Bill approached the CEO's office with some apprehension. Not terror. Not really terror. True, he was coming back for more money for the third time on the same project, and it was also true that this time it was because of what could be described as a bad decision on his part. Although, of course, it was the technicians that made the LightningLan decision, he had just gone along with it. So terror was too strong a word and, anyway, six months had passed since his last request for additional funding and Bill was sure everyone had forgotten about it.
The CEO's office was guarded, Scylla and Charybdis-like, by two secretaries. One of them, Phyllis, was the CEO's long time secretary. She had started as his secretary shortly after he had first joined the company and had followed him from job to job, from promotion to promotion, until he and she finally made it to the top. The other secretary, whose name he didn't know, was actually Phyllis's secretary. She had some other title because secretaries weren't allowed to have secretaries of their own, but since Phyllis had become a Super-Secretary who couldn't be expected to actually type something or file a piece of paper, the other woman took care of those tasks. Phyllis defended her CEO like a female grizzly bear defending a lone cub, and the CEO supported Phyllis in most areas, so crossing Phyllis, even in the most trivial fashion, was the corporate version of certain death.
"Back for more money, eh, Bill," said Phyllis. "Isn't this the third time?"
So much for their having forgotten. The CEO might have forgotten, but Phyllis, even many years in the future in some advanced stage of senility where she couldn't remember her name or where she lived, would still remember every slight made to her boss no matter how long ago, and every mistake made by one of his subordinates. Bill had heard it said that Florida snapping turtles were so mean that you could kill one, bury it in the back yard for a week, and if your dog happened to dig it up again it might still bite him on the nose. Florida snapping turtles ran screaming from Phyllis.
"Well, this is really a new situation, Phyllis," Bill said. "The project is over and this is a kind of...an enhancement."
"Yes, I'm sure it is," said Phyllis in a way that meant she was sure it wasn't. "He'll be with you in a few minutes."
The CEO's office was big enough to house a third world family of fifteen. It had a private bathroom (already way ahead of the third world family) and plenty of sleeping space. Throw in a hot plate and the third world family would be in heaven.
Each new occupant of the CEO's office spent about $200,000 redecorating when he first moved in. One CEO would decorate in oriental rugs and fine wood, the next one would rip all of that out and re-decorate in butter soft leather and steel sculptures, and the third would send all of that to the dumpster and turn the office into a gallery of modern art.
Bill had noticed that the current CEO hadn't spent the requisite $200,000 when he moved in. At the time, Bill had assumed that the new CEO was a frugal sort and this thought was reinforced by the frequent trips to Scotland that the CEO was known to make. No doubt he was visiting his frugal Scottish relatives. One look at the CEO's office instantly dispelled those notions. The decor might be described as "Nouveau Golf". The walls featured pictures, all with the exactly the same construction, of the famous golf courses of the world. A deeply tanned and smiling CEO stood with his arm around the shoulder of one of the immediately recognizable legends of golf. In the background, carved in stone or emblazoned on the front on a large clubhouse was the name of the course.
The rug had also always seemed to be a frugal choice. Its immediate predecessor in the CEO's office was a dark green monster with nap so thick that a machette and a native guide seemed necessary, and prior to that had been an intricately designed oriental. The current incarnation of the rug was unprepossessing, short-napped and ordinary looking. Oddly, three wine bottles, more or less evenly spaced, were standing upright on it.
The rest of the office was a bit unusual as well. The CEO's desk was smaller than Bill's and was toward the back of the office. Definitely not the dominant piece of furniture in the room. On one side, two couches faced each other with a coffee table separator between them, and on the other, in front of one of the wine bottles was what appeared to be a live tree in a wide flat pot.
The CEO wasn't at his desk. He was sitting on one of two couches with his feet up on the coffee table.
"Bill, it's good to see you. How's the new project going?"
"Basically pretty well," said Bill, glad to have an opportunity to say something good before he had to cough up the bad news. "The customers are happy with the new reporting and the system's a lot easier to use."
"Good to hear," said the CEO. "Say, are you a golfer by any chance?"
"Well, yes, but strictly public links. Not like this," said Bill gesturing vaguely toward a picture of a smiling CEO in front of a Pebble Beach sign.
The CEO quickly produced two putters and two golf balls from behind his desk. Bill wondered if that was really the only purpose for the small desk. Maybe the drawers were all full of golf balls.
The CEO handed Bill a putter and a golf ball and walked over to a spot near one of the couches. "Now here's the first hole," he said, gesturing at one of the wine bottles near the small desk about 15 feet away. "It's a par 1. I'll start."
Tink! Bill's reverie was interrupted by the sound of the CEO's ball hitting the wine bottle dead center. "Good shot," he said dropping his own ball in the designated driving...er putting area. Bill's golf skills were limited, but putting was the best part of his game so he lined up his own putt carefully and smoothly drew the putter back.
"So I understand you need a little more money."
Clunk! The sudden jerk in Bill's swing had caused his shot to hit the leg of the CEO's desk and bounce somewhere under it. "Uh, yes," said Bill, trying to recover from this abrupt change in the conversation, "We had some problems with our LightningLAN system and we think we need to replace it."
The CEO was now down on his hands and knees peering under the desk. "Hmm, you don't often see an unplayable lie in office golf, but I think you may have one here. Tell you what, we'll give you a three on this hole and go on to the next."
The second hole was a par 2. The wine bottle was behind the potted plant in the corner so the first putt had to be just long enough to pass the plant and allow a second shot to the wine bottle. The CEO did exactly that. Bill dropped his ball on the rug, noticing absently that the first hole was a fine 1982 Bordeaux. He was determined to improve on his previous showing. He had watched the CEO's putt and thought he knew just about how hard to hit it. He lined it up carefully.
"Mabel isn't going to sue us, is she?"
Clunk! Another sudden twitch had caused Bill's shot to hit the potted plant squarely and bounce back a foot. His ball was now located exactly on the other side of the plant from the target wine bottle. "Well, I don't think Mabel will sue us," Bill said nervously. He hadn't considered that possibility at all. "She's been with the company for twenty years and she's very loyal."
The CEO walked up to the potted plant to examine Bill's ball. "That's good. Maybe we can get her some cosmetic eyebrow surgery and have her sign a release. Hmm, too bad we don't have a pitching wedge in the bag today. I think you might be able to make this one."
The CEO converted his 2 with a Tink. Bill worked his way around the potted plant for a three and they both went on to the third and final hole.
"This is a par 3," said the CEO. "The hole is over behind the couch. Here, I'll show you how to shoot it." He proceeded to execute a nice lag putt to the front of the coffee table.
As Bill lined up his first putt on the final hole he decided to try a little experiment. He drew the putter back and feigned a forward stroke.
"So how much is this new system going to cost us?"
Bill thought he saw a hint of a smile on the CEO's face when he realized that Bill had faked his putt. "It depends a bit on which LAN system we choose, but the number of terminals is fairly small and we can probably get by for about $40,000.
The CEO nodded and Bill went back to his putt. He lined it up again, and with no interference, rolled a beautiful lag putt to a few inches in front of the CEO's ball.
"$40,000? I think we can handle that," said the CEO.
I've noticed a change in the "desk size" parameter of high level managers. It used to be the case that the higher up you were in the organization the more your desk resembled an ornate, curlicued, mahogany aircraft carrier. The CEO would sit on a nice high chair on the other side of the desk like the Admiral of the fleet while his guest sat in a lower chair in front expecting him to say something like, "Load this idiot into one of the torpedo tubes and fire him at the enemy." Now the trend is to have a petite writing desk, usually fairly severe and functional. All the business is conducted on chairs and couches and little side tables. It's as if today's CEOs are saying, "Why do I need a desk? I don't write anything. I don't file anything. My job is to talk to people and make decisions." So the desks shrink and little conversation areas pop up where everyone can sit and pretend to be equal.
Meetings are an area of difference between IT people and managers. IT meetings are usually related to design or project planning. The objective is to merge everyone's ideas together and come to some sort of consensus, but that consensus may come after a lot of yelling and screaming and interruptions of interruptions of interruptions and ever more intricate designs on the whiteboard connected by a rat's nest of lines and arrows. When you go to a IT meeting, you're never sure exactly what will come out of it or how long it will last.
Managerial meetings have an entirely different purpose. The facts are all known long before the meeting takes place and the decisions have already been made. Where are they made? They're made over lunch, they're made in small private meetings, they're made on the train going home, in the elevator, and anywhere where discussions and opinions aren't recorded and can be changed if necessary. The actual meeting is nothing more than an official pronouncement and ratification of the decision everyone knows will be made. If you can ignore the slight gloating tone of the winners and the knives sticking into the backs of the losers, you might think, "Another unanimous decision! I'll tell you, this management team is together!" As a result, management meetings are pretty boring. All the back-stabbing, arm-twisting, begging and pleading, threats, and redemption of old favors happened before the meeting began and the remaining part is about as exciting as having your passport stamped at customs. Mangement meetings pride themselves on keeping to a strict time schedule.
"Back channels" are enormously important to the managerial process. Having a bulldog like Phyllis in your corner monitoring the secretary network like a CIA hacker and storing every scandal, every rumour, and every questionable incident away for future use is of immense value. The back channels are also the true decision making process, and proper monitoring can insure being on the winning side in every controversy. A derilect manager who is on his way out can detect it long before the axe falls by the fact that he is cut off from the nurturing flow of the back channels.
So what was this meeting all about then? Was it a fact finding mission for the CEO? Nah, by the time the meeting began, the CEO knew more about the incident than Bill did. Was it a decision making process? Nope, the decision had already been made. The meeting was about making the decision to buy a new LAN official, and it was about Bill. Giving him a little slap on the wrist and a personal evaluation.