Jen frowned. She certainly needed to assess her own options—she just wasn’t sure that she wanted the help of a business model to do it.
“Options, you say?”
Bill was looking thoughtful.
“Yes. I’ve just been in a strategic options lecture, and I was just wondering how you know which way to go. When you’ve got no idea what to do next.”
Bill stroked his beard, which was now a good two inches long. “You know, I’d like to tell you a little story, if that’s okay with you.”
Jen nodded.
“There was this young dude. World at his feet, just out of business school. And he’s doing the rounds of the consultancy firms, industry, anything and everything, you get me?”
Jen nodded seriously.
“Okay, so he’s talking to these guys and taking his CV around and they’re offering him things—great salaries, perks, his own office, his own car, a mobile phone . . .”
Jen raised her eyebrows.
“So, this is a while back. When mobile phones were still a status symbol.”
Jen shrugged.
“Anyway, he’s in a quandary. Which way to go? What should he do? And so he went for a long walk to clear his head. Tried to work out whether the office was better than the phone, or the salary better than the perks. And as he’s walking, he’s realizing that he’s all caught up in the frippery, the surface details. When what he should be focusing on is what he wants out of life, where he wants to be five, ten years from now. And you know what he realizes?”
Jen shook her head.
“He realizes that he doesn’t want any of it. Doesn’t want the money, the smart suit, or the fancy car. He wants to do something more meaningful. He wants to help people. So he turns right round, goes back to college, and he starts training all over again, this time on life coaching, not business analysis. You see what I’m saying?”
“That you’re not the person to ask about business analysis?”
Bill looked hurt and Jen grinned at him.
“Oh, you’re kidding. Oh, I getcha. Funny. That’s funny! But seriously, what I’m trying to say is that you need to look inside of yourself. There are always options. But they’re here, in your heart, not in your head. Am I right, or am I right? Huh? Huh?” Bill affectionately punched Jen’s arm and she grinned at him.
“I guess you’re right,” she told him, realizing that she had no idea how Bill’s story was meant to help her.
Daniel leaned back in his seat and looked his chairman in the eye. This was crunch time. He was going to convince Robert that cost-cutting and mindless growth wasn’t the way to go. He had plans and innovations that would take this bookseller into the twenty-second century, let alone the twenty-first, and Robert couldn’t fail to be impressed. Bookselling is an art, he would say. It’s not about piling ’em high and selling ’em cheap—it’s about understanding the reader, getting inside their head, meeting their every whim.
He smiled comfortably. The truth was that he felt excited about his job for the first time in months. His lunch with Anita had ignited a spark in him again, got him thinking his ideas were good ones. Now he just had to convince Robert.
“So you see,” he said confidently, “anyone can look at financial efficiencies and trim their costs. But I think the real future for this company is in innovation. We need to get people to love reading, not desperately try and cut prices to entice them into the store. Books aren’t expensive at all when you compare them with films, with other types of entertainment, and they provide hours of pleasure. We need to get inside the minds of our customers and come up with something that will knock their socks off. Get back to what the company is all about—books.”
Robert Brown took his glasses off, cleaned them, and put them back on, then looked at Daniel thoughtfully. “You think the business is all about books?” he asked.
Daniel frowned. Where was Robert going with this? “Yes,” he said simply, his hand reaching involuntarily to smooth his hair down. “Yes, of course it is.”
“I see. It’s just that from where I’m standing, the business is about its shareholders. Creating value for them. Dividends, that sort of thing.”
Daniel looked at him impatiently. What was this, a lesson in business from his chairman? “Absolutely,” he said with a tight smile. “And that’s very important. But we do that through selling books. Get that right, and our shareholders will, I’m sure, be over the moon.”
Robert nodded. “Look, Daniel. You built up a great little bookseller business. Really, you did a tremendous job. But you’re working for us now. We’re a big business. And we expect big profits. As do our shareholders.”
Daniel swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. “You don’t want to hear any of my ideas?” he asked.
“In the short term, as I’ve explained, the board feels that we should stick to what we know. Drive down costs, slash prices, maybe do a few more three-for-the-price-of-two deals. And in the meantime, look for an acquisition. It’s all about market share, Daniel, as the board knows too well.”
“The board or you?” Daniel asked bitterly, turning to look out of the window, taking in the view of London from his office. There was Buckingham Palace and Big Ben, and in the distance he could just see the edge of the London Eye. It was a great view. And it represented everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. He wasn’t sure he could walk away from it.
Robert didn’t say anything.
“You bought my business because of its innovation,” Daniel continued. “Because we were better, faster, and more focused than any other bookseller.”
“We bought it because it was a profitable business, Daniel. And because we saw more profit could be made with the right strategy.”
Daniel took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly.
“Think about it, Mr. Peterson,” Robert said, getting up from the table. “I have every confidence that at your presentation to the board next week you will focus on cost-cutting and price reductions. We want value-add propositions, not harebrained schemes. I hope that my confidence is justified.”
As he left, Daniel turned back to his computer, opened up his presentation, and pressed delete. He was furious. He’d never been so angry. He watched as his hard work disappeared; watched the ideas he’d been so excited about turn to blank pages. And it was only when the phone rang and he reached over to pick it up that he noticed that his hands were shaking.
“Daniel Peterson,” he said gruffly.
“Daniel, it’s Anita. Look, sorry for the short notice, but I wondered if you were free for lunch this afternoon? I was talking to our chief exec about your branding idea and he loved it. Wanted me to get some more details . . .”
“Forget it,” Daniel said despondently. “It isn’t going to happen.”
“But you haven’t even done your presentation yet, have you?”
“Robert didn’t even want to hear about it.”
“So have lunch with me and we’ll make it too convincing for him to reject it.”
Daniel sighed. “Fine,” he said. Maybe a lunch wasn’t such a bad idea. If he stayed here, he might end up kicking the door in.
“Wonderful. Wolseley at one?”
“Fine.”
Daniel put the phone down before Anita could even say good-bye, and went back to the delete button.
Jen wandered out of Bill’s office and mooched down the corridor, bumping into Lara and Alan, who were coming the other way.
“You okay?” Lara asked concernedly.
Jen shrugged. “Fine. Just fine.”
“You want to grab a hot chocolate? I usually find a sugar rush cheers me up on a Monday morning.”
Jen shook her head. “No . . . I think I’m going to go for a little walk, actually.”
Lara nodded understandingly. “Oh well, I suppose I should go to the library and do some work anyway.”
Suddenly Alan cleared his throat. “I’d like to have a hot chocolate.”
Lara and Jen turned
to look at him and he reddened.
“What?” Lara asked.
“Hot chocolate. I’d like to grab one, seeing how Jen’s too busy.”
“Right,” Lara said, looking slightly bemused. “Well, okay then. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Alan said, smiling now. “So, you like hot chocolate, do you? Are there any particular brands that you prefer?”
Lara raised her eyebrows. “Freak” she said affectionately.
She turned to Jen. “See what happens when you desert me?” she whispered. “If I end up having to talk about business process reengineering all morning, I’ll blame you!”
24
Jen walked out of Bell Towers and headed through St. James’ Park, toward Daniel’s offices. She would surprise him with a coffee, she’d decided, telling herself that it was to cheer him up, but knowing that really she just needed someone to talk to. Perhaps she should buy him a cake, too.
She popped into Pret á Manger and bought two lattes and some lemon drizzle cake. No one could turn down lemon drizzle cake, she reasoned.
She looked at her watch. Twelve P.M. What if he was at lunch? Or in a meeting? He probably spent his life locked in boring meetings and if she just turned up, he might think she was a total loon.
Perhaps she should call, she thought, but rejected the idea immediately. The point was that she wanted to see him, even if only for a few minutes. She needed to see Daniel’s face, to reassure herself that some things in her life were still okay. She’d just pop in for a quick chat, and if he was busy, then she’d just come back later.
She found Wyman’s easily enough—it was a large, squat building sandwiched between two gray government buildings with a large aluminum sign outside—but somehow it wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting. Even though she knew that Daniel was the managing director, she always thought of him as working above a book shop—or at least working in an old eighteenth-century building with battered wooden floors and shelves crammed with books everywhere. Which just proved how little she knew about anything, she thought to herself despondently as she signed in, and was directed to the fourth floor.
As she stood waiting for the lift to arrive, she looked around the lobby and felt a little thrill. This was virtually Daniel’s company. He could do what he wanted with it, she thought to herself. There was a large vase of lilies just next to the lift, and Jen inhaled the lovely sweet smell. Maybe she’d work somewhere like this when she was done with Bell Consulting, she decided. A good, old-fashioned company that just sold books and didn’t get involved in backhanders or dodgy dealings.
She arrived on the fourth floor and followed the corridor into a small open-plan area, behind which was an office. Her heart leaped slightly when she saw Daniel, sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen, and she smiled quickly at the woman sitting outside, figuring it was probably his secretary.
“I’m here to see Daniel,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve brought him coffee.”
The woman looked at her, unimpressed. “It isn’t in the diary,” she said flatly.
“The coffee?” Jen asked, confused.
“A meeting,” the woman replied. “Your name?”
“Jen?” Daniel appeared at his door, and the woman shrugged. “What are you doing here?”
“Coffee,” Jen said immediately. He didn’t exactly look pleased to see her, she noticed, and tried to ignore the anxiety that suddenly appeared in her stomach. “I brought you coffee and cake.”
Daniel held his door open for her and she walked into his office.
“I was hoping you might give me a one-to-one tutorial on my dissertation,” she said with a little smile. “And I’m prepared to pay you with coffee and lemon drizzle cake.”
Daniel looked at her, bemused. “Now?” he said. “You want a tutorial now?”
Jen shook her head. This wasn’t quite going to plan. She thought he’d have been pleased to see her—he’d been working all weekend and she thought he might have missed her. She’d certainly been missing him.
“No,” she said immediately. “Of course not. I was joking. So how’s the work going?”
Daniel shrugged. “I’ve been working on a presentation. I’m presenting to the board next Monday. . . .” He looked up at his wall calendar, on which the presentation was clearly marked. 4:30 P.M.: D-DAY.
“D-Day?” Jen said with a little smile. “So we’re talking about an invasion, are we?”
“Something like that.”
He seemed distracted, like he was barely listening to her, and Jen suddenly wished she hadn’t come. She’d pictured this very differently—Daniel wrapping her up in his arms, listening while she told him everything that had happened, telling her with incredible insight exactly what she should do . . .
She frowned. Maybe she was just being selfish, expecting him to be focused on her when he obviously had important things on his mind.
“Don’t worry about your presentation,” she said as reassuringly as she could manage bearing in mind that her own confidence was sinking fast. “You’ve got all those ideas you were telling me about, most of which, I have to tell you, have found their way into my assignment. . . .”
She looked at Daniel, hoping for a smile, but his face was still like thunder. “So which bits are you going to start with?” she continued, setting out the coffee and cake on his table. “The co-branding? I think that’s great. Or are you going to talk about reader clubs? I tell you, they’ll love all that stakeholder analysis stuff . . .” Jen trailed off as she realized that Daniel wasn’t even looking at her.
“Is something wrong?” she asked tentatively. “Have you decided against the clubs or something?” She hoped he hadn’t because that particular idea had been hers.
“They’re all crap ideas,” Daniel said dismissively. “This company is here to serve its shareholders, not a bunch of people who might or might not be encouraged to read more by setting up a bloody club.”
Jen frowned. “You don’t mean that,” she said quickly. “Come on, talk me through that branding idea again. I was thinking that you’d maybe have to limit it to one or two big publishers, because otherwise—”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Daniel interrupted. “I said they’re crap ideas. They’re not going to happen. What I need to do is get those bloody publishers to give me a better deal. Undercut the competition. Find some way to improve our profit margins. Maybe we shouldn’t even sell books anymore—I think DVDs have a better markup now. . . .”
Jen stared at him indignantly. He was sounding just like her father. Or, rather, what she’d thought her father was like before she got to know him again. Or . . . she shook herself. Who was she kidding—she had no idea what her father was really like. That was the problem. But she did know that Daniel was talking like an idiot.
“I don’t know what’s up with you,” she said calmly, “but the only crap around here is that stuff you’re spouting.”
She picked up her coffee and took a long sip. She could feel herself getting upset, and she didn’t want to have an argument, not now. She’d come to Daniel for reassurance, not to have a fight.
But reassurance was not on offer. Instead, Daniel glowered at her. “You think I’m spouting crap? Oh, grow up, Jen. I thought you were the one doing an MBA.”
“Grow up?” Jen was angry now. What right did he have to talk to her like that?
“You heard me. Oh, what’s the use. Do your assignment, Jen. Write up all those lovely ideas—they’re perfect for an MBA. They’re just not going to work in the real world, okay?” He walked back to his desk and sat down at his computer.
“You’re not a managing director, you’re a bloody tyrant,” Jen said hotly. “I thought you were a nice person. I thought you were interesting and funny, and all the time you were just . . .”
“Just what?” Daniel asked, still staring at his computer. He was really angry now.
“Well, actually, you’re just a prick,” Jen said, standing up and pushing her coffe
e away. “You’re not the Daniel I know, and I don’t actually want to be here with you if that’s okay.”
“Fine, fuck off, then,” Daniel said angrily, his eyes flashing. “Go and lecture someone who actually gives a damn.”
“You know, Daniel, I thought you did. I actually thought you did,” Jen said, storming out of his office and trying to ignore the amused look on his secretary’s face.
She decided against the lift, running down the stairs instead, and tore out of the building as fast as she could. What had happened in there? she wondered, stomping down the street as she tried to make sense of Daniel’s reaction. Did he suddenly turn into an ogre when he was in the office or was he angry with her? Had she said something to annoy him?
She pulled out her mobile phone and stared at it for a few minutes, hoping that he’d call and apologize, but it remained steadfastly silent. Maybe it is me, she suddenly thought. Maybe he’s bored of me, irritated by me. I didn’t see him all weekend and maybe that was a sign . . .
Jen shook herself. No, it was impossible, she wouldn’t believe it. Daniel wasn’t like that. Although she hadn’t thought he was an argumentative prick either, and she’d been wrong about that.
Gradually calming down, Jen decided to go for another coffee. She hadn’t had a single bite of her lemon drizzle cake, and when Daniel came to his senses and called to apologize, she wanted to be nearby.
25
An hour later, Anita walked into the Wolseley and raised her eyebrows when she found Daniel staring despondently out of the window.
“Daniel, there you are. You know, I’m so pleased you were free today. I had such an interesting conversation the other day . . .” She trailed off as she realized that Daniel wasn’t even smiling. “Things really that bad, then?” she asked seriously, putting her hand on his.
Learning curves: a novel of sex, suits, and business affairs Page 21
