The Art of Mentoring

by Shirley Peddy

  I appreciated his directness and told him so. “This place looks like a morgue, and you can’t separate the sleeping from the dead in this environment.”

  He laughed and said he agreed, noting he was generally oblivious to his surroundings. He told me I had $3,500 to spend adding, “What about the person who follows you? He may not like your choice of art.”

  “I think that person, whoever it is, would rather find some energy in the people here than worry about wall decorations. If I can’t square it with him or her, I’ll see what else can be done.”

  “Next question.”

  “But can I spend that money anywhere on walls? I mean, does it actually have to be in a specific office area?”

  “Strange question. I guess it’s up to you to define what your office area is.”

  “My problem is $3,500 isn’t quite enough. We’ve got seven offices, so I’d need roughly $7,000, that is, counting the $3500, and that’s minimal. So where else in the budget can I get more money for decorating?”

  “Have you talked with Lily? ”

  “Is she the only one who can release funds, or is she the resident decorator?”

  “Neither one. I just don’t know whether the orders have changed around here about what goes on the wall.”

  “I understand. Do me a favor, Ron,” I said, “I don’t want to know what the orders were, so please feel free not to tell me.”

  “You got it.” He added, “I’ve looked at your budget, and I think you could squeeze another $2,500 out of it. By the way, have you checked out the warehouse? There’s some stuff there, and it mightn’t hurt to be sure there’s nothing there you could use.”

  “How do I know it doesn’t belong to someone?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t worry. If people haven’t claimed it by now, they’ve lost title.” When I asked him how to get there, he suggested I get Judy to call Betty Lee, Altis’ administrative assistant. “She has the keys.”

  “One more question about money. If I need more, should I plan a bake sale or is there a bucket buried somewhere?”

  Ron laughed. “How are your chocolate chip cookies?”

  “Thanks Ron,” I told him, “I’ll pull out my recipe book. Seriously, I want you to understand that I’m not planning on starting a revolution around here. It’s just that sometimes some minor civil disobedience can help wake people up. This sound minor enough to you?”

  He laughed. “It does, but don’t take that as my giving you permission. I’ve heard Altis will be leaving one of these days, but until he does, I’m covering myself. By the way, call me when you get the pictures up. I might bring my troops around to take a look. Who knows. Your minor civil disobedience might result in the beautification of our area as well.”

  After we hung up, I talked to Judy about the project. She offered to visit the warehouse and report on the quality of what was available. If it was worth a field trip after that, she’d let me know. At nine, I heard noise outside my door. It was Tom. He and Roger, one of the mail clerks, were roaring with laughter. Minutes later, he was at the door. “You want to meet in here or in the conference room?” he asked.

  “Your choice.”

  “I’m not afraid of the lion’s den,” said Tom. “Let’s talk here.” I came around my desk and we sat facing each other in the blue guest chairs.

  Tom shared a couple of jokes that had passed the “Roger test.” “If he likes them, I tell them to everyone. If he doesn’t, they go in the trash. Roger has a sensitive ear.”

  “They passed the Rachel test, as well,” I told him. Then it was down to business.

  Did I really want to understand what was going on at TYH, he wondered.

  I said I did.

  He asked me how much I knew about the last five years at TYH, and I told him Charlie and Lucien had both filled me in on the general outline. Where my interest now lay was in what had happened in Marketing.

  Tom’s Story: The Salary System’s Negative Impact on Marketers

  So he told me. What I heard was that each change sent shock waves through the company. The Marketers were entrepreneurs, and the old TYH as run by Griff celebrated their success. The more you produced, the higher the rewards were. Then Altis decided to remove commissions and put everyone on a salary. Coming from a financial background, he reasoned the certainty of a moderate rate of pay would be far more attractive than taking a risk for higher rewards. The new system was incredible. Part of the marketer’s salary included a one to ten percent bonus provided he reached an ever-moving sales target; so basically, he was paid ninety percent of his projected salary and had to scramble for the rest. This new salary system had removed the impetus for most of the group to perform at their highest level. (This was my introduction to TYH’s salary system. I was to understand even more about its impact as time went on.) Then I asked, “What about you?”

  Tom, the Challenge of Motivation at the End of a Career

  “I guess when I turned fifty-two, Rachel, I looked around, noticed some of friends were having heart attacks, and decided it wasn’t that many years before I’d be leaving. So I said, what the heck.”

  “I can understand that, Tom, but in some ways you’re shortchanging yourself. I don’t have any idea how long you plan to work, and it’s none of my business. It’s just that even three years is a long time to coast, especially for someone with your talent.”

  There was a silence. “So what can I do for you?”

  I smiled. “Glad you asked. I need some advice. We’re going to fill Gayle’s position. Did you know that?” He nodded. “I have great respect for your knowledge and experience, Tom. You’re a born salesman, and you know what it takes to be successful. There are several candidates for the job. One comes with a Marketing degree and is in Distribution. The other doesn’t have those credentials. He has a background in HR and has worked in our retail business and at Sugar Land.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I have heard the Distribution person might be a bit cynical. I haven’t met him, but this is what I’ve heard, and I trust my source. The HR candidate has a reputation for being a team player, but I’d like to hear how much weight you’d give to the credentials and how much to the personality.”

  “Ideally you’d like to find someone with both. I’d say it’s a toss-up, boss, but if it were me, here’s how I would analyze it. You can teach anyone to sell, but you can’t change personalities overnight.”

  “That’s basically what I’m hearing from Charlie too. Do you know Justin Graves?”

  “Sure. He’s on the company softball team with me. I didn’t know Lily would let him go. Human Resources has designs on him.”

  “From what I understand, so does Charlie.”

  “If it were me, I’d bring him on. He’d be great.”

  “Well, there’s more. Don’t tell me right now, if you think the answer might be no. Tom, would you be willing to take Justin around with you, teach him to sell?”

  “You mean for a week or so?”

  “No, I mean until he’s good—really good—as long as that takes. It could be one month; it might be three months, whatever you think!”

  Tom frankly admitted he was intrigued with the idea of teaming up, just as long as he could decide how intense the association would be and how long it would last. I asked and received permission to add an amendment. He and Justin would make that decision, together. So, it was agreed. I had my reasons for asking Tom. He was good—the best, and Justin could learn a lot from him. At the same time, I believed that Tom could benefit from a fresh perspective.

  And then there was the matter of a legacy. One of the most important things that happens at the tail end of most careers is the person begins to consider what part of himself he wants to leave behind. This is not an unusual thing to do. A number of good friends near retirement have reported this phenomenon: One day you’re doing your job. The next, you’re picturing an imaginary cornerstone of the building with your name on it. I say imaginary because the contribu
tions that become a legacy usually are not etched in granite. Rather they appear in people, in policies, in the subtle changes that prove you were there and made a difference, no matter how invisible.

  I snapped out of this reverie when Tom returned to the subject of customer visits. “Rachel, Stu has a good idea. I do think it’s time to make the rounds. If Justin comes in soon, he’d get a good start by visiting customers.”

  “Especially with you,” I added.

  He stood up. “Why don’t I get together with Stu and Katy off line. We’ll kick things around without raising anyone’s hackles. Got any problem with that?” I smiled inwardly at the enthusiasm I was finally hearing in his voice.

  “None whatsoever. Sounds like a good plan to me.”

  “I’ll let you know how it goes.” He put out his hand and shook mine. “You’re not bad,” he said, “for a Perry Winkler.”

  “Neither are you,” I responded. The meeting was over.

  To: egrant@pwe.net

  From: Rachel@pwe.net

  I’m beginning to see some sparks of energy around here. Good sign. Stuart’s idea about visiting everyone’s customers has recharged the competitive spirit. Tom is taking the challenge, and as for me I’m just watching the fun. Alicia is gearing up to contest Katy’s manner a bit, and you’ll never guess what I’m doing. I’m on the sidelines with encouragement and Band-Aids.

  Rachel

  To: Rachel@pwe.net

  From: egrant@pwe.net

  You are exactly where you need to be, doing just what I knew you would do. Keep doing nothing in the way only you can. Add some iodine to your expense account.

  Elroy

  Immediately after my meeting with Tom, I called Lily. I wasn’t sure how transfers were handled at TYH, but at Perry Winkle, now would be the proper time for me to meet with Justin Graves. After such a meeting, the wheels would turn, either quickly or slowly depending on how much work was left on his desk and who might do it. TYH was a much smaller company than its parent, so I didn’t know how they would backfill Justin’s desk, but my hope was that if all went well, we could have him here in the group and under Tom’s tutelage within two weeks.

  Apparently Lily had gotten over the first shock of separation anxiety because she offered to send Justin down to my office for a preliminary talk. When could he actually move? Lily surprised me by saying the middle of next week. I learned later that quick moves were typical at TYH, confirming my belief that there are some real advantages to life in small companies.

  First Impressions of Justin

  I had no sooner hung up and started for the door when I saw him. Tall and slim with sandy brown hair, Justin reminded me of the young son I had left at home. He was bending over Judy’s desk, and she was rifling through some snapshots. He straightened up as I approached and put out his hand. It wasn’t long after we were seated in the two overstuffed chairs that I too was handed the pictures. A pretty blonde woman lay in the hospital bed holding a baby boy in her arms. Justin, who looked barely older than Brad, was a new and very proud father. Was I old enough to be a grandmother? No, not quite—but for a moment I was not in the office interviewing a young man who might join our group, but miles away in my own home and with my own family.

  Our conversation was brief. I learned that Justin had moved to Headquarters about two years ago and that he was eager to do something that would help him grow. He wanted to make a bigger contribution, he told me. Above all, I was struck with his natural interpersonal gifts. I liked him immediately for his warm, friendly, inquisitive, and courteous style. Instead of the typical questions I had answered ad infinitum, he wondered about what kind of work I had done in the past. When he learned I was an organizational effectiveness consultant with PWE, he was eager to get my perceptions of TYH. We both had an HR background and were on common ground easily. Justin freely confessed he would have much to learn in this new job, but he told me he was an eager student and if he came to the group, he would really appreciate my perspective on how he could improve. “I don’t mind constructive criticism,” he told me, “and I wouldn’t want you to be too easy on me.”

  For my part, I was convinced that he would be a great addition to the group because of his attitude. We talked about his working with Tom, and Justin beamed. “He’s a pro!” he told me. The meeting over, I called Lily. Protocol required that she be the one to inform him he was moving to our group. We agreed to have him report here Wednesday, and I made a note to ask Judy if she would check out his office and make sure he had what he needed by then.

  Minutes later, as I walked out the door to talk with her, I caught a glimpse of Stu engrossed in conversation with a thin bearded man in the hall outside Judy’s reception area. Neither acknowledged my wave. Just then, Katy walked up to them and I heard her call him Robert. This greeting, unlike mine, was acknowledged by the pair in the hall and the conversation continued in low tones as Katy joined them. I surmised that was probably Robert Darman, the candidate from Distribution offered up by Lily.

  I turned back to Judy who was visibly pleased with my choice of Justin. “Isn’t he something?” she asked. “Everyone likes him.” She quickly agreed to check out Gayle’s old office. Then she held up a card key. “This is to the warehouse,” she told me. “I’m going over there this afternoon to see what pictures are available. Want to go with me?”

  Before I could respond, I heard Katy’s voice behind me. “I do,” she announced. When Judy suggested all three of us go, I thanked her but demurred, citing my schedule as the reason. It wasn’t that I didn’t have the time. I saw changing the appearance of the department as basically a TYH undertaking, and while I was committed to making it happen, it was far more important that the people who would be staying here make the decisions. I was delighted that Katy was interested in the project. Judy asked if there was anything in particular they should look for. My vote, one of seven, was that whatever was selected, or bought, I hoped would be bright and cheerful. When I went back to my office, I heard Katy and Judy laughing together as they planned their afternoon.

  Right after lunch, I looked in on Alicia. I knew we had a meeting the next day, but I was wondering if she and Katy had talked. She shook her head. “I’ve been too busy,” she told me. I could not criticize her in my heart, for I knew that Stuart and I were yet to have a meaningful conversation.

  Later that day Judy and Katy returned from the warehouse carrying three small pictures of the Sugar Land plant and a Houston skyline photograph. “Slim pickings,” said Judy.

  Katy frowned. “You wouldn’t believe what they had in there. Old, old, old. I don’t blame Mr. Dunlop for having them removed.”

  “Altis,” I said. “He may be the president, but I’ve noticed it’s the practice here to speak of everyone by first names.”

  “Okay, Altis. Whatever. Anyway, I don’t want any of those,” she said, wrinkling her nose and pointing at the pictures Judy put down on her credenza.

  “These will be extras,” said Judy. “They’ll fill in if needed. If not, back they go. So what’s next, Rachel?”

  “Let’s think about how to pursue this,” I said. “Any ideas?”

  “Why not bring someone in from one of the local shops, tell all of us what our budget is and let each of us decide what we want?” suggested Katy.

  “Sounds good to me,” I replied.

  By the look on her face, I could tell Judy had other ideas. Katy and I waited patiently. “I think we should adopt some sort of a group theme for this. We agree on some guidelines and then let everyone choose what he wants from within them.”

  I was afraid that sounded a bit too much like a return engagement of the “picture police.” Both Katy and I preferred total freedom of choice, but in the spirit of teamwork, we agreed to put it to a vote. Judy would send out an e-mail and tally the votes. Then we’d move on to the next step of bringing someone in to help.

  I went back to my office to do some paperwork. Time ran away from me and when I looked at my watch, it
was 5:30. I would have to hurry to be home on time. I wanted to freshen up a bit since I was having dinner with Lucien and Beth. But first, I stopped by Alicia’s office to see if she was still working. There was a note to me on her door. It read, “Bye, Rachel. I left at 4:30. I passed by your office but you were on the phone. See you tomorrow. Alicia.” Progress!

  The Minor “Wall Rebellion” Continues

  That night at dinner, I told the Powells about my decorating plan, confiding that I wasn’t sure $6,000 could cover seven offices, but I was committed to making it work. Lucien was delighted. “Let me get this straight, Ms. Philanthropist. You mean you’re breaking with tradition and not taking the $3,500 for your office?”

  “That’s right,” I said, “and before you scold me about using the money of the person who might be coming in, let me tell you, I’ve cleared this with Elroy. We’ll furnish the money for any additional decorating if necessary.”

  “I’m not about to scold you. I was thinking of giving you a medal,” Lucien said laughing. “You’re about to set the administrators with all their rules on their ears. Good work, Rachel. And don’t let anyone put a guilt trip on you about the money,” he added more soberly. “This is nothing new. Use the money. Enjoy it. If TYH has to cough up a little money next time, believe me, it won’t break ‘em. Most times, when someone comes in, they spend about $5,000 on their own offices, no matter what the budget is, and no one says a word. I’m surprised Charlie didn’t tell you that.”

  Beth said, “I hope you don’t mind if I offer a suggestion, but I have a friend, Marie Janek, who has a Frame Shop. She does lovely work. I mean, she’s a real genius and she won’t take advantage of you. Feel free not to use her, but if you like, I’ll have her contact you tomorrow. You’ll love her—and she’s reasonable.”