Bemused is, I think, the best word to describe
how I felt. Most other people within the
company gave their impression of headless chickens, panicking and worrying about
what had happened to Richard. The three
service managers withdrew to their offices and refused to speak to anyone,
everything was now double top secret hush hush.
No one knew why Richard had been fired, but dismissed he had been. Rumours abounded about what was happening
next and who would take over steering the ship.
All we knew was that someone new had been put in as boss in Manchester
and for a week or two Richard had not controlled the Manchester operation.
This was good for the company, I felt, because he
was playing scrabble with the service managers.
Guys from the Liverpool operation were being asked to manage houses and
teams in Manchester, without knowing anything about the people they were supporting,
the associated teams and of course the local infrastructure. It was plain to see that Richard thought that
a manager could manage wherever, and they probably could, but there was still a
huge piece missing from the equation.
The new person in Manchester had been a gossip feature ever since she
arrived, but for me something more important was happening. NWCS was a private company owned by two individuals. Because social services were still ultimately
responsible for the people supported they, so we were told, had stepped in,
told the owners that they were putting a new senior management team in place or
else the company was to be closed.
This was a believable and acceptable scenario. So how now could the owners turn around and fire
Richard? All we knew is that it had
something to do with the new person in Manchester. Many of the team leaders would have worn
sackcloth and ashes given half the chance, they were all so sorry to see
Richard depart, especially the born again Christians. I hope you all don’t think too badly of me
but I saw an opportunity. Richard still
had his other job as a highly paid consultant, and with his reputation wouldn’t
be hanging around at home for too long. The
corridors were quiet, people kept themselves to themselves. The gossip soon moved from having Richard as
the focus to the new person in Manchester, Delia.
It would also appear that the two owners had a
different interviewing technique than Richard, no ten minute presentation or practical
scenario for prospective candidates there, not even an application form. It might also have been a little difficult to
give a ten minute presentation in the back of a car. Rumour control had it that the new person, Delia,
had been interviewed in a car park in Manchester and had subsequently been
given the job of running the Manchester operation. All we knew about Delia was that she had been
a senior nurse at the Calderstones mental asylum. She had also been the lead person responsible
for placing all the people supported by NWCS in the actual community. The whole thing stank to high heaven of back
scratching and returned favours, which you may think would annoy me, but it didn’t.
I could see that the two guys who owned the company
were not that interested in the welfare of the people supported they were only
interested in the cash at the end of the year.
There was nothing any of us could do but wait and see what happened. The small clique who had always ran the company
were now getting their heads together and putting people in positions. I assume there was no scientific management
technique, lauded by Richard, that would be used in this process. Nothing could be done or said to effect what
was happening, everything would be determined by your past performance. For me the opportunity of moving up to
service manager was the best that could happen so fingers and everything else
was crossed and locked in place.
I was asked to report to the Manchester office,
which I did, all I was told was that Delia wanted to meet me. Garry had been put in charge, on a temporary
basis, in Liverpool, meaning that there was a vacancy in the Liverpool office
for service manager. I didn’t need to be
wasting time in Manchester I needed to be in Liverpool getting that service manager
position for myself. I have to admit that
I didn’t take to Manchester, Liverpool to me was a warm welcoming place but Manchester
was just a collection of houses and buildings.
I reported to a day centre and met Delia.
There had just been a meeting for the team leaders so the place was full
of people. I was given a mug of coffee
and shown in to Delia.
Her name was Delia Murphy; she was surrounded by
little plastic dolls of Our Lady of Sorrow and Jesus. On the wall beside her desk were prayers and
poems, images of Christ and other Holy icons.
I immediately knew not to trust her.
She was at pains to tell me that she was Irish, like me. Whereas I had wanted Richard to meet me toe
to toe as an Irishman, Delia seemed to be going over the top to secure my trust
or friendship. Delia now asked if I
would be interested in becoming a service manager for her in Manchester. I believe it is what you call a sticky
wicket. Was I really being no different than
Joe had been, was I just in the right place at the right time? I knew the people in Liverpool, not just the
staff but the people we supported. I didnt
know anybody in Manchester.
Delia wasn’t interviewing me, she had made
inquiries and it was understood by those in power in Liverpool that I should
have been given the service manager job.
I had only been a team leader for ten months and I was being offered a
guaranteed position as service manager.
I could return to Liverpool, turn down the Manchester offer and fight
half a dozen other team leaders for the job in Liverpool. Knowing that the recruitment and selection
procedures used by NWCS were as scientific as flipping a coin I accepted Delia’s
offer. We shook hands and she told me
that I would be starting the following Monday morning at nine o clock. Had this happened to anyone else, for example
the way Delia had been given her position or even Richard for that matter I may
have raised a concern but now that it was happening to me I knew it was the
correct method of selection. These people
really knew what they were doing.
I returned to Liverpool and knew that I would
have to leave my four houses in worthy hands so that the guys supported
continued to receive a good service. I went
to see Garry who was now running the Liverpool operation. I explained that I had two people in mind that
I wanted promoted to team leader to take over the houses that I managed in
Liverpool. Garry had been sitting at
Richards lap for far too long and insisted that the people I recommended could
be put forward and he would consider them, but there were other people that Garry
might want to put in to the mix. For my
new house I had chosen a woman, Linda. She
was a married girl, mid-thirties, and could do the job with her eyes closed;
everyone liked her which was a good start. She had a small tattoo on her wrist
so I had always called her my biker chick.
I had a meeting with her and asked if she would
like to take the job. She was excited
and said yes. I explained that I would
have to submit a report along with her application but I would also do whatever
else I could to make sure that she got the job.
Not only did she deserve it she would be good at it to. Not as good as me, but then there never will be
anyone as good as me. Jimmy and Andrew were
special cases to me. I cared about them
and knew that the only fellow who could really take over would be Tony, the big
black fellow from Bootle. The unfortunate
thing is that there were two other chaps on the team who would have made good team
leaders, I felt that I was letting them down but I decided that I would write reports suggesting that
they be considered for any new team leader position that might come up. I felt it was the best that I could do for
them.
I took Tony to one side and sat him down. I explained that I was putting him forward
for the team leader slot. I further
explained that I was putting in a report that would support his application and
that together we could make sure he got the job. Tony seemed to be a little reluctant and I was
concerned. He began talking to me and
explained that although he was pleased that I was putting him forward he didn’t
want to let me down and would prefer it if I withdrew his application. This didn’t make sense to me so I pushed further
with my questioning. Tony explained that
he didn’t want to embarrass me, that it was all very nice for me to support him,
but there was something in his past that would hold him back. Something I knew nothing about but which
would hold him back forever.
Tony and myself had spent many a night trying to
drink each other under a public house table in Bootle and even one memorable evening
in my private club in Bootle and I was surprised that something this big could
be lurking in his past. I pressed him to
tell me what it was and he said that he had once had a problem with customs. He had been caught with some marijuana once
and there had been a police report and a customs report about it. I laughed at him and asked if he had been
stopped by the police and customs at the airport with a couple of joints in his
pocket. It’s not every day that someone
tells you they were arrested and jailed for four years for smuggling six tons
of marijuana into Liverpool. I drove
away having convinced Tony that it really didn’t matter, it was all in the
past, he had paid his dues and he knew it.
But that’s what niggled me, I was surrounded by all these people and I didn’t
really know any of them. Told you at the
start of this piece, bemused, that’s how I felt, and it wouldn’t be long before
that turned in to the old song, Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.
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