PART FIVE
Resolution
NOTHING TO LOSE
Casey was gone when Will arrived at his office late that afternoon. So he went to his cubicle and began to assemble a docu ment outlining his theory about meetings. Will was determined to drill the ideas into Casey and his team so that, by the time J.T. and Wade arrived the following week, it would be easy for them to stick to the plan.
Still waiting for Casey, Will began to feel uncomfortable about how he would explain having left Chicago. On the other hand, he reasoned, he didn’t really need this job. So they fire me. I can still help Casey get ready for the meeting.
But would they let him? Would Casey let him? “How did I get in this situation?” he wondered to himself out loud.
“What situation?”
It was Casey, and his question startled Will, who almost fell out of his chair.
He tried to recover. “I didn’t see you there. You scared me.”
Casey modified the question. “What’s going on, Will?”
Will stood up. “Let’s talk about this privately.”
They went into Casey’s office and shut the door.
Before Casey could sit down, Will launched into his speech. “Okay, here’s the deal. I don’t care about this job.”
Casey looked puzzled.
Will quickly explained. “I mean, I actually care about it a lot. But I don’t care if you fire me. I just want to help you avoid getting fired.”
Casey was moved and amused by the passionate statement of concern, but a little unnerved by the explicit description of his dire situation. Somehow things felt better when no one actually verbalized the potentially horrible outcome.
Will didn’t wait for Casey to respond. “Listen, you deserve to hold onto this company. And if one stupid meeting is going to determine whether or not that happens, then why the hell should I sit in Chicago straightening out brochures and handing out glow-in-the-dark paperweights to technology reporters?”
“What difference does it make, Will? Don’t you think he’s already made up his mind?” Casey seemed angry now, in a desperate way, but not at his temporary assistant.
“I don’t.” Will didn’t know if he really believed that, but felt that Casey needed to hear it. “And even if there is only a slight chance that we can change his mind, then don’t you want to make sure we make the most of it?”
Will’s words seemed to jolt his boss. Unsurprisingly, given the similarities in their looks and mannerisms, it reminded Casey of the way that Ken Petersen used to lecture him on the golf course.
Casey nodded slowly. “So what did you have in mind?”
CRAMMING
For the next few hours, Will and Casey reviewed the meeting document that Will had put together, speculated about the mindsets of J.T. and Wade, and discussed the probable challenges that the team would have in pulling off the looming meeting.
It was Casey who asked the most important question. “So what type of meeting is it going to be?”
Jet-lagged and hungry, Will didn’t seem to understand the question.
Casey explained. “Is it a Weekly Tactical, a Monthly Strategic, or a Quarterly Off-Site Review? It’s certainly not a Daily Check-in.”
Will thought for a moment. “I think it has to be a—”
Casey interrupted. “A Monthly Strategic.”
Will nodded, glad to see that he and his boss were on the same page. “I agree,” he said, “but tell me what your thinking is.”
“Well, we’ve got two or three hours, and that fits with the monthly meeting. More important, though, we’re not going to make much of an impression on J.T. by doing the lightning round and the metric review.”
Will was starting to believe that they might be able to pull this off.
Casey continued. “We’re going to need to dive hard into some meaningful issues, and show him that we have the passion and rigor that he’s probably looking for.”
Two things occurred to Will at that moment. First, Casey had indeed understood and bought into the theory. Second, he seemed to have moved beyond being mad at J.T. He just wanted to win.
Sufficiently hungry now, Will and Casey left the office and went to Cannery Row to have dinner. They spent the next two hours trying to decide which issues should make the cut.
SCRIMMAGE
The next morning Casey called a special meeting of all his direct reports. Matt and Tim protested, having already set their schedules for the day. Uncharacteristically, Casey simply told them to move things around and to be on time.
When everyone had arrived in the board room, Casey began.
“The purpose of this meeting, oddly enough, is to talk about another meeting. As you know, next week J.T. and Wade will be here to observe our staff meeting. And as you also know, I’m under a little pressure, it seems. But I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”
The executives looked at one another, confused.
Casey explained. “What I mean is that we have to forget about any consequences or concerns we have about what the future holds, because we just don’t have any control over that.” He paused. “Other than making next week’s meeting the best one we’ve ever had.”
The faces around the table seemed to clue in now.
Tim was the first to comment. “So, we’re here to talk about what to say next week, and how to position things.” It was a statement, but Casey knew he meant it as a question.
“No. I want to be very clear about this. Next week is not a performance. We’re not going to rehearse. Instead, we’re going to prepare, and then we’ll go in there and push each other like we’ve never pushed before.”
The room suddenly came to life. Will decided it was part excitement, part fear.
Matt raised his hand. “What exactly does that mean?”
“I’m not sure yet. And that’s the point. Today we’ll decide what our agenda looks like, and then we’ll go do whatever research we need so that by next week, we’ll come back ready to rock and roll.”
Everyone laughed at Casey’s new and unnatural bravado.
“Rock and roll?” Connor could not resist teasing his boss.
Casey smiled, comfortable joining his team in making fun of him. “Okay, maybe that’s not exactly my style.”
Will was again reminded why he liked this man so much.
Casey continued. “But the point is the same nonetheless. We are going to be ready to have a raw, dramatic, and effective Monthly Strategic meeting.”
Tim frowned. “So we’re not doing the lightning round, and all that stuff?”
Casey shook his head. “Nope. This is a strategic meeting. And we’ll be limited to two topics. And we need to decide right now what they should be.”
The team seemed to be waiting for someone to go first, so Will threw out an idea. “Everybody write down one issue that you think would be good for next week.”
The executives spent the better part of a minute thinking and writing, and Casey called for their responses.
| Matt: | Next product |
| Sophia: | Expansion into mainstream video games |
| Michelle: | Competitive acquisition |
| Tim: | Hiring freeze for non-sales positions |
| Connor: | Forty percent salary increases for the executive team |
Connor couldn’t help making a joke. But he did have a serious idea.
| Connor: | Shifting advertising budget to sponsorship of a PGA golf tournament |
“Okay,” Will explained, “before we vote, I want everyone to give us a sixty-second pitch about why you think your idea should make the cut.”
For the next ten minutes or so, the executives advocated their topics, at times pushing one another for clarification. Finally, when they had finished, Casey called the question. “Everybody has two votes. You can use them both for one idea, or split them between two. But you can’t vote for your own idea.”
After the vote, there were two clear favorites: expansion into mainstream video games and PGA golf tournament sponsorship.
Casey announced, “So these are our topics. We all had a chance to weigh in, so let’s not go back and try to second-guess ourselves. What we need to do now is go out and do whatever research we need so that by next week we are prepared to drive the discussions to closure. Any questions?”
No one seemed to have one, until Tim raised his hand. “Yeah, I think we should appoint someone to be in charge of each topic, in terms of organizing the research and teeing up the topics next week.”
“That’s a great idea.” Casey agreed. “Connor, I think it makes sense for you to take the PGA sponsorship topic, and Sophia, you do the game expansion. Why don’t you each take a first pass at research requirements, and then we’ll talk tomorrow during our Daily Check-in about dividing things up.”
He paused. “Okay, everyone, let’s get back to work.”
As the team broke for the doors, Will wondered, Is this the same company I joined two months ago?
RESEARCH
For the next week, Connor, Sophia, and their colleagues—divided now into teams—allocated a good portion of their time to reviewing sales figures, looking back at previous budgets, and doing informal surveys of selected vendors and customers.
Other than attending the Daily Check-ins, Casey stayed out of the work, wanting to maintain a sense of neutrality so that he could be as unbiased and incisive as possible come Monday. Instead, he and Will spent time talking about the role Casey would need to play at the meeting.
Aside from the research itself, something interesting was happening to the team as they prepared for the big day. Their morale began to rise slightly.
On numerous occasions Sophia and Connor ordered dinner brought into the office so their respective teams could stay and hammer out their findings. Hallway interaction between executives—and their staffs, who had become involved in the research—increased. A spontaneous contest even broke out among a few employees as to who could be first to uncover a piece of competitive information.
Though barely discernible to the naked eye, the office had definitely changed as a result of the collective activity. Still, none of the employees knew about the unpleasant fear that had provoked the call to action.
On Friday afternoon, Casey called the team to his office for a quick conversation. He was surprised to find that their enthusiasm had disappeared.
“What’s wrong with you guys?” Casey asked.
Sophia went first. “Well, I can’t speak for Connor’s team, but we thought we would be on the same page by now. We’re as divided now as we were before all this started.”
Connor was nodding. “I’d say that’s partially true for us too. But more than that, we’re afraid that our data is inconclusive. We don’t think we could make a solid recommendation by Monday.”
“I think you guys have lost sight of what you’ve been doing.” Casey then smiled. “I don’t care if you don’t have a concrete suggestion. And it doesn’t bother me at all that you aren’t agreeing about the right decisions. In fact, I would be concerned if you were.”
They were confused, so he went on.
“That’s the whole purpose of the meeting. I can’t wait to go in there and argue about things, and to have some real data to test our arguments against. But at the end of the day, there is no spreadsheet or calculation that will make the decisions for us. It eventually comes down to a judgment call. And that’s the fun part.”
Casey had done a good job of masking any fears he maintained about Monday’s meeting. And he definitely had some.
“Okay, then, I’ll see you all on Monday. Let’s be ready to go.”
Though he had certainly diminished some of the concerns that his executives had brought with them to the meeting, there was no denying the nostalgic sense of dread that filled the room at that moment.
Will decided that they were all thinking the same thing. Is this going to be our last meeting?
PRE-GAME
On Monday, Casey woke up at dawn and had no chance of going back to sleep. What he didn’t know was that he could have called Will, because he was up too, almost as anxious as his boss.
By seven thirty, Casey was sitting at his desk, not sure what to do. Ten minutes later Will arrived. He headed straight for Casey’s office.
Casey greeted him with an announcement. “He’s not coming.”
Will was shocked. “J.T.?”
“No, Wade. His assistant left me a voice mail at five thirty this morning.”
“What did she say?”
“Just that he decided he had other priorities and probably wouldn’t be able to make it.”
“That’s good news, right?” Will was hopeful.
“It would have been, except she said that J.T. would still be coming, and that Wade had full confidence in J.T.’s judgment.”
Will wanted to tell Casey not to worry, that her message was actually a positive sign. But he didn’t want to insult his boss’s intelligence.
For the next half hour, the two friends talked about everything but the meeting. In fact, they didn’t talk about business at all. They discussed Monterey, their families, their churches, current events, golf, the weather—everything but the company. Will was glad to provide a distraction. He knew that there was nothing else Casey could do to prepare for that morning, other than relax.
But just as he did when he was golfing professionally, Casey started to feel the pressure. No matter how loose a golfer feels before a tournament, when the time comes to hit that first shot off the tee, even the most confident player feels some pressure. And with fifteen minutes to go before the meeting, Casey was not feeling too confident. He politely asked Will to leave him alone for a while.
For the next ten minutes, Casey sat in his office and wondered what it would be like to have to leave his office for the last time. He was now so nervous he thought he might be sick. What did I do wrong? he asked himself. He called his wife, but she wasn’t answering at home or on her cell phone. How did I let this happen?
Before Casey could spiral any deeper, Connor and Sophia entered the office. It was five minutes to ten. They had come to escort their boss upstairs.
THE MEETING
When they arrived, J.T. was already seated, but he didn’t acknowledge anyone in the room. He was talking on his cell phone and seemed remarkably upbeat.
When everyone took their seats at ten o’clock sharp, enthusiastically ended his remarks to the listener on the other end of the line: “Listen, I’ve got to go. Yeah, it was great talking to you too. Thanks. Bye.”
Will hoped that J.T.’s demeanor would continue into the meeting, and that it was a good indication of what to expect for the next two hours. It wasn’t.
Closing his phone, J.T. turned toward Casey and made eye contact for the first time. His positive disposition seemed to have suddenly disappeared. “Good morning,” he said, neither warmly nor coldly.
Casey responded in kind, and kicked off the meeting. “Okay, we have two topics to discuss and two hours to discuss them, so let’s get started. Why don’t you go first, Sophia?”
Sophia cleared her throat. She seemed more nervous than anyone had ever seen her. “The question we looked at was whether or not we should start making more traditional games, appealing to the kind of kids who represent the fastest growth segment in the market.”
Casey didn’t wait for her to continue. “So what would you recommend?”
Sophia looked at him, surprised. She stammered. “Well, as I mentioned to you on Friday, I’m not sure that—”
Casey interrupted. “I know. But if you had to make a recommendation right now, what would it be? There’s no right answer. I just want to know where you stand.”
Sophia seemed to have no confidence in her answer. “Well, I guess I’d say we should look at some new games with more mass market appeal, but not go too far in diluting our brand.”
Casey smiled, and then challenged his head of sales. “Come on, Sophia. You’re not running for office. Should we expand or not?”
Sophia didn’t know what to say. She looked at her team.
Tim tried to bail her out. “Okay, I was on the project team with Sophia, but we didn’t necessarily agree. Personally, I don’t think we should expand, not just because of our market dilution, but because it would put us in a position of competing with other Playsoft divisions.”
“Who cares?” It was Will.
Casey was suddenly worried that his assistant was going to launch into yet another mild tirade. But he decided that trying to intervene would probably make matters worse. So he pushed for an explanation.
“What do you mean?”
Will took a breath. “What I mean is, we’re going to be evaluated as a division, and that means we have to demonstrate revenue and market share growth as a division. As long as the company judges our performance that way, we have to run our business that way.”
No one actually turned their head toward him, but everyone in the room snuck an unassuming glance at J.T. to see how he would respond. Everyone but Casey, who pushed for debate.
“Anyone agree with Will?”
The room was silent, aside from the scratching of J.T.’s pen as he took notes.
Sophia spoke up again. “I do. I say we have to do what we have to do.”
Casey was unfazed by the potentially controversial discussion. “Okay, I want to hear from everyone on this. But I’ll be up front about where I stand as of—” he looked at his watch, “seven minutes after ten. I’m not in favor of this kind of expansion. But not because of the potential internal competition. As long as the company looks at its financials in a purely divisional manner, then I think Will and Sophia are correct. By the way, I hope this changes and we start taking a more holistic, one-company view sometime in the future.”
J.T. was writing faster now.
Casey continued. “My opposition to the expansion is based on maintaining a clear competitive outlook and brand position. I just believe that if we lose our focus, we become like everyone else. And then we have no advantage at all.”
Now Tim weighed in. “But the numbers say we should do this. The mass market will grow at 15 percent over the next five years. Our niche market will get 2, maybe 3 percent.”
“But how many more initiatives can we take on?” It was Matt. “I know you’ve heard me say this before, but I’m concerned that we won’t be able to sustain our current levels of quality.”
“Michelle?” Casey looked toward his head of HR. “What do you think?”
She was mortified. “I don’t know. From an employee standpoint, I think some people would be excited. Others would be very disappointed. Particularly the old-timers.” Michelle then made a request that blew everyone away. “I’d like to hear what J.T. thinks about it.”
Now everyone in the room turned toward their visitor as though they were at a tennis match and the ball had just been hit to him.
J.T. continued writing until he finished his sentence, and then looked up from his pad. “I have no idea.”
“Come on, you must have some thoughts about this.”
Casey was sure that it was Will who would have made the remark, and so was surprised that it had again come from Michelle. The team looked at her as if she were throwing herself on a grenade.
But rather than an explosion, something worse happened. “No, I really don’t,” J.T. responded without emotion, and continued writing.
Casey was remarkably unflustered. “Alright then. It looks like we have a decision to make here, folks. Someone tell me what the worst thing that could happen would be if we decide to expand.”
For the next forty-five minutes the group speculated on worst-case scenarios, best-case scenarios, and competitive responses to each possible decision. They looked at sales figures from the past four quarters, projections for the next two, and analyst reports about what the industry was likely to do.
And they argued. Back and forth, sometimes with data, other times with nothing but intuition. Every member of the team spoke out, some of them changing their opinions when presented with new perspectives or information. Sophia and Matt turned out to be the strongest advocates on either side of the issue.
Finally, when the discussion seemed to have run its course, Casey called the question. “Okay, we could take another six weeks to do more research and analysis, but I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ve been living in this market for years, and we’ve assembled quite a bit of information here. I think we know all we need to know to make this decision.”
He then looked around the room. “Okay, this isn’t a democracy, but I’d like to know where everyone stands.” They each weighed in.
| Connor: | No expansion. |
| Matt: | No expansion. |
| Tim: | Expansion. |
| Michelle: | No expansion. |
| Sophia: | Expansion. |
Casey then turned to Will. “What about you?”
Will hesitated and seemed slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t think I’d be voting.”
Casey smiled. “Well, you heard everything we did. If you were in our shoes, what would you do?”
Will surprised everyone with his answer. “I’d probably expand.”
Casey then looked at J.T. for his input. He shook his head to say nothing from me.
Casey nodded and looked around the room as though he were mentally sifting through the various opinions. “Okay. I have to admit that I’ve changed my mind twice in the past hour. But I’m feeling pretty strong about this decision. And everyone here needs to support it regardless of how you voted.”
He looked at Matt and Sophia. “Are we okay with that?”
They nodded emphatically.
“We are not going to expand. In fact, we’re going to cut a few games out of our portfolio.”
A few eyebrows around the table went up.
“Instead, we’re going to focus on stealing share from our competitors in our primary markets, and solidifying our position against potential new competitors. And forgive the terrible cliché, but that means we have to get leaner, and yes, we have to get a little meaner. If we do this right, I think we could see 4 percent revenue growth, and more than 10 percent increase in profits.”
The room digested his remarks.
Casey continued. “But it will not be easy. And we’re going to have to make some changes in our culture.”
“Like what?” Michelle wanted to know.
Sophia answered before Casey could. “Like fewer people doing more work.”
“Which means working more hours.” Connor chimed in.
“It’s about time.” It was Tim who said it. As soon as it came out he looked like he wanted to take it back.
Casey pushed. “You want to expand on that?”
Tim paused and smiled. “Not really.”
Everyone laughed.
“But I think you’re going to make me, so I will. I don’t want to be overly harsh about it. Not that I would be.”
Everyone laughed again at Tim’s sarcasm.
“I just think that things have gotten a little soft around here. That’s all. And I suppose in the past that was okay. But now that we’re part of a public company, people could probably stand to feel a little more of the pressure that a public company feels. And now’s the right time to make the change.”
Heads around the table were nodding.
Casey moved the meeting along. “Okay, we’ll schedule another strategic meeting to decide which products to cut, and how to move forward. Sophia, would you work with Will to make that happen sometime this week?”
She nodded and took a note.
“Okay, Connor. Let’s talk about PGA sponsorship.”
It was at that moment that J.T. raised his hand. “I have a question.” He looked at Casey. “What do your numbers look like over the past month?”
Casey froze, like a deer staring into headlights. Will wanted to jump up and shake him.
J.T. started to repeat the question, but Casey calmly interrupted him. “I heard the question. But today’s meeting is about strategy. We talk about numbers and metrics at our Weekly Tactical meeting.”
“Excuse me?” J.T. was not flinching.
Casey wasn’t sure whether J.T. was upset at him for not answering his initial question, or whether he was unclear about the distinction between strategic and tactical meetings.
Casey chose the latter. “Our Weekly Tactical meeting. That’s where we review our numbers, find out what everyone’s doing, and solve tactical problems so we can keep moving forward.”
He paused, and when J.T. didn’t respond, Casey continued. “You see, today’s a strategic meeting, which means we’re going to stick to two topics and wrestle them to the ground.”
Now J.T. tensed up a little. “Well, do you think you could humor me and show me what your sales look like?”
Sophia was just about to jump in and give the man what he wanted, but before she could get a word out of her mouth, Casey responded.
“Sure, J.T. But we’ll have to do it after the meeting. We’ve only got two hours here, and we need to use every minute.” He smiled graciously, and with absolutely no hint of defensiveness or condescension on his face. Then he said, “I hope that’s okay.”
For the next three and a half seconds, the air in the room seemed to disappear. No one breathed. And then, just as J.T. seemed like he was about to challenge Casey, he picked up his pen and started writing again.
Will would later tell his mother that what Casey had done was one of the most subtly impressive things he had ever seen.
Casey then turned to his head of marketing, unfazed. “Okay, Connor. What do you have for us?”
Connor didn’t speak right away, but instead waited to see if the averted encounter was really over. When it was clear J.T. had backed down, he began.
“Okay, we did some analysis to compare the effectiveness of our print advertising with the sponsorship of a PGA tournament. And while we didn’t come to any definitive answers, we were surprised to find that sponsorship is not as expensive as we had expected.”
Tim couldn’t resist a discussion about expenses. “How much does it cost?”
Connor cleared his throat. “Somewhere between two and three hundred grand.”
Tim laughed out loud. “And that’s not expensive?”
Connor defended his statement. “Not when you look at our current advertising budget. I mean, it’s certainly more money, but the issue is how effective would it be.”
Sophia had now sufficiently recovered from Casey’s exchange with J.T., and she joined the discussion. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to see us get some attention from more golfers and pro shops. But the thought of actually reducing advertising terrifies me.”
“Why?” Connor asked.
“Come on, Connor. You and I are constantly complaining about not having enough air cover out there. If we disappear from the radar, aren’t we just inviting our new competitors to step into our spot?”
Will challenged Sophia. “You’re assuming that our current advertising is effective. How confident are you about that?”
“Not very confident at all. But I don’t see anyone else pulling back on advertising, and so I’d hate to be the only one.”
And then J.T. spoke up. “How are you currently assessing advertising impact?” To everyone’s surprise—and relief—there seemed to be no apparent motive behind the question. No challenge. No skepticism. Just curiosity.
Connor responded, as comfortably as though he were talking to Tim. “We trace as many orders as we can back to advertising sources, but we don’t get enough of them to call it a valid sample.”
“Why is that?” J.T. wanted to know.
Sophia responded. “Not enough people buy the game directly from us, either on-line or over the phone. Most of our sales come from pro shops and retail stores. We don’t have enough contact with buyers.”
Just a hint of J.T.’s arrogance seemed to resurface suddenly. “I don’t get it. Why don’t you just do a customer survey? Or have your retailers do it at the point of sale?”
Sophia explained with confidence. “We’ve done that. But there are two problems. First, pro shops look at us like we’re Martians when we ask them to do surveys. They’re not exactly into customer analysis. I mean, they’re pumping out green fees, sweaters, hot dogs, and hard-boiled eggs, all in one pop.”
Casey shook his head and smiled. “Yeah, and their margins on hot dogs are a hell of a lot bigger than on games.”
Everyone, including J.T., laughed.
Sophia continued. “The second problem is that so many of the people we do survey tell us they heard about our games from a friend. That’s one of the wonderful curses of having a product that spreads through word of mouth.”
J.T. seemed almost satisfied with Sophia’s rationale.
Tim brought the discussion back to earth. “Regardless of all that, I still don’t see how we could consider spending so much money on a single event. I mean, what if it rains that day?”
Casey fielded the question. “The thing is, it’s not really a single event. I mean, there is so much advertising for a tournament in advance, and so much coverage around the country for the five days leading up to and following the event, that it amounts to a pretty sizable push.”
Will jumped in now. “It’s kind of like Enterprise Rental Car.”
Everyone suddenly turned toward Will, who hadn’t said much until that moment. They seemed confused.
“You know. Enterprise.” He repeated.
Connor recited the company’s tagline. “Call Enterprise. We’ll pick you up.” Everyone recognized the ad, and chuckled at their jovial head of marketing.
Will went on. “Yeah, everyone knows their tag line. The thing is, when I worked in advertising, I remember hearing that a huge percentage of their media budget went into one event: the NCAA basketball tournament. They did a long-term deal with the NCAA years ago, which everyone thought was too expensive. And now, from that one source, they generate almost all of their brand awareness.”
Heads around the table nodded. Except Matt’s.
Casey looked at his engineer. “What are you thinking over there?”
Surprisingly, Matt didn’t bite. “Nothing. Sounds good to me.”
Casey knew him better than that. “Come on, Matt. What would you say if I told you we were going to cut everyone’s IT budgets by 5 percent in order to sponsor the Greater Bakersfield Open?”
Suddenly Matt sat up in his chair. “Okay, I admit I don’t like this idea. I mean, you can’t use the NCAA tournament as an example, because you’re talking about one of the most popular events in the country. And one that goes on for a month.”
Connor responded quickly, if not testily. “True. But we’re not talking about a product that needs to be marketed to the whole world. We know our customers. And most of them are pretty serious fans of golf. And have you seen the ratings for tournaments lately? Come on, we have to have some guts here.”
Maybe it was because J.T. was in the room. Or maybe Matt was just in a bad mood. Whatever the reason, he didn’t react well to Connor’s response. “Guts? I think we need more analysis, and less guts. And besides, what happens to our guts when Tiger pulls out of the tournament the week before?”
The tone of Matt’s voice stalled the discussion.
Casey smiled big. “Now this is the kind of passion I want to hear.”
That was just enough permission for Connor to defuse the situation. In what appeared to be a completely serious, even combative tone, he announced. “Okay, Matt. You want to decide this analytically.” And then he made the rock, paper, scissors motion with his hands.
Matt laughed, and the rest of the room followed suit.
Connor followed his stunt with a real point. “The thing is, Matt, I’m betting that Enterprise couldn’t scientifically justify their NCAA decision. I mean, let’s do all the analysis we can, but in the end we’re going to have to pull up and shoot.”
Matt slowly nodded his head. “Now I know why I didn’t go into marketing.”
Everyone smiled at their technologist.
“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I think there is a lot more analysis we can do before we have to rely on intuition.” It was Michelle. “I’d like to know how this decision will be impacted by the one we made earlier today.”
Sophia wasn’t following her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if we cut back the number of games we distribute, doesn’t that have an impact on how we advertise?”
Connor nodded. “Absolutely. I mean, if we move into croquet and other sports—”
Tim interrupted, sarcastically. “Don’t forget archery. Hey, maybe we should sponsor an archery tournament?”
Even Connor laughed at the joke, which was directed at him. “Yes, even archery. But if we move into those sports, we’ll need to do more mass market advertising. But if we consolidate more around golf, the sponsorship route will become more attractive.”
“That’s a good point.” Casey acknowledged. “It would be great to focus our messaging and our product development. And I’d have to think there would be some economies of scale there.”
Sophia asked a question, but directed it to the entire room. “So, should this decision drive which games we choose to ditch, or should the games we ditch drive this one?”
The room was momentarily dazed by the profound question. Before anyone could weigh in, a cell phone rang.
In addition to ensuring that his meetings would always end on time, the only other issue that Casey had insisted on was that no one bring cell phones to meetings. That meant it had to be J.T.’s.
Their guest immediately looked down to see who was calling. Then, he opened the phone, spun around in his chair, and spoke in a tone that was only slightly quieter than normal.
No one spoke during the ensuing brief conversation, more out of curiosity than courtesy.
“Hey there.”
J.T. listened for a moment.
“No, I’m in a meeting. What’s up?”
After another moment.
“No. Not right now. I’ll call you from my car. Bye.”
J.T. closed his phone, grabbed his notebook and jacket, and stood up. “Excuse me. Gotta go.”
Without so much as looking at Casey, he left the room.
No one spoke for five complete seconds.
And then Tim spoke. “See you next time, Gordon Gecko.”
It took a beat for the room to digest what the CFO had said, and then the place howled. Partly because of Tim’s reference to the slimy executive from the movie Wall Street, and partly out of nervous relief.
Casey was the first to stop laughing. “Okay, let’s finish this discussion.”
The room slowly quieted, until Matt added dryly. “Except he looks more like Captain Kirk.”
The fact that it came from Matt made it funny. That it was true made it hilarious. There was little chance of reining the group in now, so Casey called a break. “Let’s be back here in ten minutes.”
LETDOWN
The surreal atmosphere that existed before the break was long gone by the time everyone returned. Will felt like a baseball player in the seventh game of the World Series, having the game cancelled because the lights went out. There was no satisfaction. No closure. And worse yet, a possibly devastating outcome ahead of them.
If Casey was feeling any of that, he wasn’t letting on. “Okay, where does everyone stand on the sponsorship question?”
No one responded immediately. Finally, Connor spoke. “Don’t you think we ought to talk about what just happened?”
Casey didn’t hesitate. “Not right now. Like I told J.T., we have two hours to get through this, and we haven’t come to a decision about the sponsorship issue yet.”
No one doubted Casey’s sincerity. And just like that, the conversation shifted back to business. For the next hour, the team debated the issue without distraction. In the end, they decided that sponsorship made sense, and that the next step would be to start talking to tournaments looking for advertisers.
And when it became clear that the meeting was almost over, the noise in the room diminished considerably, but no one wanted to leave.
Casey pierced the awkward moment. “I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say this was a good meeting.”
Everyone agreed.
“And I think we shouldn’t worry too much about what happens next. I mean, in terms of J.T. Harrison and all of that.” He paused. “I know that’s easier said than done, but there’s no use worrying about it now.” Casey then smiled. “Who’s up for lunch?”
Not coincidentally, everyone was available.
FRIENDLY FIRE
After returning from lunch, which at times felt like a going-away party, Casey found himself feeling oddly at peace with his sit uation. Even defiant. If they’re dumb enough to fire me, then they deserve what they get, he declared silently.
And then the phone rang. It was Nick, the head of Playsoft’s on-line gaming division in Chicago.
“I’m calling to find out if you know anything about a rumor I just heard from a mole at corporate.”
Casey suddenly wished he’d let the call go to voice mail. But he liked Nick, so he played along. “I’m all ears.”
“Well, evidently there’s going to be some sort of organizational announcement tomorrow. And guess who it involves?”
After deciding that Nick could not possibly be thinking of him—no one would be so cruel to make such a call—Casey started to wonder. “Let me guess. J.T. Harrison.”
Nick was genuinely surprised by Casey’s answer. “So I guess you’re tied into the rumor mill, too?”
“No. I just had a hunch.” Casey considered telling Nick what he’d been going through, but decided he didn’t need to relive the ordeal yet again.
After a few minutes of banter, the call ended, and Casey’s confidence had vanished. In a perfect world, he would have thrown himself into his work as a matter of principle. But he had done more than his share of being strong for the day, and decided to find his wife and enjoy the rest of the afternoon with her.
It was the last time he mentioned or thought about J.T. Harrison that day. Which made the next morning all the more shocking.
THE ANNOUNCEMENT
Casey came to work neither early nor late. He quickly made his way through the halls, not wanting to run into any of the em ployees whose cubicles were located between the front door and his office. He was in no mood for small talk.
When he approached his office, there was no sign of his assistant, though in fact, Will had already arrived. Will would later admit that he had purposefully avoided running into Casey that morning.
Casey went to his desk, said a silent prayer, turned on his computer and opened his e-mail. And there it was.
| To: | All General Managers and Vice Presidents |
| From: | Wade Justin |
| Subject: | Organizational Change (time-sensitive and confidential) |
(Note: This message is for General Managers and Vice Presidents only. Please keep the contents confidential until three o’clock today, when a general message will be distributed to all employees.)
This is a difficult announcement for me to make, because it marks the end of many years of hard work. Effective immediately, I will be leaving my position as Chief Executive Officer of Playsoft, though I’ll be staying on as Chairman of the Board. This is a move I’ve been postponing for the past two years, but it’s the right thing to do for me personally, and for the organization.
I am pleased to announce that the new CEO will be J.T. Harrison. For those of you who don’t know J.T., and even for those of you who do, I’d like to tell you about him.
J.T. has been with Playsoft for nine years. For the past five of those years, he has been focused on strategies for growing the company, and he is responsible for most of the acquisitions we’ve made during that time.
But unlike so many M&A executives, J.T. has played another key role in the acquisition process, one that has been critical to the success of our company. And he has done so without acknowledgment or fanfare. Until now.
You see, each time Playsoft has acquired a new company, J.T. has taken responsibility for challenging the new organization to dramatically improve its performance in whatever area he sees it lacking. And notwithstanding the recent challenges in the stock market, the results of J.T.’s work have been nothing short of staggering. Playsoft has consistently acquired companies and watched their sales increase by an average of 25 percent during the first two years after the merger. Most recently, he engineered the deal with Yip, and we’re looking for big things from our colleagues in Monterey.
Unfortunately, in the course of his work, J.T. has had to ruffle the feathers of many of the leaders in our various divisions, all for good reason. I am relieved to be able to reveal his role so that people throughout the organization who might have seen J.T. in a somewhat controversial light can finally see him as the selfless and dedicated leader that he really is.
Please join me in welcoming J.T. to his new role. And please accept my gratitude for the years of hard work that so many of you have given to Playsoft and our many divisions.
Yours,
Wade Justin
Former CEO, Still Chairman of the Board Playsoft
And there it was. Casey struggled to sort out his feelings at that moment. Relief. Anger. Disbelief. Exhaustion. Mostly relief that he now understood what J.T. had been up to.
The first thing he did was call his wife and fill her in. Then he went out to look for Will. He found him sitting at his desk now, smiling hesitantly.
Right away Casey knew that Will had seen the e-mail. He smiled and shook his head. “This is one strange company.”
They laughed.
CLOSED LOOP
At five minutes to five, Casey considered going home early. The past few days had been some of the most emotionally drain ing of his career, and he decided nine holes of golf would be a perfect antidote.
As he gathered his paperwork and turned off his computer, he was startled by a visitor. “Where are you going?”
It was J.T. Harrison. He was standing in the doorway of Casey’s office, looking serious.
Casey hesitated, and then replied, “Golfing. Want to come?”
J.T. shut the door behind himself. The two executives sat down.
Casey’s new boss spoke first. “This is always the hardest part for me.”
“What part is that?” Casey was confused.
“Apologizing. Or not apologizing. I mean, I know how hard the last few months have been for you, and I’m sorry for that. But there was a method to my madness.”
Casey studied J.T. He said nothing.
J.T. broke the silence, smiling. “Do you have any questions for me? You can have a free shot, with no retribution.”
“So did you just make up the meeting thing to push me?”
J.T. suddenly stopped smiling. “No way. I was completely serious about it. I mean, I wasn’t expecting to have to replace you, but I was genuinely concerned about your meetings.” He paused. “I still am. But yesterday was definitely better.”
“You really think it was that big of a deal?” Casey seemed to be shedding any animosity and was now more curious than anything else.
Nodding his head, J.T. defended himself. “Absolutely. I learned early in my career as a consultant that bad meetings at the executive level usually indicated a huge gap between performance and potential. And, Casey, your meetings were really horrible.”
Casey smiled, accepting the criticism with humility. “Did the other division heads go through the same thing I did?”
“Yeah. But not about meetings. DeStefano had a problem with performance management. Nick struggled with expenses. Those aren’t your issues. As far as I can tell, you’re a good manager, and you keep a relatively tight control over expenses.”
Casey shook his head as he digested the situation. He couldn’t deny that he was starting to warm up to the company’s new CEO.
J.T. went on. “By the way, you probably shouldn’t tell anyone what we’re talking about.”
“Why not?”
“Two reasons. First, if I ever have to do it again with another new VP, they’ll know what’s going on and it won’t work.” J.T. smiled at the thought. “But there’s a more important reason. By now your staff is probably pretty pumped up by the tension of the past few weeks. If they find out it was partially manufactured, they’ll lose some steam.”
Casey didn’t necessarily like what he was hearing, but decided it was the right thing to do.
J.T. seemed to be reading his mind. “And remember, Casey, I’m serious when I say ‘partially manufactured,’ because this was not just smoke and mirrors. If you had completely whiffed on the meeting issue and showed no progress at all, I would have started thinking about my next steps. Just because I do this with all new division heads doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
At that moment Casey decided that J.T. Harrison’s intentions had been good, and that despite his rough personality, he was a stand-up guy. “You sure you don’t want to play some golf?”
“I’d love to. Really. But I’ve got to get back to San Jose for a meeting with investor relations tonight.”
Casey seemed surprised. “You mean you came over here to have a fifteen-minute conversation with me?”
“No.” J.T. answered matter-of-factly. “I thought it would take five or ten.”
The two men smiled, and before another thirty seconds had passed, J.T. was out the door.
A half hour later Casey was teeing off.
FALLOUT
Immediately after reading Wade Justin’s note, Casey’s team was in shock that J.T. would be the new CEO of their company. But they quickly shifted into relief mode when their boss informed them that he seemed to be out of the woods, from a career standpoint.
As a result of the sudden amnesty, the sense of passion and energy among the team, and the employees who worked for them, increased dramatically. More important, it proved to be sustainable. Which was remarkable considering that few people at Yip knew what had really happened during that fateful summer.
For the next month or so, Will worked closely with Casey’s team to fully implement the meeting structure. At times they struggled as executives occasionally tried to skip a meeting here or there. But Casey wouldn’t relent, and within a few months, the daily and weekly meetings began to grow roots in the culture.
The strategic meetings were another story. At first, the team had too many of them, reacting to every new issue by scheduling another meeting. Eventually, however, they learned to distinguish between topics that could be addressed by a subset of the team, and those that were truly critical to the entire organization.
By Halloween, the group had completed their first Quarterly Off-Site Review, and they were all surprised to find it to be not only interesting, but one of the most productive two days they had ever spent as a team. Matt even admitted that he was looking forward to the next one.
Within just a few more weeks, each of the four meetings had been tweaked and adjusted, and the entire system was working smoothly. And while that was good for Casey and the company, it wasn’t great for Will, who had suddenly lost his sense of meaning and interest.
It was then that Will realized he would either have to leave the company earlier than expected or take a real job there and make a go of a career in software. Which wasn’t such a stretch, given Will’s background in media.
But Will wasn’t about to let go of his passion, not yet. So he resigned just before Thanksgiving, after finding Casey a suitable replacement, and moved back to Southern California to begin his next adventure in film and television.
FAST-FORWARD
As so often happens, Will and Casey dove into their own busy worlds and didn’t keep in contact with one another as often as they had assured each other they would. Eventually they lost track of what was happening in each other’s careers and lives.
And then one Saturday they ran into each other in San Francisco, in the pro shop at the Presidio Golf Course near the Golden Gate Bridge. Casey was there to play a round with an old friend, and Will was with his dad. The CEO of Yip had little trouble rearranging the tee times so that the two groups could play as a foursome.
After the first nine holes. Casey and Will swapped partners so they could share a cart for a while, and catch up on things.
Will learned that Yip was still a division of Playsoft. The company within a company had solidified its position in its market, and was growing slowly but profitably. Playsoft was doing fine too, but J.T. was no longer CEO.
Will was surprised. “What happened?”
“After a year, he decided to step down.”
“Was he forced out?” Will wondered out loud.
“Not at all. In fact, they tried to keep him. But he just didn’t like being CEO. ‘Too much maintenance,’ he said. So he started a consulting firm that parachutes into troubled companies to shake things up.”
Will laughed. “Perfect.”
Casey went on to update his former assistant about the status of his staff, including the two new executives on his team. He told Will about the sales of Yip’s various products, and about the success of Yip’s golf sponsorships.
As much as he enjoyed hearing about all that, there was one thing that Will really wanted to know. “How are the meetings?”
“Oh, we stopped having them.” Casey said as he lined up a putt.
Will’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“Yeah, we just e-mail each other about decisions now. It’s a lot more efficient.” Casey drained the putt, and then looked up at Will. He was smiling.
“So that was a joke? Please tell me it was a joke.”
Casey laughed. “Of course it was. Don’t worry, we’re still doing the meetings. And pretty much the way you helped us set them up. You should have been there when the newer members of our team first joined, though. They thought we were crazy with all the conflict and drama. But they love it now.”
As Casey stood next to Will and watched his old friend and mentor, Ken Petersen, putt the ball, he became suddenly overwhelmed by what these two men, father and son, had done for him.
Not knowing how to express his emotions at that moment, he simply put a fatherly arm on Will’s shoulder. And said nothing.
