On his second morning at Jaguar – the day it was expected to perish – John Egan stood before his 15 shop stewards in a Browns Lane conference room to explain how he – and they – might just save the company.
But before he could open his mouth, an official from the Transport and General Workers’ Union waved a cardboard cut-out of BL boss Michael Edwardes. He trumpeted that Egan was just an effigy too; and the stewards may as well talk to the dummy.
His ploy backfired. Egan noticed the shop stewards’ body language change. Their jobs were on the line; this was no time for an outsider’s facetiousness.
