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* How well did the OD consultant prepare for the meeting with Denton? Would you have done anything differently?
this out?
2. What might Albanese have done differently? What should she do now?
Selected Cases
Kenworth Motors
It began with a telephone call, as did so many of my engagements. The person calling
identified himself as Robert Denton, the plant manager of Kenworth Motors’ Seattle truck
manufacturing operations. Denton said he’d gotten my name from Charles Wright, a client of
mine in Seattle. Charlie is the OD manager for a major timber products company. I’d been
doing several projects with Charlie’s group of internal consultants for the past three years
and occasionally served as the OD group’s consultant. Denton noted that Charlie and he
were members of the same sailing club. He went on to say that when, as someone relatively
new to Seattle, he’d asked Charlie if he knew any consultants, Charlie had spoken highly of
me. I remember thinking that Charlie probably wouldn’t have mentioned me unless he
thought I could be useful to Denton.My trust in Charlie’s competence and judgment was
very high.
Denton went on to explain that he’d been the plant manager for only eight months, that
things seemed to be going well, but that he had a gnawing sense that things could be better.
I must have murmured something appropriate because Denton invited me to visit him and
become acquainted with his operation.
I was both flattered by and interested in Denton’s invitation. After all, I thought to myself, it’s
nice to be wanted, a consulting engagement might come out of it, I always wanted to get
behind the gate of the Kenworth plant, and Denton sounded like a basically smart guy and
nice besides. However, reality intruded into my thoughts, as it often does.
Thoughts on the Road
I reminded Denton that I lived across the state in Spokane and added that I had limited time
available in the short run. I noted that I had plans to visit Seattle in three weeks and could
see him then, otherwise it might not be for a month. Denton sounded almost eager as he
agreed to a 10 A.M. appointment on April 11.
The drive westward from Spokane across the state of Washington on Interstate 90 begins
with several hours of boring highway. I had purposely put off thinking about my appointment
with Denton until I was on the road. As the interstate stretched out over the rolling
sagebrush hills and checkered wheat fields, I turned my thoughts to Kenworth Motors and
Denton. Uppermost in my mind was that I was about to talk with a man I knew little about,
consult with a firm I knew very little about, and I had no focused agenda. What should I say
and do?
As the miles went by, I envisioned several alternative scenarios for my upcoming
appointment with Denton. I saw his office in several possible ways. It could be spartan and
centrally located to the production floor. It could be conventionally furnished but of a fair
size. It could be large. It might even be opulent. It could be personalized with mementos of
career, hobbies, or family. It might be far from the production floor, or even in a separate
building. The more I tried to envision Denton’s office, the more alternatives came to mind.
So I focused on Denton, trying to imagine him from the voice cues on the telephone—not
old, probably fit, probably clean shaven. Again the futility of trying to imagine came home to
me.
What did I think I knew? I didn’t know much beyond a handful of facts about his title and his
job tenure, the fact that he knew Charlie, believed things were generally going OK at the
plant, and had some vague notion something wasn’t quite right. I also had the distinct
impression he had been fairly eager to talk with me—after all, he’d initiated calling me and
had quickly settled for an appointment convenient to me.
What did I really want to accomplish when I met with Denton? The more I considered this
question, the more I pared down my answers. At minimum, it seemed for me a low-cost
situation—a couple of hours of my time, perhaps some impressions of me that would be
communicated to Charlie (though I believed Charlie and I had a relationship of mutual
respect and trust based on a lot of shared work). On the other hand, there was potentially a
lot to gain—perhaps another consulting job, perhaps more visibility and reputation in
Seattle, which would be good for my business.
I decided I couldn’t plan for our meeting in much detail; about all I could reasonably do was
to be true to the posture I found to be useful in situations like this. I had to be myself, be as
real as possible. I see myself as a curious, friendly person who basically likes others. I also
know I can be bold and thought I might have to be to get the conversation going, to help
Denton become clear as to why we were talking together, and to clarify my role.
I also wanted to leave our meeting with a decision to either go forward or not. While I didn’t
mind investing a little time, my time was valuable. I also felt strongly, as I always do, that I
didn’t want to work with anyone who I didn’t basically like as a person or who didn’t seem to
genuinely want to do some real work. Seeing the Cascade mountains on the horizon, I
began to feel easier. I’d be myself, whatever happened. Only one question nagged: Could
Denton and I connect swiftly enough so there would be time to push for clarity in our
possible work relationship?
Making Contact
At the Kenworth plant, the uniformed guard at the plant gate checked his clipboard, slipped
around my car, and copied down my license plate number. Returning to my open window,
he pointed ahead to a one-story brick building attached to the multi-storied plant and told
me I could park in the space in front and then go inside and identify myself to the
receptionist.
The floor of the wide hallway inside the double glass doors of the office building was freshly
waxed. Framed photographs of trucks and large buildings lined the walls. A middle-aged
woman in a suit looked up from her desk and smiled. After I identified myself, she led me
down a side corridor to an alcove and informed the secretary there who I was and that I was
there to see Mr. Denton. She then turned to me, smiled again, and wished me a good day.
The seated secretary told me Mr. Denton was expecting me, but was on the telephone. She
gestured toward a bank of chairs and asked me to wait. As I sat down, I observed the
corridor traffic, busy but quiet. I settled back to wait.
About 10 minutes later, a man of medium height and build wearing a sports jacket over an
open-collared shirt came through the door behind the secretary and walked directly to me.
He extended his hand, smiled, introduced himself as Bob Denton and motioned me into his
office.
The office was larger than I expected. It was paneled and a large Persian rug was centered
on the floor. At one end were a clean desk with side chairs and a table full of papers behind
it. At the other side of the office were a couch and two stuffed chairs around a low coffee
table. Drapes framed one large window that looked out on the parking lot. Denton asked if I
wanted coffee, and I said I did. He went to the door and asked the secretary to bring us both
coffee and added we were not to be disturbed. While waiting for the coffee, we sat on the
two stuffed chairs and made small talk. He asked about my drive across the state; I asked
about the framed sailing prints on the wall and whether he’d been sailing lately. We chatted
about the Sonics, the Kingdome, and the coming World’s Fair in Vancouver. After our coffee
arrived, I asked him to tell me about his plant and products.
Denton spoke excitedly for 10 or 12 minutes on a wide range of topics—the daily production
rate of 23 trucks, the cost of a truck, the sales order backlog, some equipment updating just
finished, his coming to this job from a plant in the Midwest, his spending a lot of time lately
with the next year’s budget, and so forth. My impression of Denton was that he was highly
involved in his work. He spoke rapidly but clearly with enthusiasm. Finally, he leaned back,
smiled, and said, “Well, I’ve been going on, haven’t I?” I remember thinking I liked Denton’s
ease and his willingness to talk about his plant and himself. I’d already learned a lot about
the plant and his job without more than looking interested. Denton certainly did seem
likable, and he was younger and more casual than I expected.
Getting Down to Business
I clearly recall my response to Denton’s question. “Actually, I’ve appreciated your sharing all
this background with me. I’ve always been curious about this plant. Years ago, I had a parttime job when I was in college and used to deliver some industrial supplies in this end of
town and always wanted to know what happened in this plant. All I could see from the road
were those lines of big shiny trucks. It’s nice to know they’re built with care. But you asked
for this meeting, Bob. Remember, you told me that while things were going well here you
sensed something wasn’t quite right. Can you tell me a little more now?”
“Not really. I know the plant is doing fine. I feel pretty much on top of my job. I like what I’m
doing here very much. My department heads—all nine of them—are all good people. All but
two have been here quite a while. They’re dependable, damn good at what they do, get
along fine, and basically are good managers,” he said.
“I get along good with everyone. I go out in the plant every day and circulate around. Things
are moving smoothly. My two newer managers—one runs our purchasing and inventory, the
other is in personnel—couldn’t be working out better. Yet some things nag at me that I can’t
put my finger on. I guess it boils down to some crazy notion I have that while we get along
fine and work together well, we haven’t jelled together as a team quite like I’d hoped.”
I bombarded Denton with questions, trying to find something that didn’t hang together or
might indicate a problem. No matter what I asked about—from union relations to accounts
receivable, from engineering-production relations to turnover figures—Denton’s responses
were consistently factual and full, and everything seemed to be in remarkably good shape.
I caught myself from going on with more questions. Instead I said, “Bob, everything I’ve
been asking about tells me you’re OK. Maybe things here really are OK. Maybe you’ve just
got some apprehension that things couldn’t be that good. After all, you’ve been here long
enough to really know. While there is some chance that you’re not well informed, and some
things aren’t so hot, the odds are against it. About all I can suggest is whether you might
want someone like me to independently confirm how things are going.” Denton smiled as if
to himself and replied, “Hmm, maybe, what would you suggest?”
“What’s usually done in situations like this, if there is the interest and if there is the money to
pay for it, is to engage someone like me to spend a few days interviewing a sample of
managers and other key staff people to see what might turn up.”
“From what you’ve heard so far, do you think that makes sense here?” Denton asked.
“Frankly, I don’t know. It might be worth it to you just to learn things really are OK. What
usually happens, however, is that I do find out about something that could be improved.
After all, that’s what I’m supposed to be good at, finding problems. One way or another,
Bob, the mere fact I was here would have some impact. The word would spread pretty fast
that some outsider was snooping around. What impact that might have I can’t say. If things
really are OK, my presence might mean little. If there are real problems, my being here
would probably create some tensions, it could raise expectations that something would be
done about them, and it could even cause problems.”
Denton nodded, “I see what you mean. If you came in, it would cost me some bucks, it
would have some risks in how my people reacted; one way or another I’d have to do
something.” He paused and then went on. “Well, to tell the truth, I don’t want to upset things
if they’re OK, but just finding out whether they are or not appeals to me. Isn’t there some
other way to do this?”
Denton seemed tome to be open to some minimal work by me. He’d responded as I’d
hoped to my candidness about the risks of some conventional diagnostic snooping. He’d
really seemed to pay attention to what I’d said, and I was beginning to like him and was
intrigued with the situation. At times like this, my thought processes seem to jump into high
gear. After all, a careful response was called for and there were a number of considerations
to factor in. The things I recall noting to myself went like this: apparently some minimal
motivation on Bob’s part; my real lack of information about the Kenworth situation; my own
schedule for the coming months—which was pretty full; my intuition that probably nothing
major was wrong with Bob and his managers; and that whatever I proposed had to be of
modest cost.
Let’s Have a Retreat
I said to Bob: “Let me sketch out one idea that comes to mind. We could do a modest
retreat. You, your department managers, and I could meet away from here for a couple of
days, say on a weekend, to jointly explore how things are going. At minimum, I see several
probable outcomes from such a meeting: everyone would get somewhat better acquainted
with one another; we’d know better if there were serious issues to tackle; we’d have the
experience of jointly going through problem identification; and you’d get a sense of whether
or not your team was open to working with an outsider like myself.”
I paused and went on: “Such a meeting would be relatively efficient. It wouldn’t take time
away from work, and it wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg.” Bob nodded, sipped his coffee and
looked at me intently. “OK,” he said, “I can see your points. Just what would we be doing?”
Seeing Bob’s interest as well as warming to the idea myself, I went on to outline a retreat. I
suggested doing it at a country club or lodge within a few hours’ drive of Seattle. This setting
was to provide a symbolic break from the customary business environment, and because it
would cost everyone weekend time and the company the expense of travel, food, and
lodging, it would show Bob’s seriousness about the event. I then suggested we begin with
cocktails and dinner on a Friday evening, work all day Saturday with appropriate breaks,
and conclude by noon Sunday. Again, Bob nodded. He then asked, “But what would we do?
What would you charge?”
I did some quick calculations and responded, “As for my fee, I’d have to bill you for a
minimum of three days at my daily rate of $___ per day, and travel expenses—assuming
Kenworth would provide food and lodging. As for what we’d actually do, that’s more difficult
to say exactly. Frankly, while I have several ways to get us started, I’d need to play it by ear.
In general, it would be my responsibility to see we talked straight and a lot with one another
to surface our concerns both big and small. I’m afraid you’d have to trust me on this.” I said
these last couple of sentences with some trepidation, knowing from my experience that
most managers would want much more clarity, but I needed to know how Bob was viewing
me.
I was surprised at what happened next. Denton quickly agreed to have a retreat weekend
as I’d outlined. We also selected a weekend a month-and-a-half away. He would find a site
and let me know. In addition, we agreed he would use the phrase “a communications
workshop” when he informed participants. Glancing at my watch as I left Denton’s office, I
saw it was just 11:30.
Questions
1. How well did the OD consultant prepare for the meeting with Denton? Would
you have done anything differently?
2. In the discussion between the OD consultant and Denton, what was effective
and ineffective about the consultant’s behavior?
3. How effective was the contracting process described in the last part of the
case? What is the scope and clarity of the agreement?
4. How would you design the upcoming retreat?
Selected Cases
Peppercorn Dining
The partners of Square One Consulting were having lunch at Peppercorn Dining on the
campus of All-American University. Although Square One was headquartered nearby, most
of the consultants’ business was conducted in other cities. The partners were enjoying
having the opportunity to attend a seminar on a campus in their hometown. By chance,
Drew Randall, the manager of Peppercorn, noticed the trio and recognized Erica, who had
worked her way through college as a student manager at the dining unit. Drew pulled up a
chair and started to catch up on the two years that had transpired since she had graduated.
this out?
2. What might Albanese have done differently? What should she do now?
Selected Cases
Kenworth Motors
It began with a telephone call, as did so many of my engagements. The person calling
identified himself as Robert Denton, the plant manager of Kenworth Motors’ Seattle truck
manufacturing operations. Denton said he’d gotten my name from Charles Wright, a client of
mine in Seattle. Charlie is the OD manager for a major timber products company. I’d been
doing several projects with Charlie’s group of internal consultants for the past three years
and occasionally served as the OD group’s consultant. Denton noted that Charlie and he
were members of the same sailing club. He went on to say that when, as someone relatively
new to Seattle, he’d asked Charlie if he knew any consultants, Charlie had spoken highly of
me. I remember thinking that Charlie probably wouldn’t have mentioned me unless he
thought I could be useful to Denton.My trust in Charlie’s competence and judgment was
very high.
Denton went on to explain that he’d been the plant manager for only eight months, that
things seemed to be going well, but that he had a gnawing sense that things could be better.
I must have murmured something appropriate because Denton invited me to visit him and
become acquainted with his operation.
I was both flattered by and interested in Denton’s invitation. After all, I thought to myself, it’s
nice to be wanted, a consulting engagement might come out of it, I always wanted to get
behind the gate of the Kenworth plant, and Denton sounded like a basically smart guy and
nice besides. However, reality intruded into my thoughts, as it often does.
Thoughts on the Road
I reminded Denton that I lived across the state in Spokane and added that I had limited time
available in the short run. I noted that I had plans to visit Seattle in three weeks and could
see him then, otherwise it might not be for a month. Denton sounded almost eager as he
agreed to a 10 A.M. appointment on April 11.
The drive westward from Spokane across the state of Washington on Interstate 90 begins
with several hours of boring highway. I had purposely put off thinking about my appointment
with Denton until I was on the road. As the interstate stretched out over the rolling
sagebrush hills and checkered wheat fields, I turned my thoughts to Kenworth Motors and
Denton. Uppermost in my mind was that I was about to talk with a man I knew little about,
consult with a firm I knew very little about, and I had no focused agenda. What should I say
and do?
As the miles went by, I envisioned several alternative scenarios for my upcoming
appointment with Denton. I saw his office in several possible ways. It could be spartan and
centrally located to the production floor. It could be conventionally furnished but of a fair
size. It could be large. It might even be opulent. It could be personalized with mementos of
career, hobbies, or family. It might be far from the production floor, or even in a separate
building. The more I tried to envision Denton’s office, the more alternatives came to mind.
So I focused on Denton, trying to imagine him from the voice cues on the telephone—not
old, probably fit, probably clean shaven. Again the futility of trying to imagine came home to
me.
What did I think I knew? I didn’t know much beyond a handful of facts about his title and his
job tenure, the fact that he knew Charlie, believed things were generally going OK at the
plant, and had some vague notion something wasn’t quite right. I also had the distinct
impression he had been fairly eager to talk with me—after all, he’d initiated calling me and
had quickly settled for an appointment convenient to me.
What did I really want to accomplish when I met with Denton? The more I considered this
question, the more I pared down my answers. At minimum, it seemed for me a low-cost
situation—a couple of hours of my time, perhaps some impressions of me that would be
communicated to Charlie (though I believed Charlie and I had a relationship of mutual
respect and trust based on a lot of shared work). On the other hand, there was potentially a
lot to gain—perhaps another consulting job, perhaps more visibility and reputation in
Seattle, which would be good for my business.
I decided I couldn’t plan for our meeting in much detail; about all I could reasonably do was
to be true to the posture I found to be useful in situations like this. I had to be myself, be as
real as possible. I see myself as a curious, friendly person who basically likes others. I also
know I can be bold and thought I might have to be to get the conversation going, to help
Denton become clear as to why we were talking together, and to clarify my role.
I also wanted to leave our meeting with a decision to either go forward or not. While I didn’t
mind investing a little time, my time was valuable. I also felt strongly, as I always do, that I
didn’t want to work with anyone who I didn’t basically like as a person or who didn’t seem to
genuinely want to do some real work. Seeing the Cascade mountains on the horizon, I
began to feel easier. I’d be myself, whatever happened. Only one question nagged: Could
Denton and I connect swiftly enough so there would be time to push for clarity in our
possible work relationship?
Making Contact
At the Kenworth plant, the uniformed guard at the plant gate checked his clipboard, slipped
around my car, and copied down my license plate number. Returning to my open window,
he pointed ahead to a one-story brick building attached to the multi-storied plant and told
me I could park in the space in front and then go inside and identify myself to the
receptionist.
The floor of the wide hallway inside the double glass doors of the office building was freshly
waxed. Framed photographs of trucks and large buildings lined the walls. A middle-aged
woman in a suit looked up from her desk and smiled. After I identified myself, she led me
down a side corridor to an alcove and informed the secretary there who I was and that I was
there to see Mr. Denton. She then turned to me, smiled again, and wished me a good day.
The seated secretary told me Mr. Denton was expecting me, but was on the telephone. She
gestured toward a bank of chairs and asked me to wait. As I sat down, I observed the
corridor traffic, busy but quiet. I settled back to wait.
About 10 minutes later, a man of medium height and build wearing a sports jacket over an
open-collared shirt came through the door behind the secretary and walked directly to me.
He extended his hand, smiled, introduced himself as Bob Denton and motioned me into his
office.
The office was larger than I expected. It was paneled and a large Persian rug was centered
on the floor. At one end were a clean desk with side chairs and a table full of papers behind
it. At the other side of the office were a couch and two stuffed chairs around a low coffee
table. Drapes framed one large window that looked out on the parking lot. Denton asked if I
wanted coffee, and I said I did. He went to the door and asked the secretary to bring us both
coffee and added we were not to be disturbed. While waiting for the coffee, we sat on the
two stuffed chairs and made small talk. He asked about my drive across the state; I asked
about the framed sailing prints on the wall and whether he’d been sailing lately. We chatted
about the Sonics, the Kingdome, and the coming World’s Fair in Vancouver. After our coffee
arrived, I asked him to tell me about his plant and products.
Denton spoke excitedly for 10 or 12 minutes on a wide range of topics—the daily production
rate of 23 trucks, the cost of a truck, the sales order backlog, some equipment updating just
finished, his coming to this job from a plant in the Midwest, his spending a lot of time lately
with the next year’s budget, and so forth. My impression of Denton was that he was highly
involved in his work. He spoke rapidly but clearly with enthusiasm. Finally, he leaned back,
smiled, and said, “Well, I’ve been going on, haven’t I?” I remember thinking I liked Denton’s
ease and his willingness to talk about his plant and himself. I’d already learned a lot about
the plant and his job without more than looking interested. Denton certainly did seem
likable, and he was younger and more casual than I expected.
Getting Down to Business
I clearly recall my response to Denton’s question. “Actually, I’ve appreciated your sharing all
this background with me. I’ve always been curious about this plant. Years ago, I had a parttime job when I was in college and used to deliver some industrial supplies in this end of
town and always wanted to know what happened in this plant. All I could see from the road
were those lines of big shiny trucks. It’s nice to know they’re built with care. But you asked
for this meeting, Bob. Remember, you told me that while things were going well here you
sensed something wasn’t quite right. Can you tell me a little more now?”
“Not really. I know the plant is doing fine. I feel pretty much on top of my job. I like what I’m
doing here very much. My department heads—all nine of them—are all good people. All but
two have been here quite a while. They’re dependable, damn good at what they do, get
along fine, and basically are good managers,” he said.
“I get along good with everyone. I go out in the plant every day and circulate around. Things
are moving smoothly. My two newer managers—one runs our purchasing and inventory, the
other is in personnel—couldn’t be working out better. Yet some things nag at me that I can’t
put my finger on. I guess it boils down to some crazy notion I have that while we get along
fine and work together well, we haven’t jelled together as a team quite like I’d hoped.”
I bombarded Denton with questions, trying to find something that didn’t hang together or
might indicate a problem. No matter what I asked about—from union relations to accounts
receivable, from engineering-production relations to turnover figures—Denton’s responses
were consistently factual and full, and everything seemed to be in remarkably good shape.
I caught myself from going on with more questions. Instead I said, “Bob, everything I’ve
been asking about tells me you’re OK. Maybe things here really are OK. Maybe you’ve just
got some apprehension that things couldn’t be that good. After all, you’ve been here long
enough to really know. While there is some chance that you’re not well informed, and some
things aren’t so hot, the odds are against it. About all I can suggest is whether you might
want someone like me to independently confirm how things are going.” Denton smiled as if
to himself and replied, “Hmm, maybe, what would you suggest?”
“What’s usually done in situations like this, if there is the interest and if there is the money to
pay for it, is to engage someone like me to spend a few days interviewing a sample of
managers and other key staff people to see what might turn up.”
“From what you’ve heard so far, do you think that makes sense here?” Denton asked.
“Frankly, I don’t know. It might be worth it to you just to learn things really are OK. What
usually happens, however, is that I do find out about something that could be improved.
After all, that’s what I’m supposed to be good at, finding problems. One way or another,
Bob, the mere fact I was here would have some impact. The word would spread pretty fast
that some outsider was snooping around. What impact that might have I can’t say. If things
really are OK, my presence might mean little. If there are real problems, my being here
would probably create some tensions, it could raise expectations that something would be
done about them, and it could even cause problems.”
Denton nodded, “I see what you mean. If you came in, it would cost me some bucks, it
would have some risks in how my people reacted; one way or another I’d have to do
something.” He paused and then went on. “Well, to tell the truth, I don’t want to upset things
if they’re OK, but just finding out whether they are or not appeals to me. Isn’t there some
other way to do this?”
Denton seemed tome to be open to some minimal work by me. He’d responded as I’d
hoped to my candidness about the risks of some conventional diagnostic snooping. He’d
really seemed to pay attention to what I’d said, and I was beginning to like him and was
intrigued with the situation. At times like this, my thought processes seem to jump into high
gear. After all, a careful response was called for and there were a number of considerations
to factor in. The things I recall noting to myself went like this: apparently some minimal
motivation on Bob’s part; my real lack of information about the Kenworth situation; my own
schedule for the coming months—which was pretty full; my intuition that probably nothing
major was wrong with Bob and his managers; and that whatever I proposed had to be of
modest cost.
Let’s Have a Retreat
I said to Bob: “Let me sketch out one idea that comes to mind. We could do a modest
retreat. You, your department managers, and I could meet away from here for a couple of
days, say on a weekend, to jointly explore how things are going. At minimum, I see several
probable outcomes from such a meeting: everyone would get somewhat better acquainted
with one another; we’d know better if there were serious issues to tackle; we’d have the
experience of jointly going through problem identification; and you’d get a sense of whether
or not your team was open to working with an outsider like myself.”
I paused and went on: “Such a meeting would be relatively efficient. It wouldn’t take time
away from work, and it wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg.” Bob nodded, sipped his coffee and
looked at me intently. “OK,” he said, “I can see your points. Just what would we be doing?”
Seeing Bob’s interest as well as warming to the idea myself, I went on to outline a retreat. I
suggested doing it at a country club or lodge within a few hours’ drive of Seattle. This setting
was to provide a symbolic break from the customary business environment, and because it
would cost everyone weekend time and the company the expense of travel, food, and
lodging, it would show Bob’s seriousness about the event. I then suggested we begin with
cocktails and dinner on a Friday evening, work all day Saturday with appropriate breaks,
and conclude by noon Sunday. Again, Bob nodded. He then asked, “But what would we do?
What would you charge?”
I did some quick calculations and responded, “As for my fee, I’d have to bill you for a
minimum of three days at my daily rate of $___ per day, and travel expenses—assuming
Kenworth would provide food and lodging. As for what we’d actually do, that’s more difficult
to say exactly. Frankly, while I have several ways to get us started, I’d need to play it by ear.
In general, it would be my responsibility to see we talked straight and a lot with one another
to surface our concerns both big and small. I’m afraid you’d have to trust me on this.” I said
these last couple of sentences with some trepidation, knowing from my experience that
most managers would want much more clarity, but I needed to know how Bob was viewing
me.
I was surprised at what happened next. Denton quickly agreed to have a retreat weekend
as I’d outlined. We also selected a weekend a month-and-a-half away. He would find a site
and let me know. In addition, we agreed he would use the phrase “a communications
workshop” when he informed participants. Glancing at my watch as I left Denton’s office, I
saw it was just 11:30.
Questions
1. How well did the OD consultant prepare for the meeting with Denton? Would
you have done anything differently?
2. In the discussion between the OD consultant and Denton, what was effective
and ineffective about the consultant’s behavior?
3. How effective was the contracting process described in the last part of the
case? What is the scope and clarity of the agreement?
4. How would you design the upcoming retreat?
Selected Cases
Peppercorn Dining
The partners of Square One Consulting were having lunch at Peppercorn Dining on the
campus of All-American University. Although Square One was headquartered nearby, most
of the consultants’ business was conducted in other cities. The partners were enjoying
having the opportunity to attend a seminar on a campus in their hometown. By chance,
Drew Randall, the manager of Peppercorn, noticed the trio and recognized Erica, who had
worked her way through college as a student manager at the dining unit. Drew pulled up a
chair and started to catch up on the two years that had transpired since she had graduated.
