Writing on the wall

The meeting was short. Tom had known for weeks that things weren’t right. Now he pushed back his chair, stood and headed for the door, unemployed. He was a little off balance as he went to gather his things. The good news, he reflected, was that his wife had a job, a solid one.

He’d been there for eight years. Worked his way up through the ranks to a management position. A position with lots of client contact… clients who could now hire him. Or that’s what he thought as he said goodbye to the receptionist and headed down the stairs with his box, thinking about who he should call first.

He thought he’d better get started. Judy’s job wouldn’t cover all their expenses, and their savings were minimal. He hoped to have some good news when he had to call and tell Judy he’d just been fired.

He thought it would be easy. But in fact, if he’d known how hard it was going to be, he’d probably have rolled over and begged for his old job back.

Blindsided

Walking down the hall, checking the numbers of the small conference rooms. E-223… E-223. Ariel hadn’t spent much time in E building in her five years with the company. Now that she thought about it, she’d never been in E building.

“Where’s E-223?” Ariel asked a passerby.

“It’s just on the other side. Go down that next hall on the left.”

It was early. She hadn’t had time to drop stuff at her desk yet. She’d jumped off the bus at the E stop and run up the stairs to the second floor.

Ariel didn’t want to be late for meeting her boss’s boss. She’d only met with him a couple times – both times about starting a project for him that involved the C-suite. But they’d met in the creative group’s conference room then.

E-223 turned out to be a small internal conference room. Ariel knocked once; no response. The lights went on when she opened the door. “Good,” she thought, “I beat him. Not by much, though.”

“Ariel, thanks for meeting me first thing,” Bob said as he entered a minute later. He had always struck Ariel as a kind man. A man who pretty much had things going his way. But at the moment – red face, breathing hard – she thought he looked stressed.

“Of course. No problem. Always good to see you, Bob.”

Settling into the chair across from her, he pulled a file out of his pack. “Ariel, I’m really sorry about this, but the company is letting you go.”

She thought she’d heard wrong. “What?” (What’d you say?) “Are you laying me off? Aren’t we doing well? I mean, isn’t the company doing fine?”

“It’s not that, Ariel. As you know, there’s a re-org underway, and the Mumbai team…”

Ariel didn’t remember a thing he said after that. She was too busy fighting back tears, thinking, “I can’t cry.”

Digging your grave

Brie didn’t know it, but the management team had been debating not renewing her contract for months, ever since she’d received that rude late-night call from the chairman.

He must have known he’d catch her awake and on her way into Manhattan. It was whispered that he’d hung onto the company, even though he supposedly had turned it over to his son to run. The word was that spies secretly reported to him alone.

He had hung up after saying, “You’re digging your own grave.” She’d tried calling him back a couple of times, but he didn’t pick up. “Chicken,” she thought. To Brie the “digging” line sounded like something out of The Sopranos, and she had dismissed it, thinking, “He’ll get over this.” He didn’t.

She’d argued with him over the fees she’d approved for award show entries and publicity help from a PR professional. Small money, but major for him, apparently. In any case, a few months after the awkward call she’d been summoned to headquarters. It took two flights to get there, and she arrived in a blizzard. After spending the night at the airport Hilton, she took a cab to the office – and was fired before she could finish her latte.

Hiding her feelings, she said goodbye to those she’d worked with at headquarters before cabbing back to the airport, where she spent the middle of the day in a bar.

Wrenching shift

The wealth-building machine moves on without you. Yesterday you didn’t worry about making the mortgage payment, or the burden of your credit card debt. Today you do. Yesterday you knew you could cover your kid’s college expenses. Now you’re not sure.

Discarded. No longer required. Demoted. Passed over.

You thought you were a part of something. You thought you were valued. That your contribution was appreciated, needed. You thought the outstanding issues would be resolved, that your status in the group made resolving those issues a foregone conclusion. Not so, you discover. Sadly not so.

Yes, you assumed your position in the group was secure. But now you know it wasn’t. You felt the new distance between you and them immediately. And you felt shamed. As the first few hours passed, you realized how much you missed the group already – how much you depended on being a part of that group to make you whole.

Slowly you began to understand that the good feelings you got from being part of the group were not aligned with the goals of the owner, the leaders or the directors. Those feelings of shared purpose and inclusion. Feelings we all crave. Feelings that date from the time, hundreds of thousands of years ago, when our ability to cooperate made our very survival possible. Those feelings that make it possible to work together productively.

You weren’t cast out by the group; your feeling of shame at the loss you’ve experienced are misdirected. You were cast out by the leaders, not the group. Leaders who are selected by owners solely in the interest of building revenue, profits and wealth for the owners.

The feeling of safety we experience as a part of a corporation is a false sensation. Our sense of belonging is easily manipulated by those who run the “build wealth for a few” corporations that increasingly dominate our world.

Another way

Groups with shared hopes, dreams and expertise can choose protecting each other as a goal. Groups can be economically viable when they choose to share equally in the wealth their efforts produce. Groups can enjoy the pleasure of collaboration and support themselves and their families. That’s what Tommy, Ariel and Brie came to know. And that’s what drove the growth of the Overture Creative Cooperative.

The post Chapter 16: Becoming Overture appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

The fantasy continues.

“Brie,” says Tommy, entering the room. “You okay? I know it’s tense. Are you sleeping…?”

“I’m fine.”

Clutching her tea, Brie reflects on her morning….

Discomfort

I awoke remembering only touches of the dreams. Still disturbing, though I don’t know why. A moment, then it came back to me. It was the deal. No wonder the dreams were haunting. It was yesterday’s call, and the uncomfortable conversation that unfolded as the conversation extended.

I checked my mail and texts while heating the kettle. Nothing. Ahh, relief. No response to my high anchor… other than what had happened on the call.

Pouring the tea, I thought about the deal. Yep, I was high. He’d said twice as high. Shit. Well, anchor high. That was always Tommy’s recommendation. I’d done that. Still, I was feeling it.

So now it’s the waiting. The waiting is the worst.

A low-level vibration. It starts with a slight pressure in my ears… a hum, a tingling in my toes. That old weight on my chest. That old weight that’s so familiar. A couple shots used to relieve the feeling, but I don’t drink anymore. I’m happy I don’t feel that craving.

I know I need to wait. Note to self: I feel it because it’s important. I need this gig. The team needs this gig. I promised. Now I’m not so sure.

I need to wait.

I knew making a list of the issues would help. But somehow the thought alone kept me from making the list. Doing the list, I thought, would bring on more anxiety.

The morning dragged. Had to get to the office by one. Couldn’t work. Maybe a run. I checked the weather, put on my shorts and shoes.

Hadn’t run in months. Better take it easy. Somehow everything had gotten in the way of my exercise program. What’s that about?

Beautiful out. Off I went. Felt great. Going slow. No, don’t try to catch that other runner. Forget the distance; just put in the time. Breathe. Okay, running sideways, first left and then right. Running backward. Felt great. Stopped to talk to the personal injury lawyer who’s set up shop on the bike trail. Nice guy. Nice break. Must shower and get to the office.

OK, time to make that list. I quickly listed the main points, then put the list down. Felt better. Off to shower.”

The office

Brit asks, “Heard anything from Unilever, Brie?”

Brie is pulled out of her reverie as the team enters the conference room.

“No, haven’t heard. I’ll fill you in when everyone gets here.”

She has a few moments as they assemble so, stepping out of the room, she thinks about the Unilever opportunity and how to fill in the team as she refreshes her tea.

“Ah, the list,” she thinks. “I’ll fill them in using my list.” And she steps back into the room.

“It’s great to be back. London was great, as always. And I have to say, the presentation was fantastic. The Unilever people were blown away.”

The show

“Actually, let’s see it. Brad, the final version is loaded, right?”

With Brad’s assurance, Brie hits the run button. And out of the speakers Brit’s voice booms as the presentation unfolds…

“Purpose. In this time of strife and upheaval, nothing matters more to people than helping others and the planet. Reducing strife by engaging everyone in the cause of people and planet is a goal we’ve shared with Unilever since the founding of Overture…”

Many in the office have worked on the presentation. And many have seen it, but having everyone see it together is different. Better.

When the video ends, there are tears in eyes and lots of proud smiles.

Double

Brie looks at her list. The list she’s prepared for her next conversation with Mark, her Unilever contact.

“OK, as you’ve all heard, our fees are double those of Deloitte. Double, that’s what Mark said.

“The good news is that we’re still in the running.”

Terry asks, “Are there any others being considered?”

“No, Mark says the WPP division of Accenture was cut last week.”

John leaps in with, “That’s really good news that they saw through those guys…”

And Margo with, “Those guys are doing all the work in the cyber-weapons industry. And Unilever has always stood for being good for people. All people.”

The room buzzes

Brie nods and looks at her list, and thinks, OK – next steps now. “Yes, we still have a shot, but being twice as much as a credible competitor is a worry for Unilever. They’re stretching their budgets thin. They’ve been pouring their resources into ventures to increase stability all over the world.

“And,” Brie goes on, “we only have one client that’s as large and global as Unilever: GM.

“And GM is an industrial company. Yes, we’ve had huge success with them. But Unilever is consumer goods, and needs micro-organizing and micro-messaging to succeed. So you can bet that Unilever’s board looks at Deloitte and looks at us and wonders why we’re even at the table.”

It’s Brit who’d been with Brie and the team in London, and she makes the point: “It’s our fidelity to what we believe that sets us apart. We believe in people. We believe everything we do must be good for the planet, the people and all the living things here with us. And we live that every day in the work we do.

Then Brie’s phone rings. “It’s Mark; it’s one in the morning there,” she murmurs as she answers.

The call

“Hi, Mark.”

“Sorry to call so late, Brie.”

Brie feels her heart lift.

“Mark, it’s only five in the afternoon here. It’s one on your end…”

“Right. Yes, long day here. Brie, we awarded it to Deloitte.”

The post Chapter 10: The pitch appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

The fantasy continues…

“Whoosh,” as the Vactrain leaves the station on another demo run full of happy GM workers and their families.

Celebration

GM’s chair, Bill Smith, wears a smile that seemingly overwhelms his face as he pushes through the crowd of GM employees, toward Brie and the Overture team.

“I knew you’d love it.”

“We love seeing you so happy, Bill.” Brie can’t contain her joy either; she gives Bill a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Whoa, Brie,” he says as he disengages. “It’s so wonderful to have this day, this success, after so much bad news. And more to come, I’m afraid.”

From a seeming engineering impossibility to years of testing, here it was: GM’s high-speed, pneumatic maglev railway scooting around its hundred-mile underground test loop at well over 300 mph. The promise was four times that speed on coast-to-coast runs.

War

“More to come… What’d he mean?” thinks Brie. A quick check of the news shows what Bill was referring to.

“I’ll unleash a fire and fury…”

“No. No, no, no,” thinks Brie. “Not again.”

“…like the world has never seen,” Trump goes on.

He looks really old now. Old and tired. Here he is, mid-80s, running for president for the fourth time. With term limits gone, redistricting run amok and thousands of activists in jail, President For Life looked possible.

The country has never been more divided.

“Shit,” thinks Brie. “What’s he thinking? That we need another war?”

But of course we need a war. Trump is up for election for the fourth time. The right-wing media, the widespread unrest, billions spent on military contracts and the electoral college have made it possible for Trump to win three terms. “The fourth could be a slam-dunk,” thinks Brie.

And who would run against him? Who could run with all the changes, the redistricting and most of the prominent progressives in jail? But public opinion is shifting.

Overture

They started the co-op during Trump’s first term. The founders weren’t focused on politics – they saw Overture as a way to make a positive place in the world for creatives, and started with some fairly modest challenges and concerns about the status quo. Things like…

“It’s not fair that we do all the work and they get all the money.”

“It’s not fair that they pass me over because I’m no longer desirable.”

“It’s not fair that I’m not treated like the rest of the team because I’m on contract.”

“It’s not fair that they bill the client $300 for each of my hours but only pay me $50.”

“It’s not fair that…”

These were the inner-voice feelings that drove the creation of Overture.

Feelings of loneliness, of being left out. Feeling less than, when we knew we were just as worthy as those who were included. Wondering why the only source of income for creatives was in creating desire for things no one needs, or entertainment designed to keep the status quo just as it is.

Time passed and things started to get bad. Worse than bad.

Ugly

The great global warming created by greed and the never-ending quest for wealth was in full swing now. Mass migrations were causing civil wars. The U.S., UK and EU governed with fortress mentalities. China and Russia were in continuous border skirmishes. Southeast Asia was under water. The world burned, and thousands of Americans slept in the streets, kept from shelter by fences topped with razor wire.

Good

But city infrastructure projects to deal with rising seas were great for General Motors, putting thousands of new employees to work or in training for demanding technical jobs on the new Vactrain project. All good. The Overture team helped GM in its transition to a worker-friendly place, and had won multiple contract extensions.

Not only had GM become worker-friendly, but the company was moving to becoming worker-directed.

But things were not good for those on the margins.

Fences

“These people don’t know how to work for a living. By giving them everything, we’re taking away their incentive to work.”

This from the project boss-man as the city’s Public Reclamation Team arrived at the site to be cordoned off.

Privilege

Sadly, we know that the days of shooting buffalo to see them fall are not over. That safaris for the rich to shoot the last of the elephants continue. And visits to the jungle to see the gorillas starving in their ever-smaller habitat continue to be popular.

Thousands leave their lives near the equator, their farms no longer able to sustain them.

The world, the life we’ve created in the so-called First World was never sustainable.

Reclamation

The boss goes on…

“Fence off these spaces under the bridge. Keep those dirty squatters from using it as shelter.”

“But boss, they’ll just climb over the fences…”

“Put the razor wire on top. That’ll slow them down. Filthy bastards.”

Contrast, contradictions

The Overture team files onto the Vactrain. Thrilled – they’re simply thrilled.

Many of them have worked on the design of the train as well as the station, created the communications for the project, and helped GM manage the massive social component. With 100,000 employees engaged online conversing with the world about the Vactrain project and everything else GM is doing, the social team is more than busy.

Here we are with thousands on the streets. Another war in the offing, but this wonderful train we’ve helped bring to life. Hope is still alive amid the ugliness.

The post Chapter 9: Wire divides, a train connects appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

The fantasy continues…

Tommy thought about it. “No, I wasn’t that self-aware.”

Tommy – mostly out of daily Overture activity now, but still engaged in issues regarding consensus within the co-op – reflected on the question.

He answered Brie: “We were on fire with the power of it all. So caught up in the self-romance. Intoxicated with being advisers to the princesses and kings of the world. Flying the world in First. Or better yet, in corporate jets.

“Striding into the domains of corporate chieftains, past multimillion-dollar art collections and designer furnishings. Speaking a truth that promised the kings of capitalism and their minions market dominance. We called it ‘brand power.’

“Offering up the secrets of mass-market control that only the prophets of brand power could deliver from on high.

“We never thought about the lies. We thought about the minutia of emotional benefits and supporting functionality. We devised houses of brands and branded houses. We lusted after those moments when the powerful and the rich would gaze upon us and our beautiful brand graphics with awe.

“The money was good, too. But to tell you the truth, I never thought about the money. At least I never thought about it after negotiating the deal.

The deal

“Looking back, making the deal was the best part. Of course, I was mostly traumatized. Traumatized because of the fear, but oh so focused. I may have been afraid. But I was focused on every nuance of the deal. Alive with the grip of it. I’m sure that’s why I remember the details so sharply. How the room looked. The smells. The furniture. The face of their lead negotiator, all imprinted on my memory… forever.

“Once the deal was done – or maybe not done, but moving our way – then I’d lighten up. Relax a bit. Move into enjoyment of the status that came with guiding the client through to owning the concept.

“Cash was king, our CFO liked to say. And as a cash-flow business, that was true.

“But it was the concepts that drove the cash.

“Concepts are well-argued ideas. Ideas that grab the imagination of corporate kings. Ideas that can be wielded like a lance one minute and a shield the next.”

Wait a minute

Brie stopped Tommy’s recitation of the glorious victories on the field of branding honor.

“But Tommy! That’s not you. You dove into building Overture, a co-op dedicated to enlisting the power of creativity for a better world.”

“Yes, I did. But you must remember that even in my days of supreme ego gratification, I took great pride in securing challenging, interesting work for our creative team, and paying them well.

“I now know that it was impossible for me to escape my egalitarian roots. Recycling, worker representation, collective bargaining. Fairness, level playing field, public education. These were deep within me. Impossible to shake. But I didn’t know how to access them in my pursuit of survival and, ultimately, success.

“Yes, I believed in the goodness of capitalism during those years, and the American myth that anyone can get ahead with dedication and hard work. Then my role changed, and I spent years inside the corporate confines and saw firsthand the damage being done to people and the planet, with the overriding goal of capital accumulation. And I learned that hard work and dedication wasn’t the formula for success. It’s much easier than that: You just need to arrange to be born in the right ZIP code.”

Brie stopped him again…

“Tommy, I want you to talk with Allison. She’s doing that piece I mentioned for the Times. But with the riots, she’s widened the scope of the piece.”

Rescue

It was a relief to all when the drones located and then picked up Allison and Brie. They were on a rooftop with what appeared to be an armed band of mercenaries, clambering up the stairs of their high-rise, when they were plucked away.

Safely in the Beacon Hill hideaway, Allison continued the interview.

“Brie, I still don’t get how the founders moved from design and branding to organizational change, and now to General Motors as a client.”

“Right, yes, it seems like an improbable leap. I think you should talk to the founders. I’ll set something up.”

Mass social

The result of 100,000 GM employees being free to discuss everything GM on social was transformative. Shareholders were outraged, of course. Customers were curious and, quite naturally, engaged. Management was torn. Most of them, from line managers to the most senior levels, were long-term GM employees. Hard for them to move into this new world of empowered employees. After all, only the very top, the “C level” and the board, had changed.

No one had seen anything like this.

It was Overture that recommended to the board that every employee’s voice be heard. Why? Because the Overture team had learned that you can’t drive change from the top down. It must be bottom-up. Usually the top resists real change, because change threatens their sweet deal. But here the board and the “C suite” were leading the change. Even so, the workforce must be willing to believe in and engage in the change. Years of corporate greed and mistreated workers had built a culture of mistrust that was not easy to change.

Re-skin or get real?

In the old days, Tommy and the brand team would change the logo and the slogan, and make everybody sing the jingle under threat of job loss – re-skinning the corporation to hide the lies and excess.

The Overture founders had learned that the branding that fueled capitalism contributed to the endless production of inequality. That capitalism itself was essentially unjust and unstable. Unstable in a way that created massive job loss every 10 years or so. Income loss for the poor and the middle, never the top. Hence the current unrest.

Overture’s General Motors bet was that, with a completely new board and newly hired senior management – along with a very public drop of salaries of management and the creation of an employee stock program – signaled that things were changing for the better. Everyone also knew that, with the attacks on airlines, the complete shutdown of public air travel and GM’s shift to designing and producing mass transit, change was happening. And that it was big. That it was real. That if the workers didn’t get in and support it, the opportunity for them to be involved in lasting change could slip away.

Overture’s social team also knew that the messages people trust most from corporations are those from employees. People don’t trust logos and celebrity CEOs; they trust people. A massive flow of messages from GM rank-and-filers captured the imaginations of all… even if some of the messages were negative – and why wouldn’t they be? The company had been screwing employees for years. The massive outpouring alone would proclaim that this company was changing. And the change was radical.

Change was now possible

The old GM board, their hand-picked chieftains along with their excessive compensation, was gone. Swept away with their inability to maintain the massive profits and the rising social unrest that threatened their lives.

Activist shareholders with the largest holdings took advantage of the moment and organized the board’s dismissal. The new board was dedicated to saving the immense GM infrastructure and the massive well of talent that was the essence of the company.

With every GM employee charged with helping describe the future shape of the company, 100,000 voices were engaged in finding what would be in the best interests of all.

This could become real.

The post Chapter 7: Lies to truth appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

The fantasy continues…

They were running down the stairs. Hitting the landings hard. Pivoting, attacking the next flight.

“Brie, Brie, how many more flights?”

“We’re close now, I think.”

Finally, the doors. The smoke was coming up from below. Fire in the garage? Who knew. Allison hit the panic bar. Sirens sounded. They were out.

Eyes streaming tears. Faces streaked with soot. Smoke out here, too, but at least they could breathe.

“The founders never had to deal with this.”

Allison answered: “Maybe not, but they did anticipate it.”

Allison had been interviewing Brie for a Times piece. Now she was in the thick of it.

Founders meeting

The planning meeting wasn’t going well.

The only concrete progress was agreement on a name for the co-op, and that had been weeks ago. “Not surprising,” Tommy thought, “since most of the group came from design and branding. Good at creating lies; not so good at defining the future.”

The name was Overture. He liked the name, but unless it actually stood for something it was a waste of time.

They’d lost at least two of their most promising people during the laborious process of getting consensus. One of them, Stacy, was an immensely talented manager. Tommy thought she’d be a great CFO. So not only had they lost a talent, they had to reopen the search for a financial person. Shit.

And what had Stacy said when she quit? “Too much democracy for me. I guess I’m just too much of a capitalist.”

Overture

Overture Creative Cooperative. It was a great name. And their purpose was great, too: sustainable income for worker-owners. Work that was good for people andthe planet.

“The founders had their hearts in the right place from the start,” Allison thought. “I’ll build the article around the founders’ foresight.”

Shooting now. Close.

“If I live to write it.”

Brie grabbed Allison’s hand: “This way!” And they ran.

They knew the recent protests had been about the city’s exclusion of the homeless, the “working poor” and much of the lower end of what was left of the middle class. But as far as Allison knew, there’d only been sporadic violence so far. This was much worse. There were fires in cars and shops, all around.

They kept running.

Slow and frustrating

Tommy looked around the room. There were only six of them in attendance: four women and two men. “At least we got that right,” he thought. Everything he’d read on teamwork said that teams with more women than men were the most productive. Three others of the currently active group – two men and a woman – weren’t in attendance.

“Let’s set an agenda. What should we focus on…?”

“Logo,” someone said.

“God,” Tommy thought, “how can we waste time on a logo when we don’t know what we’re going to be doing? There’re more than enough people focused on branding and logos in the world already.”

So he said “Offer – we need to pin down our offer.”

“Bylaws.” That was Ariel. She’d been working on the bylaws, a thankless task since they’d started.

Tommy thought, “She must be feeling guilty.”

Somebody else put Office Space on the list.

Then Dan added Core Skills, and Tommy mentally put that under Offer. “Skills are key, but we need to know what the hell we’re doing first.”

No service

Brie stopped to consult the ’net. No service. The authorities must have shut down access, thinking that would piss off the protestors even more.

Turning the corner, they ran right into an armed band that streamed around them like they didn’t exist. For a moment they didn’t breathe.

Somewhat recovered, Allison asked, “Where we going, Brie?”

“Beacon Hill; we’ve got a safe location there.” Beacon Hill had always been Seattle’s low end. The biggest camps were there. Overture leadership had always sought out alternative locations.

“I need to let them know we’re okay and heading their way, and ask if they know a safe route. I should have plugged in before we left.”

“We sure didn’t have time for that.”

“No, but if I can get to an electrical outlet, I can reach them through the grid.”

She turned and stepped through a broken shop window. Finding an outlet, she jacked in and immediately got a cascade of messages from the team and from GM, and a bunch of media requests.

Offer

“We need to find an industry, or a category of organizations…”

Dan leaped in with, “…a group that needs to change because of outside forces.”

Kat jumped on that. “Remember that campaign you did for that utility, Dan? The one where you never mentioned the service…”

“Yep, that was a hard sell, but they were really under the gun to change. Basically, they were toast and they knew it.”

“So what did you promise them? Because I think…” Kat went on, “I think that within the struggles they had – and you and your team had – lie answers for us.”

Tommy thought, “This is good. This could get us somewhere.”

Just then the email notification chimed on all their phones. “It is with deep regret…”

“There goes another of our best,” thought Tommy.

The journey

The Beacon location was still secure, and happy to hear from Brie. “Yes, we can get you out of there,” was the word.

Brie and Allison hid behind the counter of what had been a designer boutique of some sort, close enough to the power outlet that she could communicate. Thankfully the boutique had been looted. With nothing more for pillagers to steal, they figured they were reasonably safe. Then the message came in…

“Can you get to the roof? We’ve got drones on the way.”

Brie replied with, “I’ll check.”

“Let’s see if we can get to the roof, Allison.”

Assignments

Kat went on. “We must move beyond our origins as a loose, motley crew of disenfranchised creatives…

“We must get beyond the arrogance of our new name. Overture? What? Overture to what?

“We must move! We must drill down into the promise of insight, difference and distinctiveness. Yes, we’re anti-establishment — but we have to do it with a positive sense of purpose.”

Kat ended with, “We just lost another promising member. We don’t have any more time to just fuck around.”

“Wow,” Tommy thought, “I’ve never seen Kat so wound up. This is great. Perfect.”

Eska exclaimed, “Right on, Kat! Okay, I’ll take on the emotional experience, and create a description of how we’ll shape the emotional experience of both groups and individuals…”

Ariel was next, and they all pledged to complete individual assignments by the next meeting.

Overture might be worthy after all.

The post Chapter 6: Worthy appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

Thousands are working below the official poverty level: left out, angry.

Mass protests are now normal public behavior. Violent acts are increasing.

The aviation industry is in collapse. Others are sure to follow.

GM’s leap into rail, mass transit and tunneling is in the news. As are efforts by other giant companies to employ as many as possible in spite of government efforts to reinstitute trickle-down economics.

The surge of Ayn Rand-inspired government continues in spite of the rise of the seas and coastal unrest.

Everyone is in search of answers. Media scrambles to explain.

The fantasy continues…

The interview

Allison from the Times had insisted on meeting face-to-face with Brie. Her unedited transcript follows:

Allison: Thanks for actually meeting. I spend far too much time working alone. Thought since we’re both in Seattle, it made sense.

Brie: No problem. Thanks for your interest…

A: Brie, I get it that the co-op took a stand on the kind of clients you want. But how did you get from there to transforming GM?

B: We’re not transforming GM. They’re doing it themselves…

A: Right. OK, how’d you get in a position to assist?

B: That’s a long story – a long, long story. I don’t know quite where to begin.

A: Well… the co-op started with a small group, right? Tell me about them.

B: They were broke. Felt cheated by how they were treated by clients and their jobs. Hated the shit they saw going down.

A: Nothing unusual about that. I feel that way now. So that’s what got them together?

B: You must be freelance.

A: Yeah, they did away with journalist staff years ago. What about your founders?

B: They were all freelance, or… what do ya call it? Oh, yes: on contract.

A: Motley crew?

B: That’s them…

A: They were designers?

B: Some designers, some programmers – not engineers, though – an architect, a photographer, a filmmaker, a couple writers. One of the writers had a Ph.D. in healthcare communications. Ten in total.

A: The GM thing is organizational transformation. Where’d that come from?

B: It grew out of working in healthcare. Dentists, actually. Branding for dentists.

A: Dentists?

B: Yeah, dentists. But the founders knew they wanted to be world-changing from the beginning.

A: World-changing dentists?

B: Let me explain. The founders needed sustainable income, and one of the branding guys had some dental clients and a knack for attracting more.

When you think about it, dentists… and most of healthcare fits their ideals – you know, good for people, good for the planet. And the dentists needed help starting or reinvigorating their practices. So the founders set about helping dentists transform the way they practiced.

A: The dentists were up for this?

B: Yes, eager for it. In fact, like GM, the dentists were already looking for change.

A: I get it. Very pragmatic. Still, it’s a long way from dentists to GM.

B: It looks that way, but it actually isn’t that far.

A: How so?

B: Basically, the dentists, and all of healthcare, were going through their own transformation. Just like GM is today. Technology and social change were putting pressure on everyone in healthcare.

A: Okay, I get that, but…

B: And there was another thing. Our founders felt the need for new co-op members to be just as pressing as the need for clients. New members with different creative skills than theirs.

A: You needed more buy-in money, right?

B: Yes, they needed money, and they needed improv people and theater people.

A: Theater?

B: Yes, and people skilled in sociodrama and group dynamics, to help our dentists and healthcare clients envision better futures for themselves and their clients.

That idea – the idea of the widest possible set of creative skills – was in play right from the start. And our dentists helped us pay for it while we helped them change the way dentistry helped people.

A: So you got cash from clients and new members at the same time.

B: Yes, and we paid the same commission on both. The founders figured cash was king. Couldn’t change the world without it.

A: That’s not very big-picture. Sounds like any other cash-starved start-up from the period.

B: Ha! True, yes. But here’s the twist: The original 10 knew, and wrote a lot about, their goals and values, right from the beginning.

It’s simple. Healthcare is good for people. The healthier people are mentally and physically, the better they are for the planet. So healthcare fit our values.

A: Now that I think about it, healthcare was a shit show then. Better now.

B: We had a part in that change. And we’re so proud of it, because it led us to other industries and GM.

A: So this all started with dentists.

B: Yes! We love dentists. And we’ve got lots of dentists, even today.

Good news

John, GM’s CEO, was right. Getting the approvals to use the right-of-ways wasn’t easy. But massive public interest, boosted by general unrest and the outpouring of ideas now floating in cyberspace for all to see and participate in, put previously unheard-of public pressure on government, corporations and institutions of all kinds. Suddenly high-speed, continent-crossing transport was looking possible, with thousands of the formerly unemployed put to work along the way.

Boeing lead the aerospace industry into partnerships with GM and the auto and tunneling industries. America leaped into the business of building infrastructure that was for the first time considered almost completely green.

Still, these were just deals. Widely trumpeted in what remained of the press, but nothing had actually changed.

Air Purity had shut down the airports with their violent actions. No one had been caught – but no one was flying, either. And no word from the eco-group.

Bad news

As Brie and Allison were wrapping up their interview, an explosion shook the building. They ran to the windows, and could see smoke and chaos. What appeared to be National Guard troops were chasing a crowd of what must have been protesters up the street.

“Brie, is it too little too late?”

“I hope not.”

The post Chapter 5: A little sunshine appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

The fantasy continues…
 
“Mom, I booked you on the next train to Chicago.”

“What?”

“Just listen, Mom. All the airports are closed. Get to the train station. Go now!”

Brie was exiting GM headquarters on the way to the airport when she got her son’s call.

“Mom, I just got the tweet a minute ago. There was a drone attack on the three biggest airports simultaneously – Atlanta, LA and Chicago. Several planes crashed. Hundreds dead…”

“God! Okay, okay, what’s going on? Driver, take me to the train station. Jamal, you’re safe?”

Extremists change the rules

“Yes, Mom, I just want you safe on your way home. And I knew the trains would quickly fill. Your train leaves Detroit in an hour. Then in Chicago you’ll change to the Seattle train. I got you a first-class seat on that one, thinking they’d be more likely to hold it.”

“Jamal, the chairman is on the other line. Gotta take it. Love you!”

“Hi, Bill, I just got the word from my son.”

“Brie, I heard just a moment ago. First thought: I could fly you home on one of our planes. Then I realized that was dumb…”

“I think I’m okay, Bill. Jamal got me on the train.”

“Good boy. Loves his mom. I’m glad to hear.

“The train will be safer; much harder to disrupt. Much easier to defend. Brie, get the co-op going on the message, ‘GM backs safe, secure high-speed rail.’”

“We’re on it. It means thousands of new jobs and cleaner air. And if our guess is right, this attack means the end of an air-traveling public.”

“Yes, it does.”

Air Purity gets attention

“OK, Bill, we’ll message first to employees. Some will spread the word immediately. Be ready for the media calls. I expect you’ll be on, asked to be interviewed live, in less than 10 minutes.”

Brie sent the message to the co-op and 100,000 GM employees simultaneously. Within the hour hundreds of suggestions and ideas were pouring out to the public in the form of sketches, photos, issues to be explored, engineering ideas and a number of well-thought-out plans, along with a massive wave of sympathy for the victims of the attack. An attack that had now been claimed by the same air-purity group that had shut down the Detroit airport weeks earlier.

Bill appeared on projection. He was clearly crying while he was being interviewed.

Much of the rest of the world was crying, too.

“If we had addressed these issues when we knew they were headed our way, this tragedy would never have happened,” he said to the interviewer.

“What issues?”

“The growing chasm between rich and poor. The extreme damage we’re inflicting to the planet…”

“But you’re GM. Air Purity has targeted you, too. You’ve contributed to the damage, to global warming…”

“Yes, we did. And yes, GM was far too focused on meeting investor needs and enriching a very few. But that’s over now. You’ve read Wall Street’s reaction to our changes. Wall Street hates us. The status quo is mad as hell.

“Fortunately, a group of our biggest investors sees the need for change. The unions are with us, and the world needs the massive infrastructure and the talent we offer, to address the problems that, yes, we’ve contributed to creating.

“Yes, we’ve made the air worse. Air Purity is right in calling us out. But to kill hundreds to make their point is inexcusable, tragic and criminal. They must be stopped.”

Massive niche communications

Safely on the train, Brie switched off the interview. She sighed and called the social group within the co-op.

“Hey, Marcus, how’s it going.”

“It’s crazy, Brie. We’ve never seen anything like this. Every extreme channel we follow has lit up with their own narrative – pro, con and everything you can imagine in between…”

“What can you tell about the effect of the outpouring of ideas from GM people?”

“People are riffing on them. Adding to them. Asking questions. Critiquing. Complaining. Too little, too late. Wow, cool. It’s wild.

“Brie, I think those GM sociodramas we did are really helping us now. These folks know their contributions really count. They know that together they really can make a difference.”

The images were amazing. Everything from detailed engineering in real time 3-D to children’s drawings of deer and rabbits in a forest with trains sailing through tunnels deep below.

“Gotta go, Marcus; looks like the board of directors is coming through.” And Brie signed off.

Hope

Years earlier the team that founded the creative co-op envisioned and developed a method that used creativity to transform organizations. Using talents that had previously been engaged in everything from designing candy bar packaging to producing elaborate TV spots and theater, they created an improv-based performance that helped organizations envision positive futures for both people and the planet. These founders were skilled in the art of persuasion, story and experience. They’d been employed by corporations to create and sell products, services… and the corporations themselves.

As children these people had dreamed of creating pictures, immersed themselves in the pleasure of story, fallen in love with theater, and imagined themselves creating beautiful spaces and songs, poetry and movies.

As adults they found themselves ensnared in the military-industrial complex, writing operator manuals for weapons on the one hand, and ads for marketers on the other. Yes, they loved the awards and recognition they received for “best of show,” but with the growth of global warming and the difficulty of staying afloat financially, these founders realized that not only were they not getting their fair share – they were actually contributing to the destruction of the earth. Destruction of society through the extraction of wealth for the benefit of the few. Destroying the planet and every living thing upon it along the way. Separating people from their core connection to all living things.

They decided to dedicate their creative power to creating – first, hope for a better future. And, eventually, actually creating a better future.

A subversive group

From the beginning, the creative co-op didn’t work for polluters, military contractors or racists. They didn’t have pat answers like design thinking or innovation. The co-op provided only one thing: hope. Hope for a better future. And a plan for making life better for people and the planet.

They offered a completely different view of how to prepare for the future. One guided by the creative spirit and fundamental goodness that reside in us all. The goodness that counters the darkness we all share.

Hope for a way to make a living they could believe in.

Obstruction

Brie could see the moment the projection opened that the board was in disarray.

“We can’t do any of this without access to the right-of-ways. Bill, you’ve opened a floodgate of hope, and we have no way to make this happen.” John, GM’s CEO, was hopping mad.

Brie hoped the chairman had an answer.

The post Chapter 4: Hope appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

The fantasy continues…

The meeting had been going since mid-morning. Brie was exhausted. The conference table was littered with the remnants of turkey sandwiches and chicken salads. She thought, “You’d think GM would serve a better lunch to their senior executives. This must be a part of the austerity program.”

The chairman had left the room. Clearly John had waited for the moment. Maybe not everyone here was on board with Chairman Bill’s program.

She looked down the long table at John, remembering that he was the CEO, after all. That he had a huge stake in this. That he looked exhausted. That he too had come from a much smaller organization, and perhaps felt he had a lot to learn. She was sympathetic, but knew what she needed to do.

“Respect.” She said, holding his gaze.

Where now?

One word, then silence. No one moved. No one breathed.

Brie had the rest of her retort cued up, but said it only to herself: “Respect for our skills and experience, respect for what we’ve accomplished for others, and respect for what we could do for GM.” A silent prayer.

Mary, the CFO, looked first at Brie and then at John. “We’ve found our partner, John.”

Mary went on, “John, you know and we all know that Bill feels the creative co-op will get us the deep internal shift we need everyone in GM to make. Yes, it’s a lot of money. It’s the biggest commitment we’ve made beyond the profit-sharing and wage increases. And…”

The chairman reentered the room and took a quick look up and down the table. The snow continued to fall outside. Brie felt the chill of the moment. The silence. The what’s-next.

What’s happening here?

As Brie and everyone in the room knew, it was much bigger than making and selling as many units as possible, as cheaply as possible. The issues were much bigger than making the share price rise and management compensation rise with it, as in the past.

The wall had been built. But the influx of people hadn’t stopped. They had nowhere else to go, so they kept coming.

The violence right was now legit. Conservative justices had just legitimized a vigilante hanging.

Nationalism was the prevailing rhetoric of Murdoch’s FOX – a media network with more than a 60% share of the English-speaking world.

Emotional issues like abortion, the homeless, gay marriage, gender fluidity, religion and political infidelities were used to stir people and keep the real issues hidden.

What real issues?

Power. The raw and aggressive grab of power from the many to the few, with the declawing of legislatures everywhere and the empowering of the president, conservative governors and corporate executives.

Power being used to create a society in which the purpose of the many is only to support the few.

Next

Brie had been back and forth with Bill Jones, the Chairman of GM, since he and his board of directors had asked the co-op to help them with the massive transition they’d undertaken. But the transition was far bigger than changing the company. Jones had seen the damage happening all around. Fascism was in the air.

Bill’s goal was to move GM from a Wall-Street-worship, extractive enterprise to a people-centric, employee-empowered model. His concept: Treat employees like owners, and they’ll ensure the company thrives and its customers thrive with it. That the truism of the past, “What’s good for GM is good for the country,” was once again true. That the company, with its massive infrastructure and still-large employment, could once again lead the way to the growth of a large middle-class America, with stability and prosperity for all.

The board was almost all new. The CEO and the entire C-suite were new. No one was paid more than six and a half times that of the lowest-paid employee.

Every employee was now a stockholder, through a new retirement program. Head count and units produced and sold were growing for the first time since the plunge in truck sales and the near-failure of the company. Profits were not huge, but steady. Things were looking up.

Except…

Much bigger questions remained.

The world around GM was in turmoil. Solders were in the streets to contain protests, all too often. Employee families were often in danger. A recent drone attack on the Detroit airport by a previously unknown air-purity group had shut down domestic air travel for weeks while officials had debated what to do. Arrests had been made, but no one felt safe flying after this demonstration of what tiny weaponized drones could do.

The future for massive numbers of owner-driven cars was clearly limited. And although GM was building Apple’s self-driving car it was a limited production run.

Searching for answers

Right after he took the chairmanship, Bill Jones and his board had hired Deloitte to help them repurpose the company. The recommendations they got back were all about maintaining the status quo. Other than moving back into the design and manufacturing of locomotives, GM had taken none of the hugely expensive advice.

Bill and the board could clearly see that the advances GM engineers had introduced into cars could benefit the future of rail – reducing carbon emissions and increasing efficiency and safety.

Cities were becoming the builders of the new humanistic movement. The wave of immigrants was settling in cities. There were no low-paying ag jobs anymore; those had all been taken by robots. So the newcomers all poured into cities, where people live close together. To live in a city, people need to get along with others – with people who are different than they are. And thanks to rising sea levels and the resulting infrastructure projects, there were plenty of jobs.

Bill Jones and his board were betting big on cities as a market for the new forms of transportation. They believed that GM could transfer hundreds from auto production and perhaps employ thousands of new engineers for this market. That was one possibility for positive growth, but they needed others.

Was it too much to pay?

Brie was still waiting for the John the CEO to say something when the chairman spoke: “It’s a huge commitment, We’re absolutely biting off more than we can chew. We all know we’re not just selling cars anymore. That we can’t just sell cars.

“We have to change the way America thinks both about us and the future. Americans need renewed hope that the future will be better. And yes, Mary, we need to start by changing the way every employee feels about the company. We’ve made great strides with the wage raises, the reductions in our own pay and the employee stockholder plan. But now we need to put all of us to work rebuilding the American middle class, or there won’t be a market for our products or our services. Nor will there be opportunities for any of us.

“Brie, can you ensure that the co-op’s costs and projects are absolutely transparent to John and his management team?”

“Yes.”

The post Chapter 3: The challenge appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

“Mom, Mom! There’s soldiers in the streets.”

Looking out the window. Seeing nothing. “Honey, where did you see them?”

“Just outside the school. They were unloading from those huge, slick white buses. The ones you see at Facebook and Amazon.”

Jamal’s 13, and deeply into dystopian novels. I pushed my laptop aside, and the General Motors contract with it.

“Honey, was there any announcement at school, any trouble?” I’m thinking the worst now. School shooting? Major pushback on student activism? What?

Jamal was typing madly into his phone now. Not hearing me.

I went to my twitter feed and saw immediately the photos of armed troops surrounding a group of students holding signs. Fear’s breath touched me.

The dark fantasy continues.

From promise to despair

The industrial revolution halted the endless poverty cycle.

Once we chose coal and then oil as our sources of energy – chose capitalism as our economic system – it seemed as though wealth for all with no downside was a real possibility.

But there is a downside. The planet has limits. Our disposable lifestyles have taken a toll, and the increasing temperatures are changing everything.
And there is greed. It turns out the great surge that built the middle class has limits in the minds of the rich. They want more. They’re in control. That means we get less.

And with soldiers at Jamal’s school, we can see that things have gone too far.

Heavy industry moves our way

The GM contract I’m finalizing is our co-op’s first with one of America’s industrial giants.

No, in the short term it won’t stop the soldiers at Jamal’s school. The icy sensation down my back returns. But if we get this right, we can help a lot of people. Millions of people.

A co-op future for creatives

Several years ago, a group of us creatives began exploring a worker-owned co-op. We wanted a steady income and a share of the profits from our work. It seemed to us that control of the revenue that resulted from our work was not only a good and logical outcome, but could be inspirational as well.

Our founders came from careers in the arts, entertainment, advertising, education, film, photography, architecture, illustration, writing and design.

We decided early in our planning that the world didn’t need another design firm, ad agency, video production company, architectural consultancy or other creative offer. On the one hand, those markets were awash with competitors and experiencing shrinking revenues. And on the other, we were tired of having our work only valued when we were selling stuff.

We were also alarmed at the damage being done politically, socially and to the planet. And we were concerned that much of our past professional work as creatives was contributing to the harm being done.

So we dedicated ourselves to finding a direction that would not only provide us an income and satisfying work, but one that would actually be good for people and the planet. And we found it in speculative fiction.

How we got GM

Bill Jones, the chairman of GM, has asked us to help him with the transformation he and his board have initiated for the company. He’d attended the “Creativity Challenges Dystopia” event we’d put on at the Detroit Auto Show, and was intrigued. Intrigued enough to check us out.

From Charles Dickens’ serial novels to Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games trilogy, speculative fiction has long broken barriers and explored issues of race, political inequality and injustice. The use of dystopian, apocalyptic futures with imaginary elements, and often magical technology, lets writers confront controversial issues, granting them the power to envision – and shape – the future.

Fantasy: a better tomorrow

We believed we could use the lessons from speculative fiction to save us from a dystopian future – imagination and fantasy, employed to save us all.

Early in the forming of our creative co-op, we struck upon the idea of using our diverse creative experience to help organizations envision a better future. We landed on the use of fiction, coupled with a series of exercises to provide insights into the darkest of possible futures, to devise how to avoid anarchy.

And that’s what Bill Jones has asked us to do… to help him and his entire workforce understand the dangers we face; imagine the steps to make things better; and then begin the process of changing the company to make it a key player in creating a better future. Our goal: mutually created insights into tomorrow that will help us all get there.

With the soldiers at Jamal’s school, we’re living in a dystopian present.

Helping each other

Terrified for my son and his classmates, I called the chairman.

“Bill, it’s Brie.”

“I was in the middle of reviewing our contract this morning when my son reported that soldiers were shutting down a protest at his school.”

“God, Brie, that’s terrifying. Is he OK?”

I went on, filling in Bill on the morning’s frightening events, and asked: “It’s all over social. Could you connect me to someone in the White House who could shut this down before anyone gets hurt?”

“Yes, I can. I’ll get right back to you.” And then he hung up.

The post Chapter 2: A new role for creatives, a visioning co-op appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

It was supposed to be a peaceful rally. I wouldn’t have come if I’d thought otherwise.

There had been CEO shootings elsewhere, but Seattle? I thought it could never happen here. And he was supposed to be one of the good guys, although his income was reported at over $50 million last year.

I dare to have this fantasy because we are on the brink.

Brink of anarchy

We’re on the brink – the brink of a dystopian world. The effects of global warming are far more apparent now. Radical white supremacists attacking people of color, fearing loss of historical advantage. Ideologies fighting, not conversing. Mass migrations as farms dry up. The middle class shrinking, as capital becomes increasingly valuable and the work that creates capital loses value. Capitalism’s promise of a “shining city upon a hill” and plenty for all proving to be a lie.

We’ve had two hundred years of using the land, the water and the air as a dumping ground in the quest for corporate profits. And the result is global warming and civil unrest.

Climate advocates join animal-rights proponents in attacks on butchers, markets and slaughterhouses. Animal agriculture is not only mass animal genocide – it’s a huge contributor to global warming.

Coal and oil produce much of our electricity – and more than a quarter of our greenhouse gas emissions. Stylish electric cars won’t save us.

Forests and the animals that inhabit them are decimated for lumber and corporate farms, reducing their natural ability to absorb carbon emissions.

The oceans fill with plastic, and microplastics show up in human poop.

Right-wing leaders use race to rise in power and stay on top.

Hope

At the same time, good things are happening too. Following the lead of France and Japan, many countries are setting limits on CEO pay, at least on companies that have governments as investors. The yellow-vest movement for fair treatment and pay grows in spite of heavy-handed attempts by governments to shut them down. Beef consumption shrinks. Clean energy grows.

Worker co-ops like ours are growing dramatically. And more new worker co-ops are starting than any time in history. B-corps – for-profit companies dedicated to achieving positive social and environmental impact – grow.

Good signs all. But not enough to stem the world’s warming, and the rising waters of social unrest.

Contact

My fantasy continues.

Safe, but still shaking from the shooting, I got the email on the way home. I opened it and read that the chairman of General Motors wanted to set up a call with me the following week. Yikes. The chairman of GM! He suggested a couple times. I replied yes and started Googling GM and the chairman.

Yes, diesel pickup sales were dwindling. Lots of coverage of their newly fortified corporate headquarters. Profits were down dramatically. Yes, GM had a new board and chief executive. Yes, they were building self-driving cars under Apple’s license. So change was clearly afoot.

On the day of the Skype conversation, I suspected he wanted to tap into the success of our creative co-op, somehow. We’d gotten a lot of good coverage of our work for some pretty big clients; nothing like GM, though. I also suspected the rash of CEO shootings and civil unrest were starting to have an impact on a lot of C-suites. But I was only guessing.

At our creative co-op, we’d been putting on our “Group Visioning” theater-in-the-round shows at major industrial trade shows for several years now. Our most popular show, “Creativity Challenges Dystopia,” had sold out at the recent Detroit Auto Show. Maybe he’d attended?

Cry for help

He came up on my screen and opened with “Brie? Is it okay if I call you Brie?”

“Yes, yes of course. I’ve been trying to guess the reason for your call all week. What’s on your mind?”

“Brie, we want to work with you. And before you say no, I want you to know that my board and I have made some major changes. Changes we believe will make us the kind of client you’ve pledged to support.”

Group Visioning

“Brie, I was captivated by the ‘Group Visioning’ performance your co-op presented in that theater-in-the-round setting at the show this year.”

He went on to say that he was inspired by our use of dystopian literature in our performance at the Detroit show. We used Orwell, Huxley, Vonnegut,
Gibson and others as sources of inspiration, to avoid the perils envisioned by the darkest of our sci-fi writers.

I was thrilled. This was General Motors. I’d read the news. But it hadn’t occurred to me that they’d actually be influenced by us.

The chairman went on: “We’re about to announce an increase in wages for all employees. And no one will be paid more than six and a half times that of our lowest employee, including our CEO.”

“That’s huge, Bill…”

“There’s much more change coming, Brie. We’ve just opened negotiations with our unions by informing them that we’re introducing an employee retirement program that’s funded, in part, by profits freed up by reductions in management compensation.”

“What’s driving these changes?”

“Well, you read the news, Brie. Consumer boycotts against executive pay, excessive energy consumption, environmentally damaging corporate practices: we see people – rightfully, I must say – rebelling against damaging corporate practices.

“Brie, we must change our focus from pleasing Wall Street to meeting the needs of the world’s home street. Hence this call.”

Envision the best we can be

He went on to tell me they wanted our creative co-op to help GM envision what they could do to create a better everyday life for people and the planet, by tackling major issues such as climate change, civil unrest, sprawling urban growth, fair and equable employment, sustainable transportation and lack of food security.

They wanted the creative co-op to use our Group Visioning methods, which are based in literature and creative thought, to help GM create the best possible future for its people, people everywhere, and the world as a whole.
“Brie, the board and I want GM to become the first of the world’s industrial giants to align with the real needs of people and the planet.”

We made a verbal-handshake deal and ended the call.

This is exactly what we’d dreamed of. Hoped for. And worked to make happen. Still, it was a shock. We’d hoped our efforts would reach the center of America’s industrial heartland and change the game. It was a worthy goal, but I guess I’d never imagined it would really happen. Not in my lifetime, anyway.

But here we were, in my dreams at least.

The post Chapter 1: Could a creative co-op change the world? appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.