After last weekās interview with former Skanska boss David Fison, his successor Mats Williamson tells Tom Bill how he was flown in to drag the contractor back into the black ā in just 12 months
This time last year, David Fison, the chief executive of Skanska UK, announced that his firm had made a loss of £41.5m, largely because of two PFI hospitals in the east Midlands.
The same day in Skanskaās Stockholm headquarters, the board held a meeting with Mats Williamson, the 51-year-old head of Skanska Sweden. He was given a simple task. āThey told me weād meet in 12 months, and the UK business would have returned to profit. It wasnāt specified how.ā
That may sound like a good premise for a reality TV show, but nobody in Skanska found it entertaining. Fison went and Williamson arrived to bring the wayward UK operation to heel.
He had been in the UK several months earlier as part of a high-level group sent in to help the floundering subsidiary but when asked what went wrong with Fisonās regime, Williamson restricts himself to stating the obvious: āWe took on too many risks and they materialised.ā The discretion is characteristic: he may be 6ā5ā, but steps delicately around contentious subjects.
Others have been blunter, and blame Fisonās management style. One says: āSwedes take decisions before a meeting and only meet to ratify it in a way that appears consensual. When David was at Balfour Beatty he embodied that companyās hard-headed culture but became extremely deferential and polite at Skanska without understanding that decisions were needed. He became more Swedish than the Swedes.ā
Another says Skanska lacked a succession plan after Keith Clarke, its previous chief executive, left for Atkins in 2003. āKeith was at the top of his game but that doesnāt mean he had a strong team around him.ā
Williamson shakes his head at those claims and points out that Fison resigned. (The latter, in his interview with ŠŌ°ÉµēĢØ last week, said he was given no choice). He reveals a more steely side when asked why he was the best candidate for the UK job.
āThere were others but I was the one who could give the biggest guarantee things would improve. With me there was a strong sense the status quo would not remain.ā
When he arrived at the firmās Hertfordshire office, his first move was to bring its operating units closer together and, more importantly, closer to him. He paints the picture of a loosely organised company where communication was irregular. āYou had operating units out on their own and directors didnāt meet that often,ā he says.
One ex-employee agrees more cohesion was needed. He says: āSkanska in the UK was born out of Trafalgar House, which had a dog-eat-dog culture.ā By contrast, Williamson takes head officeās more enlightened view that one personās problem is everyoneās.
And those risky projects? He picks up a business card and drops it through his fingers onto the table: this is what happens to a project that doesnāt hit obstacles. āWe now have a project review team. If the project falls all the way to the bottom, you can do it. If it stops on the way down, you need to explain why it should go ahead.ā
Those who know Williamson say he will go far. One says: āThe jury is out on the UK operation but Mats is an absolutely top-drawer individualā
It has been an inward-looking first year for the man who, during his early career as a civil engineer, built the 16km Ćresund bridge between Sweden and Denmark. Many have wondered how Skanska will react to getting so badly stung in the Midlands. The comeback, says Williamson, is continuing.
Skanska is still chasing ŠŌ°ÉµēĢØ Schools for the Future (BSF) projects, despite losing out to Kier on a Ā£477m deal in Kent, which one source said āseriously hurtā. It has won a BSF contract in Bristol but still needs more sizeable wins to gain a decent foothold.
And is there life in PFI after the Nottingham and Derby hospital debacles? Or will Skanska retreat wounded? āNo,ā he says firmly. āThere will be good opportunities.ā
One fellow chief executive thinks heāll have his work cut out. āTheyāve lost ground in PFI and are up against highly competitive animals in Balfour Beatty and Carillion,ā he says. Williamson only began plotting the future in recent months and will do no more than hint at what heās thinking. For example, on UK infrastructure: āGiven the time people spend in their cars, queuing, the water pipe leaks and the risk of energy blackouts, you need to invest.ā
The only thing he can say with any certainty is that heāll boost the companyās already sound green credentials. He reverts frequently to the mantra of green construction and draws on a piece of paper to show how the company will do more in the āsuper-greenā sector; he adds that he has even introduced a green-only policy for company cars ā even though āthe green interest here is far less than in Swedenā.
Beyond that, he is in no rush to make decisions and clearly adheres to the āturnover is vanity, profit is sanityā school, despite acknowledging that the UK market has the biggest room for growth for Skanska outside the US. āYou could argue weāre big enough as a global company,ā he says.
Those who know Williamson say he will go far. One says: āThe jury is out on the UK operation but Mats is an absolutely top-drawer individual. Skanska couldnāt have chosen better.ā Even Fison acknowledges that he is a āgreat blokeā. He adds: āHeās very down to earth and probably one of the most respected and trusted top guys at Skanska.ā
And those that donāt know him concede that Skanska has sharpened its act over the past year and is no longer āchasing everythingā, which presumably relates to the business card trick.
So, after 28 years with Europeās third biggest contractor, could Williamson eventually land the top job in Stockholm? Johan Karlstrom, the global chief, spent four years fixing North America before moving upstairs. āThatās not what Iām thinking about at the moment,ā he says, adding that heāll be in the UK for a few years yet. āMaybe thatās a difference in Swedish culture. People donāt say this or that will look good on my CV.ā
Perhaps, but a resurgent UK business certainly wouldnāt hurt, nor will the fact that he last week announced a Ā£15m profit.
Life in the UK
Lives In a rented Holland Park flat with his lawyer wife and grown-up son and daughter. "We furnished it in one evening at Ikea. Itās good they stay open so late here."
Plays Golf. "People here seem more worried about the dress code than the game."
Misses "Being able to pitch a tent wherever I want in Sweden."
Watches Midsomer Murders. "Itās filmed nearby in Beaconsfield. I Googled it when I arrived."
Reads The Stieg Larsson trilogy. "As a Swede I have to say that, donāt I?"
Adapting to the English "Itās easy for a Swede to adapt to the way of working in the UK, itās very similar to how we do business in Sweden. People are hard-working and like to have some fun along the way. The only thing is that there is a lot more paperwork here."
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