The Premier Firm

Session with the butcher's paper ... Law firm planning retreat ... Few understand the plan ... Dorothy urged to concentrate on cross referral ... Squirmy silence abounds ... Ivan foreshadows more meetings

Ivan hosted a little practice group retreat, to get the year off to a good start. 

This is an annual event held, since the GFC, in increasingly execrable resorts, sporting fading wallpaper circa Pixie Skase, and pink granite benches laden with the greasy cholesterol, carbs, overcooked eggs and burnt coffee they call breakfast.

Ivan breezed in to the windowless beige conference room at 9.07 am sharp, in his polo shirt and his chinos, rubbed his hands together, and made a cheery remark. 

He loves being in charge, and he has our undivided attention for the next two days. 

I turned my Blackberry to silent and put it on the table in front of me. 

"Right," said Ivan. "Today we are going to talk about what steps we are going to take to be the Premier Firm."

"Premiere film?" asked Fred, puzzled, as he tucked into a muffin and a cup of tea.

"Firm," said Ivan, picking up the glossy brochure within which marketing had secreted the agenda. 

"Right," said Fred.  "What do you mean by that?"

"Being Number One," said Ivan.

"Didn't we talk about that last year?" asked Fred.

"Bzzz," said my Blackberry, as it slid towards me. It was an SMS from George, who was sitting on the other side of the large square, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, staring attentively at Ivan. "And the year before. And the year before that," it said.

"Didn't know what it meant last year either," said Fred, and chuckled as he looked around the room. 

The thing about Fred is he brings in so much in fees, he can talk this vaguely revolutionary talk with impunity. And immunity. From persecution.

"Look this is getting us nowhere," said Ivan, purple rising above the collar of his polo shirt (Ralph Lauren).  "This is a planning session. It will come out in the plan."

"How can we plan for something when we don't know what it means?' asked Fred.

Ivan ignored him. 

"Right, now, the first session on the agenda. Dorothy could you give us an overview of your practice."

I gave Ivan a frosty stare.

"Well," I said, standing up, "I have not had an opportunity to prepare, but I will do my best".

Others around the room took a sudden interest in the agenda, running right index fingers down the page, turning pale when they spotted their name. Notebooks were opened accompanied by much furious scribbling.

"Don't worry Dorothy," said Todd the marketing operative, with his short back and sides, his open necked blue and white striped shirt, and his laptop. "Here are some notes to help."

A bunch of figures materialized on a screen behind me.

I studied them. "Well, look at that. Enough to buy me a home with a water view," I said cheerily, before studying it more closely. "Oh, that's gross revenue. Maybe Sylvania Waters. Next slide."

I stood beside the screen while Todd's analysis of my practice bounced behind me: revenue, costs, staff, top 10 clients by revenue. Quite enlightening actually.

I mumbled and pointed at the screen a lot, mostly because I had no idea what it would say next.

"Right," said Ivan. "Now for the fun bit."

Which is when I noticed the five easels laden with butcher's paper, placed around the perimeter of the room. 

"Todd can you do the honours?" said Ivan.

It was Todd's moment to shine, with three nikko pens of different colours, a lovely smile and a keen demeanour.

"OK," said Ivan. "Let's open the discussion. How can Dorothy improve her practice?"

I sat down. My Blackberry lit up and slid across the table. "Faaaaaaaarck," said George's SMS.

After a short, squirmy silence, Roger piped up.

Roger has been a partner for a good two years now. Just as well, because before he was made a partner we were all hopeless. We still are, but at least he has the forum to tell us about it.

"Well I think that the real issue with Dorothy's practice is that she does not get enough work from Big Bugger and there is opportunity for cross referral which is inadequately exploited."

I looked at Roger. Roger looked at Ivan. Ivan looked at the butcher's paper. Todd looked at his nikko pens.  The 52 remaining eyes looked at the ceiling tiles.

Ivan said to Todd: "Todd put that on the butcher paper marked 'clients and marketing'. I think that is a very constructive comment. Actions from that?"

Silence.

"Well I have a suggestion," said Ivan with the tired resignation you would expect from the only genius in the room. "I suggest that we have a special session each fortnight to discuss opportunities for cross referral."

We all watched Todd write on the butcher paper with his green pen this time; for action. 

Note made, Todd swirled around to face the crowd, nikko pen poised. 

Ivan said: "Todd there were two points there not one; one about Big Bugger and another about cross referrals."

Todd scrunched up the piece of butcher paper he had written on and started a new one, while Ivan dictated the text. 

9.32 and already Todd was looking distinctly less keen.

Ivan said, "That was very constructive. Thank you Dorothy. Who's next?" He consulted the agenda. 

"George," he said with just the amount of cold slime you would expect from a python sizing you up for asphyxiation. 

Excellent. It was 9.42. Only six hours 18 minutes to go. Today. Dinner tonight with all the chums. Eight hours tomorrow. And by my calculations, at current progress, by the end of the retreat we will have agreed to attend 52 more internal meetings a month. 

Lovely.

Kind regards,

Dot, your correspondent on retreat