The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work - Alain De Botton [61]
It is evident that success in his job will ultimately depend less on anything he might do than on his relative luck in aligning his reign with auspicious currents in economic history. He is like a general on a battlefield vainly striving to maintain an appearance of control amidst the chaos of sporadically exploding munitions.
Perhaps the chairman senses my concerns. He seems to regard our interview not as a chance to impart useful information but as a perilous test of his ability to avoid saying anything which might return to haunt him – in other words, to be as boring as possible. He persists in speaking to me in the same congenial but impersonal tone he might use to address a crowd. I ask him to expound on the company’s future: ‘No one is under any illusion that we face some significant challenges. However, there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that we also have some fabulous opportunities.’ What is his ambition for his employees? ‘All of our people and partners want to be part of a winning, successful organisation, an organisation that is winning market share and is therefore growing opportunities for all of its people.’ Does he like travelling? ‘We are fortunate that we are already part of a successful global business, but we must do more to commit fully to our global organisation and the global market.’ How does his firm differ from its competitors? ‘Our people are our brand in our clients’ eyes, and a differentiated client experience can only be created through our people living our values.’
After twenty minutes of this, I am tempted to ask when he was last troubled by his bowels in a meeting. But perhaps he speaks like this not so much because he wishes to keep secrets as because years of circumnavigating the earth, breathing conditioned air and headlining conferences, have hollowed out his personality. It may have been a decade since he was left alone in a room with nothing to do. I feel my boredom turn to pity for someone who one might otherwise imagine had precious little to be pitied for.
6.
Lunchtime comes around, bearing with it a seductive smell of fried food which rises up through the atrium to the upper floors. Employees can look up the cafeteria’s specials on the intranet. Fridays feature a ‘battered catch of the day, tartar sauce and a lemon wedge’; Wednesdays are for curry; and on Thursdays there is a ‘roast with all the trimmings’. To spare prospective diners any unanticipated delay, a webcam transmits live images of the queue.
However, not everyone is able to relax over the midday meal. At the very top of the building, in a series of executive dining rooms, senior partners are embarked upon the complex task of securing millions in fees from representatives of the country’s largest enterprises, while pretending to be interested in nothing but their recent holidays and their children’s education. Although the sums at stake here are incomparably greater than the ones dealt with by ordinary retailers or telephone salespeople who beg for custom in the soiled world below, the partners have learnt to adopt the serene and detached air of doctors or university professors.
Mark, the partner lunching in the east wing, perfected his approach during a training course entitled ‘Delivery at the Client’, the aim of which was to help attendees to develop their ‘C’ skills: Confidence, Commerciality, Communication, Capability and Commitment. The course was held in a hotel at the edge of a forest outside Northampton where, during an evening session, a pair of foxes peered in through a window at Mark as he sat at a table with his paper plate and plastic cutlery, while rehearsing the proper way to eat a meal with an imaginary client.
Now there