“Time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so“, Ford Prefect, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (1978), Douglas Adams.
Honestly, it was a hoot. 
Thirty years after we ‘matriculated’ (went to university) our college decided to reunite us for dinner and, er, drinks. I learned a new euphemism. Lord Eatwell, the college Prezidente, described us warmly as being the most ‘convivial’ bunch they’d hosted. I took ‘convivial’ to mean ‘half cut’.
It was also a genuine shock. Seeing a bunch of people who, only yesterday, were vivacious 21 year olds, transformed overnight into bald, grey, haggard and careworn fifty year olds was, well, alarming. I haven’t looked in the mirror since, just in case.
One of our number, Mel, a gifted speaker, reminded us of Certain Key Events. The shock that a guy from Todmorden had experienced when, on ‘going up’ to Cambridge, he’d encountered men, men mark you, carrying umbrellas. “Being from Yorkshire, I had never seen such a thing”. Fridgehenge, when around a hundred fridges were taken from the kitchens of the Cripp’s Court apartments overnight and arranged in a ring around the central courtyard. Mine was one of them, and I never did manage to find my milk carton. Oh, and the film crew.
In 1983, a film crew landed at Queens’ College at precisely the same time as me. They proceeded to make a documentary series, ‘Queens’, A Cambridge College’, which aired the following year and which, if I were a betting man, I’d guess you haven’t seen.
I did see it. And its most salient feature was how completely it failed to capture the reality of College life as I experienced it. There are two explanations for this of course, one of which being that it was me that failed to experience the reality of College life, and in all honesty that wouldn’t come as a complete surprise. But the other is that the film crew, despite their best efforts, failed to get under the skin of the college. Dazzled by a few attention seekers perhaps. I guess you had to be there.
I’m often reminded of this when dealing with non-executive directors. I’ve sat on and attended a fair number of corporate boards, and I’ve concluded that one of the easiest jobs in the world to do, and one of the hardest to do well, is being a NED. I’ve met some very, very smart NEDs, but the reality is that, unless you make the effort to get under the skin of a business, what you end up with is management by aphorism.
I guess you have to be there.
2 thoughts on “You had to be there”
Hi Chris,
What an insightful observation about outsiders failing to get the complete picture, being dazzled by a few shiny attention seekers. You’ve helped me articulate my unease about becoming a NED.
I like to do things well and have thought about becoming a non-exec. In the end I said a firm NO. The main reason being the amount of time it would take up.
When I canvassed the active NEDs I know (and respect), they all said it took at least a factor of 5 more time than they’d been expecting. Maybe it is good retirement stuff, but I’m a way long time away from that panic inducing stage.
Keep these coming
Adrian.
Hi Chris,
Thought provoking as always. The challenge for NED involvement is to add value and not consume resources in organisations which are already stretched. First hand experience of NED involvement has ranged from a contribution to meaningful and helpful change and added value at the positive end of the spectrum to an overwhelming desire to dominate debate supported by superficial analysis to grab attention, condemn incumbent management and “grab the reigns” at the negative end of the spectrum.
An essential skill for an NED is the ability to exercise active listening.
Justify the NED appointment with helpful and positive involvement which ensures the governing brief to produce a cohesive team able to deliver a successful business rather than demoralised and self doubting executives.
An essential gift of a successful NED is to be able to recognise when the time to leave has arrived.