by Liz Green
FORGET THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD
by Liz Green
Successium Pty Ltd
www.successium.com.au
www.lizgreen.com.au
Sydney, NSW, Australia
Copyright © 2009 by Liz Green
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1-4392-4964-4
ISBN-13: 9781439249642
To Mark,
my rock and support.
Your love and belief has made it all possible.
Preface
Let me take you on a journey, a career fairy tale. This is the story of Dorothy and her search for success.
CHAPTER 1
The Whirlwind
Dorothy lived in a spectacular home, perched high above the sea on an ocean cliff. She had designed this home with her husband of ten years, and it was their masterpiece, not just architecturally, but as a family home. It provided plenty of room for them and their two children and for entertaining family and friends.
Dorothy’s favourite part of the house was the lounge, where, in winter, the suspended fireplace would flicker and toast her toes, and the moonlight would bounce off the ocean onto the cathedral ceilings high above her. She spent her favourite time of day, however, on the terrace overlooking the vast expanse of ocean in front of her, deep blue as far as she could see. As the sun faded at dusk, Dorothy often found herself reflecting on the day’s events and all that she had achieved in her life and career.
Now a successful businesswoman, Dorothy had climbed the corporate ladder and shattered the glass ceiling. She enjoyed the thrill of corporate banter and politics and enjoyed working her magic in the boardroom. Her corner office provided expansive views of the city skyline, and her executive assistant was an invaluable resource who was at Dorothy’s disposal any time of day or night.
In the years she had been working hard to get ahead, her daily ritual included walking from the train station to the office, along with the tens of thousands of other inner-city commuters. During these walks, Dorothy had gazed enviably in the passing windows of the designer clothes stores. She dreamt of the day when she would be able to walk proudly into one of those stores and purchase whatever her heart desired. That day came several years ago when Dorothy was promoted to CFO, chief financial officer. Of course there had been and were to be many more personal sacrifices she would make to meet the challenges of the new role, but buying that glorious suit without once considering the price on the tag was a small yet significant moment of success for her.
Dorothy’s career had been everything she had hoped. Admittedly, she spent a few years studying at university before commencing her first role as a graduate accountant for a blue-chip organisation, but the climb up the ladder had been smooth sailing.
Her father had always told her that the way to the top was to complete your degree at university, commit to your career, and then pay your dues by working progressively up the ranks from graduate to analyst to manager to senior manager to executive general manager just as he had.
Dorothy was pleased that she followed the career path her father had suggested. It was one thing to have achieved the position of finance director, but to then be awarded the role of CFO for a financial services firm was one of the highest recognitions she could imagine. Her father was so proud of her that she would often hear him boasting about her success to relatives during family events. Dorothy would quietly chuckle to herself when he would say that her success had a lot to do with the advice he had given her in the early years of her career: “Stick to the path, Dorothy, and it will lead you to where you want to be.” She trusted her father and had followed the path, so to a certain degree she did have him to thank.
The privilege of being the company’s CFO meant she travelled the world on business and was able to afford to take vacations with her family to some of the most secluded and exclusive locations. The family’s most recent holiday was to a boutique luxury resort on a small island in the South Pacific, where they were treated like royalty a true escape to relax and unwind.
Dorothy had been sitting on the wicker daybed on the terrace for so long that the sun had completely disappeared and magical glittering stars appeared in the sky. On the distant horizon, over the ocean, a thunderstorm teased the night sky with a spectacular light show. There was no doubt, Dorothy’s life and career were everything that she had hoped they would be.
“Dorothy, wake up, wake up! What on earth are you doing still in bed?” her father frantically yelled at her. “What sort of impression will you be making by being late on your first day at work? Get up, get ready. I suppose I’ll have to drive you now. Hurry!”
Dorothy slowly transitioned from her dreamy slumber into a semiconscious state, until the words her father left bouncing around her room landed in her consciousness. “Crap!” she said. Dorothy stumbled out of bed and clambered to the shower, bewildered by how real the dream had felt. Thank goodness she had ironed her clothes last night, after spending hours attempting to decide on the perfect outfit for the first day of her first job. She had spent four years slogging it out at university and fought tooth and nail for this graduate position, so she needed the right clothes to reflect not just who she was today but who she wanted to be in the future.
In a twenty-minute whirlwind of activity, Dorothy had showered, wriggled into her clothes, blow-dried her hair, and done her makeup. She was ready. “Dad, what’s holding you up? I’ll wait for you in the car.”
Dorothy swept up her bag and phone, checked her purse to make sure she had enough money to buy lunch, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
The drive into the city was quiet. Dorothy’s father, Henry, was just as anxious as she was. This day was the culmination of everything they had planned. When Dorothy achieved the marks she needed to study accounting and finance at university, her father had committed to supporting her through her tertiary education. Now he saw it as his duty to make sure this all-important step of her first venture into employment was a smooth and successful transition that would lead to Dorothy’s ideal career in accounting and finance just as they had planned.
The voice of the GPS navigation system broke the silence: “Your destination is ahead in fifty metres.” The traffic was moving incredibly slowly as the car edged forward a few more metres. Dorothy had at least five minutes before she would escape the silence of the car and step into the corporate world, a world unknown to her.
Henry took his hand off the steering wheel of the car and took Dorothy’s hand in his. “Dorothy, just some final advice. Look at the path ahead of you. I want you to keep your eyes dead ahead, stay on the path, and not take your eyes off your end goal. Following that path with focus and dedication will be your best route to the top. That’s how I did it, and I want the same for you.”
Dorothy looked across to see her father’s eyes well up with tears. “I know, Dad. I love you too,” she said.
Seconds later, the traffic light turned green, and before Dorothy knew it, they had arrived outside the office building. They were in a no-stopping zone, so Dorothy quickly jumped out of the car and onto the pavement. Slamming the car door behind her, she waved good-bye to her dad, tugged awkwardly at her skirt, flicked back her hair, and looked toward the large glass revolving door of the building in front of her.
Forty-five minutes later…
CHAPTER 2
The Council with West
Dorothy was still sitting at the desk to which she had been directed when she first arrived. On the desk was a computer that she had turned on but had no idea how to log onto and a phone that looked more complex than the console of a spaceship. Despite the number of desks in the area, the loudest sound she heard was the whirl of the air-conditionin
g system. Occasionally a telephone would ring or the sound of a muted conversation would reach her from a distance. The atmosphere was sterile.
She was surrounded by grey partitioning with strategically placed glass panelling that allowed you to see if there was someone sitting in the workstation beside you. As Dorothy looked to her right through the partitioning, she saw a face looking back at her with much the same perplexed look.
Dorothy stuck her head around the corner. “It’s my first day today.”
“Me too,” said the guy. “Are you in the graduate program too?”
“Yes, I am, and I have to admit I’m just a little bit nervous. I’m Dorothy.”
“Sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Trent, and don’t worry, I’m just as anxious. I definitely don’t want to stuff it up!”
Trent stood up and shook Dorothy’s hand with conviction. Dorothy had once read about the different kinds of handshakes and how they can be quite telling of someone’s character the knuckle cruncher, the dead fish, the superior, the double handed. The one Dorothy detested the most was the palm pincher. Some women only use a few fingers and thumb for the handshake, but it was infuriating when a man presented his hand and prevented you from firmly and properly shaking it, so you were left just grasping the tips of his fingers. To Trent’s credit he shook her hand with a firm sense of equality and looked her straight in the eye. As a result Dorothy instinctively knew she was going to like Trent.
“Do you know how many of us are in the graduate program this year?” Dorothy asked Trent. During the summer break, Dorothy had been wondering what the final numbers would be as the economy had hit turbulent waters and there were news reports of redundancies being made in The Firm.
“I asked the same question this morning when I arrived,” he said. “They said they have cut back graduate new recruits by fifty percent this year, so I guess we’re two of the lucky ones.”
Trent’s eyes then shot over Dorothy’s shoulder, and she noticed his expression change, so she discreetly swivelled her chair so she could look in the same direction.
Walking toward them was a group of the most serious-looking people she had ever seen. There were seven men and one woman. Like a mess of navy officers, they appeared to be marching, as if all stepping to the same internal beat. Dorothy and Trent slid back into their cubicles and faced their computers so as not to look conspicuous. Their flashing computer monitors’ request to log in failed to help their efforts. The group of people sashayed past them without a sideways glance and slid into a meeting room.
Before Trent and Dorothy had a chance to speculate as to who the group of people may have been, Dorothy was tapped on the shoulder by their graduate recruiter, Nora. “Right, guys, it’s time to head off to our orientation meeting. The others are already there and waiting,” she said.
Dorothy and Trent obediently followed Nora toward the elevator past the meeting room into which the strange group of people had disappeared. “Do you know who those people are in that meeting room, Nora?” asked Dorothy.
“Well, actually, they are the senior managers that formed part of the graduate selection committee,” responded Nora. She didn’t notice Dorothy and Trent’s shared glance of horror.
Without thinking, Trent said, “They don’t appear to be the most friendly people.”
Dorothy glared at Trent to signal him to be quiet. As they stepped into the lift, Nora defended the group of senior managers by explaining that they were selected for their exceptional accounting and financial expertise and for their contribution to The Firm.
“Actually, Dorothy, Sophia Williams is a senior manager and the only female senior manager part of the graduate selection committee,” Nora said. “It seems she was rather impressed by your application essay and is keen to see you ‘fulfill your goals.’ Her words exactly. Here’s hoping you fulfill her expectations!”
Dorothy could not help but notice Nora not so subtly roll her eyes as she looked down at her notes.
When they returned to their desks after the morning orientation meeting, Dorothy and Trent were pleased to learn these were to be their workstations for their first graduate rotation. They would also be working on the same team for the same manager. On their desks, each found a written memo on how to log into their computers and access their new e-mail accounts.
After opening her account, Dorothy noticed there was already an e-mail from Wendy West, their new manager.
“Once you’re back from your waste-of-time graduate orientation meeting, see me in my office at the end of the hall. WW”
Trent had logged on and was clearly reading the same e-mail because, when Dorothy looked through the glass partition at him, he was staring back at Dorothy with the same look of fear and trepidation she was feeling. Dorothy jumped up from her seat and headed toward what she could only guess was the “office at the end of the hall.” She raised her hand to knock on the door, paused to allow Trent enough time to catch up to her, knocked, and then opened the door.
“Try again. I didn’t say you could come in, did I?” barked Wendy.
Dorothy froze. It took her a few moments to comprehend what was happening. In front of her sat a perfectly groomed woman in her mid-twenties. She had glossy dark brown hair swept into a tight ponytail, flawless skin, bright red lipstick, and was dressed in a pinstriped navy suit. She yelled a second time. “I said try again!”
Dorothy backed out of the office, stumbling over Trent’s toes behind her, and closed the door. They looked at each other, took a deep breath, and she knocked again.
“About time,” said the voice from the other side of the door. “Hurry up and come in.”
Dorothy opened the door with trepidation. She and Trent took seats opposite Wendy, who sat at her desk.
“There is no time to waste around here, and having those waste-of-time warm-and-fuzzy graduate meetings and training programs takes away from The Firm’s ability to meet its objectives,” Wendy said. “We can’t bill your time off the job to the client, can we?”
Dorothy and Trent sat silently, stunned, and did not respond. They thought it was a rhetorical question, but it was not. “Can we?” Wendy said again, raising her voice.
“No,” replied Dorothy and Trent in unison.
Wendy went on to lecture them about the necessity to meet budget and to charge each client as much as possible. Wendy also told them that she didn’t have time to waste on training them, so they would have to sink or swim.
Wendy handed a large white binder full of paper and falling receipts to Trent. “Here, take this.” she said to him. “I want you to reconcile all the expense forms and receipts by the end of today. And you, Dorothy, I will e-mail you a spreadsheet that someone was working on before they deserted me and The Firm for greener pastures. It does not balance, and I do not have time to work out why. You can do it. Now go. I have important work to do.”
With that, Wendy swivelled her chair and returned to gaze intently into her computer screen. Without a word, Dorothy and Trent exited the office and shuffled back to their desks.
As promised, Wendy e-mailed Dorothy the spreadsheet. Dorothy opened it to find a galaxy of numbers with no meaning and no context. Hearing only the sound of the air-conditioning system, the faint sound of a telephone conversation in the distance, surrounded by grey walls, Dorothy’s heart sank and she felt a tear run down her face.
Before Dorothy could wipe her tear away, Nora was at her desk.
“Have you met with your manager, Wendy West, yet?” asked Nora.
Dorothy could not bring herself to say ‘yes’, as if by not saying ‘yes’ she did not have to accept or acknowledge that the horrible person she just met was to be her manager. Trent was within ear shot sitting at his desk and could see through the glass portion of the partition that Dorothy was clearly upset and struggling to answer Nora. “Yes,” he answered on their behalf.
Nora noticed that Dorothy was distressed.
“Look, guys, you have been selected for ou
r graduate program because you are viewed as high-potential talent, and, trust me, we only hire the best and brightest,” Nora told them. “You started with a goal, now keep your eye on that prize. We have a very structured career pathway here, and if you follow it, you can be guaranteed of success.”
As swiftly as Nora had appeared, she disappeared, leaving Dorothy and Trent to fend for themselves as they embarked on their journey.
Three years later…
CHAPTER 3
How Dorothy Saved Scott
Dorothy and Trent sat opposite each other, staring blankly into their drink glasses, at their regular table at the pub around the corner from The Firm. This pub had become a regular haunt for them since they began working together three years ago. From where Dorothy was sitting, she could see the pub quickly filling with the regular Friday night ‘suits’, in a kind of corroboree. On her left, she had a perfect view out the window. It was six o’clock in the evening, and just as a colony of ants march furiously toward their nests as rain approaches, so too were the office workers marching toward the pub as the weekend approached.
Dorothy and Trent had become the best of friends throughout their graduate rotations. Working for Wendy West had been the most difficult twelve months of Dorothy’s life. It was only Trent’s clever wit and support that had ensured she survived the ordeal. The two worked in separate departments of The Firm during their second rotation, which provided them both with an opportunity to expand their network.
Despite the fact that they were so different, they were an ideal team. Dorothy saw the big picture and was creative, optimistic, and heavily influenced by her external environment. Trent was focused on details, pragmatic, cynical, and internally driven. This balance worked perfectly for them while they were working on their final rotation together in the same department.
Their manager, Boyd McCarthy, was a good manager. Not only was he competent at his job, he also had a way with those who worked for him. He saw the best achieved by everyone on the team. People genuinely enjoyed working in his department. You could always hear chatter between colleagues or laughter after someone shared a joke.