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Reality
Chapter 8 of The Anatomy of Peace
By The Arbinger Institute
Editor’s note:
The Anatomy of Peace, an important new book by the writers
of Leadership and Self-Deception, shows us the cause of
human conflict so that we can learn to live in peace. Look for the
continuation next Monday.
“Did you hear that, Carol?” Lou said
chasing after her out to the parking lot. “That girl, Jenny — you
know, the one who was yelling and carrying on this morning — she
took off running.”
“Where?”
“Here, out in the streets. She just
took off running across town.”
Carol stopped. “Oh, how terrible,”
she said, looking up the street. “Poor girl. She wasn’t wearing
any shoes. Do you think we should try to find her?”
“I’m sure Yusuf and his team are handling
it,” he said.
Before now, Carol would have thought
this a sarcastic dig, but she thought she heard a hint of respect
in Lou’s voice.
Lou glanced at his watch. “Listen,
Carol, I have to make some calls.”
“Now?”
“Yes. The situation at the office is
kind of a mess. I have to check in with a couple of people.”
>“Can’t you do that later?”
“They’ll probably be gone home by the
time we’re out this evening. I’m going to have to call now.”
“You never worried about calling them
at home on Friday nights before,” she said, coyly. “Why now?”
Lou knew what Carol was searching for,
but he didn’t want her to have the satisfaction of knowing he was
actually considering what Avi and Yusuf had said. Avoiding a direct
answer to her question, he said, “Well, I’d rather not call them
at home if I can help it. Not with all the turmoil everyone’s in.
Don’t want to add to it, I suppose.”
“Okay,” Carol said. “I’ll bring you
back something to eat.”
“Thanks,” Lou said as he turned to
look for a private place to make his calls.
He knew who he needed to call first:
his secretary. But he got her voice mail. Where is she! he
thought, before catching himself.
“Please leave me a message,” came the
pleasant voice.
“Susan, it’s Lou. Just checking in
for a report. I’ll try you later.” In that moment, he suddenly flashed
back to the blustery way he’d left the office the day before and
felt a tinge of regret. “Oh, and one more thing,” he found himself
saying. “I’m, uh —” he hesitated. “I’m sorry for blowing up at you
yesterday on the way out of town. I didn’t mean it, really. I think
I was just feeling the load of all that’s going on, and I ended
up taking it out on you. So, sorry about that. Anyway, that’s all.
Carry on.”
“Carry on”?Lou thought to himself
as he hung up the phone. You can’t do any better than that?
“Carry on”? Lou shook his head. Wow, once ’Nam’s in your
system, you just can’t shake it.
Other than feeling a bit of chagrin
over his military-issue good-bye, Lou felt good having made the
call to Susan.
But the next call was going to be harder.
It was to Kate — Kate Stenarude, who had led the mutiny of his executive
staff.
Kate had been one of the original twenty
employees at Zagrum, where she started as an order fulfillment clerk
after graduating from college with a degree in history. It turns
out she had been a brilliant hire, as her combination of brains,
likeability, and professional drive quickly elevated her to the
top of the sales division. Despite her young age, until the March
Meltdown she had been everyone’s pick as Lou’s successor — if and
when he ever decided to retire, that is.
This love for her was partly born of
a desperate hope as she was the single person who while possessing
the business vision and smarts required to run the operation also
retained a deeply felt appreciation for the people around her, regardless
of rank or position. When she walked in the Zagrum doors each morning
as Zagrum’s director of sales, she walked and talked and greeted
and laughed the same way she did the day she was hired. She walked
in not as a big shot but as one of the people. And the people loved
her for it.
So when she walked out of the building
on that rainy Connecticut March morning, “escorted” on Lou’s command
by apologetic members of the security staff, it was as though the
company’s heart and soul walked out with her. Lou knew this, although
until now he had been trying to deny the full impact of her leaving.
But truth was her loss hurt the company more than the loss of the
other four combined. And probably more, even, than if Lou had left
himself.
He had to call her. But what am
I going to say? he wondered.
He stood there with the clumsy uncertainty
he once felt as a teenager when he was trying to motivate himself
to call and ask a girl out.
Ah hell, just call her! he shouted
internally, calling himself out of his adolescent timidity.
He dialed the number and waited: one
ring, then two, three, four.
With each ring he felt the youthful
panic build again within him until he was telling himself that if
she didn’t pick up by ring six, he would hang up.
The sixth ring hadn’t even completed
before he terminated the call, a spasm of relief releasing droplets
of sweat on his brow. Well, I tried, he said to himself.
I’ll catch her later.
But his racing heart told him that
he might not get the courage up to do it again for days. If ever.
Now for real work, he thought
to himself, as he dialed up John Rencher, the president of the local
union, who was threatening a strike.
“Hello?” came the voice.
“John.” It was more of a summons to
attention than a greeting.
“Yes.”
“It’s Lou Herbert.”
Silence.
Just then Lou thought of Yusuf’s assignment
to see everyone as people.
“Hey, listen, John,” he said, in as
kind a voice as he could muster, “I was wondering if we could get
together when I get back and take another look at your proposal.”
“Take another look at it yourself,”
Rencher shot back. “You’ve had it for a week.”
“I just thought you and I could get
further if we talked things over,” Lou responded, still as agreeably
as he could.
“So you still want more from us.”
“Well, this is a negotiation after
all.”
“No, Lou, this is an ultimatum. We’re
going to shut you down until you meet our demands. You’ve railroaded
our people for too long. It’s over, Lou.”
“Now you listen here, you little scumbag,”
Lou exploded. “You can take your clock-watching, do-nothing morons
and go ruin someone else’s company if you want. But if you walk
out on me, you’re over at Zagrum. The union will never walk through
my doors again. You got that?”
“You got that!” he repeated.
“I said, YOU GOT THAT!”
But the line was dead. Rencher had
hung up.
Lou bellowed in frustration as he flung
the phone at the wall. “Stupid homework,” he muttered. “See
people as people,” he repeated to himself sarcastically in a
singsong tone. “What a joke. Yusuf hasn’t worked a day in
the real world. He doesn’t know squat! Yeah, go ahead Yusi,” he
said to the air mockingly, “try your little soft-pop stuff on the
union. Yeah, that’ll work. And on the terrorists. And on Cory too.
Sure, they’ll all just roll over and pant happily after receiving
a little of your Middle Eastern love.” He laughed at the oxymoronic
ring to this and then shook his head, half out of anger, half out
of disgust. “What a waste. This whole thing is a waste.”
When Carol returned from lunch, a take-out
box for Lou in her hand, Lou intercepted her before she entered
the building.
“Carol, we’re leaving.”
“What?” she uttered in complete surprise.
“You heard me; we’re leaving.”
“Leaving,” she repeated in disbelief.
“Why?”
“Because this is a waste of time, and
I don’t have time to waste.”
Carol looked at him warily. “What happened
on your calls, Lou?”
“Nothing.”
“Seriously, Lou, what happened?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you, if you really
want to know. I was yanked back to reality, that’s what happened.
Someone brought me back to my senses. Come on. We’re going.”
At that, Lou started for the car.
But Carol didn’t budge.
“Carol, I said we’re leaving.”
“I know what you said, but I won’t
allow it. Not this time, Lou. The stakes are too high.”
“You’re damn right the stakes are too
high, Carol. That’s why we have to go.”
“No, Lou, that’s why we have to stay.
The stakes you’re worried about, whatever they are, are high because
of how we’ve been mostly tone-deaf to what we’re starting to learn
here. We’re not leaving, Lou.
“Okay, have it your way, Carol,” he
said, dismissing her with a quick flick of his wrist. “I’m
leaving then.”
Carol stood in silence. The hope that
had developed within her through the morning was now fading. See
him as a person, see him as a person, she repeated within. You’ve
got to keep seeing him as a person.
“Lou —”
He stopped and turned to her. “Yeah?”
“If you leave here, Honey,” she said,
“I’ll leave you.”
“You’ll what?”
In this moment, Carol was struck by
how much she loved this man. Despite his belligerence, she was not
raging within toward him. And his bullheadedness did not wash from
her memory the many wonderful things he had done for her and for
others. He wasn’t a saint, to be sure, but there were times — especially
during some of the private moments that make up most of life — that
he cared and loved and acted in saintly ways.
He was better in private than he was
in the glare of public moments, which was just the opposite of many
people she knew. And it seemed to her that his brand of private
strength and public weakness showed more goodness and character
than those who hid private weakness with conjured public strength.
Yes, she thought to herself, I’d take him again if we
had the chance to do everything over.
So she was surprised when she heard
herself say again, “I’ll leave you, Lou. And I mean it.”
Lou stood for a moment in complete
silence. Every muscle in his body had frozen still, as if afraid
to move for where the movement might lead.
“Carol,” he said finally, almost in
pleading, “you can’t be serious.”
Carol nodded slightly. “Yes, Lou, I’m
afraid I am.
>“Don’t misunderstand,” she added.
“I don’t want to leave you. But I will.”
This knocked Lou completely out of
sorts.
“Listen, Lou, I think we need this.
I think Cory needs it from us. And I think we need it for him and
for each other. You might need it for Zagrum too,” she added. “And
for Kate.”
This last mention of Kate caught Lou,
for it took him back to the feeling he had when he knew he needed
to call her, which seemed like years ago.
He slumped his shoulders and heaved
a heavy sigh.
“Okay, Carol,” he said, forlornly.
“You win. I’ll stay.”
Then he paused. “But only until tonight.”
Copyright © 2006 by
The Arbinger Institute
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
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