Something is wrong here. Something has been intentionally omitted from the explanations. Something important. Something critical. But what? If you tear apart and peel off the sparkling leadership wrapper , this entire exercise would become nothing but an ordinary competition. The Olympics. A bunch of people who have never met before gather together, compete, run, jump, swim, sweat, make noise every evening, determine the strongest one and go home. A o ne -time deal, no strings attached. It ’s the same thing here.
Just replace the word ‘leader ’ by ‘trophy ’ and everything falls into place. We ’re fighting for a trophy. For the first place. It ’s that simple. As for the clumsy inscription , “Leader , ” that somebody has engraved on our sought-after prize, it ’s there with a sole purpose: to distract us. In reality it doesn ’t matter who become s this so -called leader. Regardless of who walks away with this title , there won ’t be much leading to do for this winner. It ’s all just a funny competition, a game, isn ’t it? Yes, but only to some extent. Because in a competition the winner is always determined by the judges. But there ’re no judges here. Or , to be precise, there are —o urselves. We ’re judging while being judged. We ’re the judge and jury. And nothing good can come out of this arrangement.
And yet, I have to win this game. Why? To return home with that stupid trophy? To hell with that ! I know my own worth without winning that meaningless label. And the little Napoleons who ’ve sent me here know it , too. Otherwise they would ’ve sent someone else. I don ’t care for their opinions and I don ’t care whether or not they praise me upon my return. Getting the trophy has nothing to do with it.
But I just can’t lose. Can ’t lose.
To lose here means saying to the winner: You are my leader. You ’re my superior. We both wanted this trophy, we wanted it badly, we fought for it, but you made me give it up peacefully and without an incident. And now I ’m bowing to you and , head inclined, I ’m holding out this prize to you . . .
No! I’m not going to let this happen. I simply can ’t. I don ’t know why. But I can ’t. Can ’t . . .
Chapte r Four
The breakfast was excellent. Curiously enough, it wasn ’t the food that made it such a nice experience. It wasn ’t all the bagels, muffins, biscuits , and doughnuts neatly arranged on the shining trays, nor the impressive variety of cheese s and ham s , thinly sliced and waiting to be selected and placed on a plate. Nor was it the wide selection of yogurts or the vast array of fresh fruit that played a critical role in turning this meal into a memorable event. It even wasn ’t excellent due to the black streams of aromatic coffee pouring into elegant cups.
What made this morning buffet truly outstanding was the atmosphere. That kind of warm , playful atmosphere that develops sometimes between nice, witty and oftentimes married people gathered together for a n event of a few days . The heavy weight of everyday problems does not loom over them, they have neither a common past marked by conflicts and quarrels , nor a common future , or common acquaintances , some of whom may be rumormongers .
They don’t need to think twice before making a comment, don ’t need to worry about saying something potentially dangerous to the wrong person, and don ’t have to wonder whether the nice phrases and caring questions they ’re hearing are but a shiny wrapp er around sheer self-interest. This atmosphere tolerates—in fact encourages—frivolous jokes, light flirting and not-so-thought-through remarks ; in other words, everything that is pretty much off-limits for a sensible person in his everyday environment.
Can you imagine engaging even in the lightest form of flirting when your better half is enjoying a hearty conversation just a few steps away? And would it be smart to express your honest opinion about your management to a sympath etic person, when you know that in less than a day this opinion may be conveyed to that very management —and what’s more, embellished with details that you didn ’t even mention? As for discussing your not-so-loyal views with someone completely trustworthy —namely your better half —what good does that do if what you usually get in response is something along the lines of , “Sure, he ’s a moron and a narrow-minded bureaucrat, but remind me, why is it him giving you orders and not the other way around?”
Sometimes you just get this urge to talk openly to someone who is nice, smart, educated, and above all, understanding. And then all of a sudden you realize that no environment could be more welcoming and supporting for bringing this idea to life than this kind of company. People around you share your circles of society with you, whatever these circles may be . They have the same circumstances, same desires, and face the same challenges, expressing their views openly. They are smart , and nice , and have no single reason to downplay their shrewdness or amplify their friendliness. They need nothing from you, and you need nothing from them. Here reigns conversation in its purest primordial form, not burdened by doublespeak, fears, suspicions, tricks and hidden agendas . Word s for the sake of word s , thought for the sake of thought—that ’s what you get here. So , let me tell you, it ’s only at these random —and yet somehow not random —gatherings that you can still get a feel for what a true conversation really is .
Ross was conveying these thoughts to Brandon and Kevin, simultaneously washing down his observations with coffee and consuming cheese in impressive quantities. At first, upon his arrival in the b oardroom , he had looked rather troubled and perhaps even distressed by something. But soon enough, while he was standing next to Alex, his gloomy looks apparently drew the attention of his neighbor, who immediately cheered him up.
“What is it, Ross?” Alex enquir ed hospitably, overhanging him. “Is everything all right?”
Ross immediately cheered up and reported that he had simply fallen into thought . Alex nodded and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder . “You must ’ve been thinking about the wrong things. No bosses, no families around . . . you should be enjoying your time here. You owe it to yourself to relax. Hey, do you want to play some pool tonight? Usually works for me.”
And so Ross relaxed, though he had passed on the offer to play pool. Now he was chatting jovially with Brandon and Kevin, describing to them how Alex ’s words had led him to these insightful thoughts about the joy of a pure conversation.
The room around them was filled with a din of babbling voices. It was amazing how eleven people could produce so much chatting noise. An accurate counting would ’ve revealed the presence of fourteen people in the room ; however , three of them didn ’t contribute to the buzz. Clark sat with his assistants in the far corner, sipping his coffee in tiny gulps and from time to time giving the crowd a lazy look. No one paid any attention to that trinity . By now they were treated as objects of decoration.
The future lords of corporations were having fun.
“Who’s responsible for that noise outside this morning?”
“Robert, of course. He ’s in love with that boat.”
“Nope. Not this morning.”
“Then who?”
“No idea.”
“Nice. How am I supposed to concentrate on my speechwriting with all this noise before sunrise?”
“Ah, you must be looking for a scapegoat.”
“Right, that ’s what I ’m doing. Speaking of scapegoats , we need one to run the drawing. Who wants to be our blind fortune?”
“It’s blind justice .”
“Whatever. So?”
“We need a woman.”
“Then it’s going to be easy —we have enough women here.”
“Enough?”
“Sure. Shortage of quantity is well compensated by excess of quality.”
“Alan, that is the most awkward compliment I ’ve ever heard.”
“Stella, trust me , you simply haven ’t heard a truly eloquent compliment yet.”
“Joan, did you hear that? He calls this an eloquent compliment.”
“Why not? I actually like it.”
“What’s there to like? He talks about us as if we were refrigerators. Quantity,
quality. . . Next, he ’ll be shipping us to a warehouse.”
“I think you ’re too harsh on him. Alan simply wanted to make us feel good and he ’s done just that.”
“Wow, Alan. Way to go, man!”
“Shut up, Chris.”
“Ah, come on. After yesterday ’s chat at the bar . . .”
“Yesterday’s chat at the bar was your idea.”
“My idea? Joan started it— Hey, what ’s with the kicking?”
“All of you should ’ve been in the games room instead of wasting time at the bar. You have no idea what you missed.”
“So tell us. What did we miss?”
“Some real pool magic, that ’s what.”
“Really? I just love watching a good game. So who played?”
“Mr. Robert here, for example.”
“Of course . . . I could ’ve guessed.”
“Alex was very impressive , too. Brandon pla yed. Michael played. Everyone played.”
“So who was the magici an?”
“Rob. Well, Alex too.”
“Right! Alex played like a real leader!”
“Ross, enlighten me, how do real leaders play?”
“Eh . . . That didn ’t come out right. I mean he played really well. You know, like nice shots and everything.”
Ross tried hiding his embarrassment behind a broad smile, quickly stuffed few pieces of cheese into his mouth and turned back to Brandon .
“I’m not making any sense. All this leadership talk makes my head spin.”
Brandon shrugged.
“Take it easy. You ’re making sense, at least as much as anyone else here does. People here are saying much stranger things.”
Ross sighed.
“Two days ago I thought I ’d get some rest. Tough luck. Well, at least it ’s less tiring than back at home.”
“You’ve got a big family?” Brandon asked.
“I’ve got a great family!” Ross promptly produced a wallet.
At the sight of a picture of a smiling plump woman and two serious -looking boys staring straight at the camera, Kevin, who sat nearby, heaved a sigh.
“What?” asked Brandon .
Kevin flapped his hand.
“Never mind.”
He turned to Ross.
“You have a great family, indeed.” He sat still for a moment and then repeated , with a strange sad note , “A great family . . .”
“Thank you,” Ross broke into a smile. “You should meet my boys. They ’re incredible.”
“I’m sure they are, ” Kevin sigh ed again. “Kids . . . they are great.”
Brandon glanced at him from under his brows.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, ” Kevin smiled, but somehow his smile looked sad. “I ’m going to get myself another cup of coffee. You guys want anything to drink? No? Okay, I ’ll be right back.”
“He’s got problems, ” Brandon observed, following Kevin with his eyes.
Ross nodded absently, his mind clearly on something else.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen, ” Chris ’s cheerful voice sounded, “it ’s time for us to get started. Let the fun begin.”
And so eleven pieces of paper with names were placed in a bowl and stirred. Joan, her eyes closed dramatically and her face turned away from the bowl, took out the name of the first speaker and passed the scrap of paper to Chris.
“Alan!” Chris announced in a loud voice, writing the name down on the flipchart.
Alan stood up and bowed. Joan extracted the next piece of paper from the bowl.
“Stella!”
Stella graceful ly lowered her head.
“Paul!”
“Oh, I’m so honored!” Paul clasped his left hand to his chest, as if he had just received an Oscar. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Now I would just like to thank my producer and my family, and my first love, and my second love, and the guy who mows my lawn and . . . ah, I ’m just so overwhelmed!”
Joan chuckled, but immediately jerked up her head majestically and reached for the bowl.
“Alex!”
“Stop! Skip my name.”
Chris’s hand stopped halfway.
“What’s that?” he asked, turning to Alex.
“I’m not speaking today, ” Alex explained.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris asked cheerfully. “Got a secret past?”
“Don’t push him, ” warned Paul. “He ’d have to kill us all if he says another word about it.”
“I’d be glad to speak about my past, ” Alex replied, ignoring Paul ’s remark. “But I promised Rob yesterday that I won ’t.”
Chris’s cheerfulness evaporated instantly.
“I don’t get it, ” he said. “What do you mean, promised ? What about Rob —is he skipping his speech too?”
Alex shook his head.
“Rob is presenting. I ’m not.”
“I might be missing something very obvious here, but why exactly would you agree to something like that?”
“It’s simpler than it may look, ” Alex turned to Robert. “Rob offered to play pool for today ’s speech. I agreed. He won. I ’m skipping my presentation.”
Robert nodded briefly, confirming the accuracy of Alex ’s story. Brandon was about to say something and even opened his mouth, but at the last moment changed his mind and remained silent.
“Well,” Chris said dryly. “I can ’t say I ’m thrilled about this. You bend the process once, you bend it twice—and soon there ’s nothing left. Unless we all follow our rules to the letter, they are useless.”
He shrugged, not even trying to hide his frustration. “It ’s your choice after all. But let ’s try to respect our own rules in the future and avoid these kind s of games. Otherwise, soon we ’ll have a bookie ’s here rather than a leadership class.”
“Oh, that’d be cool, ” Paul said cheerfully . “Great idea! Open a bookie’s and I ’ll place a bet on myself.”
“And lose,” Stella added sweetly.
“Hey!” Chris raised his hand in a warning. “Now, that really is against the rules.”
“Why?” Stella questioned .
“Because it comes too close to a personal attack.”
“A personal attack? Where did you see a personal attack?”
“She’s right, ” Paul confirmed. “My level of tolerance is super high when it comes to remarks from a beautiful lady. Don ’t worry about me getting hurt. My skin is very thick.”
Stella gave him a curt smile and continued before Chris could say a word , “This is not a personal attack. This is simple logic. When I vote for someone who bets on himself, I ’m giving him my own money without getting anything in return. So what ’s in it for me? I want to vote for a leader who at least cares about me a little .”
“Good luck with that, ” said Robert. “Just don ’t go to real elections with th o se expectations.”
“I won’t, ” Stella reassured him. “But now I ’d like to clarify one point.”
“We’re late, you know, ” Chris said bitterly.
“This won’t take long. And trust me, it ’s better to spend a few minutes on this now than hours of fighting down the road. It seems that , despite all our debates yesterday , we didn ’t cover one particular key point.”
Chris let out a nearly inaudible sigh.
“Give it a break, will you, ” Stella said irritably. “This is critical. We all realize that the only thing each of us cares about here is his or her own interests—”
“Why would you say something like that ?” Kevin asked her reproachfully. “I ’m not so sure I ’d agree with that.”
Stella spared him a brief glance and repeated, “We all know that the only thing each one of us here cares about is his or her own interests.”
She paused for a long moment .
“Caring about anything else under these circumstances would be naive at best. We all know this. So let ’s spare the rhetoric. There ’s just one thing
every one of us wants now—to be elected the leader. To win . This is obvious , and I ’m not going waste my time arguing about it . I never argue with hypocrites. Each one of us has worked hard to get here. Each one of us understands the importance of winning here. Each one of us is ready to play hardball to win. I know I am.
“But!” she raised her finger, “there ’s a line I won ’t cross. And crossing that line is something I wouldn’t recommend to anyone in this room.”
“You’re making it so complicated, ” Brandon said.
“If anything, I ’m simplifying it. It will get complicated if we skip this discussion now. So let ’s not cross that line. Let ’s not bet openly on ourselves.”
“Can you clarify?” said Michael.
“I’d be delighted to .” The charming smile didn ’t leave Stella ’s face for a moment, but her tone remained serious.
“I don’t care how precisely people are going to follow the rules we ’ve come up with. If someone wants to use his pool skills to weaken the competition , so be it. Especially if someone else is willing to give it a try. After all, I win —no matter who loses that pool game. I don ’t care how truthful today ’s presentations will be. I wouldn ’t even care if somebody decides to dance the can-can instead of presenting. As far as I ’m concerned, it ’s all right to do practically anything, even promise to pay everyone a thousand bucks as a return.
“But we should not play dirty. You all know what I mean. No dirty tricks. No backstabbing. No monkey business. We ’re going to play fair, no matter how cheesy that may sound.”
She broke off.
“Not sure I understand why you even bothered to talk about that , ” Alex said after a somewhat tense silence. “We ’re all too smart to cross that kind of line.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
And Stella leaned back, having glanced quickly at Michael.
“That is unless Chris manages to set up a bookie ’s and Paul places a bet on himself, ” Alan added.
“To tell you the truth, I wouldn ’t mind getting a thousand bucks as a return, ” Paul informed everyone dreamingly, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “Anyone care to make me an offer? I promise I won ’t refuse. Ah . . . pity . . .”
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