Chapter 23: Who Would Be Your Worst Enemy?

October 14, 1996, Rutherford, Ohio

“You looking for Bill?” a cute young woman about my age with a name tag which read ‘Marnie’ asked as I walked into The Yolk’s On You on Monday morning.

“I am,” I replied.

She pointed, “Over there in the blue shirt.”

I saw the man she indicated - probably around sixty-five, built like a tank, and with an obvious Marine haircut. I walked over to him.

“Steve Adams,” I said.

He stood up, “Bill Ivarstad.”

We shook hands.

“Officer?” I asked.

“Yes. I did my twenty in the Green Machine and came out a Light Colonel. Did you serve?”

I shook my head, “No. My dad was a Chief on a few of those old four-stack World War I destroyers during World War II. A bunch of my close friends are in the Navy. But not me. I stick to trying to keep their morale up, entertain them, and fund them by paying sky-high taxes!”

“Grab a seat.”

I sat down across from him and a middle-aged waitress whose name tag read ‘Sue’ came over to the table.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, please. Regular.”

“Do you need a menu?”

“No, but I have a special order, please.”

“Sure. What would you like?”

I described my normal breakfast - two eggs, over easy; bacon; sausage; sliced tomatoes; and sliced strawberries.

“Got it,” she said. “Bill, your usual?”

“Yes, Sue. Thanks.”

She left but was back immediately with the coffee pot to fill my cup, then left to put the order in with the kitchen.

“I have a waitress like that back home,” I said. “Don’t even have to order!”

“You’re a creature of habit, then?”

“Very much so. If something works, I only change it if I’m convinced what I’m changing to will be better.”

“Better? That’s a fairly open-ended thing, don’t you think?”

“Sure. Better could mean more opportunities, more profit, less stress, whatever. I keep an open mind, but I don’t change things just to change them.”

“I can save you a lot of time,” he said with a grin. “You don’t like change, your company is changing, and that bugs the hell out of you.”

“That’s completely true. And I’m having trouble adjusting.”

“As we discussed, you’re at that stage in the life of a company where you have to transition from small company to large. I think you sort of skipped the medium stage by running it like a small company during the twenty to one hundred stage.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

“So, the short answer, to the son of a senior non-com, is suck it up, Marine!”

“I’m hoping I didn’t drive 380 miles for that answer!”

“It is the answer, Steve. But we’ll talk about things you can do, both personally and organizationally, to minimize your discomfort. I take it from what you said that you’ve rejected the idea of bringing in a professional manager.”

“In about fifteen months my sister will step into the CEO chair, but I’m going to remain President. Her job will be the bullshit CEO stuff and mine will be leadership.”

“That’s a recipe for disaster in most cases. If you aren’t the boss, you need to step aside. How close are you and your sister?”

“Very.”

“How much did you fight growing up?”

“Only when I was acting like a complete shithead.”

“So pretty much all the time if you were a normal teenager in the 70s.”

“Nah, I had to be pretty bad before she took me to task. She was my best ally, and in many ways, served as a protector.”

“Older?”

“Younger.”

“Protector?”

“My mom was, well is, mentally unstable and we had a terrible home life and childhood. We both left home at eighteen and have very little to do with my mom. My dad, on the other hand, is a really good guy. He was a problem until I got to be sixteen or so, and then he ran interference for me with my mom as best he could without wrecking their relationship.”

“She didn’t get counseling of any kind?”

“No. According to her, all of us, by which I mean me, my sister, and all our friends, and their families, were insane and completely degenerate. The only person besides my dad who escaped my mom’s wrath was my little brother, who has his own set of serious problems. Stephanie, that’s my sister, and I have nothing to do with him.”

“How much counseling have YOU had?”

“Pretty much non-stop from Doctor Mercer since I was fifteen. I met her through a friend of mine who she was helping, and who asked me to be her support. One thing led to another, and Doctor Mercer has been responsible for my mental health for the past twenty years. She’s probably borderline crazy just from dealing with MY issues!”

“She said you’re a successful, loving, caring young man who would give his life for his family and friends. I’d say she doesn’t think you’re crazy.”

I chuckled, “Oh, she does; she just can’t share any of the crazy because of confidentiality! But because I AM successful in business and have a wonderful family, there isn’t a diagnosis.”

“So you understand how that works, then.”

“Yes. A very close friend of mine is also a psychologist, so I know the drill.”

“Tell me about your company. Start from when you first had the idea.”

I began with High School, where the idea germinated from the computer dating programs and the conversations with Don Joseph. I’d just come to leaving for school when our breakfast arrived. I sat quietly while Bill prayed, then continued the story. I got to the point where we had just moved to the first building on Hyde Park Avenue just as we finished eating and started on our third cups of coffee.

“How long was it before you took over day-to-day operations?” Bill asked.

“At the five-year mark,” I replied. “Either I had to take it on, or bring in someone to run the company. I couldn’t bear to put my baby in anyone else’s hands, and my sister wasn’t anywhere near ready at that point, so I stepped up.”

“But you let Julia nurse and raise your baby, if I can turn a phrase.”

“It really was done as a group thing, guided by our Board of Directors. So I was involved, but she did the paperwork.”

“Most small companies don’t have a Board of Directors, in the regular sense. That was a very good idea.”

“We were five college kids with very little business experience and a lot of energy. My dad and two professors provided a lot of guidance, and my friend Beth provided technical advice. Joyce was the Chairman and she provided good advice on a number of things.”

“So, Julia stepped aside and you took over, trying to do it half-time.”

I nodded, “And it turned out that being zookeeper was a full-time job. I got some programming in, but not a lot. And even that’s diminished to pretty much nothing at the moment.”

“OK. Continue.”

Over the next hour I took him up to and through the failed purchase of Lone Star and the current shenanigans with Dante.

“I think I see one area where you’re really struggling.”

“Dante?” I grinned.

“No; you seemed to relish in wiping up the floor with him repeatedly! The failed takeover of your competitor derailed your plans and, in effect, dropped offices in Durham and Dallas in your lap. And those offices appear to be taking off like gangbusters.”

“They are.”

“And they aren’t your kids. They’re step-children. Red-headed step-children, if you will.”

I smiled, “You sound like my friend Stephie. She said things like that.”

“Said?”

“She died of ovarian cancer just over nine years ago - October 2nd, 1987.”

“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. I’ve lost quite a few friends at far too young of an age.”

“That’s rough. Military?”

“One. My friend Nick Evans was murdered on Guam by another sailor.”

“My son was on the base when that happened. He and some other Marines had to be talked out of rough justice for the scumbag who did it.”

“My friends and I all felt the same way. If he’d been given the death penalty, one of us would have volunteered to do it, no hoods, no barriers, just looking him in the eyes with our hands on his throat.”

“That’s about right. I’m sorry you lost a friend. My son said he was a very good man.”

“He was. His son and my eldest are close friends, and my daughter already asked him to marry her.”

Bill laughed, “How old are they?”

“Nicholas is seven and Stephie is six. They’ve been engaged for a couple of years to hear them tell it! Nicholas plans a naval career.”

“Good for him. Back to NIKA, those two offices are like kids from another marriage who don’t fit in. Your other offices are run by people you sent there, and staffed in part by people you sent there. That’s a very different dynamic. And it’s probably the source of your discomfort with that part of your company.

“Your comment about not knowing them was pretty telling, too. I say this advisedly, but I get the idea that you have a deep-seated need to be loved and wanted by your staff. In your three older offices, there were people there who could tell the myth of NIKA to everyone and get them into the correct ethos. Those people loved you because they were taught to love you. Everyone in your new offices is new, and you don’t have any connection to them.”

I nodded, “A reasonable analysis.”

“It’s basic organizational psychology. If say, IBM buys a company and tries to integrate it, what often happens is both sides are unhappy for a time, until, usually, the new company is infused with people from IBM who bring the IBM ethos with them. And that leads a lot of the employees of the company that was acquired to become disillusioned and leave. The smaller the company, the more likely that is to happen.

“In those kinds of takeovers, the founders, or at least the leadership of the old company is kept around, but it’s almost always symbolic, not real, and it gets old pretty fast. The entrepreneurs get happy feet and bail as soon as their contracts allow. I’m guessing you feel as if you’re a figurehead to those folks in Dallas and Durham, and you’re afraid that’s going to happen as you expand further.”

I nodded, “That could be.”

“You’re at a point where you basically have two options - divest or suck it up. Would you consider breaking up your company or divesting some of it as you did around the five-year mark?”

“I’ve certainly thought about that, but everything is so intertwined that doing that would mean company A, company B, and company C would all have to buy services or licenses or whatever from each other. There isn’t really a natural division except the consulting arm, but that provides the diversification of revenue we need, as well as monthly cashflow.”

“So ‘suck it up’ it is!” he laughed. “Let’s get together again on Wednesday morning, if that’s OK with you. I have an assignment for you to complete before then.”

“Wednesday is fine. What’s the assignment?”

“I take it you aren’t working so you have lots of free time?”

I didn’t, but not for the reason he was suggesting. And actually, I would have Tuesday free because Winter would be working.

“That’s correct. My assistant will call if there’s an issue which needs my attention.”

“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time. First, make two lists - the things you like about NIKA as it is right now, and the things you dislike. Second, sit down with an employee list and jot down what you know about each employee. Then, on a scale of one to ten, rate how close you are to them, with ten being basically merged souls and one being your nemesis, Dante.”

I grinned, “I don’t hate Dante because that would require an emotional commitment!”

“An interesting and healthy attitude. Who would your worst enemy be, then?”

“Myself.”

“Now THERE is something I’d like to explore! Besides you?”

“My mom and my brother are pretty much at the far end of the spectrum from, say, my CFO, with whom I have two kids.”

“I missed that somewhere!”

“She’s the girl I lived with when I first came to Chicago. I simply left out the fact that we had procreated after NIKA was founded.”

“Doctor Mercer said I was going to be in for several surprises. I think we need to talk about that.”

“Sure. She’s the ten, in every way.”

Bill nodded, “Fair enough. Do you have close business partners?”

“Yes. Some who are mentors, some who are mentees, and some who are friends.”

“Include them as well, if you can.”

“What’s the purpose?”

“An organization inventory. I think you’ll learn something from this even without talking to me about it.”

“Of course I will! That is how it works! Doctor Mercer never gave me solutions, only ways to find them within me.”

“If you aren’t prescribing drugs, that’s the only way counseling is really successful, and drugs aren’t really counseling in my book. I could tell you the answer but you won’t hear me or if you did, you won’t internalize it. If YOU come up with it, with my guidance, and YOU articulate it, then it has a good chance of success.”

“How do you want to settle the bill?” I asked.

“You can write me a check at the end. I’ll keep track of the hours.”

“Thanks.”

We shook hands across the table, drained our coffee cups and left the restaurant. When I walked back to the motel, Winter was leaning against the hood of my BMW.

“Annette, the housekeeper, is almost done,” she said.

“You know her?”

“She graduated two years ahead of me. She’s Autumn’s friend. She’s married to a Sheriff’s deputy.”

True to Winter’s word, Annette finished a couple of minutes later, and we went into the room.

“King’s Island?” I asked.

“Bed first!” she smirked.

“Twice this morning before breakfast wasn’t enough?”

“No! Twice more, and then we can go to King’s Island!”

“And here I thought you were going to spend all day giving me blowjobs!”

Winter laughed, “I will if you want, but I prefer screwing!”

“Me, too, believe it or not!”

“Then let’s go!”

About an hour later, after showers, we got into my car and headed for King’s Island, which was about five miles from my parents’ house, but with very little risk of running into them.

“Did you get breakfast?” I asked.

“Yes. I walked to the bakery in the other direction. I figured you wanted some privacy for your meeting.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Do you mind if I ask who you’re meeting with?”

“A counselor to help me work out some things with my company.”

“Sorry, I meant his name, if it’s not too private.”

“Bill Ivarstad,” I replied.

She gasped, “Ex-Marine?”

“Yes.”

“That’s Mickey’s grandfather!”

“Is that a problem?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know what he knows. Mickey’s dad retired from the Marines about two years ago, right before they moved here, and Mickey and I started dating. Mickey’s dad does some kind of security consulting for a company in Cincinnati, but I’m not sure exactly what.”

“Global Security?” I asked.

“I think so. Why?”

“I work with them a lot. I’m friends with the guy who started it and one of his most senior employees. I wasn’t planning on revealing to anyone about you and me, but I’ll make sure I don’t even give any hints. I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“Like I said, I’m not sure what Mickey’s grandfather knows. His dad knew everything. He’s the one who told me not to call again after I got Mickey’s letter.”

“That just makes no sense to me,” I replied. “Marines are about the most dependable, reliable straight shooters in the world.”

“I guess there’s always one rotten apple.”

She had a point. Of all the men in the Navy I knew, only Seaman Timothy Jefferson was a rotten apple.

“I know one sailor like that,” I replied.

“Oh?”

“He murdered a friend of mine on Guam.”

“I know about that! Mickey’s dad was there when it happened, and I heard about it one night when I was at their house for dinner. That was a while ago, right?”

“Seven years. Talk about a small world!”

“Mickey’s dad was always saying that,” Winter said. “He’d run into people he’d last seen in Japan or wherever in a mall in Virginia or on a base in Spain or wherever.”

“Well, let’s do our best to avoid him finding out so we don’t have any issues.”

“His grandson broke it off with me!”

“Yes, but you have no idea what your ex-fiancé said to his dad or grandfather.”

“He would be that much a jerk,” she spat. “And to think I was going to let HIM do the stuff you’ve done! I’m glad THAT didn’t happen!”

“So no second thoughts?”

She laughed, “No way! Tonight you pick what we do! Anything we’ve done!”

I was sorely tempted to visit the sex toy store near Goshen, but I had misgivings about turning Winter on to that kind of thing, and as I’d thought the day before, I wasn’t really into that stuff. Well, except with Eve, and I was probably going to wind that down. That said, after my talk with Abbie, and what I wrote in my journal, maybe I’d keep it going.

“Believe it or not, if it’s up to me, then it’ll just be slow and sweet and last as long as possible.”

“How long can you go, if you go slow?”

“I’ve managed close to forty-five minutes on a few occasions.”

“Oh God,” she moaned softly. “Now I think you should turn around!”

“Nah, if you think about it all day, you’ll be so worked up, you’ll have orgasms at the drop of a hat ... a dozen or more.”

“You’re MEAN!” she declared, pouting.

“Hey, you’re the one who brought up sex!” I chuckled. “And we’ve already done it FOUR TIMES today!”

“So?” she said with a smirk.

“New toy stage,” I replied, grinning.

“What?”

“Like the kid at Christmas with their new toy! They play with it non-stop until the newness wears off.”

“All I can say is I’m really glad I was on the Pill. No rubbers!”

“They wouldn’t have been necessary,” I said. “I had a vasectomy about five years ago. It was the STD test that was ‘make or break’. My wife the doctor won’t allow ANY freedom without one. And it makes perfect sense. HIV is something you just don’t want to mess with.”

“According to our health teacher chlamydia and gonorrhea are the real problems here. And rubbers are effective for those.”