Nightmare

To celebrate our 75th year in business, my insurance company had staged a special anniversary party at our head-office. There had been an open bar, mounds of hot finger food, plus a few mercifully short speeches. Some of our leading brokers, independent adjusters, lawyers, and other friends of the company had come along and said nice things about us. Like most insurance company parties, it had been a fairly restrained affair, and while there had been enough adult beverages to make things very cheerful, there had been no embarrassing incidents.

As the company’s senior marketing representative, I had been responsible for greeting some of our leading brokers. During the evening we had all heard a few recycled but very funny jokes about corporate life. And a group of our liveliest young staffers had staged a humorous takeoff on management foibles, poking some good-natured fun at our very proper and rather straight-laced president, who smiled bravely and took it all in good spirit.

To avoid the potential dangers of driving after the party, management had laid on a fleet of volunteer drivers and taxis to get everyone home safely. As our balloon-filled head-office cafeteria slowly emptied, the manager of the downtown branch office where I worked, Fred Wilson, came over carrying a couple of parcels. “That went rather well,” he said with a smile, “but I’m pooped. Let’s sit down before our car comes.” I was feeling the effects of too many hors d’oeuvres, a huge and fattening meal, a plateful of mixed cheeses and crackers, plus several drinks, so I was happy to comply. We slipped into a nearby office and sank gratefully into chairs. The year was winding down rather pleasantly, I mused. My head sank back gently on the headrest, and I was comfortably aware that my eyelids seemed to be getting heavier and heavier by the second. Something told me that sleep was not far off. My eyes gently closed…

A figure materialized at my side, someone familiar – yet unfamiliar at the same time. It was our company president, but he looked quite different. Instead of his usual quiet blue suit and striped tie, he was sporting a dark green tee shirt under a light tan hopsack sports jacket. A flat gold chain lay around his neck, and his balding head was now crowned with an impressive hairpiece of curly extravagance.

“Freddy! Davey!” he chortled, punching each of us playfully on the shoulder. “Got a minute?” Gulping in disbelief, we nodded, and the president treated us to a dazzling smile. “Gotta keep you two in the loop. Team players, both of you.” Then he leaned forward with his hands clenched together like a prizefighter. “Want to let you know: we’re about to make the big move on the opposition.” He paused and grinned conspiratorially at us. “Convergent dynamism – we’re gonna make it happen!”

The transformation in our president’s appearance had made Fred Wilson’s jaw drop open in amazement, but he managed to speak. “Convergent dynamics?” he said weakly.

“Dynamism,” the president corrected, and with his hands, drew an imaginary structure in the air. “Convergence is at the cutting edge of progress. So – first of the year our company will become Scintillate Corporation. New name, new focus, new mission. Our consultants have already created our new advertising slogan.” He gave us another dazzling smile. “Scintillate: the brightest light in financial services!”

“But, we’re strictly a property and casualty insurer-” Fred began to say, but our president was obviously on a roll. He put his hands up in front of him, as if to ward off Fred’s thought. “We used to be,” he said with heavy emphasis. “Now we’re fast-tracking, Fred. We’re buying two companies: one life, one accident and health. They’ll be called Diamonde Life and Diamonde Health Insurance.” He grinned like a schoolboy with a secret and raised his eyebrows at us. “Scintillate … diamonde … get it?”

My brain was whirling in overdrive now, and it quickly got worse, because our new-look president was strutting around the little office like a peacock, his eyes glistening with excitement. Fred’s eyes, on the other hand, resembled a deer’s caught in a car’s headlights. I was desperately trying to think of something, anything, to say when the president briskly carried on. “We’re creating a mutual fund group that’ll involve a public share offering, it should raise a hundred mill.” He stopped in mid-stride and stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his pants. “And there’s more. We’ll launch a stand-alone venture capital firm, operate it out of New York, of course. That’s where the action is. How does Gemstone Corp sound to you, eh?” Without waiting for an answer, he plunged effortlessly on. “And oh yes, we’ll be rolling out a pension fund management company.”

As he paused for breath, I finally found my own voice. “Er…we don’t really have any in-house expertise in these fields, sir. Do we?” That brought an indulgent smile from the president. “Negative thinking, Dave. We’ll find it and we’ll buy it. Simple as that. Stand pat strategy is not an option in today’s market. Convergence is the game. We’re playing in the big leagues now.”

Fred Wilson finally found his voice. “But sir, what does our board of directors think of all these plans?” That brought a languid smile from the president. He waved one hand as if brushing away flies. “Oh…we’re in process of replacing them. You’re either on the team,” he gave each of us a cool and searching look, “…or you’re in the way”.

In a flash he disappeared from view, but before I could get a grip on my whirling thoughts, the tall figure of our company’s underwriting vice president appeared in the office and sat down on the edge of the desk. Like the president, he looked larger than life – and twice as happy. “Greetings, men!” he said with an expansive smile. “Guess you’ve heard the news from the big kahuna, eh? Isn’t it fantastically exciting?”

Now, although it certainly looked like him, this certainly didn’t sound like him. Our underwriting vice president was not normally a man given to the use of extravagant language. He was someone, as befitted his position, who usually looked on life somewhat cautiously. But right now he looked as cheerful as a cat that had just eaten a dozen canaries.

Once again I found myself at a loss for words, but it was obvious our VP didn’t have that problem. “Yessir,” he chuckled, “we’re doing the full 360%. By this time next year we’ll have doubled our premium volume. We’ll be numero uno in the country!” That got Fred Wilson’s attention. My boss sat bolt upright. “Hang on!” he spluttered, “where d’you expect all this new business to come from?”

Uncharacteristically, the VP let out a booming laugh. “Well, of course you haven’t seen our new business growth matrix yet. But I can give you a quick preview. First, we’ll loosen off our underwriting guidelines a little, particularly on all that property business that’s going begging. You can’t get anywhere being too restrictive these days, like insisting on sprinklered-only buildings. We’re going to ease off on that.” Across from me, I watched my boss’s jaw drop open. “And,” our underwriting wizard continued, “we feel it’s time we brought our broker force more firmly into our expansion program, so we’re going to give them all binding authority on new business…”

“You can’t be serious!” Fred gasped, but our VP just nodded and carried right on. “We need to tap into the high premium volume market, so we’ll also be filing for lower rates and new discounts on all our auto lines – including tow trucks and loggers. We might even…” he paused for a second and gave Fred and me a conspiratorial grin, “consider going after all that cross-border long-haul business. And, I almost forgot, we’re going to be very price-aggressive in the liability field.”

By now, Fred Wilson was cradling his head in his hands and shaking his head as if to ward off what he was hearing. Finally he managed to croak out a response. “Didn’t we try this a few years ago,” he pleaded. “And didn’t all that new business turn sour on us in a hurry? And didn’t it wind up pulverizing our bottom-lin
e?”

Our underwriting VP waved one hand dismissively. “That was then. This is now. Interest rates are rising, we can make six, maybe seven points on investment income. Sounds like a successful strategy to me.” I interjected, “sounds like cash flow underwriting to me. Didn’t we swear we’d never try that…” Our VP didn’t let me finish. “…this is a bold initiative, Dave. In the first quarter we’re going to roll out our ‘Big Harvest’ sales campaign to brokers. Each class of business is a ‘crop’ and the sales campaign will offer 10 points to our brokers for every $1,000 of new business they put on our books. We’re putting together a full-color catalogue of great prizes they can win for piling up these points. For instance, one hundred points can win them a gas barbecue, a hundred and fifty points, a nice new trail bike. Get a thousand points and the broker’s off for a week in Hawaii!”

There was something about this whole scene that sounded depressingly familiar to me. Hadn’t I seen all this, and lived through all this before? But our underwriting VP had bounded off the desk. He walked to the doorway and turned back to us. “I hope you two are as excited about this as I am!” Then he vanished.

I could feel a deep gloom settling over me, and Fred Wilson looked as if he was in shock. But as I was about to say something, I was suddenly aware that there was another person in the room. I looked up to see the cool and rather distant face of Helen, the company’s human resources director. “Ah, Fred. And Dave,” she said. “I understand you’ve been oriented on the company’s progress agenda, moving forward.” I tried to suppress a groan as I recognized the familiar pattern of trendy “biz-talk” that the people in our HR department often trotted out.

I guess so,” Fred replied, “But…” Helen went on, “oh, good. Now then, the company’s new mandate means that we are, of course, revisiting our core management practices…” I was not going to let this little item fly past me untouched. “I think I get the message, Helen. Are you saying that our ‘Stepping Stones To Success’ mantra” (this was the latest management system our company had introduced four years ago) “is now out the window?” Helen blinked and quickly adjusted her glasses. “Well, er…of course, change is a necessary component of forward momentum,” she began. But, Fred could contain himself no longer. “I seem to recall,” he interrupted, “that our ‘Stepping Stones’ replaced the ‘Strategic Planning Process’ we had a few years back. And if you’ll recall, it took over from that great ‘Zero Base Budgeting’ idea, which was supposed to be so much better than ‘Management By Objectives’.” He paused for a moment, remembering all the trendy management systems that had been trundled out with great fanfare until all flaws had been exposed. “And, of course, how could we ever forget the sheer magic of ‘Total Quality Management’ and those wonderful ‘Quality Circles’?”

Our HR VP gave a nervous little cough. “Um, yes, well…management techniques do change,” she blurted. Then she quickly gathered herself and glanced at the sheet of paper she held in her hand. “Now you understand, Fred, that the reengineering of our corporate structure will mean some negative employee retentions…” Fred growled back, “you mean, we have to fire some people, right?”

Helen winced. Then she cleared her throat. “Um, yes. There will be some degree of vocational relocation, and some staff will have to be…” she paused to find the right buzz word in her specialist vocabulary, “…selected out”. I had a good idea what was coming next, and Helen did not disappoint. She looked at me over the top of her glasses. “There will be some displacement of personnel in your area, Dave, but…” She treated me to a brief, frosty smile, “…among the younger field representatives only. We will, of course, be providing you with unemployment counselors to assist those staff affected.”

“Gee, that’s nice,” I said. “That should make them feel a whole lot better when I have to tell them they’re out of a job!” I could feel anger rising in me. There was something rotten and wrong with this whole scenario, starting with the president’s unexpected announcement. I felt resentment rising in me, and I felt myself begin to shake with the energy of it all. Then, slowly, I became aware that the gentle shaking was real. It was happening.

I opened my eyes to see Fred Wilson’s face peering down cheerfully at me. “Hey there, dreamer,” he said. “While I was off organizing our ride home you’ve been off in ‘dreamland’, enjoying a nice little snooze. Have some pleasant dreams?” I looked around at the familiar surroundings of head office. Then I lurched to my feet, looked at my boss, and shook my head. “Fred,” I said, “I think I just had my own personal nightmare.