by Susan Wolfe
“No,” Roy admitted, “this is specific to us. We’re hearing that customers have lost confidence because of perceived defects in our 6.0 release.”
“Perceived?” echoed a very tall board member with a shiny bald head. Must be Paul Holder, the tech guru. “So it’s a marketing problem? Or are there actually fundamental problems with the 6.0?”
“I think it’s a combination of things. Software is always buggy. This particular version has a few more problems than most. And then we have a pretty green sales force. And then . . .”
She scribbled furiously, trying to catch all of Roy’s reasons.
“You’re right,” Jared said. “Software is always buggy. So the question is, why are we getting hit harder for buggy software than our competitors are? And why does this version have more problems?”
Great question.
“I don’t know if it really has more problems. Might just be that these are more noticeable to the customer.”
Now, what on earth did that mean? Did the company have product problems, or didn’t it? This whole conversation felt like trying to grab a bar of wet soap.
“We’re getting hit pretty hard by the technical press,” Paul Holder said, “and that might be scaring off some customers. This product is Andrea’s baby. Shouldn’t we get her in here to get her thoughts about it?”
Andrea, the swimmer from orientation. Ken looked up from his notes.
“Only if you want to hear some elegantly crafted excuses,” Roy replied, his small dark eyes watching them over the rims of his narrow glasses. “I’m afraid Andrea is an executive who really struggles with the concept of cost control. I’d hate to see her use an invitation from the board to make another run at getting her budget restored.”
He wanted to keep Andrea away from the board.
“Well, but she signed off on this release just like she has all the others, didn’t she?” Paul persisted.
“Eventually, yes. Unfortunately, when it became necessary to reduce Andrea’s budget, she spent her time lobbying me to get her surplus engineers back instead of finding ways to improve productivity. Then as the target release date for the 6.0 approached, she wanted to delay the release until she felt satisfied with it.”
“But of course, Ship When Ready,” Jean-Claude said with his elegant accent. “It’s what we always have done, because our software is mission critical for our customers and must be reliable.”
“I know it’s what you’ve always done. This time I decided to call Andrea’s bluff and insist that we support the sales team by delivering the product on time.”
Roy was in a power struggle with the head of R&D.
“This has apparently resulted in a few more issues than we anticipated,” Roy continued, “but it’s nothing more than a blip on the radar screen. For one thing, we’ve just gotten B of A’s permission to use their name as a reference. We don’t have any worries here.”
Board members exchanged silent glances.
“You know, in future, Roy,” Jean-Claude said, “if we’re going to change something as basic as Ship When Ready, the board would like to know about that in advance.”
Roy gave a stiff nod that meant ‘fuck you.’ This guy was a real sniper, striking fast to keep his targets off balance. Her father would have enjoyed the marksmanship.
“And you also said the sales force is green,” Jean-Claude continued, consulting his notes. “Why are they suddenly so green? Are we not able to compete for seasoned people?”
Which led to a presentation by Sally on employee satisfaction. As Georgia switched over to the third screen her stomach gave an angry growl, and she put a hand over her abdomen as Jared caught her eye with mock dismay. She should have seized that brownie when she had the chance.
To better understand the employees’ state of mind, Sally was explaining, the company had once again used the Voice of the Team survey. Uh-oh. Was the board going to get a dose of that saccharine junk from orientation?
Sally clearly hoped so. She stood at the front of the room in
her mustard yellow suit jacket and beamed with pride as she turned to her first slide. “Okay, the things the employees scored us very high on were . . .”
“Take us through the lowest scores,” Larry directed.
“Certainly,” she said with a soft smile, switching to a different slide. “The lowest scores were:
a) I have the tools I need to do my job.
b) I believe compensation is generally fair and equitable.
And finally:
c) Management listens to its employees.”
“Okay,” Jared said, “and those actual scores were . . .”
“Let’s see. 1 out of 10.”
Brief silence. “Did they have the option of saying zero?” Jared asked mildly, and somebody snickered.
“No,” she responded innocently. “One was the lowest.”
Jean-Claude was flipping noisily through his board book. “I see this is a summary, but where are the actual scores for each question?”
“I’m afraid they aren’t there, Jean-Claude. We thought the summary would be more helpful this year. Was there something in particular?”
“Yes, I remember a question about how many would leave for another job if they could?”
Sally glanced at Roy, who gave a barely perceptible shrug. “Yes,” she acknowledged. “Do you mean ‘I would leave Lumina if I received an equivalent job offer at another company?’”
“That’s it. What were those scores, please?”
“Twenty percent agreed strongly, and another 38 percent agreed somewhat.”
Jean-Claude sat up straighter and opened his eyes wide. “Have I misunderstood you? Over half of our employees would leave if they could? Is that possible?”
“It is troubling,” Sally sighed softly. “It’s really one of our biggest problems.”
“Sally, speak up, please” Larry commanded. Sally responded with a slightly pained, ladylike smile. That smile was about right for Gone With the Wind, maybe, but a Silicon Valley boardroom? Sally was a puzzlement.
“We want to be careful here,” Roy cautioned. “All we’re really measuring is how much our employees like to complain. In spite of these scores, the actual voluntary attrition for the last twelve months was only 8 percent.”
“Well, but galley slaves wouldn’t have quit in last year’s economy,” Jared objected with a dismissive wave of his hand, “because there was nowhere to go. The question is, what’s going to happen now that the economy’s picking up? Will we have anyone left to turn out the lights?”
“Sally,” Larry called, “can you tell us what the numbers were for that same question two years ago?”
Sally flipped quickly through a binder. “Two years ago the combined total for ‘agreed’ and ‘agreed strongly’ was, let’s see, 12.5 percent.”
“From 12.5 percent to 58 percent in two years.” Larry adjusted his French cuff as he flashed a triumphant smirk around the room and then settled it on Roy. “So the change during your tenure is impressive.” Did these two really dislike each other, or was this just executive testosterone gone wild?
Several board members began to speak at once, and Roy held up his hand. “Look, cost-cutting, and particularly downsizing, are never going to be popular with the rank and file. Morale is bound to be low when you first eliminate entitlements, like profit-sharing, that never should have been given in the first place. We just should have waited another six months to do the survey.”
“Why not a year, when there’d be nobody left to respond?” Jared asked mildly.
His remark hung in the air until Sally finally offered, “We’re finalizing plans now to focus on those bottom three scores, which we think will have the biggest impact.”
“Great,” Jean-Claude responded promptly. “How quickly do you expect to reduce this enthusiasm for escaping Lumina, and by how much?”
“We’re confident we can reduce it to 40 percent in the next twelve months.”
A
couple of board members barked out laughs while Jean-Claude threw his hands high in the air. “I’m sorry, we cannot accept this at all. I ask you to return to the board in two weeks with a detailed plan for getting this ‘defection’ number down to 18 percent within one year, including quarterly milestones. Do the minutes reflect that requirement?”
“They do,” Ken confirmed, nodding to Georgia.
“Fine,” Jean-Claude said, consulting his watch. “Let’s take a 10-minute break.” Several people stood at once. Larry Stockton and Roy reached the exit simultaneously, where they flailed like overturned beetles with their shoulders wedged in the doorway. Then Larry broke free and exited first. Georgia and the others hurried out behind them.
Who knew that sorry-sounding survey might actually be good for something? Did most corporate boards have this much antagonism? And how bad were the product problems? She was pretty sure her father had warned her that bad product was the number one killer of Silicon Valley companies.
Whatever. Nothing she could do about product quality. Just so Lumina Software lasted long enough to get Katie-Ann through high school. The blueberry-colored eyes staring back from the bathroom mirror looked anxious as she reparted her black bob and used her comb to tuck the ends under.
This meeting was certainly thought-provoking, and for all her jitters she was performing her duties just fine. Too bad she was only wallpaper. She sighed as she tossed her paper towel into the wastebasket. Well, she’d just have to make herself indispensable somewhere else.
When she reentered the boardroom, three board members had already returned to their seats and were smiling politely as they listened to Roy.
“. . . and the wind was really kicking up the waves and my wife was starting to get seasick, when all of a sudden we were being pelted by hailstones the size of golf balls. They hurt like hell.”
“Wow,” a board member exclaimed dutifully, “that must have been something.” So they were committed to being civil after all. Jared picked up his paper copy of the next PowerPoint presentation, keeping his smile focused on Roy.
“It was something,” Roy continued. “But you know what? It turned out it wasn’t hail. We were actually sailing under a huge flock of geese, and what we were being pelted by was huge bird droppings that must have been freezing on the way down. A literal shit storm.” Roy grinned, and the board members seemed at a slight loss for how to respond. Other board members were filing back in.
“Well,” Jared remarked, “there’s no telling with Mother Nature, is there? Jean-Claude, shouldn’t we get started?” No need to get carried away with civility.
“And I ended up with bruises on my shoulders and even on my head from all that lousy bird shit. And then, when it started to melt . . . !”
“Cliff!” Jean-Claude almost shouted. “Start the presentation!”
The meeting ended at 12:30. Sally pushed through the door and disappeared. Now the board members would have lunch together and begin their confidential strategy session. Was Georgia going to miss out on those sandwiches again? No way. She headed for the door, darting her hand out to snag a ham on rye as she passed the side table. Too bad she couldn’t get a brownie, too.
“Whose computer is this?” Jean-Claude asked, pointing to the space Sally had just vacated.
“Sally’s,” Roy responded. “I think she stepped out to the bathroom.”
“Well, let’s remove it now, so she doesn’t interrupt the lunch or the strategy session. Georgia, can you take it to her, please?” So at least the Board Chairman knew her name.
“Wait,” Roy instructed, and then he seemed to hesitate. “I’ll do it.” He scooped up Sally’s computer and followed Georgia out into the hallway. “Nikki,” he said, dumping the computer and papers onto her desk. “The Board has asked that the lunch and strategy session be confidential. Would you stop Sally before she comes back in? Thank her for me and let her know I’ll call her if we need her.” He disappeared back into the boardroom.
“Oh, this’ll be fun,” Nikki muttered. “You need something, Georgia?”
“Sorry to bother you, but can we just confirm which board member is which? I got some of them, but . . .”
“Hey, Sally,” Nikki called cheerfully into the hallway, “I have your stuff over here.”
Sally paused with her hand against the boardroom door, and then slowly turned a bright smile toward Nikki.
“What on earth would you be doing with it out here?”
“Roy gave it to me and told me to thank you. He’ll call you if they need anything.”
Sally kept her hand poised on the door for five full seconds. Then she lowered it and kept smiling as she sauntered to Nikki’s desk.
“Oh, I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding,” she said sweetly. “Roy wants me to attend the strategy session.”
Nikki shrugged. “He was pretty explicit, so something must’ve changed. I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you. Here you go. I think it’s all there.”
Sally’s smile vanished and her voice descended to a snarl. “This is so unacceptable.” She snatched her computer from Nikki. “I need a meeting with Roy tomorrow, for an hour, to discuss this.”
“Great,” Nikki said. “I’ll look at his calendar and see what I can manage.”
“Manage an hour. Tomorrow.” She marched out of Nikki’s office.
Bingo. From Scarlett O’Hara to Clint Eastwood in under five seconds. Will the real Sally please stand up?
“Wow,” Georgia offered after Sally was out of earshot. “That was a little intense.”
“Everything about that woman is intense.” Nikki rubbed wearily on the side of her forehead where the migraine was evidently still lodged. “All right, let’s go over the board members. The French guy, Jean-Claude, is the chairman . . .”
“So she still won’t pay them?” Zack’s disbelieving voice carried easily to Georgia’s cubicle, and she glanced up from her computer screen.
“She isn’t refusing to pay them anymore,” Maggie clarified. “Cliff must’ve talked to her. Now she says she’ll pay them as soon as she gets Roy’s counter-signature on every one, because she wants him to authorize her in writing to process them ahead of other people’s bills. And Roy just left for customer visits in Asia.”
“This is preposterous. I’ll take the bills to Cliff myself. If he signs them she’ll have to pay.”
“Be careful. If you make her mad, she’ll think up a reason to delay even longer.”
“I guess I’m confused,” Zack said. “Wasn’t she hired to pay bills? How much energy are we supposed to waste on this jerk?”
Sitting in her cube, tapping her pen on her patent notes, Georgia decided they had probably wasted enough.
CHAPTER 5
“Georgia!” Ken called, leaning out from behind his computer console. “Come on in. Good to see you.” He seemed delighted to see her every time she crossed the threshold of this frenetic office, which of course couldn’t always be true. He probably made everyone feel that way. Just like everybody telling him their inner thoughts, really. Another accident of birth.
“Have a seat,” he said, joining her at the conference table. “Zack’ll be here in a minute, and we’ll head over to see Archie Moss about getting our patent issued.” So he’d decided to let her help with Swiftly Acquire Patent, the biggest challenge facing the company, and she’d finally meet the elusive owner of that wonderful, deep voice. Fine start to the morning.
Ken’s paisley bow tie was hornet yellow with dark blue kidneys, and his blue chambray sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows, his bare forearm resting on the dark wood. Beyond his window the bright sun bounced joyfully off windshields in the parking lot, and heated the tops of the fragrant eucalyptus trees beyond. “So,” he asked, “how’d you like the board meeting?”
“I would say interesting, and confusing.”
“What’s the confusing part?”
“Well, remember how Roy said this version of our product had more bugs than usual, and
then he said maybe they were just more noticeable bugs?”
He suppressed a smile. “I guess he did say those things.”
“So, does that mean we do have a product problem, or we don’t?”
“Hard to say what it means, isn’t it, Georgia?” he said, relaxing into a grin. Ah, so it really was bullshit. His smile faded. “I can tell you, though, we certainly do have a product problem, and I just hope Andrea’s team gets us out of it quickly.”
“Ah. Is it serious?” Another reason for layoffs. Suddenly that bright sun was glaring right in her eyes.
“Want to push the door closed? Thanks.” He lifted his forearm off the table and waited until she resumed her seat. “You know how a software company constantly updates its software to add new features? Well, our software sits at the core of our customers’ whole computer system. Like all good companies that make mission-critical software, we make very certain our product is fully functional before it goes out, even if it means missing our target release date. It’s what we’ve always done.
“Until last time. Roy was under a lot of pressure to get his sales numbers up, and he decided to ship the product before Andrea signed off on it. Word got out that customers were having serious problems with the software, and now even our longtime customers are refusing to buy the new version.”
“Andrea knows how to fix it?”
“Absolutely. We’re very fortunate. A lot of people think Andrea’s the best R&D person here in the Valley.”
“So then it’s temporary.”
He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Well, the only reason it might not be temporary is that once you spook your customers with unreliable product, I’m not too sure how soon they trust you again. Just hope we don’t compound the problem by making the same mistake twice.”
“The board knows this?”
“Not sure they do. You heard what Roy told them.”
“So, is the board’s not knowing stuff one of the big problems we have around here?”