‘The sandwich is your pulpit, it’s where you preach the gospel of good eating.’

I recently saw ‘Clyde’s’, a play by Lynn Nottage currently at The Donmar Warehouse, London (directed by Lynette Linton, until 2 Dec).

Montrellous: This sandwich is the culmination of a long hard journey that began with a wheat seed cultivated by a farmer thousands of years ago.

This splendid work is set in the bustling kitchen of a Pennsylvania truck-stop staffed by ex-offenders. It’s the story of damaged lives and second chances; of confronting hard choices and recovering self-esteem; of finding salvation in a sandwich.

Montrellous: I think about the balance of ingredients and the journey I want the consumer to take with each bite. Then, finally, how I can achieve oneness with the sandwich.

Proprietor Clyde (Gbemisola Ikumelo) is a ruthless tyrant in high-heeled ankle boots. She has served time herself, and rules the business with an iron fist, periodically popping her head through the serving hatch with blunt demands for harder work and faster service.

Clyde: Social hour’s over. Pick up the pace, or tomorrow I can get a fresh batch of nobodies to do your job. And I’ll make sure you go back to whatever hell you came from. Try me!

Rumour has it that Clyde is in debt to gangsters from down south for whom this is nothing more than a money-laundering operation. Certainly she shows little interest in the food.

Clyde: You melt American cheese on Wonder Bread and these truckers’ll be happy…You know my policy. If it ain’t brown or gray, it can be fried.

The kitchen, however, is the realm of Montrellous (Giles Terera), a wise, spiritual figure who is ‘the John Coltrane of sandwich making.’

Montrellous: Maine lobster, potato roll gently toasted and buttered with roasted garlic, paprika, and cracked pepper with truffle mayo, caramelized fennel, and a sprinkle of…of…dill.

Montrellous has coached his admiring colleagues Letitia (Ronkẹ Adékoluẹjó) and Rafael (Sebastian Orozco) to leave their troubles at the door; to aspire to better things; and to explore the art of sandwich making as a form of self-expression.

Rafael: We speak the truth. Then, let go and cook. Montrellous taught us that. We leave the pain in the pan. We got each other’s backs, and that’s how we get back up.

Letitia: Montrellous is a sensei. Drops garlic aioli like a realness bomb. He knows what we only wish to know.

Between them Clyde and Montrellous represent two poles: cynicism and pessimism versus positivity and hope.

Clyde: Look, I’m not indifferent to suffering. But I don’t do pity. I just don’t. And you know why? Because… dudes like you thrive on it, it’s your energy source, but like fossil fuels it creates pollution. That’s why.

As the play progresses, we learn that each ex-offender is struggling to escape an unfortunate past and a challenging present. Rafael is a recovering drug user who attempted to rob a bank when he was high. He could easily slip back into addiction. Letitia stole medicine for her sick daughter from a pharmacy, and took ‘some Oxy and Addy to sell on the side.’ She continues to contend with childcare pressures and an unreliable ex.

Montrellous: And you know what they say: cuz you left prison don’t mean you outta prison. But, remember, everything we do here is to escape that mentality. This kitchen, these ingredients, these are our tools. We have what we need. So let’s cook.

The camaraderie amongst the kitchen crew is threatened when they are joined by Jason (Patrick Gibson), a felon with a violent record and white supremacist tattoos all over his face. It’s a combustible environment.

Letitia: You here cuz you done run outta options, ain’t nobody gonna hire you except for Clyde.

Gradually we witness how, through industry, truth-telling and mutual support; through learning new skills and raising aspirations, these troubled characters from diverse backgrounds can grow confidence, pride and a sense of identity.

Montrellous: Let whatever you’re feeling become part of your process, not an impediment… This sandwich is my strength. This sandwich is my victory. This sandwich is my freedom.

It would be easy to belittle the central premise of this play. Can you really rebuild lives by means of an obsession with the humble sandwich? Isn’t this all somewhat fanciful? Is the piece taking convenient finger food a little too seriously?

Montrellous: We all make our choices. You never know watcha gonna do when you meet the Devil at the crossroads…But, we ain’t bound by our mistakes.

I spent a whole career selling deodorant, jeans and fried chicken. It’s easy to mock that too. What I observed is that work provides an opportunity to focus on shared beliefs and goals; on building teamwork and purpose; on striving for something better.

In our case, we were seeking to create compelling communication in a 30 second film or 6-sheet poster: emotional product demonstrations. We were on a quest for distilled truth. Absurd perhaps. But I learned that the activity itself doesn’t really matter too much. There is a dignity in labour. We all need something to believe in.

Rafael: Montrellous say the first bite should be an invitation that you can’t refuse, and if you get it right, it’ll transport you to another place, a memory, a desire cuz like everything he touches be sublime.

Eventually the humble truck-stop gets an enthusiastic review in a local newspaper – and Montrellous receives evidence that his endeavours have been worthwhile. He is fortified for a climactic confrontation with Clyde.

Montrellous: No! I won’t destroy the integrity of the sandwich!

In the final exchange, Letitia asks Montrellous if it’s possible to make a perfect sandwich.

Montrellous: Perhaps, or will it just awaken another longing? Let’s see.

‘I read a sign somewhere that said:
‘Everyone walking can always stumble over truth,
But never you mind, because we always get right back up and leave it there.’
Everybody wants to go to Heaven,
But nobody wants to die.
May as well have your Heaven on Earth.
Something to believe,
Something to believe in.
Someone to believe,
Someone to believe in.’

Curtis Mayfield, ‘Something to Believe In’

No. 444

Lia Williams Photo: Manuel Harlan for Donmar Warehouse

'I am in the business of putting old heads on young shoulders, and all my pupils are the crème de la crème. Give me a girl at an impressionable age and she is mine for life. You girls are my vocation. If I were to receive a proposal of marriage tomorrow from the Lord Lyon, King of Arms, I would decline it. I am dedicated to you in my prime. And my summer in Italy has convinced me that I am truly in my prime.'

‘The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie,’ Muriel Spark

I recently saw a fine theatrical adaptation of Muriel Spark’s ‘The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie’ at the Donmar Warehouse in London (until 28 July).

It is 1932 and we are introduced to Jean Brodie, a charismatic and subversive teacher at an Edinburgh girls’ school. She inspires her dedicated pupils with stories of Italian holidays and Giotto; with advice on love and appropriate window closure.

The free-spirited, independent-minded Brodie is constantly questioning the more formal, disciplined teaching methods of the head of school, Miss Mackay.

'I am cashmere to Miss Mackay's granite.'

As the play progresses, we come to appreciate that Brodie is deeply flawed. The fierce loyalty she demands from her pupils creates a clique. And she has more than a passing fascination with continental fascism.

Despite this, I was quite taken with Brodie’s teaching philosophy.

‘The word ‘education’ comes from the root ‘e’ from ‘ex’, ‘out’, and ‘duco’, ‘I lead’. It means a leading out. To me education is a leading out of what is already there in the pupil’s soul. To Miss Mackay it is a putting in of something that is not there, and that is not what I call education. I call it intrusion, from the Latin root prefix ‘in’, meaning ’in’ and the stem ‘trudo’, ‘I thrust’.’

Perhaps Brodie could suggest some leadership lessons for the commercial sector.

When you are appointed Head of Planning, you may find that your greatest strength becomes your greatest weakness. You were promoted because you’re sharp, smart and pretty good at strategy. And so your first instinct on being presented with a problem is to endeavour to solve it yourself. When, however, the problem comes to you in the shape of a young Planner with a few theories of his or her own, this instinct doesn’t help.

If the primary task of leadership is to maximize the output, value and wellbeing of the human capital available to you, then a key challenge is to create high performing self-sufficiency in your Planners. You won’t achieve this by telling them to write up your answers.

As Broadie would have put it, coaching is about ‘leading out’, not ‘thrusting in.’

In my brief and not entirely successful tenure of the Head of Planning role at BBH, I set myself the task of enhancing my Planners’ ideas and hypotheses, rather than imposing my own. I was a pluralist who believed there were many right answers to any question. And in time I grew rather to enjoy the intellectual challenge inherent in this approach.

On taking the reins, you may also be inclined to promote a strong sense of departmental identity and esprit de corps; to rally the team round a unifying vision and sense of purpose. This is a natural path to take. But, as Brodie warned, it can be counterproductive.

'Phrases like 'the team spirit' are always employed to cut across individualism, love and personal loyalties.'

Be careful that coherence and consistency don’t translate into uniformity and homogeneity. A successful strategy department is characterized by diverse skills and personalities working in harmony. Make difference your friend.

The third lesson from the Brodie handbook is perhaps an obvious one.

Brodie set out from the start to instill confidence; to convince her pupils that she believed in them and that she was on their side. Brodie’s girls were ‘the crème de la crème’, and they were ‘in their prime’.

'One’s prime is elusive. You little girls, when you grow up, must be on the alert to recognise your prime at whatever time of your life it may occur. You must then live it to the full.'

Confidence is a precious commodity in any organization. It prompts people to inspired leaps; motivates them to engage Clients with conviction; supports them through the hard times. A critical responsibility of leadership is to build and sustain self-confidence.

So, three lessons from the Jean Brodie School of Planning Leadership:

- coach by ‘leading out’, not ‘thrusting in’

- create harmonious teams of individuals, not uniform teams of carbon-copies

- build self-confidence: the sense that your Planners are ‘the crème de la crème, in their prime’

Perhaps we should give the last word to Miss Jean Brodie who, for all her flaws, leaves an indelible impression.

'I am a teacher! I am a teacher, first, last, always!... It is true I am a strong influence on my girls. I am proud of it. I influence them to be aware of all the possibilities of life... of beauty, honour, courage.'

I was invited to write this piece by Ben Shaw, the new Head of Planning at BBH, London. It first appeared on BBH Labs, 2 July 2018.

No. 188

Sandwich Salvation at Clyde’s Truck-Stop: We All Need Something to Believe In

The Jean Brodie School of Planning Leadership: Coaching is about Leading Out, Not Thrusting In