Beauty Out of Ashes
Stepping into the Flames
I should’ve known the minute I walked into the boardroom. It was like stepping into a burning building, the heat already unbearable, but no one seemed to notice the flames licking at the walls. The air was thick with the smoke of denial—but they all carried on as if the fire wasn’t inching ever closer. Papers were strewn across the table like kindling, and the execs sat there, eerily calm, adjusting their tailored suits while the room slowly turned to ash. I had been called in as the so-called “firefighter,” the one meant to contain the blaze, but judging by their faces, they weren’t interested in saving anything—they just wanted to pretend the fire wasn’t real.
Sir Cedric Crumble, the CEO, sat at the head of the table like a modern King Canute defying the tide, his throne embodying authority. His arms were crossed so tightly that he seemed on the verge of transforming into a pretzel. His piercing gaze made me feel as though I had proposed something as ludicrous as renaming the company "Fluffy Bunnies Inc."
Then there was Clarissa Cloudhop, the Chief Marketing Officer, who was more interested in her phone than in the future of the company. She was probably scrolling through some influencer’s post about the latest trend in dancing with avocado toast while I tried to convince her that the business was sashaying toward the drain.
Colin Cramble, the Chief People Officer, shuffled papers nervously, like he was trying to solve a Sudoku in his head. And at the far end, Constance Construct, the only one who seemed vaguely connected to reality, sat quietly, fingers tap-tapping on the table. She might actually get it, but even she looked worn out, like she’d spent too long trying to fight this losing battle.
I cleared my throat, launching into my now-familiar spiel. “The company’s on the edge. If we don’t make significant changes—”
Sir Cedric cut me off with a sigh that could’ve blown out a candle at 20 feet. “We’ve been through downturns before. This is nothing new.”
I blinked. Nothing new? This wasn’t a simple market downturn; it was in a full-on nosedive, and Sir Cedric was acting like we could coast through it on good vibes and nostalgia.
Stubborn Walls
I pressed on, refusing to let Cedric’s indifference derail me. “If we don’t adapt, we won’t survive. The market has shifted, and we haven’t kept up. Our strategies are outdated, our customer base is shrinking, and employee morale is at an all-time low.”
Sir Cedric waved a dismissive hand, like he was swatting at a fly. “What you’re suggesting is change for the sake of change. We’ve been profitable for decades. Why fix what isn’t broken?”
I could feel my frustration bubbling up. “Because it is broken, Sir Cedric. We’ve lost a third of our customers in the last year. The employees are disengaged, and we’re…” I looked around the table, “we’re running on fumes.”
Clarissa glanced up from her phone, her eyes sparkling with a new idea. “Ooh, maybe we should rebrand! How about neon colours? Or no, wait—we could pivot to influencer marketing! Everyone’s doing it these days.” She was enthused, alive with the brightness of her own brilliance.
I stared at her, half-expecting her to suggest we all start co-ordinated TikTok dances instead of our selling the actual product. “Influencer marketing isn’t going to fix this.”
She pouted, and rolled her eyes before turning them back to her phone and with a petulant sigh, “Well, you don’t have to be so harsh.”
Colin was still rummaging through his pile of papers, perhaps searching for a magical survey that would tell him why half the workforce was ready to jump ship. And Constance? Constance looked at me with those tired eyes that said, I’m sorry you have to deal with this.
I took a deep breath, remembering something I’d read about the brain and change. Neuroplasticity, that’s what it was called. The brain resists change because it’s wired to stick with familiar patterns. Comfort zones are cozy ruts, and Cedric was deeply nestled in his. If we wanted to break out of this mess, we’d have to disrupt the old patterns, like plowing over a field to plant new seeds.
But Cedric? Cedric, like a stoic ship’s captain, would rather go down with his sinking ship than swim for the shore.
Speaking Truth to Deaf Ears
Every word I spoke felt like I was throwing gravel at a brick wall, hoping it would crack. But the wall was reinforced with layers of stubbornness, fear, and denial. I could see it in Cedric’s eyes—he wasn’t going to budge. Not today. Not next week. Maybe not ever. Each meeting had become a painful exercise in futility, and I was running out of steam.
I felt a tightness in my chest, the kind that builds when you’ve been fighting the same battle over and over, only to see no progress. I felt like screaming, to shake them and make them see the reality that was staring them full in their faces. But I knew that wouldn’t work. Not with them.
My mind wandered back to something I’d learned about...
