The Goal

30

he's doing isn't any different from the things everyone else is doing. Anyway, he's looking at me as if he's checking me out. Is it because I look a little shaken? I wonder what he knows. I stare back at him until he turns toward Peach.

When I'm finally able to tune into what Peach is saying, I find he's turning the discussion over to the division controller, Ethan Frost, a thin and wrinkled old guy who, with a little makeup, could double for the Grim Reaper.

The news this morning befits the messenger. The first quar- ter has just ended, and it's been a terrible one everywhere. The division is now in real danger of a shortfall in cash. All belts must be tightened.

When Frost is done, Peach stands and proceeds to deliver some stern talk about how we're going to meet this challenge. I try to listen, but after his first couple of sentences, my mind drops out. All I hear are fragments.

"... imperative for us to minimize the downside risk..." "... acceptable to our current marketing posture..." "... without reducing strategic expense..."... required sacri- fices..." "... productivity improvements at all loca- tions..."

Graphs from the slide projector begin to flash on the screen. A relentless exchange of measurements between Peach and the others goes on and on. I make an effort, but I just can't concen- trate.

"... first quarter sales down twenty-two percent compared to a year ago..." "... total raw materials' costs in- creased..." "... direct labor ratios of hours applied to hours paid had a three-week high..." "... now if you look at num- bers of hours applied to production versus standard, we're off by over twelve percent on those efficiencies..."

I'm telling myself that I've got to get hold of myself and pay attention. I reach into my jacket to get a pen to take some notes.

"And the answer is clear," Peach is saying. "The future of our business depends upon our ability to increase productivity."

But I can't find a pen. So I reach into my other pocket. And I pull out the cigar. I stare at it. I don't smoke anymore. For a few seconds I'm wondering where the hell this cigar came from.

And then I remember.