"Let me get this straight," Walker said, and then paused to think.
Alex took a long, deep breath. Here we go again, she thought, bracing herself.
"You don't have the root cause of the failure," Walker continued, "but you know it's because of the cost-cutting initiatives, and you know that fixing it will cost me more money. Correct?"
"That will probably be the case, yes, sir."
"And how exactly do you know that?"
"I have been the head of manufacturing for almost nine years, and I have never had such low quality rates. I have more than twenty years of experience in manufacturing and assembly process for electronics, and I know what changes were made right about the time the product quality started to drop."
"What changes were those?"
"At the end of last year, when our operating budget was cut by 30 percent, while maintaining the production goal for most items, and increasing it for a few of them. Those are the budget cuts that I am talking about — they touched all areas of the manufacturing process and significantly impacted the workforce. We let a lot of people go."
"And why is this starting to show only now?" Walker probed.
"I think it has to do with the parts inventory levels. Until now, we have used our older parts inventory, the parts produced before the budget cuts. We've started to phase in new parts only since March or so. We manage our inventory first-in, first-out, so we worked through the older inventory first." As he was explaining the circumstances, Dunwood was regaining his confidence. He had data on his side, facts, common sense, and logic. He should end up being fine.
"Tell me, please," Walker asked in that calm, yet threatening, tone of voice he used before he started yelling, "who authorized you to take quality out of the product to cut costs?"
"You can only go so far with cost-driven process redesign and optimization, before you start negatively impacting the product, even if you don't want to. If you recall, sir, I sent you a series of emails about this last November. We even met a couple of times, and I told you back then— "
"And I told you back then," Walker interrupted, "that you are to cut costs by 30 percent, while maintaining, or increasing, current quality levels. Do you recall that?"
"Yes, I do, sir, but—"
"But what? You come in here now and try to pin this on me?"
"I didn't mean—"
"Didn't mean what? Didn't mean for me to find out just how lame and incompetent you are? I have never, never authorized you to jeopardize product quality to achieve your budget goals." Walker had raised his voice to thunderous levels, punctuated by rhythmically slamming his fist on the table.
"But sir, you have to understand that—"
"I don't have to understand anything!" Walker pounded. "I don't have to understand incompetence, I don't have to tolerate incompetence, and I absolutely don't have to keep paying for incompetence! If you can't get this job done, I'll find someone else who can! Just say the word!"
"But, sir, if you consider—" Dunwood's chin was trembling again, and so were his hands.
"Are you saying the word? Should I replace you?"
"No, sir."
"Then, are you going to finally start doing your job? Are you going to fix this without burning a hole in my pocket?"
"Yes, sir, I'll try to find some—"
"Don't try! Get it done! You have sixty days. This is your last warning!"
The same two heads were nodding in approval, filling Alex with disgust.
"That's it, I'm done with you." Walker pounded his fist again, for dramatic effect. "Dismissed." He grabbed his portfolio and notebook, and left, slamming the door behind him.
Dunwood sat on the nearest chair; he looked as if he were going to be sick. Somehow, his heavily wrinkled face seemed well-suited for his job, reflecting as much worry, pain, embarrassment, and fear, as a human face could possibly reflect.
Alex noticed the others were slowly leaving the room. She saw Miles Putnam from R&D pull out a pack of cigarettes, and she took the opportunity, following him into the elevator.
"Miles, right?" she asked him.
"Yes, that's right," he answered.
"Going out for a smoke? Mind if I join you?"
"No, not at all, please do."
They stepped out of the elevators and into the nicely trimmed lawn behind the building. He lit up.
"You're not smoking?" he asked in surprise.
"Oh, I just quit a few months ago, but after a meeting like that, I'm sorry I did," Alex replied. "This time I'll settle for a few breaths of passive smoke," she said with a chuckle.
"I know how you feel; it gets pretty intense in there. Must be hard on you, being new and all that. Hope we didn't scare you away."
"No, not yet," she responded, laughing at the thought. "It was tough, though. Is it always this painfully uncomfortable?"
"Pretty much, but you shouldn't be asking such questions. You never know who hears you, and what they do with what they hear. Walker demands absolute loyalty and beyond."
"But you have to admit," she pressed on, "this is pretty extreme. I wonder how come no one tells him anything about it. It doesn't have to be so painful and stressful."
"Look, there's a lot of value in being pushed so hard. There is a lot to learn about your own limits, and what you can achieve under pressure. Just as wartime stimulates innovation and generates a significantly higher number of groundbreaking inventions than peacetime, we push our limits further under pressure than we would ever push them under different, less challenging conditions. Overall, it's good for you. Trust me. You'll learn to appreciate it. Anyway, I don't want to talk about this anymore, and I suggest you don't either," Miles said, turning his back to Alex and walking away.
…37
"I'm telling you, Alex, grilling is a sophisticated art form at this address," a cheerful Richard Ferguson stated, putting his fork and knife down on his empty plate.
"So I have learned," Alex replied, still amazed at the refined combination of tastes presented by the pork tenderloin with mushroom sauce. "Our boss knows his way around the grill, that's for sure."
"How have you been? I haven't seen you since we came back from Minnesota," Richard asked. A rare presence at their team reunions due to his client assignment, Richard had lots to offer in terms of the advice Alex was seeking.
After they finished their dinners, they grabbed their drinks and went into the living room, gathering around the small coffee table. Alex took an armchair, sharing it with Little Tom. The cat allowed her to push him over slightly, just enough to make room for her to sit on the edge of the chair, then stretched his legs and yawned wholeheartedly.
Tom was the last one to join them.
"Thank you for yet another wonderful dinner," Alex said.
"Hear, hear," Steve chimed in, raising his glass.
"You are welcome. It's a pleasure to see all of you gathered around our dinner table. That's why," he said, turning toward Alex, "whenever I get the chance, I invite everyone. Alex brought today's opportunity. She wanted to talk through a couple of issues with me, so why don't we do this now?"
"Sure," Alex said. They were all watching her, listening carefully to what she had to say. "First off," she continued, "I need your help to reach out to Dr. Barnaby and ask him to somehow make sure I don't get fired before I even have a chance to do my job."
"Is it that bad?" Tom had concern in his voice.