Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“It will help our rating,” Lisa points out after a pause. “A better rating means higher profit margins. Obviously, I don’t have to explain that to you.”
I almost close my eyes and massage my forehead, but I’ve decided to stop doing that so much. I can’t let the board know how much this life is beginning to weigh on me—the grays of the corporate world, the flatness of it. I chose this life. I’m good at it. Yet sometimes, I feel like something’s missing, but only in quick moments.
My business relies on me. Countless clothes manufacturers right here in the US depend on me: advertising agents, dealmakers, janitors, everybody in this building. Since making the company public three years ago, I’ve stood between our workers, customers, and wolves like Lisa and Mark.
Lisa smooths down her pristine bob of dyed blond hair. She does that often, though there’s never a strand of hair out of place. She’s as uniform and orderly as the cubicles here.
“And anyway,” Mark says, “we are making sustainable changes.”
“Sourcing ten percent of our packaging from so-called sustainable sources isn’t enough to suddenly declare ourselves eco-warriors,” I tell them, my tone firm, letting them know we’re not going down this dishonest road.
“Our profits have declined the last two quarters,” Lisa points out.
“Slightly,” I tell her. “That’s business. Initially, we’d sometimes lose money for two years in a row. All it takes is the right product and angle, and everything turns around. Business is often a long game.”
“Not for the shareholders,” Lisa mutters.
I notice a few of the other board members nodding, too. Tyrone gives me a look from the back of the room, eyebrow raised. He’s my second-in-command, and he’s good at his job. However, often, I wish Paul was here instead. Paul’s been my best friend since we were kids. We started this company together, but the business life was never for him. All he wants to do is bike, surf, climb, and disappear into the flow state. But I get Tyrone’s point. The days of stamping my fist and making it law are gone. I have to persuade them.
“It’s a strategic error, too,” I tell them. “If we want to brand ourselves as a sustainable company, we must go all the way, which you all know is cost-prohibitive right now. We’re doing our best for the environment. We’re doing well but attract attention the second we start waving that flag. People will get to the truth. The risk of a scandal far outweighs any temporary boost in public perception. There’s also the point that sustainability never sold a boxing glove or a pair of climbing shoes.”
That wins most of them around. When the vote comes, Lisa and Mark are left sourly pouting as the majority side with me. Once that’s handled, I leave the conference room, riding the elevator to my office with Tyrone. I glance at him. He’s fiddling with the end of one of his braids, as he often does when he’s got something on his mind.
“What is it?” I ask.
“What’s what, boss?” he counters.
“Cut the crap. You know I value your advice.”
“They make a good point about the shareholders,” Tyrone says quietly. “It’s not the old days anymore.”
“Making this goddamn company public was the only goddamn way to save it.”
“That’s a lot of goddamns,” Tyrone says, chuckling.
“Now we have to fight tooth and nail for everything. We need a new product or a new PR campaign—something that will put the company back in people’s minds. That’s what our business is about. When a customer is at the store, they need a tether, something to attach to. That’s what we’re missing.”
The elevator opens onto my floor. Tyrone walks over to his assistant’s desk, spinning a few times. He’s twenty-five, but sometimes, he seems like a little kid. “Did you see the viral video from that ice cream company?”
“Should I have? What company?”
He waves a hand. “It doesn’t matter, but it sent their stock skyrocketing. Twenty percent increase like that.” He snaps his fingers. “That’s what we need. A good video that will get people talking.”
“But they always come across as corny and forced,” I tell him. “We’ve tried. Many people have tried.”
“This one was homemade,” Tyrone replies. “I think a customer sent it in. It was about a child whose happiest moment was visiting one of the ice cream factories. Maybe we could do something like that but with our own angle.”
“Maybe,” I say, nodding. “Get a few people together and brainstorm some ideas. Bring me the best ones. I’ve got a call with our Europe office, right?”
“In ten minutes, yeah.”
“Then let’s get moving.”
After the call, I sit at my desk, looking through my floor-to-ceiling windows at the city. I’ve got a good life, I remind myself. I’ve got work I care about, even if it’s not the same as it could’ve been. Both my parents are alive and healthy, living in sunny Spain. I’ve got friends, maybe no one as close as Paul. If I wanted, I could date any number of women. So why do I feel so flat?