Reg was an account manager in an advertising agency. He headed a team of creative young people who specialised in producing promotional materials for a variety of different clients. Reg was a failed architect who was good at drawing cartoons and had drifted into advertising simply because he had some useful contacts in that world via his brother-in-law.

Reg was in his early fifties and knew he had peaked. He felt increasingly vulnerable. He had no qualifications to speak of and was painfully aware that his team were all a) much younger than him b) graduates and c) more gifted than he was. He did his best to conceal his misgivings but each day he felt he was teetering on the very edge of his competence and the merest puff of wind could blow him over at any moment. He even had dreams about falling off Beachy Head with the Samaritans looking over the edge calling out belatedly, ‘Think again!’ Horrible feelings to harbour; energy-sapping to conceal.

Reg had developed a number of strategies for survival. One was to be extraordinarily positive with his team. When in their presence he took pains to appear casually confident. He was full of cheerful, macho banter and would gently ridicule their ideas as if they were naïve kids and he knew better. Another tactic was to take personal credit for his team’s work. He often, for example, made appointments to meet clients but kept the time and place secret from those members of his team who, in normal circumstances, would have attended. And whenever the work of his team was subjected to any sort of internal review, he would glibly pass off other people’s ideas as his own and leave the impression that the members of his team had merely done the groundwork.

Of course, his team members weren’t stupid. They understood what was going on and deeply resented Reg’s exploitation. However, they were at a loss to know what to do about it apart from remonstrating with Reg and making it clear they wanted credit where credit was due. He fobbed them off with assurances, but their protests only made him cleverer at keeping up the deception; essential for a man who knew he was hanging on by his finger-tips.

Then Reg fell ill. He experienced chest pains in the shower one morning and his wife, an ex-nurse, gave him aspirin and rushed him into hospital. The stress of keeping up pretences had taken its toll. Reg was kept in hospital for two weeks where he underwent various tests – blood pressure, cholesterol levels, scans, treadmills – the works. He was put on medication and allowed home. Doctors diagnosed high stress levels and told him to take things easy.

During Reg’s enforced absence, his team members realised they had a golden opportunity to demonstrate their capabilities. They immediately fixed review meetings with their clients and deputised for Reg at meetings with senior management in the agency. They were careful not to criticise Reg, indeed they never mentioned him unless it was in answer to a direct question, but took every chance that came their way to claim ownership for their work.

When Reg returned after his sick leave he was mightily relieved to see that he still had a desk. On the second day back his boss sent for him.

Reg walked down the corridors of power convinced he was about to be sacked and arrived at his boss’s office in a state of considerable agitation (not at all what the doctor ordered!).

‘Reg!’ said his boss, shaking him warmly by the hand. ‘Very good to have you back. I just wanted to congratulate you on having such a splendid team. While you were away they rose to the occasion admirably. All credit to you for developing such a talented team.’

Reg reflected on this undeserved praise and, from that day forth, stopped hiding his team’s talents and, instead, learned to bask in the reflected glory. Much better for his blood pressure.