The Art of Mentoring

by Shirley Peddy

  To the left of the Administration Building, standing in the middle of a grassy area with stone benches, were two flag poles, one flying the American flag, the other, the Lone Star flag of Texas. Beneath the Texas flag was a green and white TYH flag. To the left of the flag poles was a large replica of a thermometer bearing the news that TYH was moving toward seventy percent of its United Way goal.

  I entered the building through the glass doors and found myself in a small reception area and lobby. Charlie had left word to expect me and when the receptionist called his office, he was there in under five minutes, carrying a green windbreaker. “This is the latest in office wear,” he grinned. On the front was the TYH logo. On the back was the motto: “High Quality Products For a High Quality Life.” “If you make the whole tour, and you tell me you’ve never had better barbecue, Rachel, you’ll go home with one just like it. In fact, I’ll throw in a couple of ‘gimme’ caps for Paul and Brad.”

  “So you’ve guessed, I can be bribed.” We both laughed.

  We started off the tour in the main building, which housed administration, along with offices for personnel, safety, training, and maintenance. There was a lunch room with kitchen facilities, a large meeting room, and a small conference room. I was struck by the startling difference between the atmosphere here and that of the downtown offices. A bulletin board in the coffee room was brimming over with cartoons, family pictures and personal advertisements from people who wanted to give away kittens, sell cars and boats, or find furniture and housing. As we walked down the hall, people emerged from their offices to be introduced or to tell Charlie something. Even more important, I heard laughter. “Okay, Charlie, I give up. What have you done to make such a difference?” I asked.

  “Not me, it’s them,” he said smiling. “And distance, most of all distance.”

  The main building had wings on either side. On the left side was a To Your Health retail store. We walked in, and I was pleasantly surprised by how busy it was. Some customers were checking out, their baskets loaded with vitamins, minerals and other health care products. I saw several people at the shelves, reading labels and others looking for specific items. There were three TYH employees there: one at the check out stand and two assisting customers to locate particular products. “Is it always this busy?” I wondered.

  “Almost,” said Charlie. “This store does very well.”

  “Why did management want to close it?”

  “They were closing everything else. There gets to be a rhythm to it.”

  “You fought to keep it open, didn’t you?”

  “I had to. One of the greatest satisfactions people from the plant and the lab get is coming in here and seeing their customers–close up. See that woman over there, the one with the baby and toddler? Well, that’s why we’re so dedicated to quality. Sometimes I go over to the plant and encourage the supervisors to send people over here just to remind them. On slow days in the plant, the supervisors often get employees to work a day shift here. It’s good for them.” I could see why Charlie was so effective at what he did. He understood how to make the important connections for people.

  Our next stop was the lab which occupied the right wing of the building. It was bustling, and big signs announced only forty-four days left before the introduction of a new product line. There seemed to be almost an air of celebration there, and I was eager to tell Mr. Kennedy that “the news of TYH’s death” hadn’t reached this group of dedicated people.

  Finally, Charlie took me through the plant, and I was impressed by the efficient and sparkling clean facilities as well as the quiet hum of activity. No wonder Mr. Rothstein had invited me to see for myself. I asked Charlie how often company management came from headquarters to visit the plant. “A little too often,” he grinned.

  Using a Network

  Later, when Charlie and I were having lunch at Red Barron’s Barbecue, he asked me what was on my mind. I told him I missed the brightness of the offices at PWE. I loved flowers and pictures and found they lifted my spirits. I thought TYH headquarters offices had a very cold and sterile look. The marketing area certainly didn’t inspire me, and I wanted to do something about it. I had heard he understood how the “system” works at TYH. I was looking for budgeted money. Here was my dilemma—I wanted to do some decorating, but I didn’t want Human Resources to make decisions about what we could and couldn’t do.

  “I don’t think you’ll have a problem with Lily,” Charlie said, speaking of the Human Resources Manager.

  “Maybe not,” I responded, “but somehow, Charlie, I think it’s important that we stand up. I get the feeling everyone downtown is in a prone position. There’s a defeated attitude there, and I thought a minor rebellion of sorts might shake things up a bit. I don’t want to create a revolution though. That’s why I’m talking to you before forging ahead.”

  He nodded his understanding and suggested we go back to his office where he kept “all the confidential info.” It took less than five minutes for Charlie to find the answer.

  “If you were permanent, you’d have $3,500 to spend on your office.”

  “I am permanent,” I said grinning, “just not permanently here.”

  “Next question.”

  “What about the marketers? Is there money for decorating their offices?”

  “You’d have to get that out of the Department’s budget.”

  “I guess that means a visit with Accounting, right?” he nodded. “Okay, Charlie, here’s where you come in. If you were looking for a ‘friendly person,’ someone in Accounting who gives advice and isn’t intimidated by the ‘picture police,’ who would you call?”

  “That’s easy. Ron Corbin. He’s Assistant Controller. When I need to understand what leeway I have or chat with a good financial counselor, he’s the one I call. In fact, Ron keeps me working. I have to earn enough to pay the ten dollars I usually lose to him at our Thursday night poker games. Would you like me to call and tell him he needs to meet a friend of mine?”

  I happily accepted Charlie’s offer knowing that his good opinion would help me start the discussion with Corbin off in the right direction. Then we talked about Gayle’s replacement. I told him I had three candidates, but I was leaning toward one in particular. Before I made a decision, I wondered if he knew any of them. He looked through the three folders offered by HR as possible replacements for Gayle. “The rational choice might be Robert,” he said, pointing to the folder of my top candidate from Distribution. “However, if you’re not looking for a Stuart Kennedy sound-alike, you might be more interested in my first choice, Justin Graves from Human Resources.”

  Charlie told me Graves was a twenty-six year old who had started at one of the TYH retail stores in Houston. When the store became franchised, he had transferred to the Personnel Department in Sugar Land. That’s where Charlie had met him. While he didn’t know Justin very well, the encounters they had had were pleasant and friendly. “He’s an intelligent young man with a great personality. He’ll do fine in Marketing, Rachel,” he told me. Two years ago, Lily Sheldon had transferred Justin into Headquarters HR. “The word is, he’s got a bright future,” Charlie told me. “I’m looking at him for a job in the plant after he’s had some marketing exposure, so you’d be doing me a favor.” The third candidate, Mary Simms, was a possible candidate too, but I noticed Charlie sounded a bit lukewarm about her. Friendly, personable and shy is the way he described her. The Marketers would have her for lunch.

  It was a little after two when I got back to TYH Headquarters, carrying one green jacket and two caps. There were several call slips on my desk. One was from Lily Sheldon, the HR Manager, probably concerning the candidate folders on my desk. Another was from Ron Corbin, the Assistant Controller, and more important, a friend of Charlie’s. Those were two pleasant distractions from the 3:30 appointment I was not looking forward to. I promised myself I would return both calls later, but my most important task was to get ready for Stuart.

  Conflicting Agen
das

  Whenever I have something really sensitive to do, I like to think about what I want to accomplish. I didn’t think either Stuart or I were ready for a “cut to the chase” meeting. That would probably happen soon, but we both had ground work to do. The purpose of this meeting was to (1) get better acquainted, (2) explain my role, including Elroy’s charge to me, and (3) get Stu’s assessment of what was happening or not happening in Marketing. With such a reasonable agenda, I felt we could begin to make some progress.

  Promptly at 3:30 we met in the small conference room. We greeted each other and shook hands solemnly like two diplomats preparing for a strategic negotiation. The first five minutes were spent in small talk. How was his weekend? Did I have a good trip? What did he do last weekend? How were things in Oakville? Then, almost as if the bell had rung and we had dispensed with the formalities, Stuart jumped in.

  He’d been thinking about my questions regarding why Marketing was in the doldrums and had come up with a plan. It involved his travelling to Oklahoma and Louisiana as well as San Antonio and Austin to visit “old” customers. Then he would go to Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia to develop new business. While he was in Georgia, he thought he might take a side trip to Oakville and perhaps, with my help, meet Elroy Grant and see PWE, which was now, after all, his home company.

  As he spoke, I saw my carefully planned agenda disintegrating before my eyes. “Okay,” I thought,” let’s head off in this direction for awhile.” I asked him to go back to the first part of the plan. What did he expect to accomplish? He replied, he wanted to get better acquainted with customers. How long did he expect such a trip to take? He thought about two weeks, give or take. Then we turned to the second part. I wondered if he had thought about which businesses to solicit. From his response, I gathered he hadn’t gotten that far yet. But still, it wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, it was the first plan I had heard anyone come up with yet. It’s just that I wasn’t sure whose problem he was trying to solve: TYH’s or his. In any case, I thought his idea deserved a fair hearing—so I asked him to put a brief proposal in writing. Now I’ve known many a manager who did that as a means of stalling. That wasn’t what I was doing. I’m a person who likes to think things through. That means if someone, anyone, demands an immediate answer from me, it’s almost always no. On the other hand, this might turn out to be a good plan, and a carefully thought out proposal would help it along.

  Stuart didn’t see it that way. In fact, I could tell he was plainly irritated. He said, “We are in sales aren’t we?”

  “Of course, we are,” I responded. I was not opposed, I wanted him to know. In fact, I believed meeting with customers would pay off. It was just that I felt these trips would require some coordination. I also felt others on the team would want to be included. I asked him to get everyone together to talk it over. Visibly annoyed and shaking his head, he started to leave.

  “Wait a minute Stuart,” I said, still seated. “I hope you don’t think I’m trying to frustrate you. I want to help in any way I can.”

  He turned back toward me. “Then don’t be a roadblock,” he replied. “That’s the trouble with this place. Too many people saying no.” He left.

  I sat there for a full five minutes sorting through my thoughts. Had I been too rigid, too demanding? I had a problem with his attitude, and he had a problem with mine. Should we have had it out, right then and there? I had no reason to doubt myself, but there was something about Stuart that left me feeling frustrated and guilty. It’s as if he had somehow shifted the burden of his problems to me, and something in me had been all too willing to accept them.

  I left my concerns in the conference room and returned to my office to call Lily Sheldon. The decision on filling Gayle’s job was not yet made, I told her. First, I was going to consult with Tom Gaines. When she learned I was leaning toward Justin Graves, she expressed surprise, reminding me that the Distribution candidate, Robert Darman, had more qualifications in Marketing. I asked her if there might be a problem if I chose Graves, and she quickly assured me there would not be. She had included him because she knew him to be interested in Marketing. He’d been a very high performer in Human Resources, she told me, and she really hated to let him go. “I understand,” I responded. “He sounds like someone we’d be interested in.” I promised to call the next day.

  I was starting to dial Charlie’s friend, Ron Corbin when I heard a booming voice just outside my door. “Look what I’ve got for you, Rachel,” said Tom Gaines holding up two steaming cups of coffee. I instantly abandoned my telephone call in favor of a friendly face.

  “I thought you weren’t coming back today,” I said.

  “Changed my mind. And here I am,” he said offering one of the cups to me. “It’s fresh,” he added, “and you need it.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you look up tight,” he replied.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Your jaw is set, your shoulders are almost up to your ears, and besides, I saw Stu leave the conference room about half an hour ago. He didn’t seem like a happy camper to me, so I went out looking for the wounded.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, but he wagged his index finger back and forth and smiled.

  “Don’t tell that to Dr. Tom. He knows all, sees all, and says nothing—usually, but you’re a pretty nice person, Rachel, and I’m sure you feel as if you’ve walked into a nest of vipers. Kind of like an Indiana Jones story. Lots of adventure and you don’t know what you’re going to run into around the next corner.”

  I laughed. It was easy to see why people were taken with Tom. “Stuart wants to make a road trip, but before he goes, I just want to be sure what the lines are between yours, his, and Katy’s territories. I’m all for visiting, but I’m hoping the results will be there. So this isn’t a stop sign, just a caution light. Anyway, Stuart is going to get everyone together to work something out.”

  “Thanks for that, Rachel,” said Tom. “I’m not keen on having Stu, or anyone else for that matter, visit my customers.”

  “Speaking of customers,” I said, “Charlie tells me you are world class at bringing in new business.”

  “Did he now?” asked Tom. “And did he also tell you it’s been a while?”

  “Has it?” I asked as if I were unaware. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” said Tom, “and that’s the problem.” He got up as if to leave.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Sometimes I can be a bit thick but I just don’t get it.”

  “We still on for tomorrow?”

  “Yes, at nine.”

  “We’ll talk about it then. Right now, you need to relax and enjoy your coffee. Trust me. Dr. Tom always knows best.”

  “Bye Dr. Tom,” I said to his retreating back.

  He turned, just for a moment. “See you,” he said smiling.

  To: egrant@pwe.net

  From: Rachel@pwe.net

  Mirror images: Houston and Sugar Land. One is formal, stiff and over-managed; the other, a study in leadership. I am continuously amazed at the impact a warm, open style has on people.

  Rachel

  To: Rachel@pwe.net

  From: egrant@pwe.net

  Why do you think I sent you there?

  Elroy

  CHAPTER 7

  Generating

  Enthusiasm and

  Energy

  The three great requirements for a happy life are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.

  — Joseph Addison

  Oakville, Georgia. Last night as I slept I returned to TYH and those absurd white walls. In my dream I gave every one of the Marketing Group a handful of Magic Markers in assorted bright colors and asked them to put graffiti all over the walls. Justin drew a big red clock and Katy was working on a rainbow. We were all having a grand time drawing pictures, writing, laughing and joking when Lily Sheldon, dressed in a policeman’s uniform showed up. She was swinging one of those billy clubs like a keys
tone cop and shouting, “Put those markers down, put them down.” But we ignored her and kept drawing. Then she took out a whistle and began blowing in shrill ear-piercing sounds.”

  I was startled by four paws landing in the middle of my abdomen. Chula, our tiny blue Chihuahua had jumped on the bed, and Billy, our handsome black and white one was scratching and whining to get up. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar. Paul hurried in. “Did my whistle wake you? I wanted to let you sleep, but they made a beeline for the bedroom. You must have stayed up late last night.”

  “I did,” I confessed. “I was dreaming about TYH and particularly about the walls. I think it was the letter that brought it all back.”

  Rachel, when you get an idea, it’s fun to stand back and watch. You’re an artist at making things happen. In fact, I think your specialty must be jostling people out of their complacency.

  It’s funny how vividly you can recall certain events in your life. I remember the day after my trip to visit Charlie in Sugar Land. I was energized by what was going on at the plant—and particularly intrigued by how much difference that setting was from the one I had encountered at TYH headquarters.

  Thursday morning started with my regular visit to the coffee room. Judy had already made the coffee, and when I start to point out to her that I was going to do that, she smiled. “I like to make it. Then I can be sure there’s the right amount of coffee and water. I’m very particular.” Properly chastened, I decided she wanted me to drop the subject, and so, after filling my cup, I returned to my office and called Ron Corbin.

  Funding the “Wall Rebellion”

  We exchanged small talk about TYH in general and Charlie in particular. Finally, Ron brought up the subject. “I understand you’re looking for money.”