A Different View with Dave O’Connell

The boss of a big Irish media company had a badge of pride that he wore when it came to getting rid of staff; he always did it before breakfast because he saw no reason it should spoil his day or give him indigestion.

So when his turn came for the bullet – as these things inevitably do when you’re a hired gun – guess what time he was summoned to a showdown meeting at?

It’s not known if he subsequently stayed for breakfast.

But when news of the big man’s departure reached the ears of some of those who had themselves endured that early-morning exit, they tipped their collective caps to those who ensured he then knew how they felt in their final working moments.

Our friend was one of the few I’ve ever known of who appeared to enjoy the power of breaking bad news to people; the hardest nosed of bosses take no joy in shedding staff, even when they have to.

On the other side of the equation, I also recall an occasion in Cork when working with the Examiner back in the nineties, for the most benevolent employer you could imagine in the late, great Ted Crosbie; a man who thoroughly enjoyed his breakfast and never fired people at all.

The Examiner was then based on Academy Street in the heart of the city – so central that, at one stage before my time, there was a facility to have drink sent to the newsroom from the Chateau bar, based at ground level in the same building, without having to leave your desk.

When the paper was printed in-house, the entire building reverberated to the sound of the presses running at full pelt, and staff would regularly stop what they were doing to witness another finished product setting off for the shops.

On one such occasion, one of the printing staff happened to be standing beside Ted Crosbie himself, overlooking proceedings from a mezzanine perched high over the printing press.

It was back in the early days of the National Lottery when the record jackpot was no more than £300,000 or £400,000 – but that was still an awful lot of money, were it to come your way.

So Ted and his printer were shooting the breeze, hypothetically debating what you’d do if you ever came into that sort of cash.