PART FOUR

Action

FIRST HALF

Staff meetings were held every Monday morning at ten in what was called the Upstairs Board Room, a large, modern confer ence room looking out toward Monterey Bay.

Will was determined not to be late, so he arrived five minutes early. Four and a half minutes later he started to panic when no one had shown up, thinking that he might have been in the wrong place. Just as he was about to leave, Casey entered the room, followed by Sophia and Connor, who were discussing sales and marketing. As soon as they saw Will, they stopped and greeted him warmly.

“How’s the new guy doing?” Connor asked.

Will smiled.

Sophia joked, “You know, if you quit now you don’t have to put this job on your résumé.” They laughed, and made small but enjoyable talk about Will’s studies, recently released movies, and what he wanted to do now that he had graduated.

More than a few minutes later Matt and Michelle walked in. Matt introduced himself to Will. “How’s the new guy?”

Connor teased his colleague. “That’s what I said! You couldn’t come up with anything original? You’re supposed to be our inventor.”

“I like to leave the clever words to you marketing people.”

They laughed louder than Will thought the joke deserved, but then again, this was the corporate world.

“Where’s Tim?” Casey wanted to know.

“Oh, I saw him a few minutes ago,” Matt explained. “He said he’d be about a half hour late, but to start without him. He’s doing some budget stuff with the IT department.”

Will looked to see how Casey would react to the news. Nothing. “Okay, let’s get started.”

Will wrote the time down on his pad: 10:12 A.M. He decided he would put it in the minutes he was going to be typing up and distributing after the meeting.

“Okay, here’s my agenda. And as always, I assume that everyone received the minutes from last week.”

Everyone nodded, but no one made eye contact with their boss. Will was sure this was a sign that no one had read them. He had seen the same behavior in college when the professor had asked his class what they thought of the chapters they were supposed to have reviewed.

Casey continued, looking down at the agenda he was holding in his hands. “We can skip the first item for now. When Tim gets here we’ll talk about the budget. Let’s start with item number two. We’ll have Michelle tell us about management training and the summer picnic. Then we’re going to get an update about new product development from Matt. And after that Sophia will take us through the sales pipeline.”

Connor raised his hand and spoke. “I’ve brought the branding and advertising stuff I’ve been working on, and I’m prepared to go over it if anyone wants to see it.”

After scanning the room and seeing mostly nodding heads, Casey agreed.

While they were waiting for Michelle to fire up her computer, Sophia made small talk. “Hey, we aren’t doing the picnic at the high school again, are we? I think it was better when we just went down to the beach.”

Matt responded. “I think we have too many people for the beach. But there’s a new park in Carmel that would work.”

“The one off of St. Mary’s Road?”

Matt nodded. “My in-laws live down the street. It’s nice, and big enough for us.”

Her computer now operational, Michelle dove into the conversation. “I looked into that park, but it’s taken already. The high school was our only option. Next year I’ll reserve one of the Carmel parks early.”

In spite of Michelle’s proclamation, the conversation continued. Will listened in disbelief as the executives spent almost fifteen minutes discussing the merits of the high school versus the beach versus the park. They talked about the cleanliness of the bathrooms, the parking, and the need to make sure that the food was safe for a few of the kids who were allergic to peanuts.

Will took constant and copious notes just to overcome his sudden temptation to blurt out a rude comment.

Thankfully, Casey broke in. “Okay, that’s enough about the picnic. Let’s hear about management training.”

For the next thirty minutes, Michelle reviewed her plans. Everything from the consulting firm she was planning to hire to conduct the training, the probable cost of the training, even the location where the training would most likely be held. Not once was she interrupted by her colleagues with an inquiry or a comment.

“Any questions?” she asked mercifully.

Nothing. Until Matt spoke. “Yeah. Do I have to go to this?”

Everyone laughed. Sophia threw a wadded-up piece of paper at her sarcastic colleague.

Casey wanted to move onto the next subject. “Seriously, though, are there any questions?”

Connor spoke next. “I’m just wondering if we need to do this. That $75,000 could buy me five solid trade publication ads. And given the company’s stock performance lately. . . .”

“I know. I know,” interrupted Casey with a smile. “All of us could use the money. But this is something we need to do, and we’re not going to rob Peter to pay Paul.”

Will was surprised that Connor put up no further fight.

Casey thanked Michelle for her time and effort, and Tim arrived.

Within minutes the CFO had launched into a detailed description of the company’s budget for the next fiscal year. He went through each department—Sales, Marketing, Product Development, Finance, and Administration—in detail, as though he were doing one-on-one sessions with each executive while the others watched sleepily.

At one point the group spent ten minutes discussing whether the company should start shredding its own documents rather than bringing in an outside company, a move that could save the firm $72 per month.

Again, Will took notes to distract himself, all the while watching the clock slowly tick off the minutes and seconds. Finally, after almost forty-five minutes of financial discussion, Casey called for a ten-minute break. Which meant that the team would have just thirty minutes to cover new products, the sales pipeline, and possibly branding when they returned.

Will decided that he hadn’t been this bored since his freshman year of calculus. And to think these people are in the business of selling games that are actually fun to play. Maybe J.T. Harrison has a point after all.

SECOND HALF

When everyone eventually trickled back into the room almost fifteen minutes later, Casey asked Matt to present the new product plan. He showed sketches of a variety of possible new games having to do with everything from long-driving contests and miniature golf to archery and equestrian. Everyone had questions about the features of the games and opinions about how they would be received in the market.

“Is anyone really going to buy an archery game?” asked Tim. “And isn’t that a little violent?”

Matt was just slightly incredulous. “Archery? It’s an Olympic sport. And they’re not shooting cowboys or zebras. They’re aiming at targets.”

“Okay, but will people buy it?”

Conscious of the time, Casey interrupted. “We can have this conversation another time. Don’t forget that Matt and Connor have been doing some market research. Let’s move on to sales.”

Sophia remained seated and quickly reviewed the numbers, breaking them down by week, month, and quarter-to-date. She announced a likely decrease in orders at golf course pro shops, and hoped that would be offset by an increase in toy store sales.

Casey was particularly interested in the trend at golf courses, and Sophia explained that pro shops seemed to be opting for more and more clothes instead of novelty items. And she mentioned that a few gaming competitors, most notably Gamestar, had made small but noticeable inroads into Yip’s dominant position there.

For the next ten minutes the group speculated about why this had happened, and what they could do to avoid further damage. Was it the economy? Pricing issues? Market saturation? The weather? Will stopped taking notes now, for the first time finding himself genuinely interested in the conversation. But it ended as abruptly as it had started when Sophia, Connor, and Casey agreed to meet separately to explore how they might be able to regain shelf space in pro shops.

As the clock ticked down to less than five minutes remaining, Sophia read aloud the list of fifteen accounts she would be visiting or calling during the week. Everyone listened politely, but seemed to be mentally ready for the meeting to end.

Casey then turned to Connor. “I think it would be better if you went over the branding material next week. We aren’t going to be able to give you the time you deserve.”

Connor didn’t seem even mildly disappointed. “Fine.”

Casey proudly proclaimed the meeting to be over.

Tim joked, “And with a full minute to spare before noon.”

As the room broke up, Casey asked, “Anyone want to come to lunch with me and Will?”

Tim and Sophia agreed. Connor and Matt apologized, explaining that they had other plans.

As the lunch foursome headed for the stairwell, Tim turned to Will and asked lightheartedly, “So, what did you think about your first staff meeting?”

Will froze. His notebook and pen were packed away, and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t hold in his answer: “It was really bad.”

Silence. Sophia shot a glance at Casey to see how he would react. Tim seemed to pretend that he hadn’t heard the comment, and entered the stairwell. The others followed, and for a long few seconds, no one spoke.

Will felt awful. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Casey in front of his staff. He stammered and tried to cover for himself. “I mean, it just seemed like. . . .”

Casey interrupted to defuse the awkward moment, for his own sake and for Will’s. “Yeah, I think it could have been better too. Sometimes I think we shouldn’t have meetings at all.”

They all chuckled politely. Sophia tried to soften the situation. “I’m just glad they don’t drag on like they used to.”

“You said it,” Tim agreed.

Will cursed himself as he followed his new colleagues out the main entrance and toward a restaurant across the street.

ON THE TABLE

Casey spent much of the afternoon, as he had so many others since the merger, on a conference call with other Playsoft di vision heads. Today they were going over sales projections. When he emerged, he seemed a slightly different man from earlier in the day. Less worried, more determined.

“Will, could you come in here for a moment?”

Feeling bad about his comment in the stairwell, Will decided to head off any reprimand that might be coming. “Casey, I’m sorry for being so blunt before—”

Casey interrupted. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Will shrunk in his seat, waiting for the rebuke.

“I told you to dive in and help me in any way you could. So don’t feel bad about what you said. You might want to hold your observations until you and I have a chance to talk privately, but don’t worry about it.”

Will couldn’t decide whether or not Casey had been hurt by the remark. Whatever the case, he decided this was a good opening for him. “I should tell you that I saw the note from J.T.” Will seemed to be confessing.

“Good. I’m expecting that you’re looking through all of my messages. What did you think?”

“About his message? I thought he was a little blunt.” The irony wasn’t lost on either of them.

“Yeah, that’s the reputation he has. He’s looking for something to hang his hat on here. But he’s not going to find it in our numbers. We’re doing better than most of the company’s other divisions.”

“What about the meeting issue?” Will asked, reluctantly retreading on thin ice.

Casey smiled dismissively. “I think it’s just a ridiculous excuse to get his foot in the door. Besides, our meetings aren’t any worse than every other department in this company.” It wasn’t a question, but he was hoping for a response.

Will decided to throw Casey a bone. “Yeah, now that you mention it, staff meetings at the ad firm were horrible.”

Casey was momentarily relieved.

Until Will continued. “But I’m not sure that matters.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if that’s what he’s focused on, then it’s a real problem. Like you said, he can probably make the call himself.”

Casey considered it. “Well, I think he’s probably just fishing.” He suddenly seemed to be retreating again. “Anyway, the most important thing is that we start to show an improvement on the bottom line.” Casey looked at his watch. “I’ve got to run, but let’s talk about this more tomorrow.”

Casey left, and Will found himself feeling almost as bad as he did before. Not just because he had embarrassed a good man in front of his staff, but because that man wasn’t taking a grave situation seriously.

WET FEET

True to his personality, Will immediately made a strong impression on the people he worked with.

In addition to quickly learning the administrative ropes and keeping Casey and his staff connected, he began to establish individual relationships with the team. It didn’t take more than a few days for it to become clear to everyone that Will was not really an administrative assistant. And so they gave him more and more work to do, at an increasingly higher level. He easily exceeded their expectations, and as a result, established himself as more of a peer than a subordinate.

And in other parts of Yip’s office, Will made a quick impression. Rather than return an e-mail to someone sitting a floor below, he would go see people in person and talk about what they really needed from Casey. As a result, he reduced the constant distractions that normally plagued his boss, and collected a hoard of new friends in the process.

Even outside of Monterey, Will made connections, most notably with the administrative assistants who worked for the company’s other division heads around the country and in San Jose. In a remarkably short time he had established a small network, if not a fan base, throughout the organization.

As much as this pleased him, Will couldn’t stop wondering about Casey’s dilemma with J.T. Harrison. He decided that the next staff meeting would somehow be different; he only hoped he would be able to restrain himself.

BAD SEQUEL

On Monday morning at ten o’clock sharp, Will again found himself sitting alone in the Upstairs Board Room. But eleven min utes later, the meeting was in full swing.

Casey passed out an agenda and started by announcing a new corporate edict calling for modest budget cuts. Tim followed with a half-hour review of where those cuts might come from.

Just as everyone was about to doze off, Sophia decided to put a question on the table. “Casey, I know you feel strongly about this, but do you think we might want to postpone the management training, and even scale back the picnic, in light of these numbers?”

As usual, Connor relentlessly reminded him, “And if we need to jump-start revenue, we could certainly use the money for advertising.”

“It’s too late.” Tim announced, before his boss could weigh in. “We just prepaid on the picnic, and we’re committed to the hotel and consultants for the training. If we canceled either now, we would only recoup about 25 percent of our cost.”

The group accepted the CFO’s assessment, and Casey was ready to move on. “Let’s talk about how we can grow our revenue so the expenses aren’t such an issue.”

Sophia presented her sales forecast for the rest of the month and quarter, and recounted her previous week’s visits with customers. She drifted off on a tangent about increased airline fares. Somehow, everyone found this interesting, and weighed in about their own experiences flying discount airlines.

Will scribbled notes to keep himself from screaming stop!

Finally, Connor stood to kick off his presentation about branding and positioning. For the next half hour he explained the need for the company to reposition itself against new competition, and to solidify its status as the dominant player in reality-based sports games focused on adults.

Will found this fascinating, harking back to his days in advertising. And given what was going on in the market, it seemed the right topic for everyone to be discussing.

Tim raised his hand and interrupted without waiting to be acknowledged. “Excuse me, Connor, but how much is all of this going to cost?”

Caught slightly off guard, Connor considered the question for a moment. “Well, I thought we were pretty clear about it. The consulting work and initial design phase has already been almost fifty thousand. And the brand launch will be another two hundred to two-hundred-fifty grand. That includes new business cards, signage, packaging. All told, we’re talking about somewhere north of a quarter of a million.”

“I’ve only seen about a hundred grand in your budget,” questioned Tim. “Where is the rest going to come from?”

Casey jumped in. “Remember now, I arranged for another hundred thousand from Playsoft when we put the deal together. They knew we were planning to rebrand and agreed to pitch in so we could do it right. So that only leaves us fifty thousand short. I thought we’d each kick in ten thousand to cover the additional cost.”

Sophia wanted clarification. “Is that in addition to our picnic allocation?”

“Picnic allocation?” Matt was confused. “I didn’t know there was a picnic allocation. I thought Tim was paying for the picnic this year.”

It was at that moment that Will’s pen ran out of ink. Panic. He looked around the room to see if he could find a spare one somewhere near the conference table, and he even considered taking one out of the hand of one of his colleagues. Finally, he gave up.

“Excuse me, but does anyone else think we should finish talking about rebranding this company before we waste another precious hour in pointless discussion about the damn picnic?”

The room went silent. For a long seven seconds.

Will wanted to retract his comment, but found himself digging a deeper hole. “I’m sorry, but these meetings are amazing. You guys spend more time getting less done and avoiding anything remotely interesting. . . . ” He didn’t finish the sentence, but just shook his head.

Everyone looked at one another as if to say who’s going to speak first?

Finally, Casey took charge. “Why don’t we take a ten-minute break. Let’s be back at 11:15.”

The room emptied, leaving just Casey and Will.

COMING CLEAN

When the doors had all closed, Will looked up and saw that Casey was smiling. “Wow. Where did that come from?”

Will decided to come clean. “Listen, there’s something I didn’t tell you about me. I’ve got this thing—”

“You mean the disorder?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“I’m a friend of your parents, remember. They told me about it when you were having trouble as a kid. But I thought you conquered it when you were in high school.”

“I did. But I stopped taking my meds a few weeks ago, and I guess I’m having a hard time containing myself.” Will took a deep breath, digesting his frustration. “I’ll apologize to everyone when they come back. And I’m going to start taking my medication again. But it might be a few weeks before it kicks in.”

“That’s fine.” Casey was being remarkably genuine and gracious. “You know, I knew a guy on the tour who had Tourette’s Syndrome. He swore all the time, even when he made good shots. Great golfer.” For the next few minutes they talked about Will’s particular disorder. Casey showed remarkable concern, and Will could now say he understood why his dad liked this man so much.

As the break time was coming to an end, Casey assured his new assistant, “Don’t worry, they’ll understand.”

THE SPARK

When the team returned, Matt raised his hand. Casey acknowledged him.

“I need to say something about Will’s remark.”

Will wanted to die.

Casey came to his rescue. “Listen, Will and I already talked about it and he feels bad that—”

Matt interrupted. “No, I’m not complaining about what he said. I think he’s right. These meetings are still terrible.”

Suddenly Casey felt uncomfortable, and decided to go on the defensive. “Come on now, we all know meetings are a pain. But do you really think ours are any worse than every other department in the company?”

Everyone seemed to be considering the question, some nodding in agreement with Casey.

But as usual, Tim pushed a little. “I don’t know if they’re worse or not. But whatever the case, we don’t get much out of the two hours we spend every week sitting in this room. And aside from the time itself, I find it kind of draining.”

The room seemed to collectively agree. Everyone was loosening up now.

Sophia went next, smiling. “You know, this reminds me of a job I had when I was in college. I was a bank teller during summer vacations, which I found to be extremely boring, given my personality.”

Everyone chuckled at the thought.

“Anyway, I used to stare at the clock on the wall next to my station, just waiting for the next break, or for the day to end. I swear that sometimes the hands went backward.”

They laughed again.

She continued. “Sometimes I look at that clock,” she motioned to the one on the wall at the end of the table, “and I think I’m back at the bank.”

In spite of the laughter in the room, Casey felt the sting of Sophia’s comment.

Connor jumped in, directing his remarks at his boss. “Listen, it’s not like we all don’t hate meetings. I mean, I wish we could skip them altogether. This is not about you, Casey. It’s just one of the necessary evils of business, I think.”

Casey appreciated Connor’s kindness, but wasn’t about to let himself feel better. “Maybe. Anyway, let’s get this one over with so we can get some real work done. We can deal with this later.”

Connor resumed his discussion of branding for another five minutes. At precisely noon, he stopped and Casey called the meeting to a close.

Will walked away feeling terrible about bringing this on Casey, and more important, frustrated that he didn’t know how to help him. He was determined to change that.

FALSE HOPE

When Sunday evening rolled around, Will found himself dreading the next morning’s staff meeting for many reasons.

For one, those were the two slowest hours of his week. Now he knew why the other executives found any excuse possible to be late to meetings, or miss them altogether.

Beyond the boredom, however, Will feared blurting out another uncomfortable comment and wearing out his welcome with Casey. But more than either of these reasons, he just didn’t want to watch his boss suffer.

So, to take his mind off work, Will went to his parents’ house to watch a movie.

Now, Will wasn’t the sort of film student who only liked movies subtitled in French. He enjoyed silly comedies and action movies as much as the next guy. But whenever he was home, he attempted to expand his parents’ cultural horizons by trying to convince them to expose themselves to the kind of film that they wouldn’t normally see. Fifty percent of the time he lost. Tonight he lost.

So he rented When Harry Met Sally, one of his parents’ favorites. Invariably, two things would happen when he watched the movie with them: his dad would say, “Billy Crystal is not only funny, but he’s a talented actor”; his mom would fast-forward through the infamous scene in the restaurant. Will loved being home.

After watching the film—for the sixth or seventh time in his life—Will scoured the DVD case, looking for the running time of the film. Ninety-six minutes. And suddenly it dawned on him.

A crew of thousands of men and women working with tens of millions of dollars required only one and a half hours to tell a story that spanned more than ten years in the lives of two people. The characters met, they didn’t like each other, they hooked up with other people, they broke up, they became friends, they fell in love and they got married. All in ninety-six minutes! And with complete resolution.

Unbelievable. Will thought. At work we take longer than that to summarize just a week’s worth of business activity, and even then we never seem to resolve anything!

Convinced that the big problem with weekly staff meetings was simply their length, Will suddenly was anxious for work to start the next day.

CHANGE-UP

He arrived early, eager to talk to Casey before the staff meeting. And then he turned on his computer and learned two pieces of information that would crush whatever momentum he had brought with him to work.

First, Casey’s calendar indicated that he had a dentist appointment and would not be coming in until right before the staff meeting. Worse yet, J.T. Harrison had e-mailed to announce that he’d be attending that morning’s meeting. Will reluctantly decided that he would have to wait to share his insights about shortening the meetings until the following week, and so he shifted his focus to damage control.

As luck would have it, J.T. arrived a little early. He approached Will’s cubicle. “Where’s Casey’s assistant?”

“That’s me. Gia’s on maternity leave. I’m filling in for her for a while.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Will.”

“Nice to meet you, Will. I’m J.T. Harrison. Is Casey around?”

“He should be here any minute. He had a dentist appointment.”

“Alright. I’ll be up in the conference room for the meeting.”

“See you there.”

As soon as he was gone, Will felt a strange sense of disappointment. Though the man was certainly arrogant, Will had hoped that J.T. would be more detestable. He had pictured him as some sort of ruthless corporate titan, but in reality, he seemed nothing more than a slightly overconfident executive. Then Will thought back on the callous e-mail that J.T. had sent to Casey, and retrieved his temporarily diminished feelings of enmity.

Shortly after J.T. left, Casey arrived and went to his office. Will followed him in.

Before Will could say anything, Casey mumbled, in a barely discernible voice, “My mouth is numb. The darn dentist wasn’t supposed to give me novocaine today. Before I knew what he was doing, he had me drooling.”

Casey and Will shared a brief moment of laughter at the situation, especially the way Casey pronounced “dwooling.” They sobered up quickly when Will informed him that J.T. was upstairs, waiting to observe the meeting.

Before Casey could utter any more mangled words, Will took charge. “Okay, I’ll help you pull together the agenda. Did anyone send you any suggestions?”

Casey rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Fine. Let’s see. What should we talk about?”

Casey paused, then managed to spit out “budgets.”

Will agreed and typed away. “But let’s not lead with that. It’s such a momentum killer.”

Abandoning speech, Casey went to the white board. He wrote sales, branding, competitive analysis, and IT.

“What’s the IT issue?” Will wanted to know.

Casey wrote merging our systems with Playsoft’s on the board.

“Got it. Let’s call it systems integration.”

Casey shrugged as if to say, “Fine.” He paused again, considering what else to add.

Will headed him off. “That’s enough. Let’s keep this meeting short and sweet. I don’t want J.T. being bored again, and I’d love to get him back to San Jose by lunchtime.”

Casey reached to his desk, grabbed two pens and handed them to Will. “Here. Take lots of notes,” he commanded in slow and deliberate speech.

Will was distracted and didn’t understand what Casey was after. “I will. But you know, I don’t think anyone really reads the minutes.”

Casey smiled and shook his head at his assistant. Suddenly Will realized that Casey didn’t want him running out of ink and saying something inflammatory in front of J.T. Harrison.

Will laughed, and they left for the stairwell.

FAST BALL

In what amounted to herculean orchestration on the part of Will, for the first time in years the staff meeting actually started on time with the entire team sitting around the table.

Casey handed out copies of the agenda to everyone, including J.T., and dove right in. Speaking slowly under the influence of his local anesthetic, he explained, “I’m still not speaking too well this morning, as you can tell. So I’ll let you all do most of the talking until I can feel my face. Will is going to be my proxy for a while.” Again, his pronunciation of “pwoxy” brought everyone to laughter, including J.T.

Will began. “Let’s start with a quick sales report from Sophia.” It would be the first of many times that Will used the word quick during the meeting.

Sophia reviewed her numbers in detail, and then discussed her most recent visit with Target Stores in Minneapolis, going off on a tangent about the Mall of America. As the clock marked ten thirty, Will could see that J.T. was beginning to fidget, so he found a good moment to jump in and end the presentation.

“Okay, thanks, Sophia. Let’s get a quick update on branding.”

He looked to Connor, who began. “Okay, we’re getting closer to having something to show you all. The design firm is in the process of mocking up logos and packaging that will reposition us as a younger, more exciting brand, while still differentiating us from our more juvenile competitors.”

J.T. raised his hand, and as soon as Connor acknowledged him, he began. “Who are you positioning against?”

It seemed like an innocuous enough question, and Connor responded confidently. “Gamestar and GoBox, primarily.”

J.T. pressed him. “What do you mean, primarily? Are there others?”

The room froze, eager for their colleague’s response.

“Well,” Connor considered the question, his confidence suddenly fading, “I guess they’re the only two.” Trying to regain some degree of momentum, he volleyed back. “Did you have someone else in mind?”

“Well, I’m just wondering if you shouldn’t be thinking outside of the video game space. Do we need to be positioning ourselves relative to companies who are competing for the mindshare of our buyers?”

The room paused as if to consider the question, and to wait to see how Connor would respond.

He didn’t have to because Casey jumped in, his diction already slightly improved. Still, he spoke a little slower than normal. “That’s interesting. Maybe we should be looking at ESPN, or Sports Illustrated, or even on-line sports betting.”

Everyone in the room, including J.T., seemed to find Casey’s thinking interesting. They spent the next fifteen minutes throwing out ideas, and quickly established a list of possible candidates for comparison.

As the discussion abruptly died, Will was suddenly eager to introduce the next topic and set a new company record for the shortest meeting in Yip history.

But before he could, Matt dove in. As usual, the head of engineering spoke with more skepticism and accusation than he intended. “Who are these consultants you’re using, anyway? Do they really understand our market?”

Connor looked like he had just been told he was a double agent working for the competition.

Will glanced at Casey, whose face said, “Uh-oh.” Knowing that his boss wasn’t in a great position to intervene, Will decided to take a chance.

“Okay, I don’t think we need to be debating the merits of Connor’s consultants right now. Why don’t we pick this up again next week when we’re looking at the logo mock-ups? We’ll have more of a basis for evaluating them then.”

Everyone nodded their agreement and the topic evaporated. Will decided it was a dexterous diplomatic move, averting a potential debate.

He continued. “Let’s get a quick update from Matt on the systems integration with Playsoft.”

The room seemed to wilt at the prospect of such an administrative discussion.

Matt proceeded to describe the time line and technical challenges associated with his IT department having to convert Yip to new systems for e-mail, voice mail, financial reporting, and asset tracking. Within fifteen minutes, the group had drifted into a coma.

Sensing the mood, Will moved things along again. “And Tim. Can you give us a brief summary of the budget process?”

“Sure, boss,” Tim teased affectionately. Will blushed as everyone, including J.T. and Casey, laughed good-naturedly at their unlikely administrative assistant.

Tim then reviewed the budget shortfall and explained that the departments would be kicking in more than twice the previous year’s allocation for corporate services. “That’s because this year we have the picnic, the management training, and the branding shortfall.”

Will could sense the frustration among his peers about having to pony up the additional money. But he knew that no one dared raise a stink, not with J.T. sitting among them.

It was now just eleven thirty, and Casey made the most bold and shocking announcement of the day. His novocaine seemed to have worn off considerably. “Okay, we’ve covered everything on the agenda, so if there’s nothing else, let’s go get some real work done.”

Before anyone knew what was happening, a smattering of applause filled the room. The executives gathered their things and headed for the door without the normal sense of dull exhaustion that usually marked the end of the meetings. Will felt a sense of relief and satisfaction. It wouldn’t last.

DETENTION

After everyone had left the room, Will gathered up his own things, erased the white board, and headed downstairs. As soon as he arrived at his cubicle, he sat down with a bird’seye view of J.T. and Casey talking in Casey’s office. Actually, J.T. was doing almost all the talking. Casey seemed to be biting his lip and enduring a mild scolding.

After almost half an hour, J.T. emerged and left the building without saying a word to anyone. Will hesitated for a moment, then went in to see Casey.

“How’s it going?” he asked, somehow deciding that it was a little more subtle than what happened?

Casey shook his head. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

Will shut the door and waited for Casey to begin.

“First of all, he tells me that he was being delicate in his e-mail to me. He said he thinks our meetings are terrible, and that if they’re any indication of how things are run around here. . . . ” Casey stopped.

“What?” Will asked. “What did he say next?”

“Nothing. He just let it sit there.”

Will wished he could have been in the room with them so he could have been delicate with J.T. “You should call Wade Justin and tell him to get this guy off your back.”

“Well, it’s funny that you mention him.”

“Why? Did you call him?”

“No. But J.T. did. Right after our meeting.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“He’s coming out here with J.T. to observe a staff meeting in September.”

The phone rang. Casey looked down to see who it was. “Speak of the devil.”

“J.T.?”

Casey shook his head. “Wade Justin. Stay here.”

Will didn’t need to be convinced.

His boss picked up the phone. “This is Casey.”

Amazingly, Will watched for three full minutes as Casey said virtually nothing, other than an occasional yes, that’s right, or I understand. Finally, he ended the conversation unenthusiastically with “I appreciate it, Wade. Thanks.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, Casey sat down at his computer to do some typing without acknowledging his assistant.

Will was incredulous. “Well?”

Casey looked up. “Oh, sorry. I was checking my calendar.”

“So what did he say?”

Casey shook his head. “I don’t understand this company. Wade Justin just told me that I shouldn’t let J.T. intimidate me. He told me he has confidence in me, and that he knows I’m going to turn things around.”

Will frowned. “Turn things around? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that he’ll decide whether or not it’s happened when he comes to that meeting in September.” Casey looked back at his computer. “Which is exactly five weeks from today.”

“That is one bizarre company,” proclaimed Will.

“No,” countered Casey. “This is one bizarre company. We’re part of it now.” He paused for a moment. “At least for the next five weeks we are.”

Will was suddenly wishing that his temporary job wasn’t so interesting after all.

LIGHT BULB

The following week was the worst for Will since he’d arrived at Yip. More important, it was the worst for Casey since he’d founded the company.

For the first time in almost eleven years, Casey was forced to consider what he would do if he had to work somewhere other than Yip. He wasn’t prepared, mentally or financially, to retire. And, like his employees, there was little else to do in the area without a master’s degree in oceanography. Am I going to have to leave this place? he wondered.

Will sensed his boss’s desperation and internalized it himself. On Sunday evening, he again found himself needing a distraction. And so he headed home to see his parents, but this time he wouldn’t let his dad dissuade him from a “headier” movie.

Will chose an Italian film called Cinema Paradiso, subtitles and all. Not only that, it was the director’s cut, meaning the filmmakers went back and added footage that had been edited from the first edition.

When the movie ended and Will’s mom had wiped the tears from her eyes—Will even caught his dad welling up a little, but didn’t want to embarrass him—everyone agreed that it was a terrific film. “I didn’t even notice the subtitles after the first ten minutes, and that tells you something right there,” his suddenly cultured dad announced.

Reaching for the DVD cover, Will wanted to know the length of the movie. He knew it was long, but was stunned by what he found.

One hundred and seventy minutes.

Will could not believe it. His father, the basketball coach, had sat still for almost three full hours watching a foreign film about a little boy, a man, and a movie theater.

Suddenly, Will began to think about some of his other favorite movies. It’s A Wonderful Life. Well over two hours. Braveheart. Almost three. The Great Escape. Even longer.

And so it began to dawn on Will. The length of meetings had nothing to do with their effectiveness. Or did it?

Thoroughly intrigued, Will went home to Carmel and settled in for what would be his first all-nighter since college. Sitting down at his computer, he gathered around him a few textbooks from graduate school, most noteworthy of which were Introduction to Film and The Screenwriter’s Companion. For the next five hours, Will was consumed with the challenge of finding a solution to his boss’s problem.

By the time the sun rose, Will was amazed that, in spite of being so tired, he felt renewed. But it made sense. For one, he had finally convinced himself that he might be able to help Casey save his job. Additionally, he was actually excited about getting to the office so he could begin testing his theories in the real world.

PUSHING THE ENVELOPE

For the next two weeks, Will attended staff meetings—and any other meeting he could talk his way into—with the vigor of a zoologist studying the behavior of monkeys in the jungle. He observed Casey and his staff carefully, taking far more notes about his new hypothesis than about the minutes of the meetings themselves. No one reads them anyway, Will justified.

During the evenings, Will found himself reflecting on his observations from the day, and constantly refining his theory. Occasionally, he would discuss his ideas with his mother, who had just accepted a new job running a technology start-up just up the coast in Half Moon Bay. She found the theory interesting, and soon began applying it within her own company.

After pulling yet another Sunday all-nighter, Will decided that his theory was largely sound, and ready to be presented to Casey and his team. In spite of his sleep deprivation, he was energized as never before. Which was good, because he would need all the energy he could find in order to hijack Casey’s staff meeting that morning.

NO PRISONERS

It had been almost a month now since Will had resumed taking his medication, and he was certainly feeling better. But it would be a few more weeks until he was back to normal, and lack of sleep only makes disorders like his more difficult to fight, no matter how much adrenaline, caffeine, or Prozac is rushing around one’s system.

By the time the meeting started, Will was feeling a little funny but in control, or so he hoped.

Casey started the meeting by asking, “Where’s Connor?”

“He has a meeting with one of his trade show vendors.” Sophia explained. “He said he’d be here in an hour or so.”

Casey seemed disappointed, but said nothing.

Suddenly Will felt the urge to make a comment about Casey’s refusal to demand that his staff attend these meetings; the night without sleep had clearly taken its toll. To avoid saying something he would regret, Will pushed himself away from the table and stood, saying, “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” And he left the room.

Walking down the hall, Will wondered what had just happened. Why should I care if Casey lets Connor blow off his meetings? And then it occurred to him that he needed everyone at the meeting if his plan had any chance of working. But rather than scold Casey publicly, Will bolted, heading directly for Connor’s office.

As he approached, Will could see that the marketing VP’s door was open. Connor was sitting behind his desk, working at his computer. Will knocked and came in without waiting for a response. “Excuse me.”

Connor looked up calmly. “Hey, Will. What’s up?”

“We have a meeting.” Will said it as if he were asking a question.

“Yeah, I had to meet with one of the guys from TradeTech. I asked Sophia to tell Casey.”

“So where is he?” Will pressed.

Connor was suddenly a little uncomfortable. “The guy from TradeTech? He left about five minutes ago. But I’ve got some follow-up work to do. I’ll be in there by eleven o’clock.”

Will just stood there, trying to determine whether it was his disorder or his determination that was forcing him to make the next statement. It didn’t matter, because he couldn’t hold back now. “You need to be there, Connor.”

The head of marketing was puzzled, but not angry. Like his colleagues, he liked Will. “Excuse me?”

Will lightened up, but just a little. “Listen, this is an important meeting. For all of us, but especially Casey. Everyone needs to be there.” He stared at Connor, almost pleading.

Connor studied Will for a second, considering the situation, and then responded matter-of-factly. “Okay then.” He grabbed his notebook. “Let’s go.”

Relieved, Will accompanied Connor back to the conference room. When they entered, Casey looked at them, trying to discern what had happened out there.

Will decided that Casey had somehow figured it out.

The meeting continued as the newcomers sat down around the table. Tim was talking about budgeting, or something related to it.

Motivated by his successful intervention with Connor, Will decided not to wait. “Excuse me, everyone. I’m sorry to interrupt, but there is something that we have to do today. I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone the items on the agenda until next week.”

Tim and everyone else in the room were stunned. Except for Casey, who somehow seemed to be more curious than concerned about what Will was up to.

Before anyone could ask a question, Will began. “These meetings are not working, and they’re causing more problems than we know.”

Suddenly, Casey looked worried. He thought Will was about to explain the J.T. Harrison situation to the team, something that would be too uncomfortable for him to deal with right now.

Just as Casey was deciding to cut off his assistant, Will explained. “I’ve been talking to the people in this office for the past month or so, and you would be amazed about what they have to say.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“They’re wondering about your, about our, competence. They just don’t understand how we can come in here for two hours every week and emerge without clearer direction for them. Don’t get me wrong. They seem to genuinely like you all. Which is why they’re so confused by the output from these meetings.”

As much as Casey wanted to end the meeting before it got out of hand, he was too intrigued not to hear what Will had to say.

Unsurprisingly, Tim spoke first. “Who did you talk to? I mean, are you sure that—”

Will interrupted him politely. “Listen, Tim. I’m not making this stuff up. Trust me.”

Michelle supported Will. “What he’s saying makes sense, if you consider what the survey indicated about decision making and communication.”

“And besides,” continued Will, “I’ve been watching it for more than a month, and I just don’t understand how six smart and reasonable people can come in here week after week and continue to do something that, frankly, is a waste of time.” Will paused as the team digested his remarks.

Before anyone—most likely Tim—could protest, Will completed his thought. “At least I didn’t understand it until last night.”

FILM SCHOOL

“What do you mean?” Casey was now hooked.

“I mean, I think I figured out why these meetings are less than productive.” Will was trying to be polite. “And that’s what we need to talk about today.”

Sophia spoke next, and directed the question at Casey. “Can we afford to postpone the issues on the agenda for a week?”

The others in the room seemed to support her concern, and Will thought he was about to be overruled.

Then Casey reviewed the list in front of him. “Well, most of it could wait, I suppose. But we do need to talk about the Fall product launch and the budgeting deadlines.”

Will jumped in, trying desperately to rescue his mission. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you thirty minutes to talk about those issues at the end of the session.”

“A half hour?” Tim countered. “Come on.”

Will resorted to pleading. “Just humor me. Please.”

Because of the credibility that he had established with the team over the past few weeks, they agreed.

“Go ahead.” Casey approved. “Give it a shot.”

Will stood and went to the front of the room. “How many people here would rather go to a movie than a meeting?”

At first, no one raised their hands. They just sat there, looking at one another.

“Really. What is it? Movie or meeting? I want an answer.”

Slowly, each person around the table said “movie,” except for Tim, who said, “What are you, drunk? I’d rather go to the dentist than a meeting.” Everyone laughed.

“Okay. What if I told you that meetings are inherently more interesting, more entertaining than movies?”

Unsurprisingly, Tim was first with the response. “Again, I’d say you were drinking too much.” A little more laughter from the group.

Will pressed on. “Think about it this way. Movies and meetings are often approximately two hours in length, give or take twenty minutes or so. Right?”

A few nods from the group, so Will continued.

“But a movie is a passive activity. You can’t interrupt one of the actors with advice about what to do. And yet a meeting is completely interactive. Not only can you, but you’re expected to provide input.”

The group was buying the point, but not connecting it to any larger issue. Not yet.

Will went on. “And a movie is not relevant to our lives. We don’t have to go out and do something as a result of how a movie ends. Right?”

Will waited for a few more nods before continuing.

“But theoretically, meetings are completely relevant. The decisions that are made at the end of a meeting have a direct impact on how we spend our time and energy after we leave the room.”

Now every head nodded.

“So I would say that an interactive, relevant activity—a meeting—would be far more compelling than a passive, irrelevant one—a movie.”

The looks on everyone’s faces seemed to concede that Will had made an interesting point.

Will took a breath. He was gaining confidence now. “So why do you suppose we would rather go to a movie than a meeting?” He paused, then continued. “That’s not a rhetorical question.”

Matt responded first. The tone of his voice suggesting that the answer was obvious. “Because meetings are boring and movies aren’t.”

Will nodded. “And why is that?”

No one seemed ready with an answer, so Will provided it for them. “Because screenwriters figured out long ago that there is one element required to make any movie interesting. And it’s something we need in these meetings.” He paused for just a moment before revealing that element. “Conflict.”

The group still seemed a little confused, but there was no doubt in Will’s mind that they were now hooked. “You see, a few weeks ago I was convinced that the problem with these meetings, and with meetings in general, was that they were too long. But then I realized that even really long movies can be amazing, as long as there is a compelling enough conflict to hold your interest.”

“Wait a second,” countered Sophia. “Not all movies have conflict.”

Will accepted her challenge. “The good ones do. Give me a movie that doesn’t have conflict at its very core.”

Sophia didn’t have an immediate answer, so Will took another tack. “Okay, everyone write down the name of your favorite movie.”

The executives seemed to hesitate, as if they were wondering, “are you serious?”

“Go ahead. Write it down.”

Like a kind old judge questioning a young attorney during a trial, Casey prodded Will, “I hope you’re going somewhere with this.”

“I am,” he assured him.

Casey nodded, and everyone put pen to paper. After a minute or so, Will called for their answers, one by one.

Connor:	Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Sophia:	The Sound of Music
Matt:	The Godfather
Michelle:	Top Gun
Casey:	Amadeus
Tim:	Hoosiers

“Okay. Does anyone have any doubt that these movies are loaded with conflict?”

“What exactly do you mean by conflict?” Matt wanted to know.

Will launched into a sermon, of sorts. “Well, I’m not necessarily talking about war, or a fistfight, or even a shouting match, if that’s what you’re after. Conflict is nothing more than an anxious situation that needs to be resolved. Some conflicts are between two people, like Rocky. Others are about a person vying against nature, like Jaws or The Perfect Storm. And many of the best movies are about a person’s internal conflict. In fact, most movies, even the action movies, are ultimately about a person’s internal struggle. But no matter what is going on, there has to be something ultimately at stake. A prize, survival, sanity, success, even peace of mind.”

After a brief pause, Tim spoke up. “So where’s the conflict in The Sound of Music?”

Before Will could respond, Sophia was all over the CFO. “Are you joking? First there’s Christopher Plummer’s character, the captain, defying the Nazis. Then there’s Maria competing with the baroness for the captain’s affection.” She continued sarcastically. “And you might not want to forget about the actual escape from Austria.”

Michelle chimed in. “She even had conflict with the children at first, before they accepted her.”

Will agreed and added. “And the most important conflict of all may have been the internal one, with Maria trying to figure out what to do with her life.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” And then Tim confessed. “You know, I’ve never actually seen the movie. I don’t really like musicals.”

Sophia was stunned, and teased her friend mercilessly. “You’ve never seen The Sound of Music? You really are a cretin, aren’t you?”

They all laughed.

Tim decided to come clean. “I haven’t even seen The Godfather. ”

Now the entire room was up in arms.

Tim defended himself. “The whole mob thing just doesn’t interest me.”

“But it’s not just a mob story.” Casey explained. “There are more mafia movies out there than you can shake a stick at, but The Godfather was much bigger than that.”

Will was loving this, and played the role of professor. “So what was the conflict in The Godfather? Why is it so hard to stop watching once you start?”

Casey answered immediately and enthusiastically. “It’s Michael Corleone trying to stay out of the mob, and then getting sucked into the family business until he is so deep he can’t escape. It’s fascinating watching this clean-cut kid with all the right intentions fight the temptation to go over to the dark side.”

The others in the room were nodding and reliving the movie in their minds.

Will smiled. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we like movies. Not the special effects. Not the big name actors. Not the popcorn. Not even the violence. It’s the conflict. The human drama. That’s what keeps us on the edge of our seats.”

Matt raised his hand and actually waited for Will to recognize him. It was as if Will had suddenly become a professor, and his students were hungry for more.

“So, I agree that all our favorite movies have conflict. What I don’t get is why our meetings need to have it too. I mean, sure, they won’t be as boring. But how much of a difference is that really going to make in the long run?”

Will considered the question, wanting to find the right words.

Casey didn’t let him. “Come on now, Matt. If we’re engaged, don’t you think we’re going to be making better decisions? And we’ll probably be more likely to get everyone’s ideas and opinions out on the table.”

“And that’s one of the big problems with your meetings now,” added Will. “Every time you guys are on the verge of getting into a crucial conversation about something that might get heated, you seem to bail out.”

Matt nodded, but had another challenge for Will.

“Okay. But how are we supposed to compete with the Nazis and the mafia when it comes to drama? I mean, aren’t we at a disadvantage? The stakes here are a little lower.”

Will shook his head emphatically. “No. They’re much higher.”

People looked at Will as if he had just pronounced the world flat. But he had them right where he wanted them.

“The stuff you’re supposed to be talking about here is more important for you than whether the Van Trapp family escapes from Austria is for moviegoers. Heck, the issues you talk about here are what puts bread on your tables and keeps you all employed. How much more could be at stake?”

No one argued.

Connor was suddenly eager to speak, so Will called on him.

“What about Tommy Boy? Where’s the conflict in that?”

Michelle jumped in, joking. “He said the movies have to be good.”

Everyone laughed, until Will defended Connor.

“Tommy Boy is one of my favorite comedies. Chris Farley was hilarious.”

Connor felt redeemed. “So what was the conflict?”

Will smiled, and then dissected the movie as though it had won the Academy Award for best foreign film. “Well, to start with, Chris Farley is trying to save the company his father had built and run until he suddenly died. He has to fight off the subversive threats of Bo Derek and Rob Lowe.”

Everyone, including Will, laughed at the pseudo-sophisticated analysis of a screwball comedy.

Undeterred, Will continued the lecture. “And most important of all, he has to confront his own maturity and self-worth in order to become the leader of the firm.”

Connor smiled, both impressed and amused by the analysis.

Out of nowhere, Casey jumped in. He was suddenly a little impatient, even edgy. “Okay, so I suppose I’m the one who needs to make all this happen.”

Will nodded, and Casey continued. “Given that I’m not naturally comfortable with conflict, how am I supposed to make sure our meetings have it?”

“The question isn’t how,” Will explained. “It’s when.”

THE HOOK

In full professor mode now, Will asked the question: “What is the most important part of a movie?”

No one responded, so Will persisted. “Come on now, if a movie is roughly two hours long, what is the most critical part of those two hours?”

Connor played first. “The end.”

Will decided to have some fun. “How many people think it’s the end?”

Most of the hands in the room went up. Will made a sound like a game show buzzer announcing the wrong answer. “ERRRR. Sorry.”

Everyone laughed.

Tim shouted, “The turning point!”

Will waited for the room to quiet down, and then gave Tim the “ERRR! Wrong again.”

More laughter.

Amid the noise, Casey spoke up. “The beginning.”

Will pointed at Casey. “We have a winner. The beginning.”

Everyone groaned playfully at having been outguessed by their boss.

Will continued. “And it’s not just the beginning; it’s the first ten minutes. Or the first ten pages if you’re writing a screen-play.” He paused to let them digest it. “Why do you suppose the beginning is so important?”

“First impressions,” answered Matt.

“Right. If you lose people in the first ten minutes of a movie, if you don’t hook them, you’re through. They’ll spend the rest of the movie, no matter how exciting it becomes, thinking, ‘This is a good scene. Too bad it’s such a slow movie.’ But if you hook them at the beginning, they’ll forgive a slow scene here or there.”

Everyone in the room was nodding and smiling as if they were remembering a movie that supported Will’s thesis.

Will knew they liked talking about movies, so he stayed on the topic. “Think about your favorite movies. You can probably remember the opening scenes. Something about them got your attention and hooked you. And that’s what you have to do in your meetings. Give people a reason to care.”

Casey had been taking notes, and suddenly looked up. “I don’t see how you can make the beginning of a meeting as exciting as the opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“I agree. It probably won’t be as exciting.” Will acknowledged. “But then again, people go to the movies expecting to be entertained. The bar is pretty high. For meetings, however, it shouldn’t take much to get people’s attention. People are generally accustomed to being bored out of their minds.”

Everyone laughed.

“Can you give us an example of how you’d make a fairly dry topic compelling?” Casey was intent on figuring this out.

Will took a breath. “Sure. I hope I can. Let’s see. Someone give me a topic that doesn’t sound too interesting.”

He waited. Finally Sophia said, “Budgets.”

“Well, that certainly doesn’t sound interesting,” Will joked, to the amusement of his colleagues, including Tim.

He continued the lecture. “Okay. The subject is budget cuts. Tell me how we would normally start a budget review meeting.”

Connor jumped in and took the opportunity to tease his CFO. “Tim would normally tell us to turn to page forty-two in our budget booklets, and then he would make each of us read aloud the line items in our spreadsheets where our budget amounts were more than 15 percent higher than last year’s.” Connor then feigned a yawn and fell face first on the table in front of him as though he had passed out from boredom.

The room howled.

Tim protested playfully. “Come on, it’s not that bad.” He let them keep laughing at him, and then looked at Will. “Actually, it’s probably not far off.”

Will tried to refocus the team. “Okay, how could you turn this situation around? What would your opening scene look like?”

No one had a clue.

“Alright. I’m going to give this a shot.” Will smiled as though he were about to take a risk. “The role of Tim will be played by his understudy, Will Petersen.”

They all laughed, and suddenly Will was in character.

He began, “I know that the next couple of hours might be tedious, and that there are a hundred other things we’d all rather be doing right now. But let’s keep a few things in mind while we’re here today. First, our competitors are hoping we get this wrong. They’re hoping we underallocate resources for advertising, or hire too many administrative staff. And our employees are desperate for us to get this right, because every decision we make today has a profound impact on someone’s job, not to mention their morale. In their minds, our credibility is on the line. And finally, I don’t want to be sitting at my desk nine months from now thinking, ‘Why didn’t I pay closer attention during that budget review?’ So let’s sit forward in our seats and do this right so we can feel good about it for the rest of the year.”

He paused, and after a few moments, the room broke out in mock applause.

Will blushed. “Okay, so that’s not an academy award-winning performance, but it’s a hell of a lot better than ‘Please turn to page forty-two in your budget booklets. . . . ”

Everyone laughed and nodded in agreement.

Casey then asked a question. “Okay, after those first ten minutes, then what?”

Though he was enjoying the discussion, Casey was certainly not as upbeat as everyone else in the room. The levity subsided a little when the others recognized this. Only Will knew that Casey was probably thinking about J.T. Harrison.

MINING

Will forged on. “It gets easier, I think, because the beginning is the hardest part. Once you’ve teed up the topic, then you just need to keep searching for conflict. When I was studying psychiatry, we used to call it mining.”

Casey was confused. “Mining?”

Will explained. “Everyone, but especially you, as the leader of the group, needs to be looking for places where people have different opinions but aren’t necessarily putting them out there. And when you see that, you need to force them to communicate what they’re thinking until they’ve said all there is to be said. You need to be constantly mining for buried conflict.”

“Isn’t that going to take a long time?” Matt wondered.

Will was surprised when Sophia responded. “What’s the alternative? Not resolving it and having people come back in six months and say, ‘Well, I never really agreed with that decision when we talked about it before?’”

Will could see that Casey was either unclear or uncomfortable about something. “What’s up, boss?”

“Nothing,” Casey said reflexively. “It’s just that it sounds like people always have to come to agreement on things. And no matter how much time you take, I don’t think that’s always possible.”

Will somehow seemed alarmed by Casey’s comment. “Did it sound like I was advocating consensus?” A few heads nodded. “I’m glad you asked the question, Casey, because I didn’t mean that at all! In fact, I think that consensus is a horrible thing.”

Now Michelle looked confused. “How can consensus be horrible?”

Will qualified his comment. “Well, maybe I overstated it a little. But the point is, consensus is usually not achievable. The likelihood of six intelligent people coming to a sincere and complete agreement on a complex and important topic is very low.”

“So what do you do?” Michelle wondered.

“You have a passionate, unfiltered, messy, provocative discussion that ends when the leader of the team decides all the information has been aired. At that point, if no one has made a compelling enough argument for making a decision, the leader breaks the tie.”

The executives looked at each other as if to say, Sounds good to me.

Will punctuated his lecture. “But let me be very clear about something. Regardless of what position people originally took, once the decision is made, everyone supports it. That’s why it is critical that no one hold anything back during the discussion.”

Everything began to click for Casey. “And that’s why we need to mine for conflict, regardless of what the clock says.”

“Exactly.” Will felt like he was making progress.

Matt decided to play devil’s advocate, something he was particularly adept at. He challenged Will, in a slightly playful but mostly serious tone. “I’m sorry, but I think this is a bunch of touchy-feely nonsense. I don’t think we need conflict. And I don’t particularly like it.”

Will remained calm. “Why do you suppose?”

Sophia didn’t hesitate. “Because things get emotional and someone gets upset and the next thing you know everyone in the office is whispering about the executive team not getting along.”

Will pushed back. “But they’re already talking about the fact that you guys don’t make decisions in these meetings.”

Casey nodded, ceding the point to Will.

Now Matt challenged him. “See, I don’t care about the emotional stuff. If people get upset or start talking about the executive team, I could care less. It’s the waste of time that gets to me. I don’t want to sit around and watch people debate all day. I’d prefer if Casey just made the call and we could get back to work.”

“Are you kidding?” It was Sophia again, and she didn’t wait for an answer to her completely rhetorical question. “I don’t see how it could be any worse than it is now.”

Matt seemed a little put off by Sophia’s challenge. The room was tense for a moment, until Michelle jumped in.

“I have to agree with Sophia. We’re already wasting so much time as it is, and we still don’t seem to get to the bottom of things. Even if it did take up more time, at least it would be interesting. I’d rather spend three hours on something and come to the right decision than spend one hour and get nowhere.”

Matt wasn’t ready to give in just yet. “I’m not sure it would be interesting.”

Casey countered. “What is the most interesting meeting we’ve had in the past six months?” He directed the question at Matt, who shrugged his shoulders.

Casey smiled. “Come on, it’s obvious. It’s this one, today. Look at us. We’re actually involved in the conversation. People are disagreeing. It’s interesting.”

Matt nodded to acknowledge the point, while everyone just sat there drinking in the lesson.

Until Tim broke in. “Now wait a second. I thought that other meeting was pretty interesting, when Will told us to stop talking about the damn picnic.”

They laughed.

“But there it is again,” Casey reminded them, smiling. “Conflict.”

PRACTICE

As much as Will wanted to stop right there and savor the victory, he knew that it was time to push forward. “Okay, you guys wanted to talk about real issues. Here’s your chance. Let’s take an issue and see if we can’t mine it for conflict.”

Casey was game. He directed a question at the group. “What should we start with?”

Michelle made the first suggestion. “The picnic.”

Everyone roared. Except Michelle. “I’m serious. I think it’s time we dealt with this issue once and for all.”

Casey forced himself to play his role. “Okay, what’s the real issue here?”

Michelle was a little upset. “I don’t like being in charge of the darn picnic—”

Tim interrupted. “You mean, damn picnic.”

Everyone, including Michelle, laughed momentarily. “Okay, damn picnic. I don’t like being in charge of it any more than you guys would. I’m not an event organizer or a party planner, but since this is part of my job, I’m doing it. The thing is, I’m tired of hearing people complain about it, and about having to pay for it from your budgets. I mean, it’s all coming out of the company’s money anyway.”

For just a moment, Michelle looked like she might actually cry. The room was silent, unaccustomed to raw emotion during meetings.

Casey wanted to let the issue drift away, but looked over at Will and decided to push a little. “Does anyone disagree with Michelle?”

No one spoke. Casey looked at Matt. “How about you? You’re probably the most outspoken critic of the picnic.”

The entire room seemed stunned by Casey’s directness.

Michelle took the opportunity to pile on. “You might as well throw management training in there too,” she said.

Now Matt was engaged. “Wait a minute. I said I’d go to management training, and I never complained about having to pay for that.”

Michelle was taken aback by Matt’s tone, and didn’t look like she was going to respond.

Will waited to see if his boss would keep pushing, and when it didn’t look like Casey would, he jumped in himself. “What do you think, Michelle?”

She took a deep breath. “I think it’s not just about the money. It’s about being supportive. If we don’t think we need to train our managers, then fine. Let’s decide that and I’ll focus on something else.” She was flustered now. “I don’t know.”

Everyone in the room was uncomfortable now.

Will spoke. “Okay, there are three important points I have to make here. First of all, this is the right conversation to be having. So you two,” he motioned at Matt and Michelle, “should not be feeling like you’re out of line.”

He let the point sink in as Matt and Michelle seemed to take a small measure of consolation from the reminder.

“Second, that discussion was definitely not boring.”

Everyone laughed, welcoming the humorous distraction.

“And third, we need to hear from everyone else.” Will scanned the room to emphasize his point.

The laughter disappeared. After a pause, Tim spoke. “Well, I understand where Matt is coming from. I mean, I can’t say I’m looking forward to management training—or the picnic either, for that matter.” He looked at the head of HR. “But Michelle is right. We were all here when we agreed to do these things. And now that the commitment’s been made, we should stop talking about it and make the most of it.”

Sophia went next. “I’m good with that. But I do want us to get very clear about what is going to be different next time. It seems like we complain about these same things every year.”

Somehow everyone was looking at Connor, who had yet to speak. When he finally realized that they were waiting on him, he said, “Don’t look at me. I like the picnic.”

They laughed again.

Matt finally spoke. “Look, when I complain about these things, I’m not directing them at you.” He was looking at Michelle.

“But it certainly feels that way,” she explained.

“I know. I think I’m just frustrated that we have so much to do, and we’re wasting time on things that don’t matter.”

“Don’t matter?” Sophia protested.

Matt backpedaled. “That’s not what I meant. I know those things are important for employees. It’s just that I think we need to be more focused on topics that involve making money. That’s all.”

Eager for closure, Casey brought the discussion home. “And so we’re not going to waste any more time talking about management training or picnics. And next year, we’ll sit down and put it all on the table during our planning, and make a decision and stick to it.”

He then turned to Michelle. “You okay with all of this?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m just glad you all know that I’m only trying to do my job. And believe it or not, I would prefer that we spend more time talking about issues involving revenue too.”

At that precise moment, Michelle’s standing with Matt, and the rest of the team, increased dramatically.

The discussion then shifted to other topics: branding, sales strategy, information systems.

Each time, Casey tried to draw people out and highlight any differences of opinion. But he wasn’t perfect. At times there were awkward lulls in the conversation, and confusion about what topics merited more or less attention. Still, it was a better staff meeting than any others they could remember.

But as the meeting ended, Will couldn’t deny that his theory had fallen short of his high expectations.

Something’s still missing, he thought to himself.

DRAWING BOARD

As disappointed as he was, Will decided that his theory about conflict was not completely flawed. It was just incomplete.

So he went back to his textbooks in search of more answers. What else, besides conflict, is necessary to make a movie great? he wondered. For the next week he read screenplays, watched movies, and examined notes from some of his classes, and found nothing.

He made more than one trip home to pick his mother’s brain. Finally, the seeds of a solution began to grow.

One night as he was cleaning his room, he noticed his History of Television textbook on the floor of his closet. Some kind of spark ignited, and before he knew what was happening, Will found himself still reading at dawn.

By the time he had showered and was heading into work, it all began to make sense.

And so, Will went on yet another meeting binge. No matter how long or short, and regardless of the topic under discussion, he forced himself to sit through any meeting that he would be allowed to observe.

At night, Will watched television, changing channels constantly and reflecting on his evolving theory. And he called home for more motherly insights about business, which he would later look back on as being vital to his theory. By the time Sunday evening came around, he was exhausted. But hopeful.

With just two weeks now until the meeting, Will believed he actually stood a decent chance of helping Casey and his team crack the code on their big problem. What he didn’t know was that he might not get a chance.

BOXED OUT

Will arrived at work on Monday eager to present his findings to the team. Before the meeting started, however, Casey called him into his office with an announcement he thought Will would like. He was wrong.

Casey explained that Playsoft needed volunteers to go to Chicago to help set up and manage the company’s massive trade show booth at the annual Toy and Game Convention there. Before Will could tell his boss that he wasn’t interested in volunteering, Casey informed him that he’d already been volunteered.

It was a ten-day gig at one of Chicago’s nicer hotels. Moreover, Will could fly home for the weekend, or fly a friend to Chicago, or just stay there and pocket the airfare. Being a recently graduated student, Will would normally have jumped at the opportunity for extra cash or a free trip. But not this time.

“Listen, Casey, I need to be here. That meeting’s coming up in two weeks, and we’ve got work to do if—”

Casey interrupted, politely. “I know. I know. But you really helped us a few weeks ago, so I think we’ll be fine.”

Will knew that Casey was less than convinced of this.

“And you’ll be back a couple days before the meeting anyway.”

Will pushed harder. “But it’s not about me being there. It’s about us figuring out how to—”

Interrupting again, Casey seemed a little annoyed now. “Listen. If J.T. Harrison wants to fire me, he’s going to fire me. And if the only thing he can come up with is that our meetings are not as exciting as the circus, then there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Will wanted to scream yes there is! But he realized that Casey was already preparing himself for the worst, just in case. And if J.T. had indeed already made up his mind, then making Casey worry about the situation would be cruel.

Will couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. “When do I leave?” He was clearly deflated.

Casey laughed. “Come on, Will. You’re not going to war. You’re going to Chicago. And they need you there tomorrow afternoon.”

“So I could fly out on the red-eye tonight?”

“Sure. If you want to.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you at the meeting in a few minutes. And I’m going to need a little more time to talk about meetings if I’m not going to be around for the next two weeks.”

Casey reluctantly nodded his approval.

Will left, knowing that the next two hours could be crucial for Casey and his company. He also found himself wondering if he should have applied for a job at Starbucks.

SECOND SEMESTER

As soon as everyone had settled into their seats for the staff meeting, Will stood to make an announcement.

“I’m sorry to do this again, everyone. But I need at least an hour today to talk about my meeting thing again.”

Matt winced. Others looked around the room for kindred souls, but no one wanted to be the first to protest.

Casey stepped in to disrupt the awkwardness. “Listen, everyone, I think after last week we can give Will some time again. We’ll have plenty of time to cover the items on the agenda.”

Will was momentarily relieved.

Until Casey explained, “But you can only have a half hour. Starting now.”

Now Will was worried. Not wanting to waste even a minute, he dove in. “Okay, you remember everything I said last week about conflict? It’s wrong.”

The people sitting at the table looked at him in disbelief.

Tim didn’t hesitate. “You mean to say that—”

Will interrupted. “Relax. I was kidding.”

They groaned, and laughed a little.

“But I have to admit that there is more to my theory than conflict. And unfortunately, it isn’t as interesting.”

The room seemed to take a collective breath, and steel themselves for boredom as Will went to the board and wrote drama.

Will continued, undeterred. “The biggest problem with our meetings, and with meetings in general,” he paused for effect, “is structure.” He wrote it next to drama on the board.

Sensing that he might lose his crowd, Will pushed forward in a more contrarian tone. “Our problem is not that we’re having too many meetings. Our problem is that we’re having too few of them.”

Though he had regained their interest, the looks on the faces around the table seemed to suggest that he had lost all the credibility he had gained over the course of the past two months. What they didn’t know was that Will had them right where he wanted them.

Will’s White Board—The Missing Elements of Meetings

MULTIMEDIA

I’m not saying we need to be spending more time in meetings, necessarily. But we definitely need to be having more than one type of meeting.”

He brought the discussion back to media and entertainment. “Think about it this way. What if there were only one kind of television program?”

He went to the white board and picked up a pen, giving himself a few moments to collect his thoughts. Turning back to his audience, he asked, “Not everything we watch is a movie. What is the shortest program on television?”

Tim, like a third grader wanting to get the right answer first, responded, “A sitcom.”

“Okay, a sitcom.” Will did not write the word on the board. “But isn’t there anything shorter?”

“Shorter than a half hour?” Sophia wondered out loud.

“Yeah. Is there anything on TV that you watch for less than a half hour?”

Something seemed to suddenly occur to Michelle. “CNN Headline News.”

“Right,” Will responded enthusiastically, surprised and relieved that someone had figured out the difficult question. He wrote her answer on the board. “And how long do you usually watch Headline News?”

“Five minutes. Sometimes less.” Matt offered.

“And how often do you watch it?”

Matt shrugged. “Every day. Why not?”

Will wrote the words five minutes and daily on the board next to headline news. “Okay, so in our first category of programs, if you will, we have Headline News, which is five minutes or so every day.”

Still deep in the woods with his crowd, Will pushed forward.

“And in our next category we have sitcoms,” he wrote the word on the white board, directly under the previous ones, and then wrote crime drama alongside it. “I’m going to combine sitcoms and one-hour shows about crime and hospitals and things like that. So we’ll say that these are roughly an hour. And how often do we watch a given sitcom or docu-drama?”

He didn’t wait for an answer to the obvious question, but wrote down weekly on the board next to one hour.

Will was sure that no one knew exactly where he was going. But he was also sure he had regained their attention, and for now, that’s what mattered most.

“Next comes movies. Approximately two hours in length. Let’s say we watch a TV movie, or for that matter, go to the movies, about once a month.”

Connor teased Will. “You don’t have kids, do you?”

All the parents in the room laughed.

After writing movie and two hours on the board below the others, he finished. “And last of all is—”

He paused to see if anyone could guess. When it was clear that they wouldn’t he wrote the word mini-series at the bottom of the list, along with six hours or more.

“Now I know all this sounds crazy, but bear with me. Imagine if a network came out with an idea for a new two-hour weekly show that was designed to please all audiences. It was part mini-series, part movie, part sitcom and crime drama, and part headline news. Which of the different audiences would like that show?”

Michelle went first. “None of them would.”

“Why?” Will asked.

“Well, because it wouldn’t make any sense. It would be way too long for a sitcom, not long enough for a mini-series, and I don’t even know how you could fit the Headline News in there.”

“What about the part that is feature-length film?” Will liked the Socratic method.

Now Connor responded. “With everything else going on, it would be one terrible movie.”

Will put down his pen deliberately and turned toward the slightly confused team. “So why then are we doing this very same thing when it comes to our weekly meetings?”

A few of the intellectual lightbulbs in the room seemed to be flickering now. Others were still dark. Will wanted complete understanding, so he pressed on. “We are trying to accomplish too many things during these painful Monday morning meetings, and we’re not doing any of them successfully.”

The team digested Will’s assessment.

Will’s White Board—The Missing Elements of Meetings

“But what does that have to do with a sitcom?” Tim wanted to know.

“Think about it this way. We should be having four different kinds of programs, each tailored for a given audience.”

“I’m still not following you, kid.” Tim sounded critical, but Will knew him well enough to know that it was just his style. “Isn’t there only one audience? I mean, the same person watches Headline News, sitcoms, movies, and mini-series, right?”

Out of nowhere, Casey jumped in. “I think what Will’s getting at is context.”

Will turned toward his boss with a look of revelation on his face. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but that’s probably right. Context.” He considered the comment, suddenly energized by Casey’s simple but important insight.

Casey explained. “A guy sitting down for a sitcom has very different expectations than he does when he’s going to a movie. Or watching Headline News at the airport.”

The leader of the company turned to Will. “Go on with your lecture.”

THE DAILY CHECK-IN

Glad to have his endorsement, Will continued. “I’ll get right to the point. I think we need to start having a Headline News every day, for five minutes. We could call it a Daily Check-in or something. That means we should get together in a conference room, standing up, and just announce what we’re all doing.”

“Every day?” Matt challenged.

“Every day.” Will assured him. “Five minutes every day would save us countless e-mails and voice mails and office drop-ins. I know because I’m the one at the center of them all. ‘Is Casey in the office today?’ ‘Who’s coming to the marketing review this afternoon?’ ‘Does Casey want me to follow up with the lawyers, or should Tim do it?’”

Will’s characterization made everyone smile in an embarrassed kind of way.

He continued. “Do you guys know how much time it takes just to clarify your daily expectations of one another?”

They seemed to be getting it now.

Will’s White Board—The Missing Elements of Meetings

Casey asked the next question. “But what about people being out of the office? It isn’t realistic or feasible to do this every day, is it?”

Will thought about it for a second. “Well, even if there are only three of you in the office on a given day, you should probably still have the Daily Check-in meeting. Because if you think about it, even that would make a difference. For one, those three people would be on the same page. And better yet, if one of the other team members called from the road and wanted to know what someone was doing, any of you could answer them. And remember, we’re only talking about five stinking minutes. Maybe I’m wrong, but I can’t believe that you are all so efficient that you couldn’t possibly spare five minutes.”

The nods around the table indicated that everyone seemed to be on board. Except for Matt, who wasn’t ready to concede just yet. “What makes you think we’ll have anything to say to each other every day?”

Will was waiting for that question. “Well, if you don’t, then it will be a fifteen-second meeting. But I’ll bet you the seven bucks in my pocket that a bigger challenge will be keeping the sessions to five minutes or less. Which is critical, by the way. Because you don’t want them turning into daily staff meetings.”

Even Tim was nodding now. “Okay, keep going. What about the sitcoms and crime dramas?”

Will took a breath. One meeting down, three to go.

THE WEEKLY TACTICAL

Let’s talk about our staff meetings. These should be the sitcoms or crime dramas of meetings. They take place once a week, same bat time, same bat channel.”

Will was glad to see that they all understood his Batman reference.

“With a sitcom, you generally know what you can expect, how long it’s going to last, and you can count on a guaranteed resolution. Not overly exciting maybe, and it’s not going to change your life. But it’s consistent, predictable, and ultimately satisfying.”

“I’m not following you.” Casey was determined to understand what Will was saying.

Will decided to be as literal as possible, not wanting to lose the importance of his message in the analogy. “Okay, the weekly staff meeting should be focused exclusively on tactical issues. And it should run like clockwork, lasting approximately sixty minutes, maybe less.” He paused before delivering the most controversial point of all. “And there is no agenda.”

Connor jumped in before Casey could. “What? Isn’t that going to make the meetings worse than they are now?”

“No. They’ll be exponentially better. Here’s why.” He paused for a moment before explaining. “These Weekly Tactical meetings will start with everyone giving a sixty-second report about what they’re working on that week.” At that point Will wrote Weekly Tactical on the board.

“Like the lightning round on a game show,” remarked Casey.

Will smiled. “Right, like the lightning round. I like that. Anyway, it’s nothing more than going around the table and asking every person at the meeting to report on the three primary activities that are on their plate for the week. And everyone gets only one minute.”

Nervous laughter filled the room as everyone contemplated having to condense their remarks to sixty seconds.

“Only one minute?” Matt questioned.

Before Will could answer, Connor raised his hand. Will noticed that he was smiling, so he called on him.

“I have a question for you, Will.” He paused. “Where in the world did you get all of this stuff?”

The focus in the room suddenly shifted from analytical curiosity about meetings to personal curiosity about Will.

Sophia chimed in, smiling warmly. “I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.”

Will was caught off guard. “I don’t know.”

He was hoping they would let the question die.

“Come on. You had to learn this stuff somewhere.” Connor wanted an answer.

Wills White Board—Missing Elements of Meetings

Will took a breath. “Well, I suppose my mom has something to do with it. She’s been an executive for years, and she’s good at this kind of stuff.” He hesitated, searching for a more compelling answer. “And I guess I just find it interesting.”

For a few moments, the team seemed to be collectively examining Will, as though he were a novelty item, or a precocious little brother.

Will wanted desperately to deflect the attention from himself. “Matt, you asked a question about whether one minute was enough for the lightning round?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. It takes us longer than that to agree on lunch.”

“Okay, let’s test my theory.” Will looked around the room and settled on Tim. “What are the three things that you’re doing this week?” Will looked down at his watch to time him.

Tim was suddenly pressed. “I don’t know. Let me see. There’s the budget meeting on Thursday. I have a lot to do for that.” He paused, thinking. “I’m meeting with a few new law firms to see if we should make a change to reduce expenses. What else?” he asked himself. “Oh. I’m doing a facilities planning session to see if we need to find extra space across the street.”

“What law firms are you talking to?” Will asked.

“Everardo, Dibay and Galvez out of Carmel. And Carlson, Beans and Schultz from San Jose.”

Will looked down at his watch. “That took just thirty-seven seconds, and you didn’t even have time to prepare. And on top of that, I asked a follow-up question for clarification.”

Based on the looks on the faces of the people seated around the table, Will decided he had made his point successfully. So he pushed on.

“Once everyone has reported in, which for us would be a grand total of seven minutes, then, and only then, should we put together an agenda. Because we would then know what was actually going on in the organization. It doesn’t make sense for Casey, or anyone else, to try to guess at what we should be talking about during these Weekly Tactical meetings until they know what people are actually doing.”

Casey looked skeptical. Will noticed this and called him out. “What’s wrong?”

Casey thought for a moment. “I think you’re missing something.” He paused, still thinking. “Before you put together the agenda, I think you need more information than just everyone’s activity lists.”

Will prodded him. “Like what?”

“Well, I think you’d also need a score card or a progress report of some kind. You’d want to know where the organization stands relative to its near-term goals before deciding what needs to be talked about during the meeting. Maybe four or six key metrics. Not too many, but just enough to give us a snapshot.”

Matt was nodding now. “That makes sense. But which metrics?”

Casey was thinking out loud now. “I don’t know. Revenue and expenses for sure. Maybe product development status. And key account penetration. That’s probably all we’d need.”

Will asked, “How long would that take to review?”

“Ten minutes,” Casey replied. “Maybe even five.”

Will now understood Casey’s point. “Okay, I get it. If we set the agenda based solely on our activities, but without understanding the metrics, we might not know where to focus. Maybe something is going on that no one has on their radar screen.”

Michelle weighed in now. “I’m just wondering if there is anything else we would want to know. Like employee turnover or advertising effectiveness.”

Casey shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think too much information would only distract us.” He smiled. “Which is ironic for me to say given the way meetings are run now.”

Will couldn’t have been happier with the input from Casey and his team, and he didn’t want to lose momentum. “So let’s get back to the weekly meeting. After less than fifteen minutes, everyone in the room would know what everyone else was doing, and where the company stood against key goals.” He paused for effect. “And then we could figure out what we should discuss for the rest of the meeting.”

“How would that work?” Michelle asked.

Will shrugged and answered. “Well, I guess Casey would say, ‘Okay, now that we know what’s going on and how we’re doing in general, what do we need to talk about today so that we can make as much progress as possible this week?’ I think the right topics would naturally rise to the surface.”

“That just seems so counter-intuitive.” Tim was still having a hard time accepting that agendas would be eliminated. “I’ve always heard that pre-set agendas and timely minutes were the keys to great meetings.”

Will shrugged. “Well, I’m no expert, but I haven’t been to any good meetings, here or anywhere else. So I don’t see why we should be following conventional wisdom at this point. And I don’t think J.T. Harrison is going to give you any slack for doing it by the book.”

Will could tell by Casey’s reaction that he had said something controversial. And then it dawned on him that he had slipped, momentarily forgetting that no one else knew about Harrison’s criticism of the meetings, nor his implied threats.

Michelle was confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Will decided his best chance to divert the conversation away from Harrison was to dive deeper into the topic. “I mean, I don’t understand how a person could possibly predict the right topics for a tactical meeting, not to mention the priorities of those topics, without first hearing about what was actually going on.”

Michelle wasn’t so easily diverted. “Yeah, you already said that. But what does that have to do with J.T. Harrison?”

Will looked at Casey, and wanted to crawl into a hole.

OUT OF THE BAG

Casey sighed hard, and took a deep breath. “You guys might as well know. J.T. thinks our meetings—my meetings—are terri ble. And he’s pretty much implied that my job is on the line because of it.”

Naturally, Tim responded first. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever—”

Casey interrupted. “I know. I know. But it doesn’t matter. The fact is, Wade Justin lets Harrison do pretty much whatever he wants, and this is what he wants to do.”

The room sagged as everyone digested the news and began pondering its potential implications.

“And besides,” continued Casey, “you yourselves said the meetings are horrible.”

Connor jumped in. “Yeah, but we just meant that they’re not as—”

Casey held up his hand to interrupt again. Connor and the rest of the room went quiet. “Regardless of J.T. Harrison and his ego, I think we need to fix these damn things. For the good of the company.”

Will wanted to crawl out of his hole and hug his boss.

Then Matt spoke. As usual, he glossed over the emotional context of the situation and brought it back to practical issues. “I have a question about these weekly tactical staff meetings, or whatever you call them. After the first part, the lightning round, how in the world do you keep the discussions to forty-five minutes or less?”

Will was glad to get back on topic. And he had been waiting for someone to ask that question. “You do it by limiting the conversation to topics that have an immediate impact on tactical issues and goals.”

“Okay, professor boy.” It was Tim, and he was clearly teasing. “What happens when someone suddenly decides they want to solve world hunger during a staff meeting, or even come up with the next brilliant game idea?”

Will smiled. “Aha. That brings us to the next program.” He stood and walked toward the board. Before he could get there, Sophia interrupted.

“Can we take a quick break? Connor and I have a five-minute call with the PGA office. I don’t want us to miss any of this.”

Casey nodded his approval and announced, “Okay, let’s be back here in ten minutes. Not eleven. Ten.”

Everyone broke for the doors, except Matt, who came up to Casey to tell him how much he disliked J.T. Harrison. When he was gone, Casey turned to Will.

“I hope we can pull this off.” He smiled, but in a desperate sort of way.

G2

More determined—and worried—than ever now, Will decided to use the ten-minute break to do some research. He went to his cubicle and called one of his new friends in the company, Maddie Peyton, an administrative assistant to one of Playsoft’s other division heads.

Relieved that he caught her at her desk, Will didn’t waste any time. “Hey Maddie, it’s Will Petersen calling from Monterey. I have a quick favor to ask you.”

“Alright. But first, is it beautiful in Monterey today? I have to know.”

Will looked outside. “Actually, it’s a little overcast.”

“Good,” she said. “Because it’s raining here in Chicago and I don’t want to hear that it’s another day in paradise out there.”

They laughed.

“What can I do for you, Will?”

“First, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Chicago tomorrow to help with the game conference.”

“Great. I finally get to meet you in person.”

“Yeah. I’ll track you down tomorrow afternoon. But I’m calling for another reason.” He hesitated. “This is going to sound like an odd question, but what do you know about J.T. Harrison? He’s the head of—”

Maddie interrupted. “Yeah, I know who J.T. is. Why do you ask?”

Will had to be evasive. “Well, I met him last week and he comes over here from time to time, and I’m trying to get a handle on him, that’s all.” There was silence on the other end, so Will continued, “I heard he has a reputation.”

Finally Maddie spoke, but the tone of her voice was suddenly a little less friendly. Not hostile, but detached. “Well, I’ve met him a few times myself. Right after the merger he came to Chicago about once a month to see Nick. He seemed alright to me.”

Will could tell she was holding back. “Does Nick get along with him? Did he like spending time with J.T.?”

Maddie paused, her voice much quieter now, but back to being friendly. “Look, Will. I’m going to be as honest with you as I can. Those first few months after the merger were horrible. I almost quit the company. And Nick did too.”

“And I’m assuming that it had something to do with J.T.” Will didn’t have enough time to be more subtle.

“Okay, here’s the only thing I can say about the experience. Nick made me swear not to tell.”

Will could hardly contain himself. “Okay, go ahead.”

“No,” she said. “That’s it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I had to promise Nick that I wouldn’t say anything about what happened. That’s all I can tell you. You’ll have to draw your own conclusions.”

Will felt like he was talking to someone in a witness protection program. “One more question, Maddie.”

“Go ahead.”

“What made Nick stay?” Before she could respond, he threw in another: “And how do they get along now?”

Maddie chuckled, though quietly. “Hey, you said one question.”

“Sorry, I lied.”

“Will, I like you.”

He knew she meant it.

“And that’s why it’s so hard to tell you that I can’t tell you. I’m really sorry.”

Will accepted her apology and assured her that he understood. And then, wanting to defuse a little of the heaviness of their conversation, he teased her. “Hey, suddenly the clouds have broken and it’s gorgeous outside. It’s like another day in paradise.”

Maddie laughed. “You brat.”

Will thanked her, and said good-bye.

What is going on around here? he wondered.

THE MONTHLY STRATEGIC

When Will returned to the conference room upstairs, everyone was just sitting down. Immediately he noticed a change in the atmosphere. More serious. More intense.

Casey spoke first. “Okay everyone, let’s get on with this.” He looked at Will.

“Alright. On last week’s episode—” everyone laughed at Will’s TV humor—“Matt asked the question about how to limit discussion during the Weekly Tacticals to forty-five minutes. Which was a perfect lead-in to our next type of meeting. The Monthly Strategic.”

He went to the board and wrote it down beneath Daily Check-in and Weekly Tactical.

“When you’re in the middle of a Weekly Tactical and someone says, ‘Hey, let’s talk about that new competitor in our market’ or ‘I think we should look into a joint venture with ESPN’ or ‘Let’s rethink our advertising strategy,’ that’s the moment where you have to resist the urge.”

“The urge?” Matt wanted clarification.

Wills White Board—Missing Elements of Meetings

“Yeah, the urge to go off on some terribly interesting and important conversation that has no real impact on your ability to accomplish your near-term goals.”

Sophia confessed, “But those are the only—” She caught herself, “I mean those are the best parts of the meeting.”

Everyone laughed at her near slip.

“And that’s the point!” Will was animated again. “Those are definitely the most interesting topics. They are the reasons you go into business in the first place. To engage in discussions where you can use your analytical skills, your experience, and your intuition to solve a big problem.”

“Right, so what’s wrong with talking about them during the Weekly Tacticals?” Sophia persisted.

“There are a couple of problems. And they’re huge.”

Will again had everyone’s attention.

“First, you don’t have enough time during your staff meetings to completely dive into a big issue. So the conversation ends up being incomplete, anecdotal, hurried, and ultimately unsatisfying.”

He paused to give anyone a chance to disagree. They didn’t, so he went on. “Second, even if you did have enough time, it’s almost impossible for people to shift mindset from a tactical issue to a strategic one.”

Casey added, “This is the contextual thing I was talking about before.”

“Right.” Will wasn’t sure everyone was understanding this one, so he used an analogy. “Imagine having two television sets side by side and trying to watch Driving Miss Daisy and Everybody Loves Raymond at the same time.”

Everyone seemed to enjoy the analogy, but it wasn’t enough. “Or imagine the president of the United States discussing the White House Christmas Tree lighting ceremony in the same meeting where the topic of terrorism or national defense was being considered. It just makes no sense.”

Casey took a deep breath and spoke, as though he were realizing the futility of what he’d been doing for so long. “And trying to deal with strategic issues during the weekly meetings usually means you get distracted and don’t deal with any of the short-term issues that you really need to resolve if you’re going to keep the business moving.”

That hit a nerve with Tim. “Exactly! We get so off track with what’s going to happen next quarter or next year that we don’t really come to any conclusions about what we should be doing next week. Or even tomorrow, for that matter!”

Everyone smiled at their unrefined but suddenly passionate CFO.

Will didn’t want to lose the momentum. “And that’s why you need to have the self-control to table those interesting, long-term strategic issues until you have enough time to give them the attention they deserve.”

Casey suddenly had a question. “But what if you can’t wait until your next Monthly Strategic? An issue might need more immediate attention.”

“No problem.” Will was loving this. Maybe I should be a professor, he thought for a nanosecond. “If the issue can’t wait, then have a Monthly Strategic that evening. Call it,” he paused to think about it, “an Ad Hoc Strategic. I don’t know. Just don’t confuse it with the Weekly Tactical.”

Casey nodded and wrote down Will’s answer.

“I have a question.” It was Matt. “How many topics can you take on during these Monthly Strategics?”

Will didn’t hesitate. “One or two. Maybe three if you set aside enough time. The key is to pick the right ones, and really get your hands around them.”

“So then you should have an agenda for these meetings?” Tim seemed to have a thing for agendas.

“The answer is yes. Absolutely. Agendas are critical for these meetings because you might need to prepare for them by doing a little research. And you want people thinking about the topic ahead of time. That will make the quality of the debate much higher, and reduce the anecdotal nature of so many meetings like these.”

Michelle raised her hand. “You said two or three hours. What happened to keeping the meeting to two?”

Will thought about it for a second. “Well, the Daily Check-in and the Weekly Tactical should be strictly timed. But Monthly Strategics are different.”

He paused, considering something. It was clear that Will was refining his theories as he spoke. “You know, sitcoms always have to be thirty minutes. If one day your favorite show went on for forty-five minutes, you’d be confused. But movies are different. You don’t go to a movie thinking, ‘Okay, give me exactly ninety-three minutes of entertainment.’ Heck, some of the best movies are long ones. And then again, some of them are short. I just don’t think you should over-manage the time you spend during Monthly or Ad Hoc Strategics. In fact, I think you should probably carve out a big chunk of time, like four hours, just in case you want to keep talking.”

“Four hours?” objected Tim.

Casey came to the rescue. “You know, I heard a story the other day about Microsoft and the fact that their executive team will sometimes have meetings that go on late at night, or even into the next morning.”

Will nodded. “You see, these strategic meetings are going to be so engaging, so compelling, that the time will become unimportant. Before you know it, three or four hours will have flown by.”

“When are we supposed to get our work done?” Matt was suddenly frustrated.

Much to Will’s delight, Casey now seemed to be taking over the class. “Okay, Matt. What in the world could be more important for the executive team to be dealing with than the three sample issues I raised? What were they? A joint venture, a new competitive threat. . . . ” He paused, trying to think of the third topic.

Michelle remembered. “A new marketing strategy.”

Matt was nodding his head as if to acknowledge his boss’s point.

Michelle drove it home. “And besides, who cares how long it takes if you’re making a decision that you’re going to have to live with for years?”

Tim laughed, as if something had just occurred to him. “Yeah, I don’t care how long a movie is, as long as it’s interesting. I’ve seen Braveheart five times. In fact, I once saw it twice in two days. That’s more than six hours of sitting on my butt in a dark room, and I was ready to go a third time the next day, but I couldn’t convince anyone to come with me.”

Sophia couldn’t resist an opportunity to tease her CFO. “You’ve seen Braveheart five times, but you haven’t seen The Sound of Music or The Godfather? You’re a strange, strange man, Tim.”

He laughed.

Connor put the discussion back on track with a question. “How do you decide what topics to discuss at the Monthly Strategic?”

Will rejoined the conversation. “The best place to find topics will probably be the Weekly Tactical. When someone raises an issue that is too big and hairy you’ll just parking-lot it on a list for the next monthly meeting.”

Connor continued. “But you’re probably going to have a lot of topics. How do you decide which ones make the cut?”

Casey handled this one. “I have a feeling that the most important ones will be fairly obvious. And if they aren’t, we would probably just debate about it for a few minutes to see who could make the most convincing argument. But I don’t think there’s any scientific solution. It’s a judgment call.”

As tired as he should have been, Will was feeling energized again. The group had completely engaged in the conversation, and Casey seemed to have regained some of his confidence. And Will couldn’t deny feeling a sense of relief that his theories seemed to be making sense.

But as confident as he was feeling about getting the group to understand his model, Will was also starting to wonder if it would be possible for them to implement it before J.T. took whatever action he was planning to take.

DIRECTING FOR DRAMA

Casey pushed on, determined to figure this out. “Okay, so you have an agenda with two or three items on it.”

“But remember, even one is okay,” Will reminded him. “Sometimes only one really matters, and you have to have the discipline to limit yourself to it.”

“Right. Anyway, how do you structure the meeting itself?”

Will smiled. “Now we get back to my movie analogy. Remember, this is the feature film. And the key to making it great is. . . .”

He paused, hoping someone would finish his sentence.

Of all people, it was Matt. “Conflict.”

“Right. This is the meeting that is most like a feature-length movie. And the leaders of these meetings have to think of themselves as directors. Get people hooked in those first ten minutes, then mine for ideological conflict, and drive it to conclusion.”

Every member of the team was taking notes now.

Emboldened by their buy-in, Will pushed on. “Is anyone up for talking about the last type of meeting? I think I’ve already used up my thirty minutes.”

The group seemed to take a collective breath, and nod their approval. Casey agreed.

Will went back to the board, suddenly feeling exhausted. Hang on, he told himself. You’re almost there.

THE QUARTERLY OFF-SITE REVIEW

Will didn’t have the energy for more analogies, so he got straight to the point. “Okay, the last meeting that you need to have is the Quarterly Off-Site Review.” He wrote the words on the board.

Tim weighed in. “We already have those. Not always quarterly, but a couple times a year we have off-sites.”

Will had heard about their off-sites. So he prodded Tim, like Columbo questioning a guilty suspect. “What do you usually do at these sessions?”

Tim looked around for help. Sophia obliged. “We usually go away for a night or two, maybe to San Francisco, or Napa, or Tahoe.”

“And when you’re there, what happens?”

“We spend the morning talking business, then go skiing, or wine tasting, and then have a nice dinner. And sometimes we bring our spouses.”

Connor chimed in. “And we’ve done some team building. Like the ropes course, and the human pyramid thing.”

Wills White Board—Missing Elements of Meetings

Everyone groaned as they remembered the silly exercises.

“So what exactly do you talk about during the business part of the meeting?”

Everyone in the room seemed to shrug simultaneously. Casey took a stab. “We cover some of the same issues as the weekly staff meeting. And we talk about goals for the next year. Sales targets. Margins. Things like that.”

Will was ready to pounce. But gently. “Okay, I don’t know a heck of a lot about off-sites. But I know a pretty decent executive—”

Connor interrupted to tease Will. “Are you talking about your mommy?”

The room howled.

Will smiled sheepishly. “Okay, yes, it’s my mom.”

They laughed.

Casey informed them, “The thing you should know about Will’s mom is that for eight years she ran all of operations at the automobile plant in Fremont. She is a shrewd, tough executive.”

Sufficiently embarrassed now, Will continued. “Anyway, she refers to those kinds of meetings as boondoggles. And she thinks they are a terrible waste.”

Michelle countered. “I have to disagree. I think that executives who spend time away from their families and make sacrifices in their lives need to spend some time away from work, getting to know one another’s spouses, and dealing with each other in a more personal, social way. I think it’s worth the cost.”

Will seemed surprised by Michelle’s comment. “She never said that off-sites like that were a waste of money. She said they’re a waste of an opportunity to have some of the most critical conversations that an executive team must have.”

“What do you mean?” Michelle wanted to know.

“The Quarterly Off-Site Review is a critical chance to step back from the daily, weekly, monthly grind, and review things from a distance.”

“Review what?”

For the first time, Will read directly from his notes. “Well, strategy. The competitive landscape. Morale. The dynamics of the executive team. Top performers. Bottom performers. Customer satisfaction. Pretty much everything that has a long-term impact on the success of the company. Stuff you just can’t cover in weekly or monthly meetings.”

Matt asked the usual question, but this time he couched it in gentler terms. “Now, I’m not saying these aren’t important. But how much time do you need for a Quarterly Off-Site Review?”

Will hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

Casey was. “Based on the list of things we would need to cover, I’d say two days.”

Matt winced.

“But if you stop and think about it, that’s just eight days a year. Out of how many total work days? Two hundred and forty? That’s a whopping 3 percent.”

“Still,” Matt persisted. “Two days?”

Casey was now a convert. “Yeah. Two days to figure out who our best people are, and how to manage the stragglers up or out. Two days to figure out what GoBox and Gamestar are doing. Two days to give each other some feedback. Two days to figure out if our strategy still makes sense.”

Sophia had now drunk the Kool-Aid. “And, again, what else are we doing that is more important than that?” She laughed out loud. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m sitting here embarrassed that we’re not doing this already.”

Everyone, even Matt now, seemed to agree.

Casey raised his hand and spoke. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think it would be hard for me to take part in these meetings and play the role of facilitator. What does everyone think about having a consultant help out?”

“Are you talking about just the Quarterly Off-Site Reviews, or all of them?” Connor asked.

“Well, I was thinking about the off-sites, but maybe we should think about the others too.”

Michelle spoke up first. “I think that getting help with the quarterly meetings would be okay. As long as the person was a good fit, and wasn’t trying to prove how smart he was.”

Heads nodded as everyone thought about bad facilitators they had known.

“I know a guy who is amazing at that,” Casey reported with passion. “He takes the time to learn the business, but he doesn’t insert himself into everything. He just helps, in an almost invisible way.”

Will wanted a little more clarity. “What about the other meetings?”

Michelle shook her head. “I don’t think so. The daily and weekly meetings certainly don’t need facilitation, other than from Casey. And the monthly meetings, I don’t know. It seems like we’d be constantly trying to educate someone from the outside.”

Matt agreed. “Yeah. It would be better to have someone on the inside do it. Someone like Will.”

No one said anything, but every person in the room understood the magnitude of what their skeptical colleague had just done. For him to acknowledge that Will was adding value was huge.

Casey looked at his watch, and then at Will. “This seems like a good time to get back to our original agenda.” His remark was more of a question for Will than a statement.

Will could have continued, but was more than happy to end on a high note. “Yeah, I think so too. We’ve pretty much covered the four kinds of meetings.” As the conversation shifted, Will felt relieved. He only wished he had more confidence that Casey and his team could actually employ these ideas while he was gone, and most important, in time for The Meeting.

CHICAGO HAZE

Two days later, Will found himself walking the Navy Pier on Lake Michigan at midnight, confused and depressed. Was it that he gave Casey just a fifty-fifty chance at surviving the next few weeks? Or that he was starting to wonder what the next step in his own career should be? Or that he was the world’s best-educated trade show carpenter?

Whatever the case, he didn’t like feeling out of control. Not one to let himself flounder for long, Will considered his options.

If he stayed in Chicago for another week, as was the plan, he would go crazy. More important, Casey would struggle to implement the new meeting plan and maybe get it wrong.

If he left Chicago early, he would put a few of his new trade show colleagues in a slightly difficult position. And he might even upset Casey.

But then again, he reasoned, if it’s a matter of saving Casey’s job, then it’s worth the risk.

The next morning Will was on a plane headed for California.