Thursday, March 14, 2013

"THE BEST FIREWORKS SHOW IN THE WORLD, BAR NONE!"




                   
                                                   




     It was startling.
     This man could have walked out of a John Ford western or a 19th century tintype. He was short, barrel-built and swarthy; with fast-moving eyes and thick black hair parted in the middle. Wearing canvas trousers stuffed into battered riding boots and a white shirt buttoned to the neck, the only thing missing was a bandolier hanging across his chest. And to top it off, one of his incisors was gold and glistened when he smiled.
      My first thought was of Viva Zapata! (Anybody remember it? Marlon Brando as Zapata, Anthony Quinn, Joseph Wiseman?)
      And the first thing he said to me was something like:
     ..el mas grande.. el mejor en el mundo. Me garantia!”
      Seeing my blank expression, he gave up the bandit bit and repeated himself in perfect English:
       We’ll give you the best fireworks show in the world, bar none. Guaranteed!.
       That’s exactly what he said; and in retrospect I believe that’s exactly what he meant.
       His name was Eduardo Lopez and he was --by experience and reputation -- the leading fireworks expert in Mexico, with a degree (I found out later) in electrical engineering from UCLA. My advance man -- Tom McNally -- and I were standing with him in the penthouse of a high-rise hotel looking out over Acapulco Bay toward the Pacific Ocean. Senor Lopez was pointing out a little island -- more like jumble of uninviting rocks -- in the middle of the bay.
       We’ll be out there all day setting things up  .. and when you’re ready, you just give us the signal. he said.
       We’re using Walkie-Talkies, Tom interjected.
        Yes, and then … away we go! Vamos a fuego!
        And we’re gonna’ give you a wonderful surprise at the end. added Tom..
        I turned to face him and said: We’ve got a lot riding on this, McNally… and  I’m not big on surprises. In fact, surprises make me very nervous!.
        I know that, he said reassuringly, but this will be sensational. I mean, really sensational. Trust me.  Even you’ll be impressed.
                                                                                                           
      So trust him I did. Because he was the best advance man for big management meetings I’d ever seen. And the one we were talking about -- for Xerox Corporation -- was by the standards of our little company, huge.
      Xerox was bringing 250 of its senior managers from around the world for a five-day conference in Acapulco to discuss how to improve the company’s performance and how to establish its future goals. It was the fastest growing company in the world and determined to stay that way for as long as product superiority and smart management permitted.
     The meeting’s format was to be something they’d never tried before: a ‘bottom to top’ approach that I’d sold to the CEO, and then been asked to implement because no-one inside the company trusted it or wanted to be a part of it. Recent research had shown that major communications gaps existed in large corporations, particularly at the top levels of management. In other words, policies set at the top were quickly diluted and sometimes ignored as they were passed down the line. The result was that the most senior people were often ‘out of the reality loop’.
      So the basic idea was to put together a meeting in which lower level managers could --  with no holds barred -- tell top management what they thought of the company’s policies, performance and goals, and how to improve on them. It was, in many ways, a  democratic approach in an autocratic environment, and not a comfortable concept. As one young American marketing manager said to me:
      In other words, I’m supposed tell my big bosses that they’re assholes about some things .. and get away with it? I don’t think so.
      But the meeting’s format did allow exactly that, although in more diplomatic and, I should add, anonymous terms. Finally, after four days of intense discussion and debate, consensus recommendations would be presented to top management which --on the final day -- was expected to respond to them in as much detail as possible,
      So it was a high-risk, high-pressure meeting for everyone involved; and we knew that when it was over, we’d need something to ease the tension: some kind of event that everyone from the CEO on down could appreciate and enjoy.
      We’d already chartered a tourist ship for a final-night sunset cruise on Acapulco Bay; and arranged for an open bar and an elegant on-board dinner. Tables for eight were set on a huge upper deck, and a strolling mariachi band was hired to play what Tom McNally described as ‘Guantanamera music’. In keeping with our corporate democracy efforts -- and in the hope of encouraging interaction among different groups from different countries -- the seating was open. Anyone could sit anywhere.
      And the topper, the frosting on the cake, the piece de resistance, would be THE BEST FIREWORKS SHOW IN THE WORLD BAR NONE.
      So … sound the trumpets and take it away, Senor Lopez!!

      As darkness set in, all was going according to plan. The crowd seemed  relaxed, the bar was busy, the dinner had been a success, and people were mingling with each other. No-one noticed that the ship was positioning itself with the lights of Acapulco at our back with only the vast blackness of the Pacific facing us.
      At the proper moment, Tom McNally -- standing at the rail and peering slit-eyed into the dark -- gave the signal.
      The ship stopped, the band fell silent.
      And nothing happened. Nothing.
      McNally pounded the walkie-talkie against his palm as if to wake up the batteries. Then, speaking into it, he held his hand up toward me, signaling that all would be well and not to worry. The ship’s engines came to life again and we described a long, slow circle back to our predetermined location.
        Again, as we approached, McNally gave the signal. And again, nothing happened. Not a glimmer. Not a sign of life. We were facing a disaster and the Xerox crowd -- sensing that something  they didn’t know about had gone wrong -- were beginning to snicker. By that time, I’d joined McNally at the rail.
       What the fuck is going on, Tom? I snarled.
       He threw his eyes toward the sky and said: It’s okay .. it’s okay .. I’ve got it under control now. It’ll be perfect this time.
       So for a third time, the ship’s engines came to life and we turned in a leisurely circle back toward the rocky island where Eduardo Lopez and his minions were hidden. And this time, as McNally gave the okay on the walkie-talkie, I detected in the darkness a single tiny light that reflected back toward us on the bay’s flat surface.
        That’s all I saw until, seconds later, the island exploded.

        Rockets and missiles and explosions of every color and description erupted from one end of the island to the other. Some went skyward, some shot nearly parallel to the water, some plunged into it, others simply burned on the rocks. And outlined in the light of that moving, twirling, shooting inferno, we could see Mexicans running for their lives, diving into crevasses, zigzagging from rock to rock and leaping into the bay. It was a deafening, whistling chaos of sound and light that held us immobile and nearly hypnotized even as rockets hit the ship’s side or roared a few feet over our heads toward the Acapulco shore.
        Who knows how long it lasted? Five minutes? Ten? All I knew was that something had gone terribly wrong.
        But when the last flicker of fire disappeared and the smoke around the island began to dissipate, everyone agreed -- with equal parts awe and confusion -- that they’d never seen anything like it. Even the ship’s captain must have been transfixed because we hadn’t moved an inch.

       Then, just I was breathing more easily and wondering how I could explain things, Tom McNally’s surprise announced itself.
       Trust me, he’d said. It’ll be sensational, he’d said.
        With loud hissing and crackling, a great glistening X appeared on the water. It must have been fifteen feet high, floating on a flat platform. Then --  seconds later -- a giant E lit up on another platform tethered to the first, followed by the R. Reflected on the quiet bay with the black infinity of the Pacific in the background, the letters X-E-R seemed to be standing magically by themselves on the water. By the time the O appeared, everyone was applauding and chanting X - E - R - O … over and over again. The fireworks fiasco seemed instantly forgotten.
       But the final X never ignited. We waited fifteen seconds .. then thirty .. a full minute ..and nothing. The chanting stopped and we were left looking at nothing .. zip .. a flaming ZERO ..  a glistening nada. All the work, the planning, the endless hours of discussion, the hopes .. everything ended with a  massive XERO glowing in judgment on Acapulco Bay.
       McNally looked as if he wanted to jump overboard; and to tell the truth, I was tempted to push him.

       I have no idea who began to chuckle; but as the ship turned toward home, someone did and it became viral; breaking into a rash of laughter that spread from table to table to bar until it seemed that everyone on board was laughing or chortling at the irony of our failure. It was, in fact. funny in its own manner and taught me a lot about keeping things in perspective. After all, I told myself, it was only a fireworks display.
      Yet, paradoxically, that was when it also dawned on me that Eduardo Lopez and my man Tom McNally had indeed delivered -- albeit accidentally -- THE BEST FIREWORKS SHOW IN THE WORLD, BAR NONE.
       Guaranteed!

     
     
 
                                                    AFTER DINNER MINTS



Luckily, aside from a few bruises and a badly-sprained ankle, no-one was hurt on the little island. When Senor Lopez sent us a long letter of apology and explanation, I accepted the former but didn’t understand the latter. An invoice accompanied the letter which -- after some discussion -- we paid in full.

A few years later we managed another large corporate meeting in Acapulco for the LTV Corporation. Although it was a success, there were no fireworks and less laughter.

I slept fitfully on that final night, and woke bleary-eyed and hung over at four in the morning. I’d forgotten to turn on my A/C and the room was stiflingly hot. So I stumbled out to my balcony for some fresh air and came instantly awake. In the distance, a giant X was glistening in the silence and darkness of Acapulco Bay.
      Friends say I must have dreamed it … and perhaps I did.
      But I think not.
     
In any case, our experiment in corporate democracy was in the end a failure. A few internal bureaucracies bent a bit, but didn’t break .. and things at Xerox quickly returned to the status quo. Corporations are and always will be the same.

When I first began blogging, an old friend and avid gardener, Tricia Lynn, urged me to write this story. Sadly, she died as this year began. But her smile, her rapier wit and her compassion will be long remembered by everyone who knew her. This one is for you, Tricia. Sorry it’s late.




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