1
The news spread by way of hushed murmurs in hallways, muffled conversations behind closed doors, mutterings over the tops of cubicle walls, quiet phone calls with hands covering the mouthpieces. However, one poor chump was stupid enough to broadcast it in an email â and he eventually got the blame and was canned, although he in fact had not been the one initially to leak the word. âIn any case, within hours â and a good two days before the official announcement â practically everyone at the headquarters of Hi-T Composites knew what was only supposed to be known by certain boards of directors, key executives, and a few trusted subordinates.
Amy Cieolara, who was not one of those privileged few, had just got back to her office after her regular Wednesday meeting with her marketing and salespeople. She was a slim woman, age forty-one at the time, with sandy brown hair cut midlength that she wore either pulled back or in long, flowing curls framing her rather angular chin-line. This was a curls day, and she was having trouble keeping them out of her face as she walked briskly through the offices while thumbing a text message at the same time. Almost in lockstep behind her as she went into her office came Linda, her assistant, who closed Amyâs door and held it shut, leaning against it lest some intruder should come barging in and hear her speak of the appalling secret.
âHave you heard?â Linda asked.
âWhat? About Elaine and Bill? Well, everyone said it was never going to last, and guess what, it didnât.â
âNo!â said Linda in an exclamatory whisper. âWeâre getting sold to some huge company!â
Amyâs green eyes sharpened their focus on the younger womanâs worried face.
âWell? Is it true?â
âLinda, if I knew, which I donât, I wouldnât be allowed to say anything to anybody. By the way, who told you?â
âNobody. Thereâs an email floating around. Iâll forward it to you.â
âNo!â said Amy. âI donât want it on my computer. Print a copy for me.â
Linda slipped out the door, back to her desk. When she returned a few minutes later, sheet of paper in hand, Amy took the email printout and read it quickly, then blew a soft whistle from between her lips.
âWow, is this guy in trouble,â Amy said under her breath. Then, to Linda: âLook, itâs probably just one of those rumors that gets started. Donât get yourself in a tizzy.â
âBut Bobby just got laid off and Iâm five-and-a-half-months pregnant! What if we have to go through all that downsizing stuff again?â
âIf it ever happens, itâs a long way off. All right? Anyway, Bobby is smart; heâll find something else. Youâll both be fine â I mean, all three of you, youâll be just fine. Now, I need you to make some travel reservations for me âŠâ
With Linda calmed down and returning to her normal high-level competency, buzzing away at task after task and all but leaping tall buildings, even in her pregnant state, Amy whisked herself down the hall. Email printout in hand, she hurried into the corner office of Hi-T Composites Company President B. Donald Williams. She shut B. Donâs door behind her and leaned her slim frame against it, almost exactly as Linda had done.
âWhatâs up?â asked B. Don.
âHave you heard?â
He blinked his eyes as if feigning ignorance, then relented. âWell, yes, I have heard. I have to say, I am not shocked.â
âYouâre not?â
âNo, Iâm not.â
Amyâs mouth dropped open.
âAnyone could have seen it coming,â he said.
âWell, I couldnât.â
âCome on, Amy! Everyone knows Bill is a jerk â and Elaine, much as I appreciate her professionally, would just be impossible to live with.â
âNo! Not them. This!â
She handed the sheet of paper across the desk to B. Don and sat down in one of his well-worn, sun-faded chairs. The business unit president put on his glasses and then scrutinized the words, his eyes widening as he read.
âOh ⊠! Oh snap!â he said. âWhere the snappinâ hell did this come from?â
âAccording to Linda â who had nothing to do with this â everyone knows. Or thinks they know. Anyway, everyone is talking about it. By the way, is it true?â
B. Don leaned back, removed his glasses, and gave them a toss, such that the glasses spun across the leather blotter on his desk. He then shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
âCan you tell me ⊠or not?â Amy asked.
âYou,â he said with emphasis, âcannot tell anyone.â
âBut everyone knows.â
âBut you cannot talk about it. Okay?â
âOkay.â
âTo anyone. Understood?â
âWell, sure. But according to Linda, itâs all over the place.â
âMost of whatâs in this moronâs email is pure crap. However ⊠and unfortunately ⊠the basic story is true. We are being sold. Thatâs why Iâve been going to St. Louis so often the past few months. Iâve been at headquarters meeting with the board and the new buyer.â
âWhoâs buying?â
B. Don leaned over his desk and whispered the name.
âReally?â
âYes,â he said. âNow, what Iâve just told you could probably get me fired ⊠or, these days, even get me sent to jail. Soââ
âI wonât breathe a word, you know that.â
The president tipped back in his chair, shook his head, and exhaled, making a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh.
âAmy, I hate to swear in front of youââ
âB. Don, itâs fine. Iâm sure I know all the words.â
âBut what really pisses me off is ⊠we finally got it right. We got our production issues sorted out. And we nailed the Herbie.â
âExcuse me?â
âWe nailed the Herbie.â
âThe what?â
âThe ⊠the bottleneck. The system constraint. We nailed it, and itâs not movinâ. And these guys are going to come in and screw it up. I just know itâs going to happen. They are going to come in high and mighty and they are going to screw it all up.â
âDon, Iâm sorry, but I donât know what youâre talking about.â
âWell ⊠youâre marketing. What Iâm talking about is a supply chain issueââ
âWhich does affect marketing. Not to mention sales.â
âAnyway ⊠so be it. One does what one can do,â said Don. âNow, Amy, youâre a far better wordsmith than I am. Help me write something I can send out to the general world countering the so-called rumor, especially the piece of it thatâs true. In other words, help me lie through my teeth and yet not seem to be completely evil or stupid in a few daysâ time.â
Five months later, the shareholders and the various regulatory bodies gave their approvals and the deal closed. Hi-T Composites became a subsidiary of Winner, Inc., a global corporation headquartered in New York City. Meanwhile, Linda and Bobby had had a baby girl â Holly â and Bobby did find a job, though at a much lower wage than he had previously earned, and he was looking for another. And, to everyoneâs amazement, Bill and Elaine patched things up and even went on a second honeymoon (their first honeymoon having been a mere two years prior), although upon her return Elaine complained that she and Bill were arguing even before they got on the plane to Costa Rica.
With the transfer of ownership accomplished, B. Donald Williams went to New York to present Hi-Tâs business strategy and otherwise become better acquainted with Winnerâs top management. Upon his return, B. Don conducted a series of meetings with employees talking up all the wonderful advantages of being part of the Winner family and downplaying the many concerns over what the future might hold. But Amy Cieolara, who could always read him, discerned that there was much that B. Don was not saying publicly.
Late one afternoon, after most people had left for the day, Amy was still in her office and B. Don came by, pausing in her doorway.
âYou got a minute?â he asked.
âSure. Come on in.â
He did so and closed the door behind him.
âThis is in confidence.â
âUnderstood,â Amy said.
âThere are some things I want you to know about. You and a few others. The good people. Things I canât say to everybody.â
B. Don hesitated then. He stared out her window for a moment, collecting his thoughts, then pulled a chair next to her desk and sat down.
âAmy, this transition is going to be worse than what I first thought. These guys at Winner âŠâ He shook his head slowly. âTheyâve got a very different culture from what weâre used to. Very competitive. Way, way, way more competitive than what the St. Louis management set as the overall tone. In fact, I would go so far as to say that inside Winner itâs a survival of the fittest mentality.â
âOh. Gee! Thatâs great!â she said. âIn fact, this really sounds like fun!â
âYeah. Well, itâs going to be a different ball game. For instance, every manufacturing plant will be competing with every other manufacturing plant on the same metrics. And the same goes for every function. Your marketing and sales team will be competing with every other marketing and sales team across the board inside Winner.â
âCompeting for what?â
âResources. Talent. Bonus money. Stock options. Perks. Promotions. Recognition. And there are sticks to go along with the carrots. Those who lag in performance will be weeded out. Weakness will not be tolerated.â
âWell, Iâd like to think we can hold our own,â she said. âIâm not afraid of a little competition. Just tell me what the rules are, and Iâll deliver whatever is required.â
âThat, Amy, is a big part of the problem.â
âWhat, you mean there are no rules? Itâs like a bar fight or something?â
âOh, theyâve got plenty of rules, all right!â he said with a chuckle. âPlenty of policies â both written and unwritten â and you must abide by them. Listen, Amy, Iâm not afraid of a little competition either. Our team at Hi-T can go head to head with anyone, and thereâs a time and place for everything.â
Amy leaned back in her chair. She could sense a âbutâ coming, and she was not disappointed.
âBut on the other hand, I have seen the metrics that Winner uses for manufacturing, for service functions, for administrative, you name it. And I am not at all convinced that most of what theyâre measuring really contributes to the bottom line. In fact, I donât think what theyâre mandating actually makes money â and I suspect a lot of it gets in the way of making money. You go read their annual reports, Amy. Not many of their divisions are actually growing their businesses â not by very much, and theyâre not throwing off a lot of cash either. Some are getting the tar kicked out of them. You look at Winnerâs corporate numbers â revenue growth, increasing earnings per share, and so on â and they seem impressive. But drill down and it soon becomes obvious that Winner is mostly growing only by way of acquisition. Thatâs why they have to keep buying businesses like ours, using leverage and driving up their debt, by the way, because what they have going internally is really not getting it done. For all their vaunting of the virtues of competition, Winner is really not very competitive!â
Amy was listening closely but fidgeting, shifting in her seat, playing with her pen, which was what she did when she was nervous or unsettled.
âSo,â Don continued, âitâs going to be tough.â
She flashed an uncomfortable little smile and said, âYou know what they say, Don: When the going gets tough, the tough get going.â
âYes, and thatâs my plan,â said Don.
âExcuse me?â
âI am going. Leaving. Bugging out. Hitting the bricks.â
âWhen?â
âNo definite date. But Iâm pretty dang sure Winner does not want me for the long term. If I hang around I can probably haggle for a supergood package from them. But I donât know if I even want to endure the aggravation. Iâm fifty-nine; Iâve got enough money to retire now if I want to. And if I get tired of sailing my boat or playing golf or cruising the world, thatâs what headhunters are for.â
Amyâs eyes had watered just slightly. She sighed.
âIâm really going to miss you, B. Don.â
He nodded. âWell ⊠thanks. Weâve done a few good deeds together, havenât we. Saved the business and got it growing again after some bad times. Kept a lot of jobs right here in Highboro. Not all of them, but weâre still a major employer. Helped keep the big ones flying with replacement parts ⊠and thatâs the truth. Made nice profits, even as we brought prices down and grew our market share. And now weâve got new generations of composites coming on, and the wind turbine segment shows some real promise on the energy front. Iâll miss it. Iâll miss you and a lot of the others. Iâll miss the challenges. But when itâs time to go âŠâ
Don leaned forward. Amy thought he was going to stand up and do just that, but he didnât. Instead he looked straight at her and lowered his voice.
âAmy, this conversation, of course, never took place, but if I were you, and I hate to say it, you might want to bring your rĂ©sumĂ© up to date and have a look around yourself.â
She shook her head. âI canât. Not unless the job is here in town or pretty close by. Not with my parents the way they are.â
âThey are up there in age, arenât they. You were the change-of-life baby, I believe,â he said with a smile.
âYep, I was the surprise. But, Don, you know the situation. Dadâs got Alzheimerâs. If he moves to a new place, heâll never figure it out. Momâs finally got a good set of doctors here for all her problems. I canât just uproot them and take them with me, and they really need somebody to look in on them every few days. Then there are my kids ⊠theyâd lose all their friends. I canât bring myself to say the hell with everybody and go look for the perfect job. So Iâm kind of stuck here.â
âI understand. But, Amy, there is one last thing I feel I need to warn you about, in case you do stay. In the past, you have complained to me privately about a perceived glass ceiling in place at the St. Louis headquarters.â
âAnd you always insisted it wasnât there.â
âWell ⊠Iâm not saying it wasnât there, but I always figured the right woman, the right anybody, could punch through it. In St. Louis. But these guys ⊠I heard in New York a few things said, never mind what, things you yourself will never hear. And at Winner, that glass ceiling, sorry to say, is in place. Try not to be too harsh in your opinions; I think itâs just part of their competitive thing.â
Amy sat stoically for a second, then snapped her lips together to form a happy idiotâs grin.
âWell ⊠B. Don! You sure have cheered me up! I am so glad you stopped by!â
He laughed and stood to leave her. He extended his hand. Amy shook his hand, but then came around the corner of her desk and hugged him.
âAmy,â he said, âyou take care of yourself, you hear?â
Within months B. Don was gone, retired. He and his wife, Daisy, soon booked a year-long world cruise and sailed off from Miami into the sunrise.
Taking B. Donâs place was a man said to be one of Winnerâs up-and-comers, a man on the fast track to the top: Randal Tourandos, more colorfully known behind his back as Random Tornado. Indeed, he was a whirling dervish of managerial energy, often arriving at Hi-Tâs downtown Highboro offices at four thirty in the morning to review in detail the metrics from the previous day, which had been prepared by his own dedicated IT squad â soon unofficially called the Microbursts â who worked in shifts to compile the latest data for him. Before long, it became common for Amy and everyone else to arrive at work to find as many as five or six emails demanding immediate attention to whatever the Tornado had happened to notice in the metrics that morning. Even worse was to walk in and find one of Randalâs outsize Post-it notes adhered to the seat of oneâs chair, the messages almost unreadable in Randalâs speed-written scrawl. But if you got one, all other responsibilities had to be postponed until you had addressed the Tornadoâs concerns â and correctly discerning what those were was often the biggest challenge.
Key to everything, as far as Randal was concerned, was WING3.2 â or Winner Information Network, Generation 3.2 â sometimes just called âWING.â This network was used throughout the corporation, and it had software designed to monitor every function in every business unit at a level of detail that was mind-boggli...