Chapter 2

Cliff Fitzpatrick moved around the room introducing himself and shaking hands with his senior executives. It was clear that each man had his own usual seat at the table and was prepared to take it. Cliff made his way to the end of the boardroom table and sat down. When he did, the rest of the executives took their seats.

"Gentlemen, there's a lot of work to be done. As I'm sure many of you know, I have made commitments to the Board of Directors with respect to operating results I expect to achieve within the next six months. I believe you also know that the trends we are following now are not good: Murphy Manufacturing is going downhill. Does anyone care to comment on the present situation?"

Several executives started to speak at once. Cliff took control and let them speak one after the other. Although the words changed, each one's message was the same: His unit was doing a fine job, but received no support from the others. Cliff noticed some of the executives had no comments to make.

When all who wanted to had had a chance to speak, Cliff made his announcement. "Gentlemen, effective tomorrow morning, there will no longer be reserved parking places. Except for the clearly marked handicapped parking and visitors' parking, every space will be available on a first-come, first-served basis to all company personnel. Secondly, the executive dining room will be closed as soon as the caterer's contract can be canceled. Mr. Purcell, how soon can that be?"

Purcell, an acerbic-looking gray-haired man who appeared to be close to retirement, was speechless. Finally, he managed to say that the contract had run long enough so that it could be canceled with a modest payment after just one week, provided contract termination was to close the room rather than replace the present catering company.

Cliff excused him from the meeting with instructions to give notice of cancellation immediately. Purcell returned a few minutes later and said verbal notice had been given and a written confirmation had been dictated.

Cliff then turned to the principal business of the meeting, the determination of Strategic Business Units (SBUs) and preparation for the planning sessions he was going to lead beginning the following week. "Gentlemen," he asked, "what business or businesses are we in?"

A quick answer came back from John Flood, the vice president of marketing. "We're in the auto-parts business, obviously, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Is that a trick question, or something?"

"Not at all, John. We produce valves and piston rings. Another company produces sparkplugs. Are we both auto-parts suppliers?"

"Of course we are! It is a trick question, isn't it?"

"No, it really isn't. You said we're both auto-parts suppliers. Do we compete with each other in any significant way?"

"Well ... no," Flood replied. "I guess not."

"We sure don't. The point is, saying we're auto-parts suppliers says absolutely nothing. We can look at a number of elements: price, customers, and a number of other things. We would see that we sell to common customers, but that's about it. We do not compete with sparkplug companies.

"However, we also operate a chain of auto-parts stores. Is this the same business as manufacturing valves and rings? I doubt it. There is a completely different set of competitors and a totally different set of customers. It's a wholesale/retail business that happens to deal in auto parts, among other things.

"But we sell the parts we make in our own stores! It's got to be the same business," Flood protested.

"John, let me try it a different way: What percentage of our stores' sales are sourced from us?"

"One-hundred percent!" Flood answered proudly. "We buy for all the stores right here in Milwaukee."

"No, John, that's not what I mean. What percentage of the products our stores sell do we make? And by the way, why do we centralize the store buying here in Milwaukee? I thought our stores are spread all over the country."

"Well, I guess the percentage is small, but what difference does that make? And we buy for all the stores here in Milwaukee to make sure they buy the right things."

"Okay," Cliff continued, barely able to control his exasperation. "Are there successful auto parts suppliers that do not own parts stores? How about Racer Sparkplug, the biggest in the business? Does it have parts stores?"

"Of course not, but so what?"

"Is Racer harmed by not having its own stores? We sell their sparkplugs in ours, don't we?"

"I still don't get it," Flood said. "What difference does it make?"

"The difference, John, is that they are different businesses. We'll get to the relevance in our meeting next week. We are going to start with a planning session on our manufactured parts beginning at eight o'clock next Monday. There will be a memo out later today with the details and the location. One more thing: Everyone named will be expected to attend unless personally excused by me. Any questions? No? This meeting is adjourned.

"Mr. Purcell, could I see you in my office at one o'clock, please?"

When Cliff and Sandy returned to his office, they found two deliverymen were just leaving. Entering, they found a very modern-looking Eames chair sitting in his office. Although a beautiful example of modern design, the stainless steel and leather chair looked grotesquely inappropriate in an office which was furnished in 1950's walnut. Seeing a gift tag hanging from its back, Cliff took a look at it. It said, "Best of luck, good wishes, and love, Stephanie."

"Who is Stephanie?" Sandy asked.

"Stephanie Simpson is my girlfriend in Chicago. What do you suppose I ought to do with it?" Cliff replied.

"Since she's your girlfriend, I'm sure I don't have the faintest idea. It is kind of big to be a paperweight, though," she answered while trying to control a grin.

At that point the telephone buzzed, and Sandy picked it up. It was Louise, the girl she had asked to cover the phones. "It's a Miss Simpson, calling from Chicago. I told her Mr. Fitzpatrick was in a series of meetings, but she insisted I buzz. What should I tell her?"

Sandy put the call on hold, and looked at Cliff. "It's Stephanie. She wants to talk to you. Do you want to take the call?" When he nodded, she passed him the receiver and left the office.

"Hi, Steph! I just received your gift. The chair is lovely."

"Clifford, you know I detest being called Steph! Why do you keep doing it? I'm glad you like the chair. It's exactly like one in Daddy's office. How is your new job? Have you tired of Milwaukee yet? When are you going to come down to see me? Can you come down tonight?"

Cliff thought how typical the conversation was. Stephanie would ask a bunch of questions but seemed completely unconcerned about the answers, except insofar as an answer directly affected her. He replied, "The job's fine, hon. However, there's a ton of work to do. I don't know when I'll be able to get down, but it won't be tonight."

"Oh, pooh! You're no fun. The Graysons are giving a party for Conkie tonight. I told them I was sure you could come. Murphy is such a little company, dear. Surely, it can't keep you that busy!"

"Steph," he said, ignoring her earlier protest, "$500 million may be small compared to Ajax's billions, but it's still a lot to handle. Give the Graysons my regrets, please?"

"Clifford, you are terrible! I was feeling all romantic, too. I was even thinking of inviting you up to my apartment, later. Doesn't that entice you?"

"It certainly does, dear. It just shows how busy I am. I have an appointment right now. I'll call you soon, okay? I love you, dear, and I'll have a hard time sleeping tonight thinking of what I'm missing!"

"I love you, Cliff," she said and hung up.

He thought about Stephanie with a certain amount of irritation. What particularly annoyed him was her use of sex as both a reward and a weapon. However, she was certainly a beautiful girl. Then he realized that Sandy was no longer in his office. He buzzed her on the intercom and asked her to come back in.

He looked at the girl when she entered and asked her with a smile, "Is that your no-comment face?"

She pretended to be puzzled and said, "I don't understand."

"You understand perfectly! You don't like Stephanie, do you?"