The Monster

 

I was an international management consultant. You can’t wish that fact away. I did something no one ever did. Put communication people on the line. Gave them a crisis they had to respond to in real time. Nearly got me fired. Didn’t. I made a project, first in the U.S., called the Monster. Yeah. I called it that. Kept them up all night. 

Here’s what I did. First in Evansville, Indiana. Then in Paris, France. Same result, both places. 

I created a circumstance that put the survival of the company at risk. You get awakened at night by the news. What do you do? I gave them all the tools they had at their disposal. TV, official statements and press releases, the creation of the company narrative, which in this case did not look good. I gave a budget but made it clear that as CEO I had more cash on hand if they asked for it after 2 am.

In Evansville, I hired the leading male anchor newsman to say what they wanted him to say. They hired him. They scripted him. It was all a lie, even though the facts were against them. He even had a bad toupée and they hired him.

Very importantly, nobody thought to fall on the sword, admit a problem that needed investigation. Nobody ever thought to ask me for more money to fight the publicity war. I actually had piles of cash sitting on the table in front of me all night long, which nobody ever asked me for. They all stayed on budget and none of them thought to tell the truth.

I flunked the lot of them.and sent them back home to their cities to think about it.

The week after, the complaints were fierce and constant. I was unfair. The Monster wasn’t training but torture. My VP boss was about to fire me as his consultant. Until… the women started calling in to say after thinking about it I was right and they were wrong. 

Funny thing. I pulled off the same show in Paris, a year later, with the exact same result. Changed the name, the Euro Monster. They had the benefit of the Evansville story and still made all the same mistakes. The news reader was beautiful, unlike the Evansville anchor, but they also failed. Completely. 

One difference. The chief communicator in France put on a show in Paris the night before the day of our all-nighter. I had my last brief love of that city I will ever have again. Saw things I never saw before. We had our own vintage double decker bus, liveried waiters, and a Grand Tour to remember.

Champagne, Moet, they drove us  everywhere.

All the greatest sights in the City of Lights. The Arc de Triomphe. The Tomb of Napoleon. The best Restaurant in Paris. (Yeah, it really was. Maison Blanc. Restrooms you’re embarrassed to pee in, food you are served by the most beautiful women alive, and the food, the food, the food…)

Except I wasn’t buying the global consulting anymore. The women were now in charge. I could see it happening. And that’s why I retired from consulting a year or two later… and why I’m a pauper now.