A Strategic Plan

by Ross Mueller

  ANDREW: Why are you so fixated on the workload?

  SIMON: Crikey.

  LINDA: Fixated?

  SIMON: Heard that.

  LINDA: You did consult with staff about heavier workloads, right?

  ANDREW: We have been talking about change for / six months.

  LINDA: That’s not my question.

  ANDREW: Did I consult with them? Personally? No. I don’t do the rosters—that’s Colin’s gig.

  LINDA: Did you discuss it with Colin?

  SIMON: How does Colin feel about the festival?

  ANDREW: He doesn’t know about it. He’s in Thailand.

  LINDA: So—you just created this new workload off your own bat?

  ANDREW: I am not going to call him in Thailand to get his ‘approval’. He’s on holidays.

  LINDA: And you resent that?

  SIMON: Sounds jealous.

  LINDA: How does Jill feel about the Annual Program?

  ANDREW: Jill?

  SIMON: Jill.

  ANDREW: Specifically Jill?

  SIMON: Have you sought out feedback on the Annual Program with Jill?

  ANDREW: Jill’s fine.

  SIMON: We don’t want to lose Jill.

  ANDREW: No, I know you don’t want to lose Jill.

  LINDA: Jill—is on the front desk, right?

  SIMON: Yes—

  ANDREW: And producing the festival, doing amazing work.

  LINDA: Sounds like you’re outsourcing your own job?

  ANDREW: I am ‘mentoring’ her through ‘the process’ and giving her plenty of ‘latitude’ to create a ‘pathway’ for ‘emerging artists’ in ‘the regions’. I know. I am Satan, I’m sorry.

  LINDA: Did you consult with her individually on the grant application?

  ANDREW: No.

  LINDA: But ‘Satan’ is throwing this major / event on her plate? But this is additional work, this is unbudgeted activity and completely impulsive.

  ANDREW: I don’t accept that. Col and I wrote the application together. The board signed off on it. He went on holidays. Then the board changed your mind and decided you wanted to sell off / the biggest asset—

  LINDA: I might just stop you there— The board didn’t ‘sign off’ on anything.

  ANDREW: Yes. They did. They approved it. / Simon? You approved it.

  LINDA: Andy, Andy … you’re referencing the November meeting?

  ANDREW: The last board meeting of the year. Yes.

  LINDA: My first meeting was in December. In camera.

  SIMON: While you were still on your honeymoon.

  ANDREW: What was on the agenda?

  SIMON: Range of topics. Can you smell smoke?

  ANDREW: Were you talking about me?

  SIMON: Don’t be paranoid.

  LINDA: A Strategic Plan is an organic document. It must be organic. It is a road map to inform our future. Like the Koran. No good sitting on a dusty shelf gathering—dust. The board sets the direction, Andy. We have to stay on trend or we are dead. We do not need a new logo and we cannot afford this music ‘festival’.

  Lights go to grey.

  ANDREW: You talked about Second City in the December meeting?

  SIMON: And the need for more frequent meetings.

  ANDREW: Without me—and without our General Manager?

  SIMON: No. Colin. Took the minutes.

  ANDREW: You just said it was in camera.

  SIMON: It was actually in the board room. He Skyped it in.

  ANDREW: He Skyped from Thailand to take minutes …? I don’t believe that for a … On Skype? From Phuket? To take minutes?!

  Beat. LINDA waves her arms like Peter Garrett. Lights back on.

  LINDA: Have you heard of the phrase ‘emotional intelligence’, Andrew?

  ANDREW: You know what? I have to get back to work.

  LINDA: No. You’ve got time.

  ANDREW: We have a festival to deliver.

  LINDA: Andy—

  ANDREW: Lindy?—

  SIMON: No need for that—

  LINDA: On a scale of one to ten—with ten being extremely competent and one being disastrous—how would you rate your emotional intelligence?

  ANDREW: I’ve never reflected on my ‘emotional intelligence’ before today, Linda.

  SIMON: So … five?

  ANDREW: No.

  SIMON: Six?

  ANDREW: I would have / said …

  LINDA: Seven?

  ANDREW: Nine point eight.

  SIMON: No way.

  ANDREW: Seven point five.

  SIMON: Sold. Couldn’t help myself.

  ANDREW: You told me this was ‘just a catch-up’.

  LINDA: You were informed that you have nothing to worry about. Correct?

  ANDREW: / ‘Worry’? Jesus. That’s a word.

  LINDA: How do you deal with conflict, Andy?

  ANDREW: It depends on how I’m being ambushed.

  LINDA: / You think we’re trying to ambush you?

  SIMON: You think this is an ambush?

  LINDA: Describe for me—

  SIMON: For us—

  LINDA: —your approach to conflict resolution.

  ANDREW: What if I don’t want to do that?

  LINDA: That’s fine. I’ll just write: ‘Refuses to provide a response’.

  ANDREW: What’s the conflict about?

  LINDA: Does it matter?

  ANDREW: Who’s involved?

  LINDA: Why do you treat people differently?

  ANDREW: I don’t.

  SIMON: Why does it matter who’s involved in the dispute?

  ANDREW: What is the cause of the dispute?

  LINDA: Time in lieu. That’s a huge issue right now.

  SIMON: We cannot afford to carry that liability.

  LINDA: So—there is a dispute between Colin and—one of the casuals. The casual wants extra hours. Colin doesn’t want to give them. What do you do?

  ANDREW: Nothing. Not my job.

  LINDA: But how do you resolve the issue?

  ANDREW: The General Manager is in charge of the TIL. This is his area.

  LINDA: You don’t help him?

  ANDREW: I don’t / interfere.

  LINDA: Not a team player?

  ANDREW: I am not a micromanager.

  LINDA: So, you think you’re his manager?

  ANDREW: We are colleagues.

  LINDA: You don’t want to help your colleagues, Andy?

  ANDREW: Your scenario demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of our core business.

  LINDA: Which is what?

  ANDREW: What?

  LINDA: What is our core business? In your opinion?

  ANDREW: Music.

  LINDA: I see. Not ‘young people’?

  Lights go to grey. SIMON makes a note.

  ANDREW: What are you writing?

  LINDA waves her arms like Peter Garrett. Lights back on.

  LINDA: Every workplace needs a mediator. Do you intervene in this dispute?

  ANDREW: I would be undermining Colin.

  LINDA: So you’d back him all the way?

  ANDREW: Is he right?

  LINDA: He is your General Manager.

  ANDREW: But is he right?

  LINDA: Why?

  ANDREW: May change my opinion.

  SIMON: But you haven’t got an opinion.

  ANDREW: Yes, I have. / What are you writing?!

  SIMON: Well, I haven’t heard it yet.

  ANDREW: That doesn’t mean I don’t have one.

  SIMON: How can we judge you if you refuse to tell us what you’re thinking?

  ANDREW: ‘Judge me’? Can I borrow your pen so I can write that down?

  LINDA: You have been asked how you would handle a simple conflict resolution and we still haven’t got an answer. That is not an opinion, that is my professional assessment. Okay? / Moving on.

  ANDREW: Hold it.

  LINDA: Are you raising your voice?

  SIMON: [to LINDA] This is what they’re talking about.


  ANDREW: Who?

  LINDA: We’ve taken some soundings.

  ANDREW: I’m not a dolphin.

  LINDA: Spoken to clients, colleagues. Casuals. The consistent response seems to be that you have difficulty keeping a level head in a crisis.

  SIMON: Is that right?

  ANDREW: No, I am very good under pressure.

  SIMON: You’re a bass player.

  ANDREW: Yeah, and the lead singer is lying on the floor in the band room crying for no reason, the drummer is going through withdrawals halfway through the first set, cold sweat, shaking like a leaf. The business of music is crisis management.

  The tinnitus sound begins.

  LINDA: But what do you do in the real world?

  ANDREW: Consult with the relevant parties and then make a decision.

  SIMON: You make the decision?

  LINDA: Because you’re the boss?

  ANDREW: Yes.

  LINDA: And everybody back in the office? What about them? Who are they?

  ANDREW: Colin, Jill and the casuals

  LINDA: No, no. You misunderstand. Who are they?

  ANDREW: The staff …? Is that what you mean?

  LINDA: And the staff all work for you, do they?

  Lights go to grey.

  ANDREW: When did you get your HR degree?

  SIMON: Irrelevant.

  ANDREW: Disagree.

  SIMON: Oh-ah.

  ANDREW: Is this a school project or something?

  SIMON: Answer the bloody question.

  LINDA waves her arms like Peter Garrett. Lights back on.

  ANDREW: Nobody ‘works’ for me. Some people report to me and I am terribly sorry about that, but that’s how the org chart is structured. Not my choice, that’s just how it works.

  SIMON: Because you’re ‘The Boss’?

  ANDREW: I am the Director of Music. Co-CEO. And I report to the board. Right?

  SIMON: What about Col? Is he ‘The Boss’ as well?

  ANDREW: Colin is my Co-CEO.

  SIMON: Titles.

  ANDREW: What / was that? Simon?

  LINDA: So, in your mind—Andy—

  ANDREW: Andrew. / ‘In your mind—’

  LINDA: —is Colin ‘The Boss’ as well?

  ANDREW: Yes. Colin is.

  LINDA: Is that what you ask people to call you?

  ANDREW: No.

  LINDA: So, what do you ask people to call you? When you’re relaxing with your … [checking her notes] … ‘staff’?

  ANDREW: Andrew. My name is Andrew.

  SIMON: Not The Drewster?

  ANDREW: Never.

  LINDA: And what do they call Colin?

  ANDREW: I don’t know, the King of Patong?

  LINDA: In your current Organisational Plan he is Co-CEO.

  ANDREW: Currently, yes.

  SIMON: Don’t like the hierarchy, huh?

  ANDREW: I’m fine with it.

  SIMON: Doesn’t sound like it. Sounds like you hate it. Resent it?

  LINDA: Do you think we may have created a two-headed monster?

  ANDREW: It’s not in my remit to think about things like that.

  SIMON: Remit.

  ANDREW: You used to be on the ‘grey list’.

  LINDA: I read about this. Now. What is a ‘grey list’?

  ANDREW: A list of not-for-profits facing / defunding.

  SIMON: Alright! Did we get the AusCo money or not?

  Silence. LINDA’s BlackBerry vibrates. She checks it.

  LINDA: Photocopier catastrophe. Michelle needs the code. Back in a second.

  LINDA exits. Lights go to grey. Silence.

  ANDREW: Simon, / this isn’t a bloody ‘catch-up’, is it?

  SIMON: You’re sounding very fucking defensive for some reason—

  ANDREW: Why the fuck are we meeting / here?

  SIMON: It is easier for Linda.

  ANDREW: She’s working on your campaign?

  SIMON: You don’t know I’m going into politics.

  ANDREW: What is she doing on the board?

  SIMON: Good on her CV. Community Service. Valuable experience.

  ANDREW: I’m not a fucking lab rat.

  SIMON: No, you’re a ‘defensive, paranoid, isolated bully of a boss’.

  ANDREW: Bullshit.

  SIMON: Who told you I was standing for preselection?

  ANDREW: Oh-ah. You have been betrayed.

  SIMON: Did we get the money or not, smart arse?

  ANDREW: No.

  SIMON: Why not?

  ANDREW: Too many targets. Not enough resources.

  SIMON: But you’re Lone Ranger-ing a fucking festival? /

  ANDREW: What happened to Carmel?

  SIMON: Are you trying to trigger me?

  ANDREW: What the fuck happened to my predecessor?

  SIMON: It is in the hands of the insurers and it is still playing out.

  ANDREW: This is why we’re meeting off-site—

  SIMON: It’s a schedule thing. This is / where Linda works.

  ANDREW: She knows nothing about music. She knows nothing about young people. She hasn’t even finished her degree.

  SIMON waves his arms like Peter Garrett. Lights back on.

  I did some googling on the break and guess what? She is studying HR part-time! Part-bloody-time? Are you fucking serious?

  SIMON: WorkCover is a massive risk. If we don’t cover our arses with policy, we could lose a helluva lot / more than a fucking …

  ANDREW: Cover your arses? What are you gonna lose, Simon? What are you going to lose if your arse is left wide open?

  SIMON: I refuse to lose my fucking house. My vineyard. I have a family. A reputation. We have indemnity. I am not / an idiot.

  ANDREW: So what’s on the line?—

  SIMON: I am not giving up my future for you.

  The tinnitus peaks. LINDA enters with JILL.

  LINDA: Loud voices in the meeting room. Look who I found waiting in the corridor. Waiting like a little homeless person. This is Jill, isn’t it …? Jill. How was Christmas, Jill? Did you get away?

  SIMON: Jill went to Falls. Great Ocean Road.

  LINDA: My brother’s got a house at Moggs Creek. We hardly ever use it. Let me know next time you want to go down there, you can have the keys. I’m needed at the photocopier. Don’t break anything.

  LINDA exits. Fluoro lights. Silence between the three. Then …

  ANDREW: / You don’t have to be in here—

  SIMON: What are you doing sulking around in the corridor?

  ANDREW: It is fucking hot outside.

  SIMON: Too hot to wait in the car?

  ANDREW: It’s forty degrees. The bush is burning!

  SIMON: [to JILL] Go back to work.

  ANDREW: We’re delivering posters for the festival.

  SIMON: [to ANDREW] You are?

  ANDREW: Yes. We are.

  SIMON: In a bushfire?

  ANDREW: Somebody has to do it!

  SIMON: Don’t we have a marketing team for that?

  JILL: You’re looking at it.

  SIMON: Fuck me swinging. I’m going to pay my rego.

  SIMON exits. ANDREW is alone with JILL. Pause.

  JILL: Road and Maritime Services?

  ANDREW: Linda is our expert in Human Resources.

  JILL: Linda couldn’t find her cunt at a Christmas party.

  ANDREW: See—that is—totally—inappropriate.

  JILL: Are you recording this ‘catch-up’?

  ANDREW: You think I should?

  JILL: Fuck, man. / Serious?

  ANDREW: No. You think?

  JILL: A hunting party. This is what happened to Carmel.

  ANDREW: Forget about Carmel. / This has nothing to do with Carmel.

  JILL: It’s exactly the same! Listen. Linda called me over the holidays. Wanted to meet for a coffee. Talk about you. I didn’t meet her.

  ANDREW: Good.

  JILL: We spoke on the phone.

  ANDREW: What did you say?

  JILL:
It’s confidential.

  ANDREW: You are fucking / kidding—

  JILL: Ando. That’s what she told everybody.

  ANDREW: She spoke to ‘everybody’?

  JILL: Colin, me. The casuals. The Advisory Group. You better make a recording of this, they are constructing your dismissal.

  ANDREW: What the fuck am I gonna do?

  Lights go to grey.

  JILL: Fight. You have to fight.

  Beat.

  Simon gave me diamond earrings.

  ANDREW: He gave you what?

  JILL: Diamond studs for a Christmas present. He wants me to be grateful. This is how he … makes it sound like you’re the most important girl in the world. ‘We will fall apart with you’ … and … This guy is a serial-sleaze-fucking-cunt. He always gets what he wants and he always gets away with it and somebody has to make him fucking pay!

  She jumps up. Lights back on. She takes a permanent marker and draws a large penis on the bare wall. Spurting out of the penis she writes: ‘Simon is a cocksucker!’

  That cunt sucks fat wang.

  ANDREW: Wang.

  ANDREW tries to scrub the graffiti off the wall.

  JILL: We have to fight this shit.

  ANDREW: You just drew a fucking penis on the Road Traffic Authority. Permanent marker! Fuck. We are fucking fucked in the fuckshit. Get out of here!

  JILL: No. / I want this confrontation! I want this fucker to see what I think!

  ANDREW: You have to run! This is serious! No. You / don’t—

  JILL: I am not leaving!

  ANDREW: Please!

  JILL: Shut up.

  SIMON enters. Observes ANDREW trying to clean the board.

  Pause.

  SIMON: Is that supposed to be my cock?

  Beat.

  An artist’s impression of my ejaculate …? [To ANDREW] You drew this?

  Pause.

  Did you draw this cock and balls and sperm?

  Pause.

  JILL: No. / He didn’t.

  ANDREW: Yes. I did. / I take full responsibility! I drew the dick, okay?!

  JILL: He’s a liar! I drew it. I own it. How do you like it?

  Pause.

  SIMON: I was a aware that there was discussion about a new logo but … I don’t think this is completely resolved. It’s a little modest, don’t you think?

  JILL pulls the earrings out of her pocket.

  JILL: You … make me … uncomfortable.

  SIMON: You sound hysterical.

  JILL: Give these to your wife.

  She slams the earrings onto the floor.

  Pause.

  JILL exits. Silence.

  SIMON: She comes from a family of liars. She is on a warning. I direct you to give her a written warning.

  ANDREW picks up the earring box.

  Pause.

  She’s been here too long. Put her on a warning.