Raising the Bar
CHAPTER ONE
The Boss Who Wanted Me Gone
The Fuc-Offee Meeting
I was expecting a fuc-offee meeting at any moment.
Alan, my boss, was well known for them.
A fuc-offee meeting wasn’t some friendly chat over cappuccinos.
It was the end of the road, with only one outcome.
You were out of a job.
My resignation letter was already written, folded neatly in the inside pocket of my jacket, ready to hand over. Alan wasn’t going to fire me outright. Like many senior managers, he preferred the mafia approach, make me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Resign… or get fired.
And I couldn’t risk a dismissal on my CV. That left resignation as my only option.
The problem was, I didn’t have another job lined up.
I’d tried. I’d even gone back to my old boss, Barry, and asked for my previous role back but he refused.
“Stepping down would look like failure in your new, more senior position,” he told me.
He was right.
That would have looked just as bad on my CV.
So the race was on find another job before Alan called me in for my fuc-offee meeting.
Twelve Weeks In
How had I ended up here?
I honestly didn’t know.
I hadn’t done anything wrong, quite the opposite.
In just twelve weeks as Sales Administration Manager, I’d:
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tackled the performance issues I’d inherited,
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improved several KPIs, and
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lifted standards well beyond where they’d been before I arrived.
Yes, I was struggling with a bad apple.
But that was down to lack of experience and support, not lack of effort.
And yet… here I was, about to be fired.
Head-Hunted?
What puzzled me most was why Alan had recruited me in the first place.
He’d been one of the main interviewers, sitting alongside Ray, the Managing Director. Ray asked most of the questions, but Alan asked some important ones too.
And something else gnawed at me.
I hadn’t even applied for the job.
I’d been approached.
Head-hunted, they called it.
“You come highly recommended.”
“Please join us, we need you.”
That’s what I thought I was walking into.
Instead, I found myself in a hostile, unwelcoming company, fighting to survive.
I kept asking myself the same question: What had I done wrong?
I must have done something bad because why would a boss who needed someone to raise standards want me gone, and quickly?
It was obvious he didn’t like me. It felt personal, almost like a grudge. Yet since joining, I’d been respectful, enthusiastic, and committed to the role.
I tried to discuss it with him, but he was evasive, often rudely so. I planned to raise it during my induction reviews, but those meetings never happened. I was never given the chance for an honest conversation.
I also knew I wasn’t in Justin’s good books. I’d challenged him several times, about the previous manager’s grievance and the department’s absence problem. I don’t think Justin was used to line managers pushing back about the support they were meant to receive.
He didn’t like it.
I also knew some team members had contacted HR after discussions about underperformance. I wouldn’t be surprised if Justin was spooking Alan, quietly digging the knife in.
What saddened me most was that the department was a good team. Yes, there were issues — but there were also capable people who just needed proper management. Turning the department around was possible and quickly.
In only twelve weeks, I’d already built some strong relationships.
So here I was, scratching my head, wondering where it had all gone wrong.
The Phone Rings
Then the phone rang.
End of the day, perfect timing for a fuc-offee meeting.
I let it ring.
Sod him, I thought.
Let him wait.
Five minutes later, it rang again.
This time, I was ready.
I’d rehearsed the scene a dozen times. If Alan wanted to meet for coffee, I was going to ask him straight:
“Is this a coffee meeting, or a fuc-offee meeting?
Please tell me now so I can come prepared.”
I’d keep it short. Walk in, place my resignation on the desk, and say:
“Alan, cut the bullshit. This isn’t about progress, fitting in, or experience. This is personal, for some reason, you don’t like me. And I sure as hell don’t like you.
So let’s cut to it.
What are you offering for my resignation?”
I knew I wasn’t entitled to anything beyond my notice period but it was worth a shot. At least I’d leave with my head held high, and maybe a little more in my pocket.
The phone rang again.
I picked it up and said curtly, “Yes, Alan?”
Except it wasn’t Alan.
It Was Ray
It was Ray Wilson, the owner and Managing Director.
His voice was warm and cheerful.
“Hi Joe, it’s Ray. Sorry I haven’t been in touch since your appointment, I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
My heart skipped.
Ray. I hadn’t spoken to him since the interview.
“I’m calling to belatedly welcome you to the company,” he continued, “and to see how you’re settling in.”
Still caught off guard, I lied.
“Fine, thanks. A few challenges but the team’s great.”
There was a pause. Then Ray spoke again, his tone measured but steady.
“I know the department has some big issues none of that is your doing. But taking the role means taking responsibility for fixing them. It comes with the pay packet, I’m afraid.”
Not for the money you’re paying me, I thought.
“Yes, Ray, of course.”
Why Me?
Ray continued.
“Alan had his own preferences for the appointment, but I chose you because your previous boss, someone I trust, spoke very highly of you.”
He paused.
“He said you’ve got integrity, you learn quickly, you don’t make the same mistake twice, and you deal with people problems instead of avoiding them.”
He let that land.
“Those qualities matter here, Joe. That’s why you’re in the job.”
His voice softened.
“This department is vital. It touches every other part of the business. When it runs well, everything runs well. Getting it back on track will make a real difference.”
The Offer
Then came the offer that changed everything.
“To support you, I’m assigning you a performance coach. He’ll guide you, mentor you, and give you practical help. Use him fully. He’s expensive, and I expect the investment to pay off — but he’s the best support you could have.”
Then Ray added:
“If you ever hit a wall that stops you doing what needs to be done, call me. I can’t always be there in person, but I’ll be keeping an eye on things.”
His closing words were calm, but firm.
“You were chosen for a reason, Joe. You can do this. Don’t give up.”
Contacting Coach
I didn’t waste a moment.
I rang the number Ray had given me. The call was answered almost immediately.
“Hi, is that Joe?”
“Yes.”
“Great to hear from you. Coach here. Ray briefed me. Meet me at my office tomorrow and we’ll get started. Is that OK?”
He gave me the address, then added enthusiastically:
“Great to have you on board, I’m looking forward to working with you.”
When the line went dead, I sat back in my chair.
Ten minutes earlier, I’d been ready to resign.
Now the resignation letter in my pocket wasn’t needed, at least, not yet.
Alan’s Call
The phone rang again.
This time, it was Alan.
His voice was abrupt, irritated. He said he’d had to cancel an important meeting so he could “cover me” the following day while I attended my coaching session.
Then, just to twist the knife, he added that training programmes like Raising the Bar were a complete waste of time and money.
When I hung up, my stomach tightened.
Alan would be in the department all day tomorrow.
And that filled me with dread.