Jackie Chan Must Go
A tale of corporate skulduggery
— Marty, I’d like you to do something about JC. — We’ve been through this before. There’s nothing to be done about JC, except wait for him to retire. — Nobody retires around here, hadn’t you noticed? — You’ve burst my bubble. What do you mean? — That’s why they offer such generous pension arrangements. Because no — one’s ever still around to collect their pension. — I did notice that there isn’t too much grey hair around the place. — When I joined I was thirty and the HR person was telling me “You’re a bit older than the people we usually employ”. — Isn’t there a law against ageism. — I don’t think there is yet, but what does it matter? They are never blatant enough to say we don’t want you in because you’re too old. They talk about cultural fit, put you off by talking about the work hard, play hard environment. — How long have you been here? — Just under ten years. — So you must be ready to be shuffled out? — My boss is probably having this same conversation about me. But what I want you to worry about is JC.
JC is shorthand for Jackie Chan, which is the somewhat racist nickname for Wai Lam Wing, a Hong Kong born auditor who has been around the Firm even longer than my boss Peter. Poor JC once made the unwise comment that he had achieved his green belt in karate, after which he got stuck with the Jackie Chan epithet.
The reason it stuck was its sheer inapplicability. JC wouldn’t hurt a fly. He is deferential to an absurd extreme. And this is the reason, more than anything, why Peter wants him out.
JC has managed to make Audit a laughing stock on the trading floor. We heard from a friendly source that the traders have devised a new game to take advantage of JC’s diffidence.
When he turns up at their desks to ask a question related to one of his reviews, he is far too polite to announce himself and just ask his question. Instead he will just stand beside them smiling hopefully, shifting uneasily from foot to foot until he gets noticed and they oblige him with their attention. Of course, seated in front of a row of flashing lights, trading screens and ringing telephones, they have ample opportunity to look busy for hours on end.
Now that they’ve decided to make a game of seeing how long JC will wait without saying anything, the poor guy has no chance. Rumour has it that he has stood there miserably for up to half an hour before backing away and scuttling back to his desk.
— Why can’t we just assign him to internal projects? — Because no-one in the department takes him seriously either. Would you set aside half an hour to talk to JC about Audit Metrics? — I see what you mean. But why now? JC has been ineffective for all of the years he’s been here. — That would be fine if I’d ever bothered to register the fact. But he can point to a big sheaf of satisfactory appraisals and good bonuses over the past ten years and say that I’ve never had a problem with him until now. — He’s got a point. What’s changed? Is it just the trader’s game that’s got you flustered? — Not just that. One thing is the age. Now we’ve got a few people over the age of forty I’m starting to hear management wonder aloud whether Audit has the right profile, the right dynamism among its people to cope with the challenges we face. But I’m also pissed off that he’s starting to make my non-payroll expenses look bad. We’re way over budget on the weekday taxi invoices and it’s all down to him. — Weekday taxis? Is he really taking a taxi home every night? — Every night. He’s learned how to work the system to perfection. He knows that after eight o’clock he’s entitled to a taxi home. So he just fills in the time at his desk until then. — I thought he was working late to impress you and pump up his bonus. — He’s got no chance of getting a big bonus this year. That’s about the only thing I can safely do to send him a message and hope he clears off. No. He’s staying late for only one reason-he’s frightened of going home on the Underground. — But he just lives in Bayswater. It’s only half a dozen stops. — Even so. He just finds it an intimidating environment and he’s too tight to pay for his own taxi home, so he uses our car service.
— So, there you are. I want him out, but because he’s given so many years of service to the Firm it would be awkward just to dump him. And because his base pay has risen to ridiculously high levels over the years, any severance package would be ruinously expensive for the Department. So your task is to persuade him somehow that his future lies elsewhere. Speak to some of your buddies in the recruitment firms, see if they can rustle something up. — Which buddies are they? — The ones you’re on the phone to every other day since you joined. I’ve got the telephone call log reports in my drawer, so don’t play the innocent with me. In fact, if you’ve got any recommendations for good agencies I’ll be happy to hear them. — What do I get for doing the dirty on poor old JC? — What’s in it for you? A bonus, of course. The only motivational tool any manager has in this environment. Also, if we free up JC’s salary we should be able to employ two bright young things from the accountancy firms who won’t mind doing your donkey work on audits. — Sounds good. Do I have your authorisation to do a number on him? — Depends what you mean. — Well, offhand I don’t know his hot buttons, what would motivate him to leave a safe haven like this where he’s madly overpaid for what he does. To get a clearer idea of what would work, I’m going to need access to those telephone call logs, his internet surfing logs and personal emails and maybe some other bits and pieces from his personnel files. It can all be supplied fairly discreetly, but you’re going to have to give me a blanket authorisation letter to show to people. — By email? — Better in hard copy. It will make people take it more seriously. And it makes the audit trail easier to destroy if we need to. — Good thinking. Can you start straight away? — I’m on it now.
Many thanks indeed for reading!
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