VELOCITY - DEE JACOB [155]
At Oakton, in the meantime, Baby ’Zilla had been delivered. And installed. But except for a few test runs, “BZ” was being kept nonoperational until the production constraint – still Godzilla – truly had to be elevated. As a result, the system was running well, with the Drum-Buffer-Rope of TOC giving framework for Lean Six Sigma improvements – in production and throughout the company.
Thus, as 2008 progressed and the heads of most Winner businesses myopically pored over measures of cost cutting, Amy Cieolara and her crew actually grew the business. At the highest levels of Winner, there was indeed praise for her and Hi-T’s accomplishments. Peter Winn, confronted daily with an abysmal stock price – a low of $6.13 in October of 2008 and a rally to $12.57 by year-end (Gasp! It doubled in just three months’ time!) – as well as abysmal headlines, was keeping close watch on Amy Cieolara. He needed her.
So it happened again. It was late in January 2009, and this time Amy Cieolara was not snoozing on a meetingless morning. She had slipped out of the office and was picking up Girl Scout Cookies for Michelle’s troop. The world economies were still reeling; even cookie orders were down from the year before.
Still, the entire backseat and trunk of Amy’s BMW were filled with boxes of Tagalongs, Thin Mints, Trefoils, Samoas, and every other Girl Scout Cookie variety. She just was about to drive away when her cell phone played its little jingle.
“What’s up, Linda?”
“Peter Winn’s office just called. He wants you to come to New York right away, and he’d like you to stay and have dinner in Manhattan tonight.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Amy said. “Doesn’t this guy ever plan anything in advance? I should get him a calendar for his birthday.”
“They’ve offered to send a plane to pick you up. So I guess it’s pretty important.”
Amy sighed as she thought this over, then said to Linda, “All right. You know what to do. Cancel everything for this afternoon and tomorrow. Get me a hotel, nothing ridiculous, but not next to the boiler room – or the elevator.”
“They say they’ve taken care of all that. Their only question was, when would you like the plane to arrive?”
Amy drove home and moved all the cookies out of her car and onto the dining room table. As she was packing for New York, she called Tom Dawson.
Since his African misadventure, their relationship had been stable, more or less. But Tom was forever flying off to hunt elk in the Rockies or go fishing in the Gulf – typically with one or more of his Marine buddies, not with her – and in between he was running his aviation business, which also took him out of town for a day or two at a time. And she was forever working into the evenings and weekends, or traveling on business, or doing something with Ben and Michelle, or helping with her parents’ medical issues. Yet somehow in the past year or so, she and Tom had settled into a comfortable pattern that almost resembled domesticity – whenever they were both in town, that is.
“Hey, are you going to be around tonight?” Amy asked him over the phone.
“Why? You’re looking for some hot romance?”
“Unfortunately, no. I have to go to New York on short notice.”
“So you’re looking for a pilot?”
“Um, no. I’m looking for someone to stay with my kids. I’d ask my mom, but she’s been having a lot of problems with Dad at night. Can you do it?”
Tom sighed. “Sure. Gotcha covered.”
“And could you and Michelle deliver Girl Scout cookies