Bolsheviks in the workplace
Phil Dixon maintains that top-tier management should think long and hard about how they motivate their staff
I do enjoy spending an idyllic week chilling out on an exotic beach with a good book - except when the number-one bestseller I've carried thousands of miles leaves me perplexed after 30 pages. Nowhere on the cover did it say: "Unsuitable for anyone aged over 14 with an IQ in three figures" or "You'll discover more twists in a Roman road".
The only safeguard is to carry at least three publications to ensure I have something to occupy my mind for more than two days.
Last Easter I took three literary offerings to the Red Sea: a history/academic book, a bespoke piece of pure semi-orgasmic hedonism and a humorous travel offering. It was while reading about the Russian Revolution that I began to ponder Petrograd 1917 and make comparisons with our industry today.
You may recall how Lenin and the Bolsheviks called on workers to strike but as soon as they rose to power made strikes illegal and shot or imprisoned anyone who withdrew their labour. After overthrowing an aristocracy who had lived in palaces with country homes, it was only a matter of time before they occupied the same residences. Considering how some so-called executives act on their journey to powerful positions, and the way they act when they arrive, I have to conclude that Bolshevik trends are alive and well in the licensed retail sector.
Take for instance the senior manager with a major brewery who, having being made a director, wrote to all the guys he had worked with for 20 years: "I am sure you would all like to congratulate me on my promotion, but may I point out after Monday next, it will no longer be Bonzo, Cyril or Ginger Minger, but Sir."
And I have witnessed others becoming almost suicidal, all for a change of car: "I'd like to swap my VW Passat for an Audi A4."
"But it's the same car - except the VW is bigger with a better audio system."
"I still want to swap."
"But you only got the VW eight weeks ago and it's in your favourite colour."
"Directors do not drive Volkswagens; they drive Audis."
Even today a certain pubco has a policy where only a particular tier of director can have a 4 x 4. If you make it to that grade you have to have one to demonstrate your status and show you care more about share options than climate change.
Misguided loyalty
What about the team player who is the only member who wants to move to the next level? He or she gets there and ceases to be a team player the following morning, ignoring years of conversing with colleagues on the mobile while stuck in traffic at High Wycombe.
"What do you think about X?" is instantly replaced with "We'll do it my way - and I'm not prepared to discuss it." Half the annual team meetings are cancelled or held near the person's house at 8.15 on a Monday morning on the other side of the M25 to remind all and sundry who's in charge.
If team players dare to complain, they are reminded of their age and impending retirement, and told to keep their heads down and get on with the job.
The Dixon philosophy on this is simple: successful companies are those where employees hold their heads high - not keep them down.
Let's also not forget the Bolshevik issue of party loyalty. That former boss who treated you superbly is taken out to a Gulag ("pursuing other options") and the successor arrives with an opening question about where your loyalties lie. The fact that the new manager's predecessor just happens to be godfather to one of your children is irrelevant. You have to mumble about doing whatever it takes for the good of the company.
Some are even so paranoid that to question their health is perceived as being subversive.
A comment such as "I thought the MD looked a little pale today" is considered tantamount to treason, necessitating a bout of drawing and quartering. Then we have the great communicators: individuals who always respond to those higher up the career path but feel it unnecessary to interact with anyone lower down the chain. I have always been confused by directors who, though considered intelligent strategic thinkers, appear unable to fathom that a mobile phone call can be returned by pressing the hash key.
Not too much to ask
Among this select breed are those who, though they would never agree, really ought to have a picture of Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov (aka Lenin) on their office wall. How they act today and how they acted on the way up are as polarised as Morecambe and Marbella.
In offering advice, may I return to my vacation reading? I strongly recommend the second (hedonistic) book, Blue-and-White Wizards: the Sheffield Wednesday Dream Team by Daniel Gordon (RRP £7.99) - a minority interest, but stay with me. Gordon names the two (in his opinion) most influential Sheffield Wednesday managers in the last 25 years as "Big Ron" Atkinson and "Big Jack" Charlton.
He cites a lovely story of Jack watching the team practising free kicks and the ball being sent all over Steel City. Jack takes off his hat and raincoat, puts down his fag and cup of tea, walks onto the pitch and slams the ball screaming into the top corner of goalkeeper Bob Bolder's net. Turning to the players he says: "Is that really too much to ask of you?" The players are speechless as Jack is only wearing a pair of brogues!
Everyone at the club confirmed the great contribution both managers made by highlighting the fact that the first thing they did was to encourage individuals to believe in themselves, and then believe in their identity as a team. Directors who are finding this piece uncomfortable to digest may wish to ponder this message: when did they last attempt to make team members believe in themselves?
As "wor" Jackie Charlton would say: "Is that really too much to ask of you?"
phildixoncmbii@aol.com
PS. Book three will be revealed next month.
