Learning Curve (15 page)

A
lison was late for lunch at Lavanda. She had underestimated the time it would take to drive to Palo Alto, much less to find a parking place. She felt badly because she had asked for the lunch, and for Arthur to carve some time out of his busy day.

But Arthur Bellflower was still his jaunty, gracious self when she finally arrived, frazzled and embarrassed.

“How is my favorite businesswoman?” he asked as he rose to hug her.

“Embarassed, Arthur. I've been famously prompt my whole life. Now I can't seem to get anywhere on time.”

He replaced the napkin on his lap. “You're running a public corporation now, Alison. You're going to have to learn a whole new set of time management skills and strategies.”

She caught the waiter's eye, then turned back to him. “But I just don't understand. In the early days of the company, I had about fifteen different jobs, from making sales calls to hiring to cleaning the damn ladies' room. And, with a few exceptions, I was always able to stay on top of all of them.

Now, I've basically got one big job—and a growing army of people to help me—and yet all of a sudden I can't seem to get to a single appointment on time. I'm late for meetings, phone calls… and now even with you, my favorite person in the whole world.”

Arthur was about to reply when the waiter suddenly appeared beside them. She could see from the look on his face that he recognized her from the burst of media coverage over the last few months. Alison ordered ice tea, and Arthur ordered his second gin and tonic. “I don't have to run a corporation this afternoon,” he said with a grin.

After the waiter left, Bellflower became more serious. “There are two things you are going to have to learn very quickly,” he said. “The first—and I'm not worried about this one, because you're a quick study—is that you need to develop techniques and find the right people and channels to learn what's
really
going on in your company. That's why kings had jesters, and we men have wives: someone has to be willing to tell us the truth.”

She nodded. She was already dreading Armstrong Givens' departure. “And the second?”

“I personally think this one is even more important—though some may disagree. It is that you need to carve time out of your daily schedule to get your own work done. Otherwise, the requests and demands of all your stakeholders will quickly overwhelm every second of every day.”

“You mean I need to delegate responsibility more.”

He nodded. “That's half of it. But the people you delegate to will quickly begin to make their own demands on your attention. No, what I mean is that you need to reserve time strictly for
you
, and you alone.”

“I'll remember that.”

“I'm sure you will. But I'm not at all sure that you'll actually implement it.”

“Why? You don't think I'm strong enough?”

“You wouldn't be the toast of the Valley right now if you weren't a very strong person. No, my concern is that you still want the people who work for you to like you. You still want them to be your friends. You think that to take time just for yourself is to be selfish. And to be selfish is to have those same employees starting thinking of you as—if you'll excuse the expression—a selfish
cunt
.”

She was so surprised by the word that she blushed, then quickly tried to cover it. “You misjudge me, Arthur. You know as well as I do that I've already fired employees. That I've sued suppliers. And I've cancelled distribution contracts. Those aren't exactly the actions of the delicate flower you seem to think I am.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “And I watched you do each of those things, and, of course, your behavior was without reproach. But I also noticed that each time, you went to great pains to explain how the decision was not your fault, that it was out of your hands, that the victims deserved it.”

He dipped a torn piece of ciabatta into a bulls-eye of olive oil and balsamic vinegar on a side plate, then put it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, as if phrasing in his mind the most succinct words of advice.

“Tell me,” he asked, “what happens when one of these decisions
is
your fault? When you have to take the blame—and the hatred—of your ‘friends' because it is the best of two bad choices? What happens when you have to fire someone who doesn't deserve it? You've never directed a mass lay-off in your entire career. Can you really pull the trigger on all those nice people who have worked so hard for you, who have mortgages and little babies at home, and who don't have much chance of finding another job in a long, long time?”

“I don't expect that to happen,” said Alison. “Certainly not anytime soon. And when—and if—it does there are alternatives to just a single brutal lay-off. For example…”

Bellflower cut her off. “It will happen. Probably sooner than you think. And there won't be an alternative… not if you want your company to survive.”

“Well, then, I'll do what has to be done.”

“We'll see,” he said. “Now, other than allowing me to play the old scold with you, why are we having lunch today?”

“Actually, Arthur, the fact is that I really did want to hear what you just told me. I hoped to get some last advice from you before your upcoming departure from the board. And I just wanted some private time with you, before all of the formal ceremonies that are coming up, to thank you personally for all of your help.”

Arthur Bellflower sat back and looked at her for a long time. Alison thought she saw a small tear form in his eyes. But only for a moment.

“Alison, it was great pleasure and honor to work with you,” he said. “As for thanking me, hell, I should be thanking you. You made my firm and its investors more than $400 million. That's enough to guarantee the success of that fund no matter what happens to all of our other investments. And the fact that Manzanita Capital is now synonymous with a superstar start-up like eTernity has enabled us to fully subscribe our new $2 billion fund in record time. And last but not least, your success has put a small fortune into my own pocket.”

He smiled briefly. “But between you and me, the best part of working with you has been just the plain fun of being part of a hot new start-up company and helping turn it into a world-beater. I've had a lot of different jobs in my career, but not one has been nearly as much fun as this one. It's been an honor to work with you, Alison. You may be the best entrepreneur I've ever worked with.”

“Well,” she said, “the feeling is mutual, Arthur. Speaking as the CEO of eTernity, we couldn't have gotten this far without you. And speaking personally, I've come to think of you as one of my closest friends.”

The waiter brought their meals. By the time she looked up from her plate of gnocchi, Alison was surprised to find the old venture capitalist looking at her with a stern face. “You are mistaken, my dear” he said. “I am
not
your friend. My friends are aging men who fish and play golf with me. They are the godfathers of my children, and I've known many of them since college. By comparison, young lady, you have never been to my house, nor I to your apartment. I'll bet you don't even know my wife's name, or the number of grandchildren I have.”

Alison froze, the fork in her hand poised inches above her plate. She felt as if she'd been slapped in the face.

“What I've been,” he continued, “is your business partner. And whether you appreciate it or not, I've been the most loyal and supportive partner you'll probably ever have. Early on, I went to bat for you when the other investors thought you
weren't up for the job. For the last year, I've been assuring them that you have the ability to grow with the firm as it transforms from a spunky little start-up to a big, mature company. Just so you know, Alison, I don't usually take that position. On the contrary, I'm usually the investor who's the first to open the trap door on the founder.”

“I didn't know all of that,” she said slowly.

“You didn't need to,” said Bellflower. “When I do my job right, the only thing you should notice is that there are no cliffs in your path.”

“And the cliffs ahead?”

“You'll need other help with those. Or better yet, you need to learn to fly over them. You're further along in this process than I've ever been. You need a new mentor now. I suggest it not be a
friend
, but someone whose interests are more fiduciary—and therefore more pure—than mine have been. You need honesty, not sympathy.”

“And you, Arthur? Will you still be there to advise me?”

“I will remain a major shareholder in eTernity. As long as that's the case, my advice is available to you anytime you need it. If I should sell my stock—or invest in a new competitor—that support will, of course, end.” He smiled again. “On the other hand, when that day comes, perhaps we'll finally discuss becoming friends.”

A
fter lunch, a slightly dazed Alison walked down University Avenue towards the parking lot and her new Mercedes. The car was her only indulgence, since she knew that any sale of stock reduced her control of the company. The sidewalks were crowded, with no sign of the predicted recession yet. She looked up and noticed the marquee of the Stanford Theater: “The Best Years of Our Lives” was showing, paired with “Executive Suite.” In the jammed Apple Store, a knot of people swarmed around the display of the newest MacBook. And in the window of Francis Ford Coppola's restaurant, she recognized a notorious investment banker who'd nearly gone to prison, huddled in a deep conversation with an equally well-known magazine editor.

She needed to use the lock button on her keychain, with its resulting honk, to recognize her new car. As she climbed in, Alison checked her Blackberry. There was a text message from Jenny Randall, now eTernity's sales director, asking if Alison had time for a short meeting tomorrow. Starting the motor, she started to back out… then stopped. It struck her that she already knew what the meeting would be about.

She glanced up at herself in the mirror. Her face had grown tighter; the furrow between her eyes deeper, and the lines in the corners of her mouth were even more defined. She thought of reaching up and brushing back her hair, and perhaps putting on some lipstick. But her hands never left the steering wheel.

Will it be just me in the end?
she asked herself. Are they all going to leave me—all those people who were supposed to be my friends, but in the end will prove to be just co-workers? And when the bleeding stops, will it be just me?

Probably.

But if that's so,
she thought,
why haven't I followed the path of the others and left?

Even as she asked the question, Alison knew the answer:
Because I have nothing else.

T
ipo had just connected the plasma TV on the wall of Alison's new office. “Oh, look,” he exclaimed, peering through the newly jet-black hair that draped over his eyes. “Satan's on tour.”

Alison, who was lining up books on her credenza, turned to see. There on the screen, talking to Neil Cavuto, was Cosmo Validator. With his huge head, lined and tanned face, and pompadour of silver hair, he looked more leonine than ever. And that was appropriate, because the silky old legend was in the midst of announcing the creation of his new foundation dedicated to saving the giant sable antelope of Angola—no doubt, she thought ruefully, so he can get the chance to shoot one. The topic then turned to the political plans of Validator's wife… which Cosmo deftly deflected by saying only that Ms. Validator was fielding a number of requests to run for various offices.

“Turn it up,” Alison said as she slipped into a new leather office chair that was still covered with plastic. She leaned forward with her chin in her hands to catch the nuances in Validator's expressions. What is he? she asked herself. Sixty-five? Seventy? God, he's still a very attractive man. An alpha of alphas. Repellent and sexy at the same time. And dangerous too. Thank heavens I don't have to compete directly against him: he'd have my stuffed head on the wall alongside his enemies and ex-wives.

“It's been a rough year for your company, hasn't it Cosmo?” Cavuto was asking.

“We grow through adversity,” came the predictable answer.

Did Cosmo just wink? Alison wondered. Now
that's
balls.

“Yes,” said Cavuto, “but there are some who say that you brought this on yourself by announcing a major organizational change when you didn't need to. Wasn't that an unforced error?”

Validator smiled. “Better than having to change when you
do
need to. Desperation almost always leads to bigger errors.”

“Yes, but Validator stock is in the tank. The company's numbers haven't met analysts' estimates in four quarters. And at the company's annual shareholder's meeting last week, your own hand-picked successor, Dan Crowen, offered nothing to make investors the least bit optimistic about the company's near future.”

“Your point, Neil?” Cosmo asked, his eyes lidded.

“My point, Cosmo, is that even if your strategy is a good one—and that's far from certain—are you sure you have the right leadership in place at Validator Software to execute that strategy?”

Validator threw his head back, as if pondering how to respond to Cavuto's unexpected question. Then he leaned forward, and his craggy face and green eyes filled the screen. “Neil, I
believe
in the long-term prospects of my company… and I have full
faith
that Dan Crowen will get us there.”

“Wow,” said Tipo, who was sitting on the shrink-wrapped couch. “Did he just stand by Crowen, or did he just stab him in the back?”

“Maybe both,” said Alison. “Now, shhh, listen.”

“… about eTernity and its CEO, Alison Prue?” Cavuto said, finishing a question.

Validator smiled wryly. “You know I only say good things about my competitors.”

Cavuto laughed. “You and I both know that's only been true in the breach.”

Validator's expression didn't change. He looked like an amused Great White Shark. “I would have to say that Ms. Prue and her team have done a hell of a job…
to this point
… and they deserve every ounce of credit and reward they've received.”

“Damn right,” muttered Tipo.

“However,” Cosmo continued, “as you well know, there's a vast gulf between the skills needed to run a new start-up company—something Ms. Prue has in spades—and those required to lead a large public corporation.”

“I don't disagree,” said Cavuto. “But you in turn must admit that she's been in the new job for a year now… and it seems to have gone without a hitch.”

“So far,” said Validator inscrutably. “And I'm sure she and her team feel like they can accomplish anything right now. But they're heading into some major challenges for which they're mostly unprepared.”

Cavuto seemed surprised at the man's bluntness. “Care to elaborate?”

“No,” said Validator, his smile firmly in place. “But as my mother used to say to me as a boy, ‘Time will tell.'”

Alison shivered. It was as if Cosmo Validator could smell her fear.