The Art of Mentoring

by Shirley Peddy

  “The decision about his future is strictly up to him,” I said.

  “Then let’s leave it that way,” he responded.

  CHAPTER 17

  A Mentoring

  Moment

  No man is angry that feels not himself hurt.

  — Francis Bacon

  Thursday was a relatively quiet day. Elroy spent the morning in Sugar Land, touring the plant and visiting with Charlie Rothstein, soon-to-be Vice President of TYH. Alicia and Joanne stopped by to tell me how their project was going. I should have been feeling euphoric about being permanently home before Christmas, but I couldn’t help feeling anxious about the situation with Stuart. Should I go by his office and see what was going on, or wait? My instincts told me waiting was a better choice, for I didn’t know what impact his meeting with Elroy might have had. Stuart had a lot to think about. He had built up expectations about the meeting, and I knew he must have been disappointed. Like most good leaders, Elroy could be painfully straightforward.

  I didn’t have long to wonder. Friday morning when I arrived, Judy said Stuart had called, and he wanted to see me. I took a few deep breaths. This was not an encounter I was looking forward to.

  The Event

  “Good morning,” I said, mustering a smile, as I entered his office. “You had a successful trip, so I hear. Congratulations.”

  He was having none of my small talk. “That’s beside the point, Rachel, isn’t it?” he responded. “I suppose by now your friend has told you about our meeting.”

  I refused to be coy. “Yes, he told me.”

  “It didn’t go very well, Ms. Hanson, thanks to your good offices.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

  “I think you do. You made up your mind about me on day one, didn’t you? And it wasn’t bad enough that you had a personal animosity toward me. You had to poison things with Elroy. Good work. I think you should be proud of your success.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. I had made up my mind before I went in to Stuart’s office that I wouldn’t get hooked by his anger. Now I was perilously close to losing my temper, and I knew things never worked out well when I did. “I understand you’re angry and disappointed that your meeting with Elroy didn’t go as well as you would have wanted it to, but...”

  He interrupted me. “Didn’t go well? Not hardly. You made sure of that,” he repeated.

  “I understand that you feel that way, but...”

  “Let’s don’t be innocent about it,” he said, interrupting me again. “You made it plain from the beginning that you disliked me.”

  “I don’t think you’re being fair. In the first place, Stuart, I’ve tried to work with you, but you haven’t been very receptive. For whatever I’ve done to make you feel I didn’t like you, I’m sorry. What bothers me is that you don’t want to take any responsibility for what’s happened. You seem to see everything as someone else’s fault. Look, I’d like us to talk about the whole situation and clear the air. It’s not too late to...”

  He stood up. “I think it is too late. Here’s what you’ve been waiting for, Rachel. It’s my resignation. Thanks for stopping by. I’m going home now.” He got up and walked past me, right out of the office. I was stunned. For a few minutes I just sat there, holding the sealed envelope in my hand. Then I returned to my office and sat in silence, his words echoing in my ears. “Here’s what you’ve been waiting for. Here’s what you’ve been waiting for.” Stung by self doubts, I closed the door and cried a few tears. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe it was all for the best. Perhaps Stuart simply faced the truth, and blamed me unfairly. Or did I bear a certain amount of responsibility? We hadn’t gotten along from the very beginning. Perhaps I was to blame. Yet, other supervisors had seen him as cynical and disgruntled. Maybe I had been the heir to his dissatisfaction, and the situation with Elroy had sealed his fate. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  I too left early, the envelope unopened in my desk drawer. I sat at home in the quiet of my small apartment. Should I e-mail Elroy? Should I call Paul? Should I knock on the Powell’s door? The answer was “none of the above.” I wasn’t ready to talk about what happened. Instead, I filled the evening hours with soft music and a good book. I fell asleep in my chair and my dreams were troubled.

  Saturday I went shopping. The department stores in Houston were brimming over with Christmas merchandise, but I found nothing I wanted. I stopped by the movies and saw a Woody Allen comedy. Somehow today it wasn’t funny. I went home and got out my exercise clothes. A walk around Memorial Park would do me good. It helped. That night I called Paul. “What’s wrong?” he asked almost immediately. I told him. “It’s all for the best, Rachel,” he said. “I don’t want you blaming yourself. You’ve said from the very beginning he was bitter and disgruntled.”

  “I know I did, and he was, but Paul, that doesn’t excuse me for being the one who set him off.”

  “Stop it, Rachel. Don’t make yourself the guilty party here. Stuart needs to grow up and recognize the world has changed around him. Pouting like a kid and being sarcastic isn’t going to make it any better. Neither will it help if you absorb his guilt for him.”

  When we hung up, I felt much better. Paul had shaken me out of my self pity and guilt. Stuart was responsible for his own problems. His response to me from the beginning had everything to do with his anger. My reaction to him had been based on how he treated me. That was natural. I slept much better Saturday night. Sunday was uneventful. I went to church that morning, exercised in the afternoon, and watched television until I fell asleep in my living room chair. I woke up, undressed, and took a warm bath before going to bed, but I had trouble falling sleep. When I finally did, my rest was disturbed by a nightmare. I dreamed there was an explosion, and I was running from it. I stumbled over something. It was Stuart, crumpled at my feet. I reached down and offered him my hand, but he turned away from it and I heard him laughing. I started to walk away, when I realized that the disturbing noise I heard was sobbing.

  I waited to hear from Stuart Monday, but I didn’t. Katy came by the office and asked if I had seen him. I said he was home sick. The envelope still sat in my drawer, but I could not bring myself to open it. I could not shake that awful dream from my mind, or Lucien’s words, “We should not operate based on a philosophy that considers employees disposable.” Something had to be done.

  Aftermath

  Tuesday morning I made up my mind to put an end to my vigil. Judy had Stuart’s home phone number, and I decided to call him. A woman, whom I assumed to be his wife, answered. I asked to talk to Stuart. “Just a minute,” she said. “Do you mind if I ask who’s calling?”

  “Tell him it’s Rachel Hanson from TYH,” I responded.

  A moment later I heard his voice. “Do you need something, Rachel?” he asked, without a greeting. “You have all the paperwork, don’t you?” He sounded subdued.

  I asked him if he would come in.

  “Is there something I need to pick up? If not, Cindy is dressed and says she can handle it.”

  No, I told him. I wanted to talk with him. He agreed saying he could be there in two hours. At ten thirty he walked into my office looking paler than usual. I could see the strain on his face. “This has been tough on you, hasn’t it,” I said.

  “Yes,” he responded, looking as if he was close to tears.

  “Please sit down for a minute. I’m sorry you’re going through a bad period right now.”

  “Why should you be?” he asked, and then added, “I don’t want sympathy, and I don’t deserve it. I knew what was happening. I’ve no one but myself to blame.”

  I kept silent. He was thinking out loud, not really talking to me, but what he was saying was vitally important.

  “I let it all slip away because I was destroyed when Griff left. He said goodbye, shook my hand and I’ll never forget what he said: ‘Stu, you’re on your own now. Run with it.’ But I had all that baggage to carry, and I knew I couldn’t run with it.”


  “Baggage?”

  “Yes. Griff had put his hand on my head and others had seen it, particularly Altis. When Griff left, it was like I fell into a deep hole, and there was no one left to say that I deserved a chance to pull myself out of it.”

  “Are you sure you needed that?”

  “I thought so then. You told me once I was angry, Rachel. At that moment I probably was, but my strongest feeling was I was just darn irritated by everything and almost everyone, particularly you. I knew the system wasn’t fair—but it looked a lot fairer to me when I had a friend in the ‘oval office.’” .

  “I know.” I resisted the desire to say more. This was a powerful mentoring moment—for both of us.

  “Last night Cindy told me what a jerk I was being.” He was looking down, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “She’s amazing to have stuck with me through this. It hasn’t been easy for her.”

  “But that’s what marriage is about.”

  “No, Rachel, Cindy isn’t my wife, at least not until June. Jane and I divorced two years ago. I guess she couldn’t put up with me either.” He looked up. “Why did you ask me to come by?”

  “Because we have unfinished business.” I held up the envelope. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “It isn’t too late?”

  “Not if you don’t want it to be. I’ll be honest with you, Stuart. When you gave it to me, I had a mad desire to run to Lily Sheldon’s office and turn it in. But I couldn’t, not without giving you a chance to think this through. You were a valuable employee here once. Otherwise Griff wouldn’t have done what he did for you. I came in the middle of your story, but I don’t want to be responsible for the way it ends. How do you want it to come out?”

  He thought a minute. “I’d like to tear that up and start all over again. If I make it on my own, that’s fine. If I don’t, then I’ll look at my options.”

  “Fair enough,” I said standing. We shook hands solemnly, and he smiled at me for the first time in a genuine way.

  “I guess I’ll go back to work,” he said, then turned and walked toward the door.

  “Wait a minute, Stu,” I said holding out the envelope. “Take this with you.”

  “You never even opened it,” he said incredulously.

  “It wasn’t mine,” I said.

  “Thanks, Rachel.”

  “Good luck,” I replied.

  CHAPTER 18

  Getting Out of

  the Way

  To leave is to die a little;/It is to die to what one loves./ One leaves behind a little of oneself/At any hour, any place.

  — Edmond Haraucourt

  I looked at the calendar again. A full week had passed since Stuart had returned. No one besides the two of us knew what had occurred, that is, except for Elroy, and I had only told him after the fact. He had listened but had little to say about it except that what happened with Stuart was my decision. It was Wednesday, barely two weeks before Thanksgiving when, for all intents and purposes, I would be gone for good. Lead, follow and get out of the way, that’s what mentors do, Lucien had told me. As the time neared I realized that getting out of the way was going to be much harder than I thought. There was so much going on at TYH, and there were people I had grown fond of in the last few months. I suspected the feeling was mutual. I knew it was time I told the Marketers when I would be leaving, so they wouldn’t feel abandoned by still another supervisor, and it was particularly critical that I do it soon because some were taking off for vacation in the next few days. I had been putting things off, waiting (I told myself) for more information about my successor. This morning I had given a vague response when Judy asked me a question about the Christmas party. That was my wake-up call. I was unwilling to keep this company-mandated subterfuge up any longer. It was time to get Elroy’s answer to the big question.

  The Importance of Transitions

  I called. I hated to put him on the spot, I told him, but it was important that some informal announcements be made. Did he know who was going to be Wholesale Marketing Manager and would there also be a supervisor? The new manager would have to decide if a supervisor were needed, he replied, but based on what I had told him, he thought one person could probably handle both jobs. As to who that person would be, Elroy was uncustomarily evasive. “Rachel, I wish I could tell you, but we’re waiting for an answer from someone.” When would he know for sure? Possibly by Friday. Was it someone I know? He paused for a minute, and then said, “yes.” He agreed the information was important to the group, and he would let me know as soon as he knew. Could I put things out of my mind for a day or two? Yes, I told him, but I hoped to make some kind of an announcement by the end of the week.

  He called the next day. “We’ve got a positive answer, Rachel, but the official announcement won’t be out until Wednesday,” he said. “No matter. I’m going to tell you who it is, but you’re not to give the name out.” Would it be possible for me to describe the person to the Marketers? Yes, until Wednesday, I could tell the Marketers everything about him but his name. So, who was he? “Are you sitting down, Rachel?” I was. “It’s Ira Sharp.” Ira is my manager, and I was happy for the Marketing Group, but how I hated to part with him.

  “Who is taking his place?” I asked. “Is it someone that I know?”

  “Intimately,” he said, laughing. “If you’re curious, you can always go look in the mirror. We’ll talk later. Goodbye, Rachel.” I was in shock. Elroy Grant didn’t want to give me time to respond. He had decided I needed to take this information in and think about it. But for the moment, there were more important things to think about. How should I tell the group? It was an important question, especially since they had been through so much change. They needed to know that they were in a stable working environment and that the person coming in would be a good leader, as well as a more permanent one. Finally, I decided on a dual approach. First, we would have an information meeting, and I would answer any and all questions. Then I would arrange time with each of them to say a private goodbye.

  I needed to move quickly because Justin was leaving early for the holidays. He and Rita were taking their new baby to visit both sets of grandparents. Stuart and Cindy were heading for Florida to visit some friends. That would leave five of us here: Judy, Alicia, Katy, Tom and I. Judy managed to get everyone together for Friday lunch, and I surprised them all with a company-paid celebration at Oscar’s, an upscale seafood house just a short walk from the building. Before we left for lunch I told everyone I had a brief announcement. Tom laughed. “You’d better make it short, Rachel. My fried shrimp will be getting cold.”

  “You need to get off that fried food,” said Katy. “Your cholesterol is probably pushing three hundred.”

  “Not today,” responded Tom. “I’m warming up for Thanksgiving dinner.” Everyone laughed. I hoped my announcement wouldn’t dampen things.

  Breaking the News

  “I promise to make things short,” I said to the group, who had gathered in the reception area outside my office. “There’s no easy way for me to say goodbye to you. It’s been a little short of three months, and yet I feel very close to you all.”

  “You’re leaving?” asked Alicia, in shocked tones. “I mean now?”

  “Well not right now,” I responded. “I’ll be here until the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I want to visit with each of you individually to say goodbye, but I wanted you to know how great you are and how much of you I’ll take with me back to Oakville.” I could feel a tightness in my throat. I took a deep breath. “By the way, I know who my replacement is, though I’m not allowed to give his name until next week. Trust me. He’s someone you’re really going to enjoy working with.”

  “How long will he be staying?” asked Stuart.

  “Good question. It’s a permanent assignment. He’ll be relocating to Houston with his family.”

  “Why can’t you stay?” asked Katy. “You know us, and you could do this job better than anyone else.”

>   “You’re very special to me,” I said, “and you make me feel special, but I have another life waiting for me in Oakville, and it’s been on hold for a while. Anyway, I promised to make this short. Let’s go eat lunch; it’s on To Your Health.”

  “Good work, Rachel. I’ll second that,” said Tom.

  Private Good-byes

  So the announcement was made. In the next few days I began my rounds of good-byes. Because he was leaving first, I started with Justin. “You’ve helped me so much, Rachel, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

  “You’ll do very well,” I responded. “You’ve got what it takes.”

  “Would you mind terribly if I called from time to time, I mean if I have a question about things?”

  “No, but I’d sure as heck mind if you didn’t,” I responded. Justin was not ready for me to “get out of the way,” and I had no intention of abandoning him. Before long, I expected he would find other mentors, but for the time being, he could count on me.

  Later that day I said goodbye to Stuart. Most of what we had to say to one another had already been said, but he took my outstretched hand and looking into my eyes, said, “We never really got to know each other, Rachel, and I’m sorry for that. But I want to tell you, I’m glad you were here.” We wished each other luck and shook hands.

  Over the weekend I had dinner with the Powells. They were leaving Monday to spend Thanksgiving with her sister in Biloxi, so this would be the last time we would spend together during my stay in Houston. No matter. There would be no permanent good-byes for us. They had already agreed to a weekend visit to Oakville in late January. They had just bought a patio home in Houston and would be moving out of the complex in March. “As soon as we get settled, you and Paul must come, and you can bring Brad too,” Beth had said.