‘My worst nightmare has happened,’ writes Ed in his diary, ‘the remaining C-Class executives have figured out that I’m planning to fire them like I fired the CIO, CMO, CHRO and CTO. I think the CFO warned them after I tried and failed to sack him. Now the surviving C-execs are insisting on a confrontation.”
‘You’d have thought The Brats would have had more sense than insisting on this,’ adds Ed, referring to the 20-something, year-old super-sharpies who monitor his company for its private equity owners.
A couple of days later the entry reads: ‘Saw the C-Class execs today. They’re
pissed off to put it mildly.
“Ye woodna be thinkin of serrrrking oos all wood ye?” The thug of a Jocko CMO kicked off the meeting.
“Certainly not. You’re all valued members of the team,” I told them which was actually true as The Brats had suggested that, in future, the C-execs should all be forced out by skulduggery rather than formally sacked.
‘”Have our sponsors (the pissy name the PE people insist we call them) told you to sack us?” asked the CLO in that quietly aggressive tone lawyers use.
‘”No I can state absolutely unequivocally that our sponsors are insisting on no such thing,” I truthfully replied.
The C-execs looked a bit disconcerted. Their thunder stolen.
‘”Is that all?” I asked and they shuffled out.’
‘If I can’t get rid of them out by fair means it’ll have to be foul,” Ed confides to his diary, ‘roll on my $25 mill.’