Trilemma (7 page)

“Maybe. As you say, they are very friendly people. They make you feel at home.”

“At home? Yes, but only if you keep telling us we're wonderful,” Sally returns to the table with a platter of cheeses.

“You're wonderful, Sally!” I reply, and smile up at my wonderful Kiwi friend.

Upstairs I put the leftover piece of Pavlova in the refrigerator to eat for breakfast and sit gazing out on Wellington. Okay, so I've found my sisters, but I can't see any way to meet them that will work out well. I think I'll just have to park that possibility for now.

Instead, I open up my laptop and start an e-mail. I write that I've got a job in Wellington, a good one, for six months anyway, and that I've applied for a New Zealand passport.

I write how I am enjoying the city and my friend Sally, a pathologist who drinks a little too much. I write that I have found my sisters but I haven't met them yet.

I'm making myself a home here, I say.

I read the email, make a couple of corrections, push the cursor up to the SEND icon, and pause.

The wine sings through my brain, telling me to reach out and take the risk. I read the draft again but it isn't quite right, or maybe I'm just not ready.

Instead of pressing SEND, I save the draft, close my laptop down, and head to bed.

.

Projects have three parameters—money, time, and functionality. If you're good, you manage to hit one of these. If you're very good as well as lucky, you might hit two of them. But never all three. So, as in life, something has to give, and you have to compromise.

Sometimes you have to spend more; sometimes you have to take more time. Sometimes you reduce the scope of what you're trying to deliver, or defer parts of the functionality until a later date. Sometimes the best solution is to accept lesser quality in areas where quality is not so critical.

The hard part is knowing which compromises to make and what risks you can afford to take. That is where my skill comes in.

In the boardroom, chief consultant Scott Peake is presenting his summary of the support systems options to Hera's executive team. He smiles widely as he turns from the screen to face us. He is a great smiler, is Scott.

“The first option, from VNL, is what we call the ‘Best of Breed' solution, based on the leading packages in each of the areas and integrated using an enterprise service bus.”

His eyes move from Ian to Fred before finally resting on Tom's face. He doesn't look at me or at Deepak. I don't take it personally. He hasn't liked me ever since I asked him to explain the figures in the summary and then asked for the source documents so I could check what he said. I haven't liked him since he refused to give me the documents, telling me it was important
to interpret the information correctly, and he didn't want any misunderstandings. I looked into Peake's eyes then and saw what lay behind. Dollar signs, mainly, for himself and his consulting firm.

“These are the costs.”

All told, the costs total $20 million, which made me want to do a bit of interpreting myself.

“That is far higher than we were expecting,” says Deepak.

“We can't afford to cut corners,” says Tom.

“I am very sorry, but it is way over our budget,” Deepak says.

“We can do anything we want with these packages,” says Ian, his head bobbing excitedly as he speaks.

Deepak looks down at his hands, and Peake moves on.

“The second option is based on a version of Kiwicom's systems,” he says. “Their vendor, LCNS, has proposed a lease arrangement. The costs look like this,” and he shows a different set of colored slides.

Deepak's face is anxious. “Not as expensive,” he says. “But still beyond our budget.”

Tom says, “The technology is proprietary. We would be locked in.”

“And it's a really old system,” says Ian. “We wouldn't be able to differentiate ourselves from Kiwicom.”

“Is there a third option?' I ask.

“No,” says Peake. “The other proposals are from the individual vendors of the packages, so each only covers part of the picture.”

Fred blinks rapidly behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, opens his mouth, then closes it and stays silent.

“So we're agreed then,” says Tom. “We go with VNL's proposal.”

“Hear, hear,” says Ian.

Deepak hunches his shoulders and says nothing. Fred blinks again and looks down.

“Great, I'll get the contracts started,” says Peake.

“Just a minute,” I say, raising my hand in a gesture that says stop. “I don't believe we have enough information to be confident we're making the best decision. I'd like to go through the detailed proposals.”

“We completed the evaluation against the agreed criteria using the weightings that were signed off,” says Peake. He doesn't look at me, he looks at Tom.

“I'm not confident we established all the options.”

“That was the process we agreed,” Tom says, frowning.

“But the proposal is costing far more than we budgeted. I'm not comfortable with the recommendation, Tom. I'm not prepared to present it to the Board until we've done more work.”

Peake heaves a gusty sigh and closes down the presentation, still without meeting my gaze.

“Thanks for the preso,” Tom says. “Let's talk about where to next.”

As they leave the room together, I hear Peake say, “Another hissy fit from the prissy chink,” and I hear Tom laugh.

Peake glances back and smirks when he sees I heard him. My blood starts pumping faster, but my face is calm, my Asian eyes still. His smirk widens to a triumphant grin.

Tom calls me into his office. “Scott's pretty upset with your attitude, Lin.” When he leans forward, a manly scent of pine and spice tickles my nostrils. “They've spent a lot of time on the evaluation.”

“I'm not impressed with how much time and money has been spent on the evaluation just to propose an outcome we can't afford.”

“There are no other solutions.”

“There have to be,” I reply.

A rare uncertain expression flickers across his face. “I'll talk to Scott,” he says.

“Scott is a—” I almost say cocksucker but I'm not going to descend into the same behavior.

Tom's smile is perfunctory. “Don't get hot under the collar.”

I pause, my blood starting to race, but he just nods and turns back to his PC, so I leave his office and head up the stairs. I hesitate at the door to the level where my own office is located, and examine the gray-green linoleum of the stairwell floor, scuffed with the scurryings of a thousand workers' feet. Then I sigh and carry on up the stairs to Adam's office two floors above.

“They'll have to increase the budget,” he says when I explain our dilemma.

“They may not be prepared to,” I reply.

Adam rubs his eyes. “We'll let them know the situation and see what they say.”

“We start pouring concrete next week,” I tell the Board. “If all goes according to plan, we should have the switch building ready by mid-December.”

“Scott tells me you're making some questionable compromises,” Stanton says.

I slip my right hand onto my left wrist. Calm.

“These are the plans we've worked on as a team,” I say.

Stanton and Hobb exchange glances.

“On the next slide we have the systems implementation,” and I bring up the next Gantt chart.

“Cost is the major issue,” I say. “We're still pulling the figures together on the various options, but none of the proposals fall within our budget. The consultants are going through everything line by line to see what we can do to bring the estimates down.”

“We're not increasing the budget any further.” Robert is looking grim. “It's already higher than the original business case.”

I look around the table to gauge the atmosphere. All faces look stern.

Stanton scowls. “Do you hear? Get the costs back down.”

The dark rings under Adam's eyes seem to deepen. He opens
his mouth, but no words emerge. Sweat bubbles on his forehead.

“There might be some options we can look into,” I say hastily, distracting the eyes of the Board from Adam's face.

“Then look into them, but don't let us hear you're taking any risks,” says Stanton.

Yeah, right!
As they say here.

Corporate Kiwis are much the same as other corporate cultures, I've found. The risk averse always seem to outweigh the risk takers.

Perhaps a little more so here, in Wellington, seat of the Government. And in New Zealand if you take a risk and succeed, they eye you with suspicion, because you might be that dangerous thing, a tall poppy.

But if you take a risk and fail, they crucify you.

Self-serving, sparing with the truth on the rare occasions he's acquainted with it, Scott Peake preys on my sleep for the next few nights.

If I complain that Peake insults and undermines me, they'll be reassured in their judgment of women as needy, whiny, de facto hysterics. Moreover, in the ways of corporate politics the fact Peake has insulted me makes it more difficult, not less, to challenge his arguments. There will be an assumption of automatic bias, as if my anger must cloud my judgment. Particularly as a woman. Anger in corporate men shows strength; anger in corporate women just shows hysteria.

I could talk to Robert, but he'll tell me to suck it up, and he'll consider me weak and not put me forward for the tough jobs again. You can't expect kindness from Robert, I know that.

It is just words, and I'd rather be judged by actions or inactions than by that which is merely spoken, so I decide to say nothing about Peake's snide attacks.

But I can't put aside my concern about the consultant's approach to our systems. We can't afford to spend the money in Peake's plan. There's got to be another option or Hera is doomed.

If you challenge a powerful man, you're more likely to be labeled “not a team player” than admired for your courage. If you're a woman, you'll be labeled “a bitch” as well. It is the way of the corporate world. And there are quite a few outstandingly awful corporate bitches who have prepared this path for the rest of us.

I try hard not to be a bitch. I'd rather be called a bastard than a bitch, because, of course, I am a bastard. So what?

Adam has been looking even more stressed of late. I wish I could help him cope with the conflicting pressures, the dilemmas he's constantly facing as Hera's chief executive, but he's not the sort of man who takes advice from a woman.

In her role as director of human resources, Marion managed the process to select Hera's executive team. She'd chosen a group of people with different skills and different personalities, but who all had one thing in common. Like her, they all had hearts—or that empathy and care for others that we think of as coming from the heart and which, according to the article, psychopaths lack.

Having a heart is not necessarily a common trait amongst leaders. It is remarkable how often leaders are selected first on their self-confidence and ability to talk. The top-dog attitude is so often based on arrogant self-satisfaction, and not the natural confidence that comes with achievement. Caring about people ranks farther down the list, especially for roles in the commercial world where they want you to be strong and sharp and focus on the bottom line.

Adam, our chief executive is a nice man, a decent man, but maybe not quite tough enough to make the hard decisions that need to be made when you face the challenges Hera faces.

Adam's blocky figure is encased in a tight t-shirt, baggy shorts, and brand-new sneakers.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Not if you're quick,” he says. “I'm going for a run.”

“We need to go through the costs and find some ways of bringing them down.”

“Not quick then.” He sighs. “Can you come back at two?”

We walk to the elevator together, although I plan to take the stairs. “Where do you run?” I ask.