Simon James sat in his large office with its temporary furniture and unobstructed view of the most boring part of Culver City and indulged in his weekly guilty pleasure. The New York Observer and the New York Press had arrived, weeks late, as usual, but still nothing vindicated Simon’s decision to remain in Los Angeles more than reading the rantings of cranky losers who took themselves way too seriously and had far too many opinions. New Yorkers got upset about things that Angelenos wouldn’t give a second thought to, let alone let loose with some overly intellectualized screed. There wasn’t one writer at the New York Press who could walk past a funeral without turning it into six thousand self-indulgent words (seven thousand if they could somehow include a gratuitous attack on another writer). L.A. was a much saner way to live.
Yet, these same losers looked west and thought Simon was a loser—that was, if they even remembered who Simon was at all. That’s why Simon so rarely ventured back to New York. What was the point of going to Elaine’s if you were just going to be ignored? No one went there for the food.
That’s why Simon had been so eager to take the Hollywood Today job. All he needed was a touch of those Internet riches, just a one-paragraph mention in the Wall Street Journal or on Medianews.org that he had reaped a tremendous windfall and he could return to Elaine’s a victor. IPOs did more than make you rich. They provided vindication in abundance.
Sadly, Simon was not feeling vindicated. Synergistic Enterprises, Hollywood Today’s parent, which had been in the vanguard of New Media was once again ahead of the curve: It was the first to start tightening its financial belt.
“The conventional wisdom right now,” Spencer Sowa, Synergistic’s twenty-four-year-old president, had told Simon the day before, “is that content sites have a future, but not a particularly bright financial one. Ad dollars are being spread too thin; no one will fork over any money at all for a subscription site. And besides, every magazine and newspaper in the country is already flaunting their own Web sites. We’ll do okay on Hollywood Today, but it’ll never have the type of profit margins an e-commerce site will have. Synergistic will still do content. I like content. Content is great—in its place. But I like money more.”
“Certainly there must be something I can do to help this company grow and justify my profit participation,” Simon had said with just a tinge of desperation.
Spencer strolled around his office playing with a yo-yo, shaking his head. He wore a T-shirt with splatters of tomato sauce on it. He had missed a patch shaving. He had a large zit on the side of his nose. His contact lenses were uncomfortable and made him blink constantly.
“Is there something we can sell on Hollywood Today that would make sense?” asked Simon. “Collectibles? Movie memorabilia?”
Spencer almost clipped Simon’s head trying an around-the-world with the yo-yo.
“Yo-yos are so random,” he mused. “Did you know that I once bounced a Ping-Pong ball against my office wall for four hours without stopping? It was very intense.”
“I feel as if you brought me in under false pretenses,” argued Simon to no one in particular. “I joined this company thinking, as everyone does, that my sacrifices would be rewarded commensurate with others in the industry. I assumed I would be getting stock options in the parent company. Now I find they’re with a small subsidiary—Hollywood Today—that you think is worthless.”
“Yeah, you and everyone else,” said Spencer, attempting a walk-the-dog. “But I’m not giving away stock options to people who aren’t growing the business. That just wouldn’t make sense.”
“I’m a man with a lot of experience and many contacts,” countered Simon. “Tell me something I can do and I’ll do it. This is obviously very important to me.”
Spencer stopped and stared. “I’m trying to figure out if your greed is useful to me,” he said flatly. “Otherwise, it’s just a turnoff.”
“Let’s pretend for the moment it’s useful,” said Simon.
“And what if you don’t have the stomach for what I need?” asked Spencer playfully.
“Okay, let’s pretend I do,” said Simon. “What do you have to lose?”
Spencer walked around the office, playing with the yo-yo.
“You have a writer who works for you, Tim Newman … .”
Simon nodded.
“Do you think he’d listen to you?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Then here’s my proposition. The IPO will happen in a few months, and in order for Synergistic to be at full operation on the Web, I need something. I’ve been trying to get it, but I’ve hit a roadblock. You and your colleague can help.”
“I think you’ll find that Tim is as open as I am to cooperating,” said Simon. “He has options, too—and I’m sure he’d like them to be worth something.”
“Remember when I asked you to get that information on Tim’s father and the Honda dealership he owned?”
Simon remembered, but he was having trouble making the connection.
“Let me ask you a question,” said Spencer impatiently. “What’s the biggest drawback to buying a car on the Web?”
“I don’t know,” said a befuddled Simon. “Profit margin?”
“Oh please, I just mentioned profit margins and your eyes glazed over,” scoffed Spencer. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“I don’t know then.”
“People can’t test-drive the cars. It’s the same problem with clothing on the Web. You can’t test the product. And too many people are too decent to go to a brick and mortar dealership, kick the tires, take the test drive, and then walk away, go home, and use the Web. And dealers are too savvy. If they know that a potential pigeon is Web-savvy, they whip out the invoice and convince him he’s not going to get a better deal from us. So here’s the challenge: How can we make more buyers comfortable with spending tens of thousands on the Web without risking losing them to a real dealer?”
“How?”
“A test-drive center. A centrally located old-fashioned car lot—one that has one each of every car we’re likely to sell. We’ll have them all over the country. But this car market is huge, and it’s Web-friendly. Go to our test-drive center—no
salesman will hassle you, because there are no salesmen. Just the mere existence of the place will put buyers’ minds at ease. It’s genius.
“I need that dealership. It’s the only privately owned dealership in the area—everything else is part of a big chain. It’s a great location and it comes with all the stupid government licenses and paperwork. If Synergistic is going to be a one-stop e-commerce and content Web company, I need Newman Super Honda. I can’t sell cars unless I have a licensed dealership—it’s the law. Right now, I can match buyers up with willing car dealers, but they take the big profits. That’s very yesterday. I don’t want to be a matchmaker anymore. I want to get laid. If I own a dealership, I can get the license and I can build my test-drive center. Do you get it?”
“Where do I come in?”
“See if you can’t get Tim to talk some sense into his father’s thick head. His partners are greedy, like you, and willing to sell out their partnership for shares in Synergistic. But Tim’s father is holding firm. Do something about that.”
“How?”
Spencer laughed. “If it was easy, it would have been done by now. And if it had been that easy, it wouldn’t be worth stock options, now would it? If you want your stock options to be in Synergistic instead of in modestly valued Hollywood Today stock, you two will figure it out. That’s called earning your money.”
He spun the yo-yo and did the baby-in-the-cradle, snapping the yo-yo back into his hand with a flourish. Without another word, he walked out the door.