Critical Chain - Eliyahu M. Goldratt [81]
It won't help. How can it? But I don't see how it can hurt, and I'm in a really cheerful mood.
The meeting is in a private room at the Sheraton. The first person I see as I enter is B.J. Good thing I don't have castanets attached to my knees.
It's not five minutes before she succeeds in maneuvering me into a corner. "You can't imagine how many strings I had to pull in order to be here. I almost had to promise that I'd join the YPO."
She talks as if I'm the one to be blamed. Blamed for what?
"I'm counting on you to give an excellent presentation," she keeps on pressing. "Be practical. Don't talk just theory."
"What else can I talk about?"
"Of course you have to talk about the unique know-how the Executive MBA students learn in our program. But be practical. Stress how much money this know-how saves for their companies."
"But I don't know how much."
"Then talk about how much it can save them."
I was nervous before I came here. I was even more nervous when I saw B.J. But only now do I understand what real nervousness means. Thank God she leaves me. Before anybody else has a chance to corner me, I grab a waiter. No, I don't want a drink. I want to know where the toilets are.
A minute after I start my presentation, I'm cool as a cucumber. My transparencies are good. Concise and to the point. They also look good. Who would believe that I only printed the latest version at noon? Anyone who's worked with today's software.
They almost don't interrupt me. Very few questions. But they nod in the right places. They let me feel that I'm making sense, that they are with me. When I finish, they clap. More than just politely. Or maybe I fool myself?
Only when I sit down do I realize I didn't do what B.J. wanted. It wasn't on my transparencies.
Newbolt goes to the front. He formally thanks me, and then, to my surprise, he adds, "This stuff does work. We experienced it. A project that was hopelessly late is now back on track. We are now starting to manage every major project this way."
"Same here." Pullman says.
"Did you test it at Genemodem?" B.J. asks. There is no trace of surprise in her voice.
"Yes, we did. We are launching our new line two months ahead of the competition."
"That must be worth millions to your company," B.J. softly remarks.
"It helps."
Dinner is served.
Before coffee, B.J. takes over the discussion. Somehow she succeeds in causing them to feel guilty that they don't provide enough support for the university. It goes well until she starts pressing them to send more managers to the Executive MBA program.
Then it starts to backfire. They react by mocking the value of the general knowledge taught in universities. They talk about the "first year shock" and about the fact that they have to spend so much money training their already "educated" managers about what really counts.
B.J. fights back. One president talks about the fact that they do support the Executive MBA program. They pay seventy-five percent of the inflated tuition the college charges. Another president asks why the tuition for an Executive MBA is three times the tuition for the regular program.
She ducks it. Instead she claims, and proves, that they don't support their managers enough. "The two weeks they take classes in the summer they have to use their vacation time. Why? Don't you think that it helps your company for them to learn? Or maybe you think that these people, these hard-working managers who sacrifice their weekends to learn, who have to do their homework at night after work, don't need a vacation?"
They say they would do more if what was taught was more in line with things like they heard tonight.
That's all B.J. needs to hear. Masterfully she maneuvers them to agree to seriously evaluate a special track for Executive MBAs tailored to their needs. She squeezes the appointment of a committee of three presidents, or their delegates.
When we leave, she takes