Confessions of an IT Manager_Phil Factor

216 The Whipping Boy
Meanwhile, we continued the battle to get the relationship between the IT
department and the business on a rational footing. We fought desperately to
achieve order and rationality but as soon as we had determined the business
structures and processes, management went and changed them. We knew what
we wanted, but were forced to make compromises in the face of this grim
every-day reality. And reality meant occasional glitches and bugs.
It all came to a head one day when I was summoned to the boardroom to be
confronted by the MD, the IT director and a lot of Americans in sharp suits.
The MD broke into his usual tirade, and we settled into our usual roles.
Suddenly, however, the MD shouted "Phil, you're fired!" I was mildly intrigued
by the unusual passion in his voice and glanced at the IT director. He looked
puzzled and alarmed. I shrugged and the meeting carried on.
After the meeting we met, in the usual way, at a French restaurant around
the corner.
"Hey," I said to the MD, "you were going a bit strong then. You had me
worried for a moment."
"Not a bit of it," he protested "I meant it! It is about time we had a
competent man in your position."
The IT director looked at me like a drowning man. I knew instantly what
was going through his mind: if I left, he would once more become the
company's whipping boy, the goat sacrificed as an atonement to appease the
angry gods of commercial life. After a pause, in which all one could hear was
the rattle of his teaspoon against the cup as he held the saucer in his trembling
hand, the IT director spoke.
"Quite right of course, but it would make for a far better hand-over if Phil
could work his notice and perhaps a little-bit longer."
The MD thought over the suggestion. The truth was that he had got overexcited
by the importance of the occasion and had perhaps improvised too
freely.
"What would you have in mind by a little bit longer," he asked slowly.
"Well, things are very busy, and Phil would be hard to replace; perhaps we
can leave it a bit vague … a month … a year maybe?"
"Excellent plan," he snapped, "and we'll give you due notice of course." He
then bought us a very nice meal.
After that, the usual routine was re-established with sporadic and theatrical
dressing-downs in the boardroom interrupting what I believed was my real job: