the others but knew the sullen looking guy at the first seat opposite Linda must be Robert Bokitis, intent on the papers in front of him. 

Mary Jane came up to him and said, “Hi Steve, take a seat anywhere.”

He said, “I think I’ll wait until everyone’s taken their chair. I know these standing meetings are like the family dinner table – everyone has their customary place. I wouldn’t want to be a chair squatter in my first meeting.”

MJ laughed. “You’ve done this before.”

Steve sighed involuntarily. “Yeah, kinda.”

Robert looked up and said, “Could we please get started?”

The hubbub died almost immediately and anyone standing took their seats. Steve saw an empty chair about midway down the table on Linda’s side and encamped, arraying papers and laptop on the table before him. 

Linda spoke first, breaking the chilly silence. “First order of business. We have a new member of the Pyrotech family. Please welcome our new Vice President of Development, Steve McGregor.” 

There was polite applause. 

Feeling an obligation to respond, Steve said, “Thanks Linda, I’m happy to be here.”

“We’re expecting great things from you Steve.”

“I’m flattered. I’ll try to live up to your expectations, Linda.” 

There were low murmurings around the table. He made a quick glance at Robert and met an expression of undisguised derision. 

Robert looked at Judy and nodded. She tapped the tablet that was wirelessly connected to the projector and a PowerPoint slide with numbers and metrics filled the white wall at the front of the room. 

Judy spoke, “to begin with Sales, we had an average week of shipments – “

Robert interrupted her, “then why is revenue negative on the week?”

Judy looked at Mike with the merest shoulder shrug that said, sorry. Mike responded with the merest nod. 

Judy pointed at the line on the slide that showed Product Returns, obvious to anyone looking at it, which meant everyone in the room could see it, including Robert, who already knew about it from Judy’s earlier briefing. 

“We had a significant return from a distributor last week.” 

Robert had a habit of briefly staring at someone impassively before speaking to him. He did this with Mike now. 

“Could I trouble you to enlighten us?”

Mike sighed, knowing the battle was lost before it began. 

“The dogs aren’t eating the dog food.” 

In his size and bulk, he towered over Robert. Had the sun been behind him, his shadow would have blotted Robert out. “This happens every year at this time. The old product loses its appeal when the market starts to anticipate our new models.”

“New product development isn’t your concern,” Robert turned and pointed to Steve. “It’s his. We’ll find out all about that shortly.” 

He turned back to Mike, and leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his finger pointing accusatorily. “Your job is to sell – and to goddam well keep it sold.”

“But–“ Mike stammered, “our distributor agreements allow for a small percentage of returns. They’re well within their contractual limit for returns.”

Robert Bokitis had an Intelligence Quotient that was off the charts; and an Emotional Quotient that didn’t register. He had a reptilian awareness of weakness and vulnerability; and a primordial instinct of where to strike. 

“We’ve never had the volume of returned product, in any other year, leading up to a new product announcement that we’ve seen in the last six weeks.” Robert’s stern expression resolved into a smile that was icy and invidious. “So, do we have a sales management problem?”

Mike fidgeted in his chair. “Robert, the contract allows returns.”

“Ah, so we don’t have a sales problem, we have a contract problem. Well, that’s easy to fix. We’ll just make returns allowance zero.” He brushed his hands together. “Problem solved.”

Mike pursed his lips. “Robert, I think you know, we compete on a bunch of things. If our terms aren’t competitive, our distributors just won’t stock as much product as the bad guys, and they’ll sell what they have in stock. We’re guaranteed to lose sales.”

Robert stared at Mike. The tension in the room was palpable. Finally, he spoke, slowly, saying, “Why do I have to keep reminding you of your role here? I take care of contracts. You sell. So just – fucking – sell!”

Robert looked at Judy and spoke.

“As of the first of next month, I want Product Returns out of the distributor contract.” 

He looked back at Mike. “Is there any other part of your job I can help you with?”

Mike returned Robert’s stare. Anything he might say would, at best, be met with belittlement; at worst, would create further havoc in his organization. He said nothing.

Steve watched all this with mounting amazement. Everything everyone had said about the Management Committee meeting was, in fact, true. He shook his head. Un-fucking believable. He noted that throughout the questioning – the inquisition – Linda, the CEO, had said nothing. Not a peep. She seemed content to let Robert – who, as a VP, was Mike’s peer – run roughshod. At least he now knew who ran things – who he would need to get through to get resources and commitment for the Athena project: any time with Linda would be wasted time; it was Robert Bokitis he would have to outfox or outwit to get it done. And it was a safe bet that Robert would put up roadblocks at every turn, for no clear reason other than the gratification he seemed to get from being a dick. 

Kelly was seated half-way down the table, on Linda’s side, so she could see Robert, and opposite her, Mike, with whom she sympathized terribly. The poor guy. Why did Robert have to be such a jerk? They were all under pressure, all doing their best. Robert just seemed to make everything worse – and he seemed to get some kind of twisted pleasure from it. 

She glanced at the new guy, Steve, about midway down the table to the left, on her side, whose brow was furrowed in a deep, frown of disbelief. Believe it, Steve. Welcome to Pyro, she thought.

Robert nodded at Judy who tapped her tablet and a slide with manufacturing data lit the wall. 

Steve saw a guy about his age, more or less opposite him, squirm uncomfortably. This, then, would be Dave Ellott, VP of Manufacturing, kneeling before the guillotine. Steve took in the chart in a single glance and thought, poor bastard. Steve was familiar with contract manufacturers and he saw that Pyrotech used two, one in Taiwan, the other in Malaysia. The chart showed a declining volume of production in both plants, with mounting inventories – raw materials, WIP and finished goods. But, there was a bright spot: the quality assurance stats were the best he’d ever seen. Best practices would mean Pyrotech undoubtedly had Quality Assurance engineers on both sites, so the data would be accurate. Man, he thought, I’d kill for those numbers. 

“I’m fairly sure I’m not dyslexic, so why does everything look opposite to what it should be?” 

Steve noticed that Robert never addressed anyone by name. It was “you”, or “him”, or just a menacing stare. 

Dave Ellott, cleared his throat and said, “Our orders have been lower than forecast, Robert– “

“We just covered the pathetic sales situation. Can you please stick to manufacturing?”

Steve knew, and was pretty sure Robert knew, that everything was interdependent, but Robert kept insisting there was some kind of wall between functional areas; why? The only reason Steve could think of was that it limited each executive’s ability to give a complete explanation and thus made them an easier target for Robert’s petty derision.

“Robert, I manufacture product to meet demand. When demand slacks off, I have to slow production down.” His face brightened for a moment as he seemed to come up with a point that Robert might relate to, a morsel of red meat for the rabid dog. “We save cost this way, Robert. There’s no point in paying wages to have stuff made and end up in finished goods, unsold.” His expression was a sad mix of affirmation and desperation.

“Yes, I can see that – work-in-progress and finished goods are only about twice as much as they should be so congratulations on that. But, raw material is almost three times plan.” Robert ceased talking and stared at Dave. 

“But, finished goods inventory isn’t the same thing as raw materials – “

“Thank you, professor, for educating me – the VP of Finance – on the different kinds of inventory. Is this going to be on the mid-term?”

Dave shifted in his seat. “Our orders with component suppliers are non-cancellable, Robert, and we can’t return them. They’re mostly custom made for our specifications. It’s not like – not like- “ 

He glanced guiltily at Mike, having stepped in the shit and now committed to follow-through on his point.

“- not like a customer returning our product to us.” He stammered, trying to make his point without making it worse for both himself and Mike. “We can resell that to someone else, but…but, our suppliers can’t resell stuff we designed that was made especially for us, to anyone else… we’re obligated to take it – “

Robert’s stare was withering. “We’re not obligated to do a fucking thing. Are we their customer? I see we have another contract I need to fix.”

Utterly deflated, Dave mumbled, “But our QA – “

“Who cares how good our quality is, if no one wants buy the god dammed product?”

Dave stared at the papers in front of him.

Robert shook his head in undisguised disgust, then nodded to Judy and a slide Steve knew all too well gave off a bright, cold light to the room. Here we go, he thought. 

Judy said, “Next up is the project plan summary for Athena.”

Robert made a performance of examining the Athena project plan slide in detail, up and down, tilting his head this way and that. 

“Ah yes,” he turned to stare at Steve. “Athena.”

Steve stared right back. Their loathing was instant, palpable and mutual. After a few moments, Steve asked, “Do you have a specific question, or do you want me to make my report?”

“Carry on, by all means,” Robert said, waving his hand expansively across the table in front of him and upward towards the slide on the wall. 

The chart showed about a dozen key metrics representing the status of a project which was enormously complex, and vitally important, as everyone in the room knew, to Pyro’s near-term future. In fact, the success of Athena would resolve every issue reviewed so far. But, it’s failure…

Steve began, “the chart speaks for itself. Almost every milestone has been missed. The project is way behind, and the launch date is…” he sought the right word, but settled for, “… problematical. The one bright spot is the new User Interface. It’s the thing that has the most impact on customer acceptance. And it’s phenomenal.” 

There were murmurings of approval and encouragement from a group of people desperate for good news of any kind.

As Steve might have predicted, Robert showed no change in his stony expression. 

“Will Athena launch on schedule?”

Steve returned the stare before speaking.

“You’re talking to a guy who can measure his time here in minutes. I’d be irresponsible offering an assessment that important now.”

“When will you know?” 

“I’ll have a much better idea, this time next week.”

“Then be prepared to cover it at next week’s MC meeting.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then, Steve looked away, dismissively, from Robert, and addressed Linda. 

“Linda, Robert’s made a good suggestion which I agree with. I’d like to have 20 minutes on the agenda next week to report my assessment of the launch to you and the team.”

Kelly was a little surprised to see Linda, whose expression was normally inscrutable, showing a hint of – what? – something akin to amusement. Linda nodded, “Done.” She looked at Judy who made a note. 

Watching the interplay between Robert and Steve, Kelly smiled inwardly. Steve had adroitly turned Robert’s – his peer – order into a merely helpful suggestion and seized the initiative by volunteering the report. Even a week away it was going to be difficult to do a thorough review of the project and then make a commitment – because that’s what it would be – a commitment - to a launch date. Also, he offered to make his report to Linda and to the team – not to respond to Robert’s command. She shook her head. Men were like little boys – but this meeting so far had been more interesting – entertaining, in fact – than most. It was clear that this new guy was going to mix it up a bit. 

Robert looked at Judy who then swiped her tablet and the next slide cast its harsh light on the room. It was a Human Resources summary chart. The top half showed net changes to total headcount for the week – all the numbers were resignations because Pyrotech was under a hiring freeze – and accumulated open positions – un-fillable because of the freeze; the bottom half showed the results of the quarterly employee feedback survey – almost too hard to view: every single metric was lower than the quarter before, and the overall employee satisfaction score was the lowest in Pyrotech’s history. 

Mary Jane Flanigan, VP Human Resources, stared at the numbers and wanted to cry, but offered the room, her colleagues, a face that was grim but resolute, beaten up but not beaten. 

She began, “I doubt anyone’s surprised by the Employee Feedback Survey results.”

Robert did his quiet stare at Mary Jane. Then, “What are you doing about it?”

Mary Jane had a brief imaginary pull on her e-cig and exhaled. “There was a time when Pryotech was the most desirable company in Canada to work for and the smartest, most talented young people wanted to work here; with things the way they are, our best people are sought out by our competitors and leave; then we can’t backfill them because we can’t fund open positions; the work doesn’t go away, so our people have to take on more, and morale gets lower. Unless we start hiring, it’s death by a thousand cuts.”

“Okay, so it’s not an HR problem, it’s a Finance problem?”

“That’s not what I said, Robert. In fact, it’s all of us, it’s our problem. We all have people. We all have to make the best of a difficult situation to keep our people engaged – and to make them believe that it’s going to get better.” 

I have no doubt you’re inspiring the shit out of your people, Robert, Mary Jane was dying to say. 

While Robert and MJ bobbed and weaved, Judy discreetly swiped the tablet and a chart showing the Employee Feedback Survey results by department filled the wall. In addressing Mary Jane, Robert’s back was to the projected image; from her seat down the table, MJ, could see it perfectly. Judy winked at her. All departments had low employee satisfaction ratings, but Finance and Operations – Robert Bokitis’s team – stood out from the rest with the lowest rating by a large margin. 

Mary Jane drew the group’s attention to the image on the wall. 

“The next slide shows the overall employee satisfaction by department.” 

Robert shifted around and looked at the chart. Judy’s face was the picture of innocence and nonchalance. A brief and very uncomfortable silence hung in the room like a frowst. 

Without irony – none was needed – Mary Jane elaborated, “The ratings vary considerably from department to department.” She paused and this time a tincture of irony seeped into her tone. “I have no doubt that each of us is doing everything we can to keep our people engaged and to lift morale.” 

Recovering quickly and having no other weapon than bluster to bolster his counter-attack, Robert, went on the offensive. 

“All the results are shitty. So, the Vice President of Human Resources has nothing, no plan, to deal with this?”

Fuck, MJ thought, this guy’s made of Teflon – nothing sticks. Determined not to let Robert skewer her, as he had the others, she made a snap decision, and placed a bet on the bluff that her idea – the one she had kicked around with Kelly earlier - would sound more fully formed than it was. 

“Well, Robert, as a matter of fact, I do have a plan.” 

She took a deep breath and dove in, head first. 

“I’m proposing a new program, a high performer development program.” 

She glanced at Kelly who gave her a nod of encouragement. 

“I’d like each of the executives to identify their top, high potential employees, the keepers, who have the potential to become managers here.” 

She looked around the room, alert to facial expressions and body language, to see if she was pulling it off, while she made it up as she went along. The other executives were listening with what seemed like sincere interest. Except Robert, who maintained his stony stare; and Linda, unreadable as ever. 

“The program has two elements: first, we have the high potential employees – the HPE’s – meet with executives both in and outside their department, to give them exposure and so we can each size them up. They’ll get some informal mentoring – and they can see we don’t bite.” 

There was polite laughter. She would be organizing the meetings and there would be no way in hell any of these young people were going to get within biting range of Robert Bokitis.

“The second element is that each of the HPE’s will be invited to make a short presentation in the MC meeting, a different one once or twice a month. They’ll report what they’re working on and take some soft-ball questions from us, like a kind of trial run.” 

Her tone took on an edge. “And frankly, it wouldn’t hurt for us to have a view from the trenches.”

Linda spoke, giving the room a slight start. “Well, what do we all think?”

There were glances and murmurs around the table, as a deflection tactic to avoid being the first to declare. Steve and Kelly both started to speak at the same time and abruptly stopped; Steve looked at Kelly and smiled to say, “after you.” 

Kelly spoke up emphatically. “I love it. The employees involved will be excited about it and others will aspire to it. I think it’s a great idea.”

Then Steve said, “Plus one. MJ I can think of someone on my team who could be first up.” 

He thought of Michelle taking him through the user interface. It would be a great presentation – both for her because she was a definite – what had MJ called it? -- an HPE, and for the executives because it was a bright spot in the gloom of the Athena project.

The murmurs became more distinct with sounds of agreement.

Linda looked at Mary Jane. “Looks like we’ve got a new HR program.”

The table made noises of general support and approval. Mary Jane smiled broadly. Robert scowled. MJ knew that this was the kind of thing that Robert would think of as a complete waste of time. He would think that the employees had jobs, they got paid, and if their morale was low, tough shit, it was their problem. And if they didn’t like it, they could fuck off somewhere else. She hadn’t expected support to come so directly from Linda, but she appreciated that it had: now Robert couldn’t get in the way. 

Robert looked at Judy; she swiped the tablet and the Marketing summary slide appeared. 

Judy said, “Next up is the marketing metrics summary.” 

Kelly steeled herself. This was the low point of every week.

The slide showed total reach and frequency of all executions in all media which was good because Pyrotechnique remained highly visible in the market – and quarter to date media spend which was over budget – thanks mostly to Patricia missing a key deadline. 

Kelly began her report, “This is always a critically important time for the company to be top of mind in the market. The interest and excitement in the old product is fading. We absolutely must remain visible and tease and hint to encourage anticipation of what’s coming, without revealing anything.” She paused and looked around the room. “Our budget has been severely cut, but we’re picking our spots and getting the visibility we need to carry us through to the new product launch.”

Robert turned from the chart to stare at Kelly. “The key word here is budget. The budget is what it is. And you’re over spending.”

Crap, she thought, of course, that’s the only thing Robert would fixate on.  She had spoken candidly and had to be more specific because she owed the team an explanation; but knew she was making herself a lightning rod for Robert’s storm of criticism. “We missed an opportunity to get preferred rates with the Star for early booking.”

Robert’s stare bored into her. “So, someone fucked up.”

Kelly returned Robert’s stare and said nothing because obviously someone had fucked up. This kind of thing didn’t just happen.

“So, who’s accountable? Who did you fire?”

This was manifestly none of Robert’s concern. She wished he would look after his department and stay out of hers. His question nevertheless made her second guess her handling of the situation with Patricia. Should she have solved it in the way she expected she would ultimately have to and let Patricia go? Sitting here, exposed, her judgement was under scrutiny – not just Robert’s scrutiny, but her own. His question – out of line or not – sat idly waiting for an answer.

“I handled it.”

“Could you be more specific? This kind of screw up costs us money we don’t have. Who was fired, so we can be sure it won’t happen again?”

She would normally choke back her irritation with Robert and acquiesce under his interrogation. Last week she might have said that the employee was on notice and would be managed out of the business shortly. But today she felt emboldened; maybe it was watching the new guy, Steve, stare Robert down and not take any of his bullshit. 

With a harder edge than usual, she responded, “I said I handled it.”

Robert looked at her. His cheeks rolled and puckered, grinding his teeth, as if he were deciding how big he wanted to make this battle. At length, shifting his attack, he asked, “How do you propose the get back on budget?”

This was a reasonable question that Kelly could answer directly. “I’m cutting back on our spend on social media influencers; we’ll finish the quarter on budget.” What could Robert possibly find to challenge this?

Robert didn’t challenge it. Linda did. 

“But Kelly, last week you said social media was vital to maintaining a positive perception of our brand. And, that it was cost effective.”

Linda usually let Robert do the weekly grilling. Kelly didn’t have enough experience dealing with Linda in a group situation to know exactly how to play this. She didn’t want to make this more than it was, but in her infrequent dealings with Linda, she always got the feeling that Linda was sizing her up, judging her, and possibly jealous of her. Could that be true? Linda ran the company. Did Kelly threaten her somehow? She had never by word or deed implied she coveted Linda’s job because she didn’t. She was happy where she was – happy except for two hours on Tuesday afternoons. But, truthfully, she didn’t think she’d have any trouble doing Linda’s job as well as her – or better. But, none of that mattered at this moment. Linda sat at the head of the table. 

“Yes, Linda, you’re absolutely right”–did she really have to kiss Linda’s ass like that?—"social media has a very important role in our mix. I have two community managers on my team who are going to be more active in posts and tweets, so we can cut back on our external influencers to save expense and shouldn’t have any loss of impact.”

Linda wasn’t done. “How are we trending?”

When did Linda suddenly get social media savvy? Kelly thought, realizing she’d now have to reveal the unpleasant truth that the chatter was becoming negative, as she’d learned from the dashboard earlier that day.

Kelly looked at Linda as she spoke. “We’re trending down. We’re losing our lustre, and there’s an undertone of skepticism about whether we can keep up with the market’s expectations - or that we’re on a slide that we can’t recover from.”

Kelly had answered the question thoroughly, but Linda’s impassive expression gave no hint of whether she was satisfied with her answer.

Midway down the table from Linda, Steve sensed the furtive glances at him from around the room given it was largely up to him whether Pyrotech recovered from the slide or not. Jesus, he thought, I’m getting a silent beat down because of fucking Twitter. 

Robert chimed in. “Is Marketing ready to launch?”

Kelly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was May. The Athena launch would be in September. She had assembled a team with people from each function – media, creative, agency, PR, community management – that was starting to put together a detailed plan. They had had a few meetings with the Athena team leader, Niki Bagheri, and the lead User Interface designer, Michelle Robinson, which Kelly had attended. She felt they were exactly where they needed to be at this point in the lead up to the launch. Out of character – what was with her today? – Kelly responded with sarcasm, “If we were to launch tomorrow? No, we’re not ready. If we launch, as planned in the first week of September, we’re right on track.”

“What if we change it up? What if we decide to launch sooner?”

Pyrotechnique had never in its history, had a major new product launch on any date other than the first week of September. And given the status of the Athena project, even September seemed nearly impossible. Why on earth would Robert ask such as ridiculous question? Kelly inhaled a deep, calming breath.

“In the event we decided on an unprecedented departure from Pyrotech’s tradition of new product launches in September, I would accelerate our planning and be ready.”

Steve watched and listened with mounting frustration. Why was Robert badgering her about the Athena launch? Kelly was right: it was almost six months away; the issue right now was the product development, not marketing, not sales. In fact, Robert had chastised both Mike and David for speaking outside the narrow definition of their responsibilities. Now he was insisting Kelly do the very same. What the fuck?

Robert wasn’t finished. “Athena is the most important thing we’re dealing with. The future of the company depends on it. I don’t feel like you’re appreciating that. Why?”

Oh my god, can he really think I don’t get the importance of Athena? Kelly fumed inwardly, maintaining perfect composure. What was he even asking? She opened her mouth to attempt an answer, but was interrupted by the new guy –

“Why do you keep asking Kelly about the Athena launch?” 

All eyes, including Robert’s, jerked in surprise to Steve. 

“You, or a guy who looks just like you, sitting right there, not twenty minutes ago, took a giant shit on Mike and Dave for stepping over the lines of their departments. But, now you’re insisting Kelly do the same thing. Which is it? Do we stick to our departments, or do we act like a team and work together to figure out the issues and come up with solutions?”

Kelly’s initial reaction was relief – Robert’s intense – and baffling – focus had been redirected. But then she felt – what? – irritation? exasperation? She had been locked in conflict with a difficult and dangerous opponent, but it was just as her peers had been, and it was her fight to fight. She didn’t need or want rescuing. As inane and puzzling as Robert’s questioning had been, it was hers to answer, and now it was left unanswered. She hadn’t had to suffer being judged. It was easier this way -- but she had been undermined. She watched, now on the sidelines, as the two men stared at each other, like boys in a schoolyard. 

Robert had quickly recovered to meet the unexpected challenge. “I asked her about Athena because your answer was unsatisfactory.”

“We covered that. Move on.” 

The two men glared at each other. Steve continued, “And I’d like your answer please. Do we pretend that we’re all independent of each other? Or, do we work as a team?”

Robert’s cheeks puckered and rolled.

Steve pressed his advantage. “Or, is the problem that you’ve forgotten what each of us does here? Let’s review. I invent it; Dave makes it; Kelly tells the world how great it is; Mike sells it.” 

He paused, and his mouth set in a small, mirthless smile. “And you count it.” 

He had a calculator amongst the documents in front of him. He shoved it across the table and it came to rest a foot in front of Robert. “Take this, as my gift to you, Robert. To remind yourself of what you contribute here.”

The Management Committee meeting was normally punctuated with intense interrogation by Robert interspersed with uncomfortable silences briefly interrupted by desperate replies. The silence at this moment was as uncomfortable as it had ever been, but the dynamic was completely changed: Robert – who had been as aggressive and nasty as ever – was now on the defensive. The hatred he glared at Steve was almost tangible. 

The impasse was broken by Judy who swiped her tablet to bring up the summary business slide that every MC closed with. It was Robert’s weekly last word. 

“Here’s where we stand, at the midway point in the quarter,” Judy said, lancing the room’s boil of tension.

Robert took his eyes from Steve and regarded the slide. It showed units shipped, revenue, expenses and profit versus the quarterly budget. All numbers were off target. 

His cheeks were coloured slightly from Steve’s ambush. “Well, I don’t think I need to belabour it. You’re missing every metric. Every single one.” 

Most weeks, Kelly reflected, Robert seemed to almost gleefully belabour it, meting out criticism and belittlement to every executive. Today he seemed anxious to conclude. She saw him look guardedly at Steve. 

“Next week, we’ll find out just how much trouble we’re in.” 

He gathered up his documents and hastily headed for the door – leaving Steve’s calculator behind.

Steve reflexively looked at Linda, the CEO, their leader, expecting a leader’s summary remarks – pronouncing the gravity of their situation, driving the message home, offering inspiration to fire up the team to go and tackle the challenge – but he watched as she stared blankly, almost seeming bored, at the slide. Then pushed back her chair and left the room.

Steve sat for a moment, feeling his adrenalin start to wear off, as the room dissolved into a commotion of shifting chairs, papers and paraphernalia being gathered up, people moving to and out the door. 

Kelly picked up her papers and tablet, still simmering in an ambivalent stew of relief and resentment and rose from the table. As she walked past the still seated Steve, she obeyed an impulse to lean in and in a low tone, say, “I can fight my own battles,” and joined the throng heading to the door.

Steve turned and watched Kelly, her round little rump in her gray, tailored slacks, her narrow waist, shoulders back in her pink - or was it purple - shirt, head held high, striding purposefully away from him, and the letdown of fading adrenalin was weighted further by her rebuke. He understood fully now, in this flagging moment, what had been peripheral in the heat of battle: his flank attack on Robert had undermined her. And now she was pissed at him. 

He remained seated, the last one in the room, staring at the now blank wall at the front of the room; elbow on the table, he leaned his forehead into his hand. Jesus H. Christ, he thought, what the fuck am I doing here?