Monday
Deep in the bowels of a truly tricky case. Best part of the job, frankly, noodling through a problem, finding a new angle. Today's zinger: Du Rite's road and rail bulk-chem distribution systems seem to be losing money, but no one's sure how much. Morose analyst Alain Protecteur, transferred to us abruptly from France, has built a monster Excel model of the whole system using Monte Carlo simulation. Lovely piece of work. Trouble is, no matter how we tweak the fleet utilization parameters, we can't get out of the red. Du Rite top brass have made it clear that the thing just has to make a ten percent rate-of-return hurdle. Spend all evening with Alain squinting at the PC, but no joy so far. Remind him jokily to shower and shave tomorrow. It's a small room.
Tuesday
Fascinating breakfast meeting with Ken Armadillo at the Charles. He wants me to launch an acquisition hunt for specialty consulting firms of under ten people, where we can buy for minimal cash. Feels that in the downturn, this is a good time to fill gaps in our expertise and bolster our client list. I like it. Ken gives me carte blanche to find and make deals, hopes we can consummate at least three this year. Of course, he's already got one firm in his sights. Pecker and Pecker, based in New York, branding specialists. After our recent fiasco with the re-branding of The Armadillo Group, where we paid good money for a cartoon armadillo with a halo which embarrasses me every time I write a letter, I'm skeptical — but the Prickly One waves his toast and brushes me aside. Go see 'em, he insists. So I check in with Alain — still losing money and getting, if anything, more pungent — and hop on the shuttle, which over the years has gone through countless brands without ever making me hate it any less.
Wednesday
The Peckers are two sisters! Pippa Pecker (I kid you not) is the branding guru, while Mia brings in the clients. Unbelievably, they have some fun with my name, before we get down to business. I find this soft sort of consulting pretty feeble, plus they seem awfully young, but they put on a good show and seem to have real clients. They believe that being part of Armadillo would be great. Armadillo stock would be great. Ken is great. Boston is great. Lunch is great. Ruminate on the flight home that something is grating on me. What's wrong with this picture? Have a weird vision of John Bonanza leaping out from behind Pippa Pecker's desk (in his monk's tunic) and saying "April Fool!"
Thursday
Alain is almost at break-even, but his little room is getting awfully stinky. Resort to popping by every few hours and loitering in the doorway, taking discrete gulps of air while looking the other way. Suggest that he tries eliminating less-than-truckload runs (gulp) of over 100 miles, and eliminate overtime working even if it means slowing deliveries. It's just polymer, after all.
Ken is grinning at the tee-shirt Pippa has FedExed him: In gigantic black capitals, it says simply "PECKER." He's already got our lawyers drawing up documents. I counsel due diligence, second opinions. I query the fit with our own relatively inoffensive style. I suggest we buy no one until we've met more prospects. But Ken says McKinsey is sniffing at the Peckers. We have to pre-empt. I shrug, tell him it's his call and march away, offended. Am I in charge or not?
Friday
Alain's almost hit the hurdle when I snap and send him to the health club for a forced shower. Excel modeling is not a license to stink up the place. This firm has professional standards to maintain. He slinks off in a huff. My assistant comes in to tell me that I'm going to have to pay $1,200 for damage to a Hertz I slightly scratched last year after declining CDW. Donny Drucker shows up with a signed copy of his new book, retitled Economic WOW: How America's New CEOs Are Reinventing the Transparent Corporation. Can't help feeling jealous as I congratulate him, but am pleased to see my name in the Acknowledgments. On the shelf, next to all the other biz-speak garbage, that masquerades as thought leadership these days.
And finally, inevitably, Pippa Pecker phones in excitedly to thank me "for putting in a good word with Ken." They're coming on board next month. "I'm delighted," I lie, noticing a soft, bulging FedEx on my desk with — indubitably — another appalling tee-shirt inside. Alain slopes into my office, trailing a sheaf of printouts. I have your ten percent, he sneers, torn between pride and hostility. Great, I tell him — You win this tee-shirt.
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