It's Not Luck - Eliyahu M. Goldratt [59]
Bill doesn’t agree. “You are right about Hilton but not about Granby. The old man is as straight as an arrow.”
“That’s what I thought until now,” I admit. “But how else can you explain using such a gross overestimation for my companies?”
“What are you talking about?” Bill is honestly surprised. “One hundred and thirty million is a very conservative estimate.”
“Bill, I don’t have much experience buying and selling companies, but I was not born yesterday, and I do know how to read financial statements. For each of my companies we’ll be lucky to get thirty million. To say that we’ll get one hundred and thirty for the lot is simply ridiculous.”
Bill looks at me. “Want coffee?” he asks.
“Forget the coffee. Tell me what is going on.”
Bill is busy trying to catch our waiter’s eye. I’m starting to get irritated. Then, without looking at me, he asks, “What do you think Pressure-Steam is worth?”
“Maximum thirty million, not even that. Look Bill, their market is stable and in stalemate. Stacey succeeded in bringing her company to a quarter of a million profit. Maybe, with a lot of effort, it is possible to bring this company up to making two or three million profit a year, but that is the maximum.”
“Alex, what is the value to anyone of the competitors if they can close the division and take its clients?”
I feel like someone clobbered me on the head. Hard.
So that is the plan. Of course. How naive could I be? A competitor that does it will gain our market share. They all have excess capacity. Material is only thirty-five percent of the selling price. A competitor that takes over and dismantles my company can increase his profit by maybe even forty million a year. Not to mention that it would break the stalemate, they would become the largest and most dominant in this market. How stupid could I be?
Now I understand the conversation with that disgusting wheeler-dealer. Now it all makes perfect sense, including the price. No wonder I smelled something bad. I smelled the body of my company being torn to pieces.
And Trumann and Doughty, those butchers. They were careful not to tell me a thing. They look on both sides of the equation, oh yes. And I know what they’ll tell me when confronted, “We must sacrifice a part to save the whole.” My foot.
“Are you all right?” Bill actually sounds concerned.
“No, I’m not,” I almost shout at him.
“Yes, you are,” he smiles at me. “I can almost hear the sounds of the trumpets. Dragons, run for your life. Saint GeoRogo is going to war.”
“You bet your ass I am.”
I get into my car and start the engine. Where to? It doesn’t matter. Just to drive, I need to think.
For miles, I’m fuming. At Trumann, at Doughty, at Granby, at Hilton, at Wall Street, at the world. Even, a little, at myself.
After a long time I call myself to order. Being mad is not enough. What am I going to do? Fight for a nice pricey severance for the employees? What a lousy solution. Besides, how much can I persuade UniCo to pay? One month’s salary per year of employment? Two? Maybe three? No way will they agree to even two months per year. And that’s nothing. Yes nothing, to a person who cannot use his expertise anywhere else.
And Stacey? What chance will she have? With a track record of heading a company that was sold to the cleaners? That black mark will devastate her for life.
And me? I’m also going to carry the same mark of Cain on my forehead.
No way. No way am I going to allow any of it to happen. But how can I stop it?
The cloud is clear. I’ve known it for a long time. It is also clear how to break it, we must find a way to increase sales. Significantly and rapidly. The problem is that until now I didn’t believe that it was really possible. Now I don’t have any choice. I must assume that it is possible. I must take it for granted. That’s the only way I can gather the stamina to go and look for it.
A knight who doesn