The Cat - A Visionary Business Tale

7/30/2019 The Cat - A Visionary Business Tale

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Copyright: Charles M Lines 2005 1

A Visionary Business Tale

Charles M Lines

The Cat


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The CatOnce there was an organisation that was struggling. The Board of

Directors didnt know exactly what to do about it, but they knew they

had to do something. They thought long and hard about the problem

and decided, like a lot of organisations in trouble, that it was the fault of

the boss, the Chief Executive.

So they sacked him.

The Directors thought this was a very clever thing to do, as it then gave

them something else to do, something a little more positive. They had to

find a new Chief Executive, someone who would lead them out of their

troubles and, hopefully, into a new period of success and prosperity.

Again, the directors thought long and hard about the type of person they

wanted to lead their organisation. They created the ideal profile,

engaged recruitment firms and head hunters and eventually found and

appointed the person they wanted.

The new chief executive was young, imaginative, purposeful and a great

lover of cats - a love that had, just lately, become something of an

obsession (an obsession the organisations head hunters had failed to

pick up).

The dayFof theFfirstFmeeting with the new Chief Executive arrived. It was

to be held in the main conferencing hall of one of the better local hotels

and most of the organisations managers had been invited. Everybody

was expectant. Some people, unusually, were even quite excited. Could

this be the start of a new, golden era of success, bonuses, champagne

breakfasts and enhanced pensions (at least for some)?

The meeting started on time (noone could remember the last time this

had happened perhaps people wanted to make a good impression).

The Board and new Chief Executive, eight people in all, were seated

behind a long table on a raised dais at the far end of the hall. The rest ofthe work force was seated in neat rows, theatre style, in front of them.


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The Chairman of the Board stood up and welcomed the new Chief

Executive. The audience of managers applauded loudly. The Chief

Executive rose slowly, smiling, taking the applause and looking around

the hall. She thanked the Chairman for his warm words and began her

presentation. She presented just one slide. There was stunned silence,as everybody stared at the picture in front of them, trying to take it in.

It was a cat. A small brown, long haired tortoise shell cat in fact, with

white fir around the front of its neck, white tips on its paws and a quitelarge, for her size, thick fluffy tail. The tips of her ears were black on the

outside and pink on the inside. She looked slightly unimpressed with

things.

This organisation, the new Chief Executive said, is a cat - this cat in

fact. She then sat down and made a few notes for herself, seemingly

oblivious to the stunned silence and staring, disbelieving eyes focused

on her.

After the stunned silence, and when everybody realised that the Chief

Executive was not going to say anything else, but just sit in her seat and

make notes (actually they were not notes but sketches of various types

of cat), a general murmuring began which very quickly turned into

concerned and puzzled discussions and then into quite loud, emotional

shouting and arguing. What had the organisation done? Had they

saddled themselves with a mad Chief Executive? Would they have to pay

her off? Pay her no doubt very hefty psychiatric bills? Was she justmaking fun of them in a very unpleasant, mocking way? Or, as one or

two people had started to suggest, was she testing them using some

sort of cunning, diabolical management technique? Everyone became

very quiet and reflective thinking.

Most of the Board members, looking and feeling distinctly ill, took this

opportunity to make a quick exit from the dais and conference hall.

Then, gradually, those still present began to turn and look at the cat.

And the cat looked back, still looking slightly unimpressed.


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Someone, un-typically for him, at least whilst at work, felt a wave of

emotion and bravery and walked up to the Chief Executive, who was still

busy drawing her cats. Why do you think this organisation is a cat, he

said. The Chief Executive stopped drawing and looked down from her

dais. Her expression was slightly distracted, even puzzled. Not any cat,she said earnestly, that particular cat up there. What sort of cat do you

think it is? The man who had asked the question took a step back and

gaped up at the picture on the screen. There were further murmurings

and one or two audible requests for men in white coats, straight jackets,

an ambulance that sort of thing. Although by now no one was quite

clear about who needed them the most: The Chief Executive? The

people who had employed her? Everybody else? Perhaps everyone was

suffering from mass delusion and hysteria!

The noise levels in the meeting room began to rise again. Some voicesbegan to take on an edge of panic, Were doomed, said one,

buggered, said another. A slow stream of people started to make off

for the bar area. Some people just collapsed or slumped on the spot.

One or two began to walk menacingly towards the Chief Executive on

her dais.

The man who had asked the question thought for a moment (his name

was Barney and he was Deputy Under Manager of Procurement at the

Warrington Office not part of the main concern at all). He then clearedhis throat, which had begun to feel rather dry, and said in a loud voice,

Wait! We need to deal with this, not just give up or get angry. One or

two people looked back towards him on their way to the bar; a few of

those who had slumped raised their heads a bit, listening. Those walking

towards the dais stopped and turned towards him, reluctantly.

Barney continued, We have this hall booked for the day. Weve got

problems we need to sort out. Lets use this time to do just that not to

just feel sorry for ourselves or let off steam.


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A few people just shrugged and continued towards the bar, a few

stopped, turned and walked towards Barney. Some slumped people sat

up a bit more. Those who had been walking towards the dais muttered

that they did intend to do something.

The Chief Executive looked up from her drawing, looked at Barney,

looked at everybody else and seemed genuinely bemused by what was

happening. She stood up and said in a loud voice, Look, if you dont

think its this cat which cat do you think it is? Do you even think its a

cat? She looked up at the cat and smiled.

One or two people edged nearer to the dais, malice in their eyes.

An older gentleman, wishing to distract people from any

unpleasantness, stood up and said in a calm, well spoken voice, Well,

being as weve entered the twilight zone and normal rules of sanity have

been suspended, I wish to say that I dont think our organisation is a cat

at all. I think its more like a donkey, hard working but stubborn, set in

its ways.

One or two other people, also sensing the atmosphere of latent

aggression and wishing to smother it, said that they quite liked the catidea. They even asked the Chief Executive if they could have a picture of

it to take home. It would be quite a nice picture to hang up over the

fireplace or put in the hallway. They thought it a bit like their jobs in fact,

nice to have around as long as it didnt get in the way or clash with

things too much. (The cats unimpressed expression seemed to grow

somehow.)

Barney listened to what people were saying, thought for a moment,

looked imploringly at the Chief Executive who had gone back to drawingher cats, and looked at the people now starting to crowd around and

press against the dais. He straightened himself up, took a deep breath

and said, so that everybody in the room could hear, Were desperate,

the organisations desperate, Im becoming increasingly desperate, but

for the first time in years were feeling real feelings and even talking to

each other. However difficult it may seem to carry on with this perhaps

we should, perhaps itll lead us somewhere, somewhere different, even

better.


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Why the hell not! a middle aged woman in a bright red trouser suit

shouted from the side of the room. May as well do something rather

than nothing, she continued. It isnt as if Im snowed under with work

at the moment. Lets talk about cats and donkeys. Better than talking

about nothing or trashing the place. By the way, I think thisorganisations more like a sheep placid - stupid and easily led! There

were a few half hearted bleats of dissent.

Agatha, the name of the middle aged woman, looked long, hard and

meaningfully at the new Chief Executive, searching for some kind of

response, but one didnt come she just kept drawing her cats. She had,

in fact, found some brightly coloured crayons in her briefcase and was

using them to colour in her sketches.

Look, lets formalise this a bit, Barney said somewhat nervously.

Formalise! some people scoffed back at him, others doing a double

take and stifling a few muffled laughs. Take talk of donkeys, cats and

sheep seriously? He must be joking!

Barney became suddenly self-conscious, looked down at the floor and

shuffled his feet a bit. Lost for words, he felt sweat start to travel down

his temples. But Agatha intervened, Yes, why not! Lets get into groupsand talk about the animal we think this organisation is and what animal

wed like it to be, she said half mockingly. She then continued by

almost spitting the words as long as its not cats! at the Chief Executive.

That should get us to lunch at least and I do not intend to miss that.

Could be the only good thing about the day, Agatha concluded.

Nobody seemed particularly keen on the idea, those pressing around the

dais looked positively disappointed, but they did it anyway. At least they

would get a good lunch (and they would only get into trouble if they losttheir tempers). Everybody split into small groups and duly talked about

the organisation and what sort of animal it was and what sort of animal

it should be. It was hard going and very difficult to take seriously, but

lunch and the threat of even worse things happening drove them on.

Some people agreed that the organisation was currently a sheep, others

that it was a donkey, some thought it was a wild boar - out of control

and slightly if not totally mad. Some people, very few, suggested that the

organisation was like a gold fish, cockle or some other form of mollusc,

but they, sad to say, were generally ignored.


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Very, very gradually and despite their first reactions and some peoples

best efforts at sabotage, the groups began to get caught up in the

arguments. They even, surprisingly and despite the enticing smells

emanating from the restaurant, missed their sit down lunch, having

sandwiches sent in instead.

Interestingly, the only person who had the lunch originally planned was

the Chief Executive, who had a nice piece of fresh plaice seasoned with

lemon juice and served with potatoes and peas. The Board members

who had disappeared earlier also failed to materialise for lunch,

probably thinking that they would be added to the menu list.

About mid afternoon Agatha (she had been with the company 20 years

and was just beginning to think she had never had so much fun)

suggested that they all got back together to share their views in the

main conference hall. They all trooped into the main hall. Barney,

walking next to Agatha, felt very relieved that he no longer had to do too

much, but also very glad that he had done what he had (for once he

would have something interesting to tell people about his work).

The Chief Executive had returned to the dais after her lunch (she

obviously felt comfortable there) and the cat was still staring down fromthe screen. The Chief Executive, however, was no longer drawing cats;

she was miming one very well in fact.

The gathering of managers looked up at her sadly and then proceeded to

share their ideas. But they found that however hard they tried they

could not agree upon what type of animal their organisation was, or get

anywhere near agreeing what type of animal they thought it should be.

The discussion really got quite heated. Some people even suspected

others of not agreeing so that they could stay at the hotel for an extranight and claim more travel and subsistence expenses. A claim very hotly

disputed but thought, on the quiet by some, to be quite a good idea.

After an hour or so five main factions presented themselves: those that

thought the organisation was a boar and should stay that way; those

that thought it was a donkey and should become a thoroughbred

racehorse; those that thought it was a sheep and should become a

sheepdog; those that thought it was a cat and the one on the screen was

as good as any to aspire to; and those that had lost all sense of reason


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and had begun to make paper hats and other miscellaneous shapes out

of spare bits of paper to be found lying around the meeting room.

They spoke on past the scheduled end of the day. They even decided to

agree to disagree about what type of animal the organisation currentlywas, concentrating instead upon the animal the organisation wanted to

be, but they still could not make progress the boar faction were

particularly intransigent in this regard.

Then, on the stroke of midnight, with a significant number of people

clutching their temples nursing headaches, the Chief Executive curled up

into a ball under the table on the dais, and even more people beginning

to see the attraction of making paper hats, a slim young woman with

long black hair and wearing gothic makeup, a long figure hugging black

dress and black stilettos stood up.

She got about two thirds of the halls attention straight away and

carefully cleared her throat to get the rest. When all heads were turned

towards her she said in a smooth contralto voice, We are not a specific

species; we are a more general type of animal; we are a four legged

mammal that in most instances has a tail, but the tail part can be

negotiable in extreme circumstances. What we want to be is the best

four - legged mammal that has ever existed, one that encompasses all

the best characteristics of all the animals we have spoken about and

many, many more.

There was a fairly long, thoughtful, reflective silence and then

spontaneous, relieved applause that grew and grew until it became

cheering. The young woman in the gothic outfit (Judith from the

Sunderland Office) was hoisted up onto shoulders. The boar faction

squealed and grunted for joy. The donkey people became

thoroughbreds galloping around the hall. The sheep/sheepdog

supporters stopped following and began leading the celebrations. The

cat faction sat back on its haunches, looking satisfied rather than

unimpressed. Even some of the people making paper hats and


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ornaments put them to one side for a moment (although they did find

this difficult and kept glancing back at them uncertainly).

When the dust had settled six months or so later and people were back

at work making their organisation the best four legged mammal ever,people remembered their new Chief Executive with affection. She was

so well thought of that the organisation had agreed to pay her ongoing

sanatorium expenses for the rest of her life if necessary (with business

booming they could afford it).

Now, on entering the main HQ, recently relocated to the Warrington

Office, visitors see four pictures on the wall behind the new, state of the

art reception area: one of a strong, young, fit wild boar rushing through

a forest; one of an intelligent looking sheepdog at work; one of a

thoroughbred racehorse winning a race; and one of a small brown, long

haired tortoise shell cat looking mildly unimpressed. Under each picture

are the words:

We aspire to be the best four legged mammal that has ever existed.

Some people think this is very silly, as the pictures and the words have

nothing whatsoever to do with what the organisation does. It makes nosense to them.

Ah well, the organisation has a tradition, it sends these people very nice

paper hats for Christmas.

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The Cat - A Visionary Business Tale