Before the guru of Mind Over Fatty Matter had time to respond, Ellie Fenchurch pressed on with her offensive. ‘But I’m not really here this morning to talk about your management of this company. The fact that you present the place as the ultimate worker’s co-operative, whereas in fact it’s a despotism — and not even a benign one — is-’
‘Just a minute.’ The wind had returned to Sue Fisher’s sails. ‘You print any of that stuff and you’ll have my lawyers down on you before your paper hits the streets. Mind Over Fatty Matter is run as a co-operative. Every co-worker has the opportunity to fulfil his or her potential-’
‘Unless they show too much potential.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean there’s a great list of talented people who used to work with you and who got elbowed out when they started to threaten your dominance of the company. You feel more secure surrounded by yes-men and gofers and actually running the whole show yourself.’
‘Look, I thought up Mind Over Fatty Matter. It is my concept.’
‘Exactly. And you’re very happy to keep it that way, doing all the strategy yourself and having the nuts and bolts work done by others.’
‘The art of management is the art of delegation, Ellie.’
‘Sure. I’ve nothing against the way you run this place. It’s efficient and it’s successful. All I do object to is the fact that you present what is undoubtedly a dictatorship as some kind of benevolent workers’ co-operative. I’m not against commercialism, Sue, just hypocrisy.’
‘Calling me a hypocrite in print wouldn’t do you a lot of good from the legal point of view,’ said Sue Fisher coldly.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t do that. I’m not stupid. My interviews always get my point across without breaking the libel laws.’
Given Ellie Fenchurch’s track-record in character-assassination, this was a chilling promise, but it didn’t slow down Sue Fisher. ‘My basic assertion remains that everyone in this company has equal chances to-’
‘Equal chances to rise to the level of a glorified secretary, yes. Those who show the talent to go any higher than that pretty soon get cut down to size.’
‘That is simply not true. I can-’
‘I can give you a few examples, if you like.’ And Ellie Fenchurch started to reel off a list of women’s names.
She was good. Mrs Pargeter felt privileged to be in the company of such an expert; she could understand why the late Mr Pargeter had so valued his Public Relations Officer.
Ellie Fenchurch’d really done her research. Sue Fisher remonstrated against the first couple of names on the list, but as the catalogue continued, she grew silent.
‘I’ve been in touch with all of them,’ Ellie concluded smugly. ‘And I’m very happy to include their views as background research to my interview… unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.’
Sue Fisher capitulated ungraciously. ‘I think it might be better if you didn’t,’ she mumbled.
‘Good. Fine.’ Ellie Fenchurch beamed. ‘So we can get on to the subject I really wanted to talk to you about… which was the reason why I invited Mrs Pargeter of “Sycamore” along.’
‘All right.’ Sue Fisher was quickly regrouping her resources. ‘I can assure you I have no worries on that front. The claims made for all Mind Over Fatty Matter products have been rigorously researched, and I can assure you that nothing goes on sale in the High Street until it has undergone every possible testing process.’
‘Good. Fine,’ Ellie said again. She was deceptively relaxed. Having caught out her opponent once, she felt confident of maintaining the advantage. She drew a printed catalogue out of her handbag. ‘Now, in your manifesto-’
‘It’s not a manifesto,’ Sue Fisher contradicted tetchily.
‘You could have fooled me. It reads like a manifesto. All the pious principles according to which your company is run. All the promises of how your company will single-handedly sort out the economy, bring hope to the Third World, and save the planet at the same time. For a moment I thought I was right back in the middle of the last election campaign.’
Sue Fisher gave a patronizing smile. ‘All right, Ellie. I’m sure you’re enjoying your little performance, but what actually is the point you’re making?’
‘There is a claim in this’ — Ellie waved the catalogue — ‘propaganda document… that you do not market any products which you have not tried and found satisfactory yourself…’
‘That is true.’
Ellie Fenchurch grinned, luxuriantly in control of the situation. ‘I think I should bring in Mrs Pargeter at this point.’
The lady in question was so entertained by the duel that she would have been quite content to continue just watching it, but she knew where her duty lay and accepted the cue. She opened the folder on her knee and took out a set of papers. ‘Yes, we at “Sycamore” are particularly interested in two products. The first is Mind Over Fatty Matter Face Polish…’
The name had an instant effect. ‘That product was never marketed by this company.’
‘Ah, but it was test — marketed,’ said Mrs Pargeter, supremely confident in Ellie Fenchurch’s research. ‘In the Tyne Tees area. Seven years ago, just after the success of the first Mind Over Fatty Matter book, when you were beginning to explore other areas of merchandizing.’
‘As I say, the Face Polish campaign was stopped before the product reached the shops.’
‘Yes, and why was it stopped?’ Mrs Pargeter was beginning to enjoy her role as prosecuting counsel. ‘Was it because the actual properties of the product did not live up to the claims that were made for it?’
‘That was part of the reason.’
‘So you mean it didn’t’ — Mrs Pargeter consulted her report — ‘“smooth away wrinkles and restore facial skin to teenage tautness”.’
‘No. The claims of the manufacturer who wished me to franchise his product proved to be exaggerated,’ Sue Fisher replied, shifting the blame away from her own company.
‘And I dare say another reason for suppressing Face Polish,’ Mrs Pargeter went on coolly, ‘was the fact that it brought out the housewives of the Tyne Tees area on whom it was tested… in a rather nasty rash.’
‘Well-’
‘“Dry, flaking skin… painful cracking… irritation and bleeding…”,’ she read on relentlessly.
‘Yes, obviously that was one of the reasons why we pulled the product. That’s what testing’s for,’ said Sue Fisher defensively. ‘It’s to see whether there are any unexpected side-effects of a product, and when you do find any… well then, obviously, you stop developing that product.’
‘I see,’ Ellie Fenchurch interposed. ‘So Face Polish wasn’t actually one of the products you tested yourself?’
‘Well, I-’
‘Or did you suffer from “dry, flaking skin… painful cracking” and-’
‘No, no, of course I didn’t! I’m only involved in the final stages of testing. Once a product has been tried on a series of-’
‘Guinea pigs…?’ suggested Mrs Pargeter.
‘No — volunteers.’
‘These’d be human volunteers, would they?’
‘Of course they would. It’s one of the proud tenets of the Mind Over Fatty Matter organization,’ Sue Fisher went on devoutly, ‘that none of our products have been tested on animals.’
‘I see. You’d rather have humans erupting in flaking skin and that sort of-’
‘No, no. This is perfectly normal practice. Once a product’s been tested on volunteers and proved to have no adverse side-effects, then-’
‘But, if it does have adverse side-effects, what happens to the volunteers?’
‘Well, I don’t know, do I!’ Sue Fisher’s temper was now extremely short. ‘They get paid for their trouble. They agree to take the tests, after all. That’s what being a volunteer means.’
‘Yes. So there are quite a lot of products your company tests that you haven’t actually tried out yourself?’
