Leadership Academy: Join the Adventure and Transform Your Leadership!

By Peter Shields

Great leadership is hard to find. Companies spend millions trying to fix their leadership issues by recruiting new leaders, hiring consultants to tell them how to restructure and a myriad of other 'outside-in' initiatives that fail to achieve the intended results. What if they’re approaching the leadership dilemma entirely the wrong way?

82-year-old Ben Luckeridge is wise enough to know his business needs an inside-out leadership solution. Despite having all that a billion-dollar company and a successful career affords, Ben has serious health problems, regrets and an estranged daughter with whom he longs to reconnect. He must choose an heir to the Luckeridge Group of Companies before it's too late.

Ben's nephew Jack, the heir apparent, is barely clinging to his role as CEO of The Luckeridge Group, thanks to his autocratic and arrogant leadership style. How could Ben possibly bequeath the business to him?

With the help of his confidant Angela, a transformational executive coach, Ben devises a 12-month leadership adventure which Jack must successfully navigate if he is to become heir. Jack is soon joined on the challenge by a host of would-be challengers, including the engaging and energetic Zenobia, and he is immediately drawn to her calm confidence.

While Zenobia is fighting emotional battles of her own, her patience, empathy and leadership potency shine through, showing Jack that to unlock his inherent leadership potential he must overcome his emotional reactivity.

As Ben hurtles closer to death, Jack and Zenobia navigate their way toward a business that is more profitable, more meaningful and more sustainable than ever before. Their quest uncovers startling truths that transform all of them – and the organisation – forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Corporate Alchemy
• Release date: Dec 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780648434009

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Two Old Friends Discuss

I’ve always been in control. I’ve always found a solution to every problem. But now I feel like an uprooted weed, torn from the garden of life, abandoned on the lawn awaiting ‘death by mower’.

Wow, Ben. At least you’ve still got your gift for hyperbole. Why do you see yourself as a weed torn from the garden of life? asked Angela, Ben’s trusted friend and consultant.

Ben shrugged. He was a large man, and rested his hands on his rounded belly as he reflected. "I’m 82 today; that’s old. I can’t pretend anymore. I’m weak. I ache with every move. Each morning I gaze wearily into the mirror and see death staring back at me. What has time done to me? What’s that line from Binyon’s For the Fallen? ‘They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn’, or something like that? My brothers, Jack and Robert, died so young; age never got to weary them."

Do you think about your brothers a lot? Angela looked at her friend with deep compassion, her soft, kind blue eyes filled with empathy.

More and more, it seems. I wonder about death and what really happens after we pass, and if those boys will be there to meet me at the gates.

I’ve never heard you speak like this. You’ve been an aging silver- back for a long time now. What’s different? What’s going on?

I’m scared, Ange. That bloody doctor, the one Brian forces me to see, says my liver is all but screwed; my prostate is the size of an eight-ball, and my blood pressure suggests another stroke is not far off. Apart from still being able to fart, it seems I’m stuffed!

Are you scared of dying?

You know, I’m not; a part of me looks forward to it. I’m more frightened of what will become of the business. It haunts me.

Angela paused. If he still cares about the business, there’s life in him yet, she thought. Ben shifted his gaze away from Ange’s soft and patient contemplation.

"You’re not a weed Ben, you’re a treasure, and there’s life in you yet. You’ve plenty of time to plan the future of The Luckeridge Group."

Angela stood and hugged Ben, wrapping what she could of her tall, slim frame around his more ample one. She believed what she had said; there was life left in him, but she also witnessed a frailty she’d not seen before. She held him longer than usual, and he noticed.

I can’t believe you’re going already! It feels like we just got started. There’s something I want to discuss with you. It’s the dilemma that keeps me alive, actually. Can you come back tomorrow?

Absolutely. See you then.

With that, Angela Bernstein, the only business consultant Ben Luckeridge fully trusted, left his embrace.

Angela stopped to chat to Megumi, Ben’s PA. She wrote a short note for Ben and asked Megumi to hand it to him before going home for the day. Megumi opened the folded piece of paper, as she always did, read the note and rolled her eyes. In the years she’d worked there, the message had never changed.

Angela noticed the eye roll and paused before leaving. Megumi felt awkward and said, Apologies for prying, Ms Bernstein, but what does this note mean? It’s always the same: ‘Remember to go into your cave.’ Is Ben like Batman; does he have a secret cave?

Oh, no dear, he is not Batman. Academics, researchers and authors who have observed psychology and pondered the question, ‘What does it all mean?’, have discovered what Carl Jung called ‘the shadow side of our psyche’. They are referring to the disowned place in our minds where we hide our most distasteful thoughts, memories, experiences and anything else we learned was not acceptable. Ben calls the shadow side of his psyche ‘the cave’. I think it’s a reference to a Japanese feminine mythology.

Megumi felt a cool shudder ripple down her spine. She was perplexed. Why would he or anyone else want to go into that place?

Well, there are two reasons. The first is to alleviate the effort, energy and drama that come from projecting your shadow onto everyone else and the world around you. The things you dislike in others are simply a projection of the disowned parts of your own psyche. The second reason to understand and integrate your shadow is to reclaim your lost strengths and vitality. You see, the shadow is where half of your life exists and there’s a lot of gold, energy, joy, creativity and love shoved away down there as well. You can’t reject the shadow parts of your psychology without rejecting the light sides. Angela delivered this revelation with comfort and certainty in her voice. Such comfort and certainty in the shadow side of the psyche were Angela Bernstein’s greatest assets as a transformational leadership consultant.

Smiling and assured, Angela departed, announcing, "I’ll be back tomorrow and will bring Robert Johnson’s brilliant book Owning Your Own Shadow with me. You can borrow it if you like!" She swept out of the room, leaving Megumi with a mixture of confusion and excitement.

CHAPTER 1

The Ubiquity Contract

Angela had bought the aging yet refined vehicle she drove to her meeting at Ubiquity to celebrate her promotion to CEO of a well known telco. It was a ‘95 two-seater Porsche 911, made in that year, of which she refused to let go.

Her reign as CEO lasted three years, but ended painfully with the collapse of the business, and her being cited by the corporate watchdog for negligent practice. The board, her team, government policy writers, consultants and the lawyers that once supported her were absent during her inglorious demise. The financiers of the company had done a lot behind the scenes to set Angela up for the fall.

Angela reflected on that time as her corporate penis days and maintained that, If you live by the penis, you will die by the penis. Hanging on to her ancient car kept her humble.

Angela had always been different to others, and now in her 60s was finally finding comfort in that difference. She was at peace with who she was, and the once-familiar voice of self-judgment had relaxed to near silence. She’d accepted the aging process, embracing the wrinkling of her skin and the greying of her hair as part of life’s journey.

Angela found the car park and designated spot Ubiquity had reserved for her. There was no time to waste, so she resisted the temptation to stop and collect her thoughts. Instead, she drew her attention to her breath and made her way toward the lift.

Once on the third floor, she was greeted by Jenny, the gracious and professional receptionist, and was led to the meeting room where four of the ten partners of Ubiquity Consulting Group were waiting. On entering the meeting room, where she joined one of the only five clients for whom she continued to work, Angela immediately felt contempt for her presence. However, she soon warmed the energy of the group with eye contact, polite greetings and compassion for the obviously overworked and exhausted partners of the business.

The Ubiquity Consulting Group, more commonly known simply as Ubiquity, employed 120 people, of whom 80 were in client-facing consulting or service roles. Its biggest client was Ben Luckeridge, and The Luckeridge Group, known by the acronym TLG. Ben had long been critical of both Ubiquity’s lack of growth in sales and its lack of creativity. He believed they delivered the bare minimum of what he expected for TLG; the minimum was never enough for Ben.

As a remedy, Ben had told Gerald Raper, Ubiquity’s senior partner and managing director, to develop the skills of younger people from within their employee ranks and promote them into partnership positions, or TLG would take their business elsewhere. Bringing the younger people up would add value beyond what the current partners delivered. He told Gerald that Angela Bernstein would be happy to help.

Thanks for being on time, said Gerald. He respected Ben Luckeridge as his most important customer, but also resented him for forcing Bernstein onto them. Gerald was of the old school autocrat mould, a guy who hated to waste time and who felt far more productive when he was talking and others were listening.

We’re excited to be moving forward with your somewhat vague proposal, he continued.

Wow, Angela thought, there’s the news right up front, with a dash of defensive cynicism thrown in. Who’d have thought they would have accepted what I proposed? I was actually expecting and hoping not to get this job. I only met them because Ben asked me to.

The people and dynamics within the walls of the meeting room reminded Angela of what she detested about corporate Australia. The defensiveness, the pretence, the strained smiles and the fictitious humour combined to create a where’s the fire escape? impulse in her gut.

Wanting to see what was possible, Angela mused as the CFO, Martin Peel, began to talk.

Luckeridge says you weave magic and will be an invaluable resource to us, is that right? If so, how do we measure the dollar value of this significant investment? What are the milestones, and where is the detail behind what Gerald describes as your ‘vague proposal’?

Gerald immediately felt uncomfortable. He did not expect Martin to quote him, and felt almost ashamed to have used the phrase to describe the investment, because his intention had always been to accept the initiative and move on, and not to play games, as Martin evidently was.

Another straight shooter in the bar, Angela reflected as she responded to Martin. What does Ubiquity need to achieve from this? You tell me what your measures are for that, and then we’ll see if and when we get there.

Martin screamed inside. That fucking Luckeridge! Feeling his inner, furious radar blip incessantly, he piped up. "What does that mean? You want us to measure the progress and outcome of this cloudy 18 months you’ve failed to map out for us?"

Angela, conscious of the rapid rate of Martin’s breathing, held a warm fixed gaze on his strained eyes. If measurement is what you want, Martin, measurement is what you’ll have to do for yourself. If you leave it up to me, you won’t get a flint from a milestone because I don’t know what’s possible here, and that’s precisely the point of this work. Slowing her pace, and breathing more deeply, still holding her warm gaze and with more empathy for Martin, she said, "This initiative is what adult development researchers might refer to as a Deliberately Developmental Engagement, which means there is no linear path with measures for such a venture. We are going to discover what’s possible here, and we’ll do it together. It just may be far better than your wildest hopes and dreams."

Yes, that sounds fantastic, chimed in Greg Soster, the handsome, charismatic and confident Communications Director of Ubiquity. Let’s relax our rational measurements for now, and see what’s possible here. I’ve heard many inspiring stories about how Angela has assisted companies to achieve remarkable results.

Ah, the peacemaker, noted Angela. Corporate transformation, when done well, is both a remarkably simple and fantastically complicated journey of discovery that delivers results beyond what seemed possible before. The trick is the ‘done well’ part. It comes down to you and other partners of this business; you are the alchemists, I’m just the guide.

There was a long pause. Everyone had his or her own response to the tension and to the conversation.

Angela continued. "The support I’ll provide to your potential partners will be to challenge their ability to perceive, think about and take action towards achieving the growth goals you have for this business. I understand from our earlier conversations that those succeeding in becoming partner will be those who contribute to significant growth in new business.

"I’ll support them to develop their level of consciousness to be more creative, more efficient, more effective and more resourceful. Those who succeed will have matured their thinking beyond their current stage of consciousness. Ben Luckeridge calls this ‘Putting wise heads on young shoulders’.

While I’m stimulating these bright minds to break through to new levels of potency, your job will be to create the space for them to thrive. This is vital, because if I do my job properly they will challenge the status quo and collective thinking of people here at Ubiquity. I am available to support you at any time throughout this journey. Your leadership is vital, so if you need help, give me a call.

You won’t be hearing from me, thought Martin, not in a thousand years.

This experience will be challenging, and some of the participants may initially go backwards, said Angela. If that happens, let’s be in contact to ensure you provide the right amount of support and encouragement internally, and the sensitivity and stretch from me externally.

What methods do you use? asked Greg.

"Everything is presented to the participants on a choose forward basis. They are in control the whole way, and can call time on their participation at any stage. The methods I will use across the 18 months will include one-on-one coaching, transformational mentoring, collective leadership workshop sessions and offsite activities. All of this will allow the participants to gain new perspectives and the improved ability to develop objectivity, and a solution-focused approach to their work.

In regard to measures, some of my clients use their organisational engagement survey results to measure improved employee engagement. Some watch the cash flow, margins and revenue growth, and others observe the rate of workplace injuries, staff attrition, sick days, and so on. There are a thousand ways to measure the occurrence of change. In my experience, you will notice when change begins because it will happen to you and will be evident in the new conversations that will transform how Ubiquity operates.

So you’re saying you’re happy for us to baseline the factors you mentioned, and anything else we can think of to measure these next 18 months? said Martin, with a flush of excitement at nailing something down. Martin’s intelligence always seems to be overruled by his need for drama.

Yes. Only, please don’t ask me to be involved in gathering, reviewing or reporting on such details; they are the cart in this conversation and my job is to work with the horse.

Again, there was a pause as Gerald wrestled with an old energy bubbling up from below. Greg smiled in amusement; Gerald had met his match. Martin‘s next comment was to be one of ridicule, but he somehow managed to hold it. Angela carried herself with a level of confidence and assuredness he had not experienced in many women, and it scared him.

Gerald and Martin sat in silence in the boardroom they had dominated for years; they were on the back foot, even with the home court advantage. The junior partners sat, hardly breathing, riveted in suspense for the next move.

Angela offered one more thought. The cart is representative of the collective way you manage culture here. It shows us how you relate, how you think, what you believe, your assumptions and your biases. The sum of all of this creates the dynamic Ubiquity uses to operate in a creative manner, a reactive manner, or somewhere in between. I believe the results from the Leadership Culture Survey you completed six months ago accurately illustrate this.

Therese Mumford, the People and Culture Director and sponsor of the Leadership Culture Survey, spoke up. We scored in the 85th percentile on most of the reactive dimensions, and only in the 45th percentile on the creative ones. Our team aspirations showed our wish to completely reverse that.

"That thing was horse shit. We didn’t understand what we were answering with those waffly questions!" Martin exclaimed.

That ‘horse shit’, Martin, is another piece of data you can use to evaluate the impact this work will have on Ubiquity and its goals, observed Greg, feeling a little over-excited to be watching Martin struggling.

Angela nodded in agreement.

Speaking peacefully and with certainty, Therese said, I’m sold. This feels right and will be the beginning of a new future for Ubiquity. This will get us closer to our vision and to the ideals upon which this business was founded. How do we get started?

What a surprise you support this, Therese, snapped Martin. Before we think about getting started, let’s review, one more time, why we are doing this, and if now is the best time for us. I’d prefer we waited till our cash flow improved a little. After all, Ms Bernstein’s fees aren’t exactly insignificant.

While he agreed with Martin’s cynicism in some way, Gerald had become bored of hearing it. The old man had nudged us so hard on this, it could easily be taken as a direct order, and challenging Luckeridge on his choice of consultant would not be a wise move. His patronage is 80 per cent of our turnover and without him we’re obviously screwed.

Alright Martin, let’s not waste any more time, said Gerald. The decision was made at last month’s partner meeting, and it’s not going to be changed now. Your view on this matter is noted and respected. Angela, how do we get started, and how important is it that you interview the nominated partner candidates before the journey, as you call it, begins?

It is important that I interview all nominated candidates to ensure everyone hears the program brief from the ‘horse’s mouth’, Angela said. Martin smirked, but she ignored him. "Because of its nature, all candidates must agree to the terms of this journey, and these interviews will allow me to establish a relationship contract of trust and respect. Normally, a few will qualify out of the program because of this interview, which will save us time and you money. Does that answer part of your question, Gerald?"

Yes, I understand the importance now.

Great. I’m available to start the interviews on the first of February. How’s that for Ubiquity?

Therese answered, That’s fine for us; we were hoping for a similar start date.

What are you calling this journey? Angela directed the question to Therese.

We’ve been throwing around a few names, and so far, the ‘Professional to Partnership Path’ seems to be the one gaining most support.

Thinking he was speaking under his breath, Martin muttered in a crackly, yet just audible voice, with an obvious edge of sarcasm, The journey… pfffftttt… HR wank.

All eyes fixed on Gerald, all except for Martin’s. He was now finding the font type and size of the report in front of him very interesting.

For Martin, detail had always been a welcome means of distraction from awkwardness; for Gerald, it was something far more powerful, a sort of explosive eruption. As Martin’s words echoed in the microseconds of silence, every cell of Gerald’s major muscle groups flooded with adrenalin as blood evacuated his brain and surged into attack mode.

The energy pushed up from his spine caused his body to shake and tingle on an invisible atomic level as his irises narrowed to pinpoint his attack, and perhaps to literally reduce his perspective. He clenched the edge of the table as he rose rigidly to stand. The audience stopped breathing as they saw this old story unfold, and their muscles froze as Mount Gerald leaned over Martin’s cowering, diminutive body. The eruption began.

Seriously Martin? SERIOUSLY?! What part of the word PARTNERship do you NOT understand? We heard you. We know you don’t want to do this; we know you think nothing matters but fucking accounting numbers! Hammering his fist onto the table’s polished oak, Gerald continued. We have asked you repeatedly, at this VERY TABLE, to respect all voices, and Therese is one person I specifically and privately asked you to treat as an equal. Your patronising and dismissive bullshit is not welcomed here! GET IT?

As Gerald relieved a few years’ worth of pent-up, unused emotion from his limbic system, his self-conscious mind regained a sense of composure as the pain in his right hand caused by its brief interaction with the table began to tingle and throb. The calm returned to his voice and his posterior reunited with its seat.

Gerald sighed and spoke once more. I’m sorry for that overkill, but I’m so sick of the time spent oscillating from group decisions. If you are a partner in this firm, YOU have to respect the group decisions and that is that! Does anyone disagree?

Gerald’s two-second pause felt like an eternity for Martin as the icy stare of the longest-serving and most senior partner of Ubiquity burnt holes in his own feeble orbs as they attempted to hold the moment as an equal.

Good. Gerald’s fist thumped the table once again, but this time with far less force. He repositioned his tie and re-tucked his shirt, which had come loose with his exertions.

For the final time, Luckeridge all but told me we have to do this. He is a BIG fan of Ms Bernstein, as am I. I don’t know about you, but I do not want to piss off our most important client whose patronage represents 80 per cent of our turnover.

A sense of order and emotional safety returned to the room. Gerald released his cold-iron gaze from Martin and turned to Angela. His eyes had softened like an embarrassed schoolboy caught doing something he said he wouldn’t do any more. Apologies for the blowup and the f-bomb, Angela. I didn’t intend for you to see such a display so soon!

Gently shifting her gaze from Martin and drawing upon the warmth in Gerald’s eyes, Angela stood and exhaled audibly. She walked around the boardroom table. All eyes followed her with apprehension, excitement and an expectation that she would judge them in some way—or worse, reject them and the gig.

She felt invigorated and alive since Gerald’s outburst. It was safer to breathe with less pretence and tension in the air.

I agree with Martin, she finally said with a snap in her voice after completing a lap of the room. She now stood behind Martin.

The word ‘journey’ is overused and has lost its punch, Angela stated. ‘Let’s call this an ADVENTURE, because I promise you that everything I have heard here today is welcomed and encouraged. When I’m working with you I want to see and hear all of the cynicism, anger, frustration, judgement, fear, anxiety, resentment, excitement, joy, rapture, wonder, contentment, boredom, disbelief and anything else you experience."

Angela’s left hand was on Martin’s shoulder; she reached high with her open right hand and swung an enormous arch from her waist, up and over her head drawing it down and slapping it hard on the table. Her eyes were alive like a child in wonder. "I want it all on the table…"

Martin was giddy with fear. This was more terrifying than anything Gerald could throw at him. Simultaneously, Gerald felt the same way. Therese was beaming as a wave of feminine possibility flushed through her like a wave gushing through a stagnant rock pool at high tide. Greg was frozen in a mix of wonder and disbelief; he was two parts confused and one part enamoured with this statuesque, Viking-like figure blowing the cobwebs from his mind.

Angela continued. The rawness of true feelings is more valuable than feigned correctness. Bring it all and let us adventure together. I’m up for it if you are.

Therese exploded from her chair and latched herself around Angela’s shoulders. She pressed herself against the warm envelop of Angela’s embrace. She removed her tear-filled face from Angela’s chest and uttered an emphatic YES! with the quiver of her voice.

Gerald raised himself and said with some conviction, I’m in.

The others expressed the same in tandem, and Martin, overwhelmed, nodded with agreement. He was more confused than he had ever been, and didn’t know what to do but exit the room and make for the toilet for a period of quiet contemplation.

Angela followed suit, and headed to the elevator. Its steel doors closed on her incidental view of two of the young professionals she would soon be working with. It was replaced by the reflection of her composed, rosy-cheeked self in the sheen of steel—rosy with the heartbeat of possibility and the promise of a new adventure.

Refer p392 for the Ubiquity Consulting Leadership Chart.

CHAPTER 2

Ben Goes Into His Cave

Ben was shutting down his laptop when Megumi handed him some papers. He picked up only one—the hand-written note from Angela. Interested though he was in reading what she had left for him, he decided to wait until he got to the beach.

Ben’s weekly visit to Balmoral Beach was one of the many habits he had picked up over the years. The wisdom of age had enabled him to ensure there were more good than bad habits those days.

Ben sat on his favourite bench, too tired to walk down to the sand or across and up the steps to the rock islet where the horizon’s pollution-hued sunset glowed with drapes of a murky mauve. Two fit twenty-somethings ran past, and Ben envied the glow of their unworn bodies and the joy of their fluid movement. He reached into his breast pocket for the note. He read: Remember to go into your cave.

Ben closed his eyes and began to sink into the dark corners of his mind. He’d done this many times before, and no longer needed to breathe his mind to a sufficiently relaxed state or use the pen and paper he once relied so heavily upon. The doorway to his cave was now always ajar.

Meditation was one of Ben’s good habits. He found it invaluable in creating clarity and peacefulness. That day, his meditation was more about seeking and accepting the old wounded and disowned pieces of his mind, his memories and his life. Ben was determined to reconcile all of his life before he died; avoidance wouldn’t cut it anymore.

A dimly-lit street; a low-down, sideways view; the sound of strangers muttering indignation as they passed—Yes, I’m down, thought Ben. Down in a gutter, cleaner than imagined possible for a city of 25 million people. Fuck ‘em, he said, they can all get fucked. He felt the temptation for shame overruled by arrogance, the boozer’s best friend. His bloodied knuckles supported him to his knees. The hand of an older man dragged him up on his wobbly legs. Fuck ‘em, Ben repeated, slurring.

Fuck ‘em, chortled his companion in support of his new down- and-out friend. You want sleep, young man? You want sleep in house of peace?

Is there sake?

There be better drink, drink of peace and wisdom. It get you very high, makes you forget your worries and mistakes.

Hiroshima’s bright sun shone accusingly upon Ben as he woke in the early afternoon. Shame fell like dirt on the pine lid of the cheap box that was now the relationship between himself and his beloved, Tomoko. The dullness of his heart thumped hard. Regret coursed through his mind with the same sickly feeling as the hangover coursing through his veins. How could I have pushed the old man? He was as old as I am now and I was in my twenties. The stubborn fucker kept getting up. Those Japs are born through the gateway of honour; they would rather die than lose face. But how could I have kept pushing him over?

Brian tapped softly on Ben’s left shoulder and brought his awareness back from the bitter memories of that first morning in Hiroshima after the argument with Tomoko’s father. It’s time to go, sir, said his trusted friend and driver. Your hour is up.

Don’t call me ‘sir’, son. How many times do I need to tell you that? Ben quipped in anger. His anger was self-directed, close to the surface and fresh from the painful walls of his cave. For Ben, there was no better way to use this anger than to drive it through the chest of his closest companion.

That’s what Brian had become to Ben. They had been side-by-side for 15 years now, and Ben knew a business turning over $2.5 billion in revenue couldn’t buy the trust and loyalty of another soul. Ben pondered this as the car pulled up the hill to his modest, comfortable home in Balmoral. Over the years I’ve been surrounded by people with an agenda: mates at the yacht club; women I’d pay for comfort; extended family—nieces, nephews and hosts of others claiming to be relatives; advisors and board members; and that bunch of wannabes at Ubiquity. Brian, like the monk who dragged me off that Hiroshima street in 1959, and Angela, of course, are among a handful of those I’ve been able to trust openly without fear of getting screwed.

You’re a good man, Brian. What would I do without you?

You’d get lost; you’d starve; you’d miss the Financial Times’ morning highlights; you’d forget to call your sisters; the lights and phone would be disconnected and the Ferrari you used to love so much wouldn’t get to have me enjoying my 30-year-old girlfriend on the front seat.

"You did what?! You horny bugger! Good on you! When did you finally get a girlfriend? I was worried you’d dried up as part of your midlife crisis, or whatever it was that broke up you and that angel, Marissa. You gave up on a wonderful woman who gave you three delightful kids."

Yes, she was a wonderful woman in public, but at home, she was my own private Godzilla. How about you? How’d you stay kid-less all these years? You, the king of women, the original ladies’ man. Have you been shooting blanks your whole life?

Brian’s innocent question quietly returned Ben to his cave.

Although Brian was a close companion, Ben could scarcely talk to him about the truth he’d spent his life fighting to deny and avoid. No one except his mother, who was long since underground, knew about the child he’d fathered in Japan all those years ago, and he had sworn her to secrecy, though it broke her heart. The rest of the family had learned not to ask Ben about what had happened to him all the time he was in Japan.

For years, Ben had carried the burden of this regret and the guilt that slowly accumulated around his inaction to atone for his greatest mistake. It served to create a familiarity with self-disdain. For Ben, this was one wound that time, so far, hadn’t healed. And time was running out.

Do you avoid answering the phone on Father’s Day? The humour behind Brian’s question cut deep, as is often the case with the throwaway humour of the Australian male and his surface-skimming interplay.

Don’t worry about me shooting blanks. Tell me about the vixen you had in the Ferrari, you mad rooter.

You were right, what you said about the Ferrari. If I leave it parked for more than half an hour some horny little minx leaves her number under a wiper blade.

People get old and die, Brian. Rocks erode to sand, trees stretch skywards and eventually fall, and a Ferrari pulls women like nothing else. That chick magnet is yours when I’m gone, you know.

I’d expect so. Why else do you think I hang around you? Brian retorted, tongue in cheek. Do you think it’s because I enjoy making sure you eat your Weetbix and wear a clean suit each day?

That night, Ben slept like a baby. He always did after he went into his cave and uncovered another repressed memory, regret or feeling. He had always wondered if that’s why babies sleep so soundly, because they were not yet smart or developed enough to know regret, let alone carry it. Nature, the Shinto Buddhists had shown Ben, celebrates all things with the same respect and unconditional acceptance. It’s us humans that have somehow invented the plague of regret and shame, and other means of self-torment.

CHAPTER 3

Ben’s Coaching Session With Angela

My Angel, how are you? Ben exclaimed as Angela arrived.

I’m pleased to see you, and I’m getting excited about Christmas. Everyone has agreed to visit me in Avoca for Christmas lunch. It’ll be the first time in years we’ve all been together—even Jacob is coming. He has long since accepted our divorce and is now like an old friend. He’s bringing his new partner. What are you doing?

Oh, is it Christmas already?

Yes, it’s tomorrow.

Damn, there’s so much to do. I hate breaks that sneak up on me. I think Brian is on holidays for a couple of weeks, and I’ll be going to my sister’s farm at Scone during that time.

Is that the family’s old racehorse breeding property from your mum’s side?

"Yes, it’s a beautiful place with a fascinating history. You’ll have to come up so I can show you around and tell you the juice. There’s been a murder, a barn bombing and a suicide. You know, seven group one winners have come off that property."

"All that does sound juicy. How about I call you after the fifth? I’ll shoot up there for a couple of days: we can do a bit of work and reminisce about the old days."

It’s a deal. Talking about deals, how did you go with yesterday’s meeting at Ubiquity? A little bird tells me Martin gave you a bit of grief.

I’d say your little bird is overstating it. Martin’s approach was expected; after all, his business is still recovering from a 30 per cent drop in sales, and he seems a little stressed.

I’m frustrated by him. That mob needs to pull their fingers out. They’re too reliant on TLG, and I fear he’ll stifle any creativity emerging from the work you’re about to do with their up-and-coming partners.

I like him. He means well and he speaks from the heart, even if he is a little dramatic at times.

I appreciate your confidence in him, but I’m going to keep my eye on Martin, and if he’s still filtering too much through his controlling side and coming out with rational resistance, I’ll be nudging Gerald to get rid of him. If that company is going to stay as TLG’s primary supplier then I want a mob who can lead us, not drag us back to the 80s.

I hear you, Ben. Now, what about this idea you wanted to discuss, the one that’s keeping you alive?

Huh. I don’t know if it’s really keeping me alive or not, and I’m not sure where to start. I’m always thinking about the future of the business after I die. All these years I’ve focused on customers’ needs and accommodated my employees—but that’s about all I’ve done. I’m not a planner’s poop-hole, and when academics and business journalists hear me say that, they think I’m hiding some deep-rooted business success secret. I’m not, and you of all people know that.

True, I believe you, and I’d say a big part of your success is the drive you have had and the dogged way you hang onto an idea. You also work extremely hard without allowing any time for family or play. You have a natural limitless drive coupled with an openness to learn, and the curiosity to find out if something can be done better and for less money. Am I missing anything?

No, and that’s kind of you to say.

So, your question about the business is what, exactly?

Well, what happens next? When I’m gone, I mean? What will become of the business? What will be my legacy? What will I have contributed to the world I’m leaving behind, and how will people benefit from what I’ve worked my entire life to build?

And? Angela asked with a raised intonation, sensing Ben was holding something back.

And, what if Jack, that loose cannon of a nephew of mine, fucks it up? Ben said with some trepidation. What if Jack does what I know Jack is capable of doing, and turns the business into an extension of his ego? He’ll burn the culture, the goodwill and the trust and enthusiasm that exist among the people. The signs are already showing in TLG Construction, and I’ve been avoiding their complaints about Jack for a couple of years now because I haven’t wanted to deal with them. I didn’t want to have to face the fact that my sister’s son, who joined me fresh out of university and has worked hard for 20 years, is not wise enough, adult enough, or human enough to take over the business. There! I’ve said it! I’ve been bouncing that around in my mind for two years and now that I’ve said it, I feel like I’ve done an almighty crap.

What’s stopped you talking about this until now?

Ben, who was already somewhat slumped in his chair, let the lower half of his body slide further toward the ground and assumed a more exaggeratedly slumped posture. His eyes fixed on something between here and nowhere, and his lungs let out a reservoir of flabbergastation that flapped his lips on the way through. As if already exhausted by the conversation before it had even begun, he could have easily fallen asleep under the weight of the topic.

Jack is Jack, he said, pulling himself upright in his chair and picking up Angela’s objective gaze. Jack is Jack, he repeated, and fell silent.

Jack is Jack, Angela confirmed calmly.

I tolerate him as one tolerates an unwanted and unavoidable dinner invitation. I’ve always known he wasn’t right for the job and so far I’ve done nothing about it. More flabbergastation released itself.

"I can’t bring myself to tell him. He thinks he is the one; he believes he deserves the business.