Company - Max Barry [104]
“Why you arrogant little prick,” Blake says.
“Blake,” Klausman says, his voice low.
Eve folds her hands together and leans forward, pulling Jones's attention back. She looks very earnest, and even now, when Jones is reasonably sure she is focused on nothing beyond extracting the maximum personal benefit possible from this situation, he feels a pang of desire for her. “Jones, we didn't ask you here to vent our frustration. We want to determine the best way forward. If word leaked out that the Omega Management System's test-case company imploded . . . well, there would be no way to recover from that. So our objective is to get Zephyr back on track as fast as possible. We . . .” She glances at Klausman. “We want to ask for your cooperation with that.”
Jones laughs before he can stop himself. “You're joking.”
“There's no one more likely to persuade the staff than you.”
He looks around the table. They're as solemn as funeral directors. “Zephyr is not going back. Zephyr is running a new project now: to find out whether a company can be successful without eating its own employees. You all need to accept that. And stop assuming this is a disaster! What if—and sorry if I'm turning anyone's worldview upside down here—what if Zephyr can be successful and a good place to work?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Blake says, disgusted.
Eve says, “Jones, we are not amateurs. Alpha did not assume that cutting employee benefits raises productivity. We studied it. We tried it both ways. We tried it in ways you haven't thought of yet, and that's why we know: letting employees run the company is a bad idea. Does Zephyr have high turnover and poor morale? Yes. Do its employees complain a lot? Yes. Would it be more successful if it addressed these problems? No, because at that level, happy employees are not more productive. People don't become receptionists and sales assistants because they love answering phones, and if you give them the opportunity to earn the same salary by working less, you know what? They grab it. This is not a principle Alpha invented because we enjoy being assholes; it is a fact. Maybe you don't like it, maybe we don't like it, but we understand it, and we manage it. You, Jones, don't understand it. You took a high but manageable level of employee dissatisfaction and turned it into a rebellion because you believe in a goddamn fantasy.”
“Enough,” Klausman says. “Jones, I'm only going to ask you once. Will you help me get Zephyr back?”
He feels rattled from Eve's attack, but if there's one thing he's sure of, it's that he's not going to help Alpha. He's surprised they bothered calling him up here to ask, since surely Eve, at least, must know there's no chance he will agree. Perhaps it's a sign of how desperate Klausman is to save his corporate baby. Or maybe—
Oh, he thinks.
He gets it. He looks at Eve, and it almost breaks his heart. She regards him steadily, waiting for his response.
“No,” he says.
Then it all goes pretty much as he expects.
Eve turns to Klausman, spreading her palms. “Daniel, I have to say it. This is just what I predicted.”
Blake says, “Jones, think about what you're doing, for Christ's—”
Eve talks over him. “And I'm going to speak frankly, because the circumstances demand it. The blame for this debacle, Daniel, lies at your feet. You allowed Zephyr staff too much freedom, despite what we knew about their levels of dissatisfaction. You selected Jones for Alpha. And now we've spent three days talking. It pains me to say this, Daniel, but you are losing Zephyr. We need to take back the company. We need to sack the ringleaders. It has to happen now. And, Daniel, you have to step down.”
Klausman's eyebrows jump up in shock.
“I'm not saying permanently. But this is a crisis. It's no time to stand on egos. You started this company, Daniel, but you have to let somebody else save it. You know it's true. If this happened on anyone else's