Critical Chain - Eliyahu M. Goldratt [29]
No wonder I'm slightly irritated when Fred bursts out with "Now, I finally understand."
"What?" I'm a little too snappy.
"Now I understand why so many projects take so long to complete their last ten percent. It's because, in measuring progress, we overlooked the importance of the critical path. I found the enemy, it is me. I'm the one who prepares all the project progress reports!"
What a class!
I turn into my driveway and hit the brakes as fast and hard as I can. Slightly shaken, I step out of my car and check the front. I doubt if there is enough space to slip a cigarette paper between my car and the shiny Chevy Blazer. It has temporary plates. Why didn't Judith warn me we were having guests for dinner?
I walk around this magnificent piece of engineering. It's my dream. A sports-utility vehicle, four-wheel drive. A big, roomy, strong car. An unattainable dream, at least for now. This baby cost almost as much as my yearly income. I go into the house.
No guests. Judith is taking a shower. The table is set for two. There are big red candles on the table. Candles! I hurry back to the Blazer and check the registration in the glove compartment. What am I going to do now? It's gone too far! I go back into the living room and fix drinks for two. Then I sit on the couch and wait.
Finally, she comes down. She is beautiful. New hairdo. I'm not sure about the earrings, but I do recognize the dress. She sits near me, takes her drink, and looking at the golden liquid asks, "How do you like your present?"
So, it's my present.
"Do you like the color? Silver is our color, don't you think?" I take another sip.
"I know how much you want a sports-utility. It's about time you had a decent car."
"I could wait."
"Your car is falling apart," she sits herself in my lap. It won't work. Not this time. "Judith, how are we going to pay for it?"
"Honey, we'll manage." She brushes my cheek with her lips. I try to bring her back to reality. "We can't afford it," I say. "Oh baby, we can." She loosens my tie, and works on my shirt buttons . . . "You're getting tenure and, as you've told me so many times, it won't be long before you become a chaired professor." She strokes my chest.
I grab her shoulders, push her slightly away, and repeat slowly, emphasizing each word, "Right now we cannot afford to buy it!"
She looks at me, then she stands up. "Rick, since the day we got married, I've been hearing the same thing. We cannot afford it. We cannot afford it. I can't listen to it any longer! I waited years for you to finish your studies. I didn't make a face when your friends made a bundle while you continued in academia. But enough is enough. I want to live. Now."
"Judith, be realistic. The fact is that right now we cannot afford it. You know how much we borrowed. You know we can't afford a secondhand Subaru and you go out and buy a brand new Chevy Blazer?"
"Listen, Richard Silver," she put her hands on her hips. "I don't want to hear it anymore. I don't want you to tell me that we cannot afford it now, that we have to wait, that someday..."
"But, Judith," I try to calm her down, "that's life." "Life! You dare to talk to me about life! I'm not going to listen to you anymore." She starts to cry. "I've listened once too often."
It hurts. Years ago I said "We cannot afford a child. Not now." A year ago Judith found out that she can no longer have children. I stand up and hug her. Hugs are lousy compensation. So is a new house. Or a Chevy Blazer.
Chapter 10
"Not bad for a first draft." Jim drops our article on my table. "I marked some of the points that need a little work."
The first page looks like it is suffering from a severe case of the measles. I glance at the rest. The disease has spread throughout all the pages. Even the tables are contaminated. I'm not surprised. That's what