Chapter 11

12:30 Wednesday, August 14^th, 1991
Baker and Brown Capital
601 California St, Ste 1201
San Francisco, CA 94110

The suit fit as well as his best uniforms ever did, though the seamstress wasn't the Gunny's customary Filipino woman. The Gunny snorted to himself, as he rode up the richly appointed elevator. Thank God Lenore washed the Beemer, I'd have hated to park the pickup in a garage as nice as this one. The Gunny laughed to himself, there was more than a little truth to the sarcasm, given the ostentatiousness of the building.

The Gunny strode out of the elevator, taking only a moment to get oriented, and then presented himself to the receptionist. After identifying himself, he wasn't kept waiting, but instead she led him to a birch-paneled room, much brighter than he had expected. A soft cream-colored carpet and pastel shades were on the walls, with dried flower arrangements in pottery on small stands around the room.

You are in the land of interior decorators, the Gunny thought, then sat in a relatively Spartan office chair, perfectly matching the rest of the décor. He placed the slim leather attaché Deb had insisted he bring on the table in front of him, a silver pen beside it.

There was a muffled conversation coming from behind a door. As it got slightly louder, the Gunny took his cue. Standing behind the chair he'd claimed for his own, the door opened and four men entered. Lawyer, Lawyer number two, Banker, and Executive. Executive is the one who I'll work for. Deb had described the types he'd meet, and so far she was one-hundred-percent on the money.

The men crossed the room to shake his hand, another small victory Deb had coached him on, and the Gunny opened the conversation, taking the initiative. Just like a battle, he'd said back when Deb had coached him.

"The names are important, Gunny," she'd told him. "Get those right above all else."

Reems, Lawyer one. Styphon, Lawyer two. Gibbs, Banker. Mattes, executive. The Gunny repeated it three times, and then began. "Gentlemen, good day. Messers Reems and Styphon, your interest is Legal, and Mister Gibbs, financial?" At the nods, the Gunny continued. "Well, then I suppose I'd better impress Mister Mattes, then, with the interview."

After the gentle laughter subsided, Reems opened. "Your resumé is interesting, Mister Hebert. You certainly seem to have managed large projects, but it's only recently you'd managed an operational healthcare center. How did that come to be?"

The Gunny recited, in his own words, the response Deb had coached him to. The interview quickly moved far afield, from the Gunny's perspective, into matters of finance and law, rather than running a hospital. The Gunny listened to the lawyers and the banker asking the questions, and answered the great majority by reaffirmation of the principle they'd wanted to hear: conservation of capital and management of expense.

Throughout it all, the executive, Mattes, hadn't asked a question. The Gunny used the last "Will you try to save us money?" question to deliver a shot for Mattes. "Of course, there will be the occasional exception. There are times when public opinion, or the well-being and orderly execution of the staff functions or, even, heaven forbid, the well-being and best interests of patients may come first. We will not succeed as a company without good public opinion and employee opinion. The trick is to find someone who can generally tend to maximize the bottom line and not lose sight of compassion and regard for the patients and employees." He thought he'd delivered that fairly well. Deb, I will make you a supper to remember for coaching me.

Mattes gave the Gunny a nod. "Mister Hebert, we have a site under construction in Fremont. It's not too far a drive – would you come out with me to take a look at it?"

The Gunny studied the man. Is he trying to get me away from the lawyers and banker? Will they see this as such? "Gentlemen, I have some time tomorrow afternoon if you have further questions of me," delivered to the three other men. "Mister Mattes, I'm at your disposal for the afternoon."

The panel shared smiles and handshakes with the Gunny. A few moments later, the Gunny and Mattes were in an elevator. "I hope you won't mind driving," the other man said. "It's probably a no-no, to make an interviewee drive, but my car's in the shop and I have my daughter's car. It's not exactly got a lot of passenger room."

The Gunny chuckled dutifully, and the two walked to the Beemer. After a few minutes of driving, they headed down Van Ness to the freeway. "So, anyway, sorry about the lawyer thing back there. They've got their concerns, I suppose."

As the Gunny got on the 101 freeway south, Mattes continued, "I'm more concerned with ability to run things, to bring order from chaos. Your boss over at Oak Knoll said he'd been wondering when the hell you'd wake up when we talked to him. Said you move in some pretty high circles when you wanted to, but that you could really relate to the working stiff, too. Something about twenty-two years in the Crotch, he said."

The Gunny simply looked at him. Shit, they talked to the staff at Oak Knoll? How the fuck ... oh, the résumé.

"What do you want me to call you?"

"I'm kind of partial to 'Gunny'."

"I can't call you that in the boardroom. Next week, you'll have to meet the board. If you drink whiskey, you'll fit right in. You play golf, you're in, too."

The Gunny shook his head 'no' to both, shrugging slightly.

"Okay Gunny it is, then. I was a First Lieutenant in Korea, had just graduated college, and wham, there I was, in the Quartermaster Corps. Gunny, I got a problem on this site. No one is working with anyone, and everyone's pointing at blueprints and contracts, and the work looks to me like it sucks. The foreman from the contractor isn't too bad, and the Architects aren't either, but it's not gonna get us a hospital facility done on time or on budget."

Shit, I like this guy, the Gunny thought. He's as human as the rest of us. Yah, I'd like to help him out.

"What's more important? On time or on budget?"

The other frowned. "On time, but don't tell the banker that. I think the lawyers wouldn't agree, we only have six more months to get operational or reapply for permits. If we have to refile, they get more money. If we overrun the budget, then I'll tell the banker why."

The rest of the drive down the 101 passed quickly.