MBA by Douglas Board
Ben has ten days to rescue the launch of its spectacular glass tower, and his own career – ten days during which he will have to confront terrorist plots, undercover police, the extravagant demands of the super-rich, and the only woman who can save him from this madness.
A satirical thriller, a love story, and a wry look at modern management ideology all rolled into one – MBA is a piercing yet hopeful enquiry into the meaning of success.
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“MBA”
by Douglas Board
Why
is so much of the world managed by arseholes? ‘MBA’ – the
abbreviation for a master’s degree in business administration –
is a farce set at an English business school run by globe-trotting
American professor William C Gyro. When Ben, a high-flying graduate
of the college, is suddenly fired for no reason, Gyro asks him to
rescue the very imminent, star-studded opening of a spectacular
all-glass tower.
Ben’s
last boss, Alex Bakhtin, believed flying first class was a scandalous
waste of money, so Ben’s never done it before. But Gyro swept him
off to Heathrow in a flash. Here they are in a Boeing 747 heading for
Hong Kong, Gyro spouting leadership bullshit while Ben realises that
he has a problem with his underpants.
They
both ordered bloody Marys as they picked at duck terrine. So this was
why Gyro was building the tower. From being a well-paid consultant,
Gyro was returning to the land of high academic ideas with a five
storey idea of his own. ‘Every important concept of contemporary
leadership is reflected in the tower’s design. The auditorium is
all glass. You look up? Everywhere you see the sky. What will
students at the college learn? The sky’s the limit. It’s all
glass. So you look down – straight down, between your feet. You see
the ground. Look, the supporting column is the diameter of a London
tube train, so nearly everywhere in the auditorium you see the
ground. What do you learn?’
Don’t
be a leader if you get sick easily, thought Ben.
‘However
high you go as a leader, make sure you can see the ground. Then, the
walls are all glass. A perfect circle. Which means – ?’ Gyro
looked at Ben expectantly.
‘Scan
the horizon?’ said Ben tentatively.
‘Exactly!’
Gyro’s
eyes were glowing, and Ben was getting infected. The concept of the
tower was uncanny, even mind-bending.
‘Normally
the acoustics of a glass circle would be terrible,’ Gyro continued.
‘All boom and echo, no clarity - just like leadership in most
organisations. But using nanotechnology to modify the glass panels,
we will have the perfect acoustic for the human voice and the human
ear. Speaking in a natural way, without amplification; and hearing
the contribution of everyone in the organisation, wherever they are
sitting. That’s another fundamental aspect of leadership. That’s
how leadership should be all the time. And we will teach it right
here.’
Gyro
put on a pair of eyeshades, took a sleeping pill and tucked himself
in for the night.
Ben
got it, for a few minutes at least. In ten days he would help open
the Sistine chapel of leadership. However the relentless, fragranced,
air-conditioned cleanliness around him led him to realise something
else. His suit would travel a large fraction of the planet’s
circumference crumpled but serviceable. His shirt and socks, borrowed
from Frank, had been clean this morning. But it had felt presumptuous
to ask for the loan of underpants, and he had never made it out of
the lounge to the shops at Heathrow.
He
was wearing navy boxers with the word ‘Tangiers’ stitched down
one side. These pants had already clocked up eighteen hours on
Monday. Another thirty-six hours were now in view, since Ben would
turn round in Hong Kong without leaving airside or touching Chinese
soil. He could do without trying to think about Sistine chapels while
feeling dirty down below.
A
thought came to him. A cornucopia of complimentary items for personal
comfort had already come his way. Eric the steward had insisted that
Ben ask for anything which might make his flight more comfortable.
Arguably Eric’s ingratiating tone was over the top, but at six
thousand pounds a seat one can do over the top and then some. What
if, contra
Bakhtin, the airlines had got first class travel right? Six thousand
pounds which removed a top man’s trifling discomfort was nothing at
all, if the greater greatness of the thoughts consequently thought -
for example beating malaria by giving away mosquito nets for free in
Africa - could save millions from deadly peril. But how good was
this first class service, really? He should experiment.
Born in Hong Kong, he has degrees from Cambridge and Harvard and worked for the UK Treasury and then as a headhunter. He has also had a distinguished career in public life, serving as treasurer of the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fund and chairing the British Refugee Council.
As well as writing fiction, he is the author of two applied research books on leadership, which was the subject of his doctorate. He is currently a senior visiting fellow at the Cass Business School in London. He and his wife Tricia Sibbons live in London and Johannesburg.
Twitter: @BoardWryter
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