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Author's note: If you are looking for wall-to-wall sex, look elsewhere. 
This book is a romance with a business setting. Beyond that, the sex is 
comparable to - or less than - what one would find in almost any work of 
popular fiction.

Permission is granted to post on any free site, as long as the copyright 
statement is included. Please advise the author of any such postings.

Comments are welcome and encouraged. Please address me at 
morg105829@aol.com.

I hope you enjoy the book. My plan is to post a chapter each weekday; it 
will take about three weeks for it all to be up. This is chapter 7 of 
16.

Six-Month Turnaround

Copyright 1992, 1998 by Morgan. All rights reserved.

Chapter 7

Three weeks later, the second session of the rings and valves meeting 
was convened. In the meantime, copies of all the notes from the first 
session had been circulated to the participants. Cliff presided as they 
reviewed the notes page by page. When they reached the basis of 
competition, no one had more than minor word changes. Additional 
material on Murphy and its position in the business was added to the 
notes based on work done by participants between the two sessions.

Then, after lunch, they turned their attention to strategy. Cliff said, 
"Now the fun begins. I always find this part amusing. For some reason, 
it's seldom very hard to select an appropriate strategy. The problem 
arises when it comes time to look at the ramifications of it. For some 
reason we often encounter problems right here. Keep in mind, strategy is 
like a spear. It can be thrown in any direction: 360 degrees on a 
circle. Pick *one*! The strategy is our direction. It tells us where 
we're going, and, by elimination, where we're *not* going. Before we 
finish this session, I want agreement from you, or at least 
understanding - some of you may not agree - on where we're not going. If 
we decide to eliminate products from our line, they're gone - they're 
history. Everyone understand?

"Okay. Specifically, we agreed last time that a major element of our 
strategy is Product Rationalization. We talked about cutting our product 
line by up to 95 percent in terms of number of items. Let's see what 
we've come up with since the last session."

Bill Stevens and his operations people, Jeff Stover and his accounting 
people, and Steve Muller and his marketing and sales people had all done 
analyses. The groups went at it hot and heavy. Stevens and the 
manufacturing people gave the impression they wanted to make a single 
piston ring and a single valve, thus maximizing economies of scale. 
Muller and his people had reluctantly given up about 60 percent of the 
items. Cliff knew Steve had faced down a near-mutiny to get his guys to 
agree to those cuts, while to the accounting people, every item, no 
matter how small a seller, generated some revenue.

At the afternoon break, he took Sandy aside. She came up to him and 
formed her lips into a kiss while her back was to the rest of the group. 
"My God, Honey!" she whispered, "Is it always this tough? This is 
brutal! There are guys here who are saying, in effect, that the company 
is out of business if we give up one stinking ring... even if we've only 
sold one set in the last year and a half!"

"Sweetheart, this is easy! Honest. Every guy in the room really accepts 
the fact we have to cut the line - even the accountants, for chrissakes. 
What you're seeing is an incredibly healthy process at work. I guess we 
have done a pretty good job - particularly you! No one is hanging back 
and acting like this is a sterile exercise. They know it's not. These 
guys are fighting for their customers - for what they believe in. 
There's not a single person in the room who's not involved - most 
particularly your ex-roommate, fighting for some of her former small 
customers. It may seem like a war, but let me tell you, when we get 
finished, we can be confident we didn't throw anything away by acci 
dent.

"What you're seeing is a very basic difference between the process we're 
using and a more straightforward consulting assignment. The guys at 
Cumings are smart as hell. They really are. The problem is they can meet 
a guy who doesn't know all the fancy B- school buzzwords, but who really 
has a good point to make. Since he doesn't present it the way they would 
have in business school, the consultants dismiss it. That's how big 
mistakes are made. We're not going to make those mistakes. Not only are 
the guys all talking, people are listening. It may sound weird, but I'm 
relaxed. I don't think we're going to drop an important product by 
accident. Now it doesn't mean we'll necessarily come up with all the 
right answers. But it does mean we'll have made the decision after 
hearing all the relevant information. On this basis, we can't be too 
wrong." He smiled warmly at her. "And as a reward for doing such a fine 
job - and as a punishment for not letting me watch you skin Jane alive - 
you get to play lion-tamer for the rest of the day! Aren't you lucky?"

"Clifford Fitzpatrick, Jane was right! You are a sadist!" she said with 
a grin. "At least the lion-tamer has a whip, a chair, and a gun! All you 
let me have is this dumb felt-tip marker! There's one thing, though. You 
have to promise to pick up all the pieces of me before you go home 
tonight. Promise? Maybe you can glue most of them back together."

Sandy called the session back to order, and continued the process. As 
Cliff had known it would, things got worse. The first cuts were 
relatively easy - there really wasn't any reason for continuing the 
product. But as the afternoon wore on it got progressively tougher. The 
products being discussed *did* generate some sales. So the fight became 
whether they paid for their house room. Cliff finally called a halt to 
the meeting at six- thirty. When the last participant left, Sandy fell 
into his arms. "Don't forget your promise. There are pieces of me in 
every corner of this room, Cliff. I know what you got paid at Cumings 
and you earned every penny! That was grueling!"

He kissed her softly on the mouth, "And you were brilliant, as usual. 
But did you see what I meant when we talked at the break? Those people 
are *engaged*! It isn't an academic exercise, it's their livelihood. 
They're fighting for it, and I think everyone will benefit.

"Sweetheart, I would offer to cook dinner tonight," Cliff said with a 
small smile, "but after what you've been through, I'm not sure you're in 
condition to handle my poison. How about going out? Better yet, why not 
eat here at the hotel? I have it on good authority they *do* have 
something on the menu besides cold cuts. What do you say?"

She smiled at him, and went limp in his arms. She was relying on his 
reflexes to catch her and he did. When she lifted her face, he kissed 
her softly. "Honey," she said, "If you intend to make love to me 
tonight, you're going to be doing all the work! Let's eat!"

They went down to the main dining room where they were recognized by the 
maître d'hôtel as regular patrons of the hotel. Cliff asked for a quiet 
banquette table, and they were quickly seated, with Cliff sitting next 
to Sandy rather than across from her. Again, she let her body go limp 
and sagged against him. She lifted her face, and he gave her a quick 
kiss. "Now I know when the honeymoon is over. It's when your husband 
lets you fall on the floor in a restaurant!" A waiter came over and they 
ordered cocktails. Cliff was surprised when Sandy ordered an extra-dry 
Beefeater martini on the rocks.

He ordered one, too, and looked at her. "Sandra Donnell, what *are* you 
doing? You never order a martini. I thought you were the beer and wine 
girl."

"Clifford Fitzpatrick, I am going to the dogs... or the cats... or 
something! Besides, they haven't killed you - yet!" She daintily stuck 
out her tongue at him.

The drinks came, and after Sandy had a tiny sip she made a little face. 
"Cliff, it tastes like... like... I don't know what it tastes like, but 
it's strong!"

"You're right, it is. But why did you order it? Seriously, Sweetheart, 
you look like you're exhausted. Are you?" Just then a small band began 
playing and she visibly perked up. She got up from the table, held out 
her arms, and said, "Off your ass. We're dancing."

"I thought you were so tired, you couldn't even stand up," he protested. 
"How can you possibly dance?"

"It's different," she said. He got to his feet and followed her out to 
the dance floor. As she turned and came into his arms, he noticed she 
was wearing sneakers. Without heels the top of her head barely reached 
his cheek. In spite of the sneakers, he still had the impression of 
holding a feather. She raised her face, and he kissed her softly on the 
lips. 

"Cliff, you can't believe how good this makes me feel. I love you so 
much. When I'm in your arms like this, it's almost like you've been 
giving me a massage. I'm really not tired anymore."

When the music stopped they returned to their table, and Cliff returned 
the conversation to the session they had just been through. "What did 
you think of the results? It's your company, but you were totally 
dispassionate this afternoon. I'm very serious when I say I couldn't 
have done what you did. That's your money they were talking about."

"Cliff, I think we're on the right track. But what are the risks? It 
can't be quite this easy."

"Very good question. Tomorrow, we'll take a look at a risk analysis. We 
use risk as a measure of uncertainty, rather than in some more abstract 
form. Frankly, I see the greatest uncertainty relating to our timing. 
We'll be taking a big risk. Right now, our reputation for quality is not 
good. What we propose to do is sharply cut the number of products, 
upgrade our production facilities - we haven't talked about that yet, 
nor about inspections - and produce a much higher-quality product. The 
problem is that for a short space of time we're very exposed. We will 
have cut out the rinky-dink products that only we sell, but will not yet 
have reestablished a quality reputation with our major custom ers. Until 
we reestablish a quality reputation, we are highly vulnerable. Sandy, we 
could be in tough shape if something happens while that window is open. 
We'll be walking away from some revenue in hopes of getting a lot more 
later. But there has got to be a 'later.' Worst case, we're in big 
trouble. I can't minimize it. What do you think? It's your company,"

"No, Cliff. It's *our* company. I want to do what's right, and I'm 
convinced we're on the right track. Let's go for it! Honey, believe me. 
I *do* understand the risks. I'm thinking about the guys and gals in the 
plant who are counting on us. I want to do what's best for the company, 
because it's what's best for them. Does that make any sense?"

He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. "Have I told you how 
much I love you in the last five minutes or so? Sandy, you are 
absolutely the best thing that's happened to me in my entire life. Okay, 
let's go for it!" He stuck out his hand, and she gripped it with hers.

"We're going for it! Can I have another martini now? You have to promise 
to carry me home, okay? If you do, you can have complete access to my 
body, such as it is, as a reward."

"Sandra Donnell, when are you going to quit knocking that exquisite body 
of yours? Do you really want me to list all your bodily assets?"

She rapidly nodded her head with a big grin on her face, so he did.

* * *

The next morning Cliff presided. They were at the point in their 
rationalization discussion where real pain was being inflicted. Tempers 
were still frayed from the day before, so there was little safety margin 
left. At one point, Jane Miller jumped up and said, "I don't give a damn 
what the volume on 4606 is! Willoughby Motors has got to have it! It's 
the only ring that fits their engine. We have an obligation!"

Cliff stepped into the discussion. "Jane, I have a question. How much is 
Willoughby paying for those rings? And where did the price come from?"

Jane looked in her book and answered the question. It was about the same 
price Magna was paying and Cliff pointed this out. "But Cliff, it's 
almost the same ring Magna's buying. The steel is the same, the weight's 
about the same, so the price should be the same."

"Why should it be, Jane? How about the cost to us of setting up for a 
short run? Jane, have you ever asked Willoughby about taking a price 
increase? I'll make a deal with you: Get them on the phone right now and 
explain what we're doing. Tell them it's not a choice between cheap 
rings and expensive rings. It is expensive rings or no rings from us. Do 
you want to give it a shot?"

The group continued the battle on other items while Jane made her call. 
Fifteen minutes later she returned to the room. Instead of retaking her 
seat she went up to the front where Cliff was standing. Jane had a 
comedienne's natural sense of timing. "Mr. Fitzpatrick, would you please 
give me a swift kick, right here. Please?" She was wearing a pair of 
tight jeans, and was bent over pointing to her rear. The group in the 
room howled with laughter. Aside from anything else, Cliff realized she 
had discharged the tension that had reached dangerous levels. He wound 
up to give her a big spank, but didn't touch her, stopping his hand a 
fraction of an inch from her pants.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I can't. Steve is bigger than I am, and he might 
object. What did the people at Willoughby say?"

"That's the point, Cliff. They just said, 'How much?'. I *tripled* the 
price but told them our quality assurance would be far better. You know 
what they said? They said the cost of our rings is so small they can't 
even find it in the cost of one of their engines. Then they asked if we 
might be interested in their valve business, too. Is that what you 
expected?"

"Let's say I'm not as surprised as you are. Folks," he said, addressing 
himself to the entire group, "there's a lesson here for all of us. 
Instead of thinking go-no go, we should put price into the equation. 
Let's face it, we may be losing money on a product now, but could still 
make good money if we got a steep price increase.

"I'll be honest. Jane should have kicked me! I just remembered an 
experience I had a few years ago with a manufacturer of very 
high-quality stereo speakers. They had one speaker model, the top of 
their line, that was a technological marvel, and sold for about $1,500 a 
pair. They sold in very limited quantities to real audiophiles. The 
problem was the company was losing its shirt even at that price, so they 
decided to drop it. On word of discontinuation, orders came pouring in, 
along with letters of complaint from many of its best dealers. So they 
kept it in the line... for a while. They tried to discontinue it a year 
later and got the same reaction. That was when I came in. I suggested a 
price in crease and was told it was impossible. The speaker was already 
one of the highest- priced units on the market. I pointed out that they 
received files full of complaint letters each time they went to 
discontinue it and no one had ever mentioned price. Besides, they wanted 
to kill the product anyway, so what difference did it make if the orders 
just dried up? As far as I know, they're still making the speaker. The 
last I heard the price was up to $6,000 a pair. They don't sell quite as 
many as they did, although unit sales didn't fall by very much. However, 
now they're minting money on the deal.

"This is basically what Jane did with her rings. Now, are there any 
products we canned earlier we might want to try a major price move on? 
Actually, it's a good tactic. We're not pulling the plug on a customer 
who needs a particular ring. It's still available if he wants to pay the 
price. What about it?"

The rest of the product discussion went smoothly. The tension had been 
relieved and the alternative of a price increase satisfied the remaining 
concerns.

The discussion moved to product quality and the production line. Bill 
Stevens and his people had worked out new line arrangements to 
streamline work flow but had encountered another problem. "Cliff, I 
don't like to be the bearer of more bad news, but I have no choice. 
We're going to have to spend big money on our machines. Of ten major 
production units, there are two that cannot produce product to specified 
tolerances. They've gone so long without major maintenance, they just 
can't do the job. I can't tell you yet whether we're looking at 
scrapping them or if they can be overhauled. Then there are three others 
that are marginal at best. The other five need work, too, but can still 
produce reliable product. I'm sorry. The problem is deferred 
maintenance, and its impact is not well understood. Let's say a machine 
needs maintenance at a cost of about 10 percent of its value each year. 
If no maintenance is done for three years, it doesn't cost 30 percent of 
the value to catch up, it's much more. The reason is the wear and tear 
compounds. In my illustration, you might be looking at a third-year cost 
of 50 percent or more. Cliff, we haven't been doing the maintenance we 
should have, and it's caught up with us. It's just that simple. I'm 
sorry."

"I am, too, Bill," Cliff responded. "But I can't say I'm terribly 
surprised. It's worse than I thought, but not by a lot. It seems that 
our product rationalization program may provide us with some breathing 
space because of reduced sales volume. What we need to do is set up a 
program to get these machines back up - at least eight of them, anyway. 
How long will it take to get a fix on the problem?"

"There's a guy due in tomorrow from the machine manufacturer who's going 
to look them all over. What I would like to do is get started 
immediately on the five operating units. Take one out, get it fully up 
to spec, then move to the next. Meanwhile, we'll be getting a look at 
the others."

"Okay, Bill. That sounds good. Now, about quality. Clearly, we can't 
produce products better than our machines can turn out. However, we can 
sure turn out products a lot worse than they are capable of making." He 
changed his tack. "Bill, it seems to me we have far too many inspectors. 
What's the story?"

"The previous management thought they could inspect their way to 
quality," Bill replied. "Every time we got a quality complaint, the 
reaction was to do more checking. I think everything we produce is 
inspected at least twice, and some more than that. Frankly, it's never 
made much sense to me."

"Me, either," Cliff said. "I want to go to on-the-line quality control. 
As my Japanese friend said, let's do it right the first time. Then we 
can couple that with statistical quality assurance and get a 
better-quality product. Right now, it seems we have the worst of both 
worlds. Our materials utilization and scrap rates are ridiculously high. 
Sales allowances resulting from poor quality are eating us up. And to 
top it all off, the labor cost of multiple inspections kills us. Outside 
of that, we're in great shape. Anyone have any thoughts?"

"I don't understand," Jeff Stover said, "How can we cut the cost of 
quality control and improve quality? It just doesn't make any sense."

"Spoken like a good accountant, Jeff," Cliff replied. "And I'm teasing 
you, really. I understand your question perfectly. It appears to make no 
sense to cut quality assurance costs and yet at the same time expect to 
get a higher level of quality, because in accounting there's an 
underlying assumption you get what you pay for - no more and no less. 
But it doesn't always work that way, particularly where people are 
concerned.

"There was a situation in an insurance company where twenty-four people 
in succession each checked a particular piece of paper. After all 
twenty-four checks, believe it or not, over 96 percent of the policies 
were wrong in some material respect because the paper was wrong. We 
changed the system to have only the first person checking. She was told 
if it was wrong leaving her desk, it would stay wrong. The error rate 
dropped below 1 percent. Why? Simple. When checking was the job of 
twenty-four people in a row, it was no one's job. The first people 
weren't careful because they knew there were fifteen or more people who 
would pick up anything they missed. On the other hand, the people at the 
end of the line didn't check, because they couldn't believe there could 
be any errors after fifteen or more people had already checked.

"What I propose to do is make each production worker responsible for his 
or her own quality assurance, backed up, as I said, with 
statistically-based sampling. It works for the Japanese, using 
American-developed systems we couldn't be bothered using ourselves. Can 
we make it work for us here? The one problem I see is with the workers. 
Bill, you understand what I'm talking about, don't you?" Bill said he 
did, and smiled. "Do you think you can lay out a plan? I'll particularly 
need to know the impact of the changes we're talking about on our 
manning levels. How long will that take?"

"I have a couple of guys working on it right now," Bill replied. "I hope 
to have some answers by the middle of next week. One thing I am sure of, 
Cliff. We're looking at serious money."

"Okay, guys," Cliff said. "Last question: What are we going to do with 
all the junk lying around. The junk I'm referring to is ostensibly 
finished product in crates all over the factory floor. Jeff, I have a 
question for you. Have our auditors ever questioned the salability and 
hence the asset valuation of our inventory?"

"Last year one of the juniors on the audit did," Stover said sheepishly. 
"I guess I overawed him by asking him what he knew about valves or 
piston rings. I had my fingers crossed, because if he'd opened one of 
the crates, it would have been all over! We've checked a few boxes, 
Cliff. Every one we checked was heavily rusted. I don't think it's 
usable. What do you think, Bill?"

"I think you have it about right. Let me put it this way: I wouldn't put 
one of those rings in my lawn mower, let alone in my car, but there's a 
lot of money involved. Sandy, what does treasury think?"

Sandy smiled at Bill and said, "Treasury is wondering what the value of 
that stuff is as scrap steel? And will the buyer get it out of our plant 
without us having to pay for trucking? As far as treasury is concerned, 
it's worth its weight as scrap metal."

"Okay, folks," Cliff said. "It looks like it's going for scrap, unless, 
of course, any of the guys in the plant want a paperweight, or rings for 
a lawn mower engine. Does anyone object? Okay. Bill, do you have any 
idea of the scrap value? Sandy's question is a good one. I certainly 
don't want to spend a fortune to get rid of the stuff."

"I think it's actually worth money. It's very high-grade steel. Do you 
want me to check around?" Bill replied.

"I sure do. Guys, I think we're off and running. Bill, let me know about 
the manning levels and the repair costs on the machines as soon as 
possible. Now let's all go home. I think we've done enough damage for 
one day." When the people had all left, he looked at Sandy and let his 
knees fold. "Whew! Survived another one. Can I buy you a drink 
downstairs?"

"Yea! I was afraid you'd never ask. Incidentally, Cliff, what are the 
stages of becoming an alcoholic? I'm going to the dogs. I decided I like 
martinis. Can I have another?"

They went down to the cocktail lounge and found Steve and Jane at a 
table. Steve waved them over to join them. When they were seated Cliff 
took the opportunity to speak to Jane. "I didn't have a chance before, 
but thanks for the comic relief today. It really helped a lot."

Jane looked at him intently, "You're really serious, aren't you? You're 
not teasing me. But thanks for what?"

"Jane, I suspect you didn't even think about what you were doing. You 
*do* have natural comedy talent, you know? You really do. Things were 
getting very tense today. People were still strung out from yesterday, 
and the decisions were getting tougher. When you bent over and pointed 
plaintively at your rear end, the tension just evaporated in laughter. 
Didn't you notice it?"

"I sure did!" Steve interjected. "But I'm not sure I appreciate the 
future mother of my children as a comedienne, though."

Jane wheeled on Steve. "Thanks a hell of a lot! Sandy, let this be a 
lesson to you. I think I just moved from being his mistress to being his 
concubine. I'm not sure in which direction. If I remember correctly, the 
difference between the two is a concubine is expected to produce 
children. Thanks a lot, Mr. Muller. I'll send you a letter when - and if 
- I'm ever speaking to you again!"

"Cliff," Steve said plaintively, "Do you ever get the feeling men can't 
win? Can't win, hell! We can't even score a point. Here I was trying to 
propose matrimony - in the nicest way I can think of, I might add - and 
I'm accused of insulting her. There's just no justice!"

"Sandy," Jane said, "Do you have a pad or something to take a memo for 
me?"

Sandy, having an idea of what was coming, took a tiny pad from her purse 
along with a pencil. She set the pad on her leg as if it were her steno 
pad, poised her pencil in the most approved secretarial-school manner 
and said, "Of course, Miss Miller."

The men sat watching the two girls with amusement. Cliff decided that 
Sandy, too, had great comedy instincts.

"To: Vice President – Marketing," Jane began. "From: Key Accounts 
Manager. Subject: Matrimony. Paragraph. It has come to my attention that 
an insulting remark you made earlier was intended to be a backhanded 
proposal of marriage. Period. I do not accept backhanded proposals. 
Period. Paragraph. However, to facilitate communications, this is to 
advise you that I am again speaking to you. Period. Sandy, I'll even 
sign it personally." While she was pretending to take the memo, Sandy 
was struggling to maintain a straight face. She was suppressing giggles 
at the end.

Steve looked at Cliff and shrugged. "Jane, since you're speaking to me 
again, may I take advantage of this narrow window of opportunity to ask 
you to marry me? Please?"

Jane looked at Steve intently. "I'll have to think about that a bit. 
You're a terrible cook. I think that's deliberate, though, just so you 
don't have to do it. On the other hand, you're reasonably good at 
washing dishes. You're not too messy. And you're great in bed." She 
looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments. "Okay, I'll marry you." 
Then Steve took her in his arms, and Sandy and Cliff watched as they 
kissed long and passionately.

When they moved apart, Jane's eyes were swimming. "Wow! Steve Muller, 
there's one problem. How's it going to sound for me to be Jane 
Miller-Muller - it sounds like a spaghetti company, for chrissakes. So 
that's out. I'll have to be just plain Jane Muller. And I had my heart 
set on a hyphenated last name! Sandy, do you think they'll throw me out 
of National Organization for Women?"

The two girls grinned at each other while Steve felt for something 
inside his jacket pocket. Cliff had an idea what was coming, and called 
over the cocktail waitress. He whispered something to her, and the girl 
grinned, nodded quickly and disappeared.

Meanwhile, Steve had found what he was looking for and looked at Jane. 
"I have something for you. Here." he said. His hand was over hers, palm 
down. He released something from his hand into hers. Jane was stunned. 
It was a solitaire diamond ring with a large diamond, over one and a 
half carats. The diamond reflected the light brilliantly.

"Oh, Steve! It's gorgeous." She went into his arms, and melted in a 
passionate kiss. There was no joking this time.

The waitress returned with a wine bucket, four glasses, and a bottle of 
the best champagne the hotel had. She opened the bottle and poured.

"Congratulations and very best wishes for a long and happy marriage. 
Steve, it's about time you made an honest woman out of her." Cliff then 
ducked as blows rained on his head.

Jane had been looking intently at Sandy. "And, Miss Donnell, speaking of 
honest women, where have *you* been sleeping lately?"

Sandy spoke in her haughtiest voice. "In a bed, of course. Where else 
would one sleep?"

Jane grinned knowingly, "Okay, in a bed. Whose bed, and with whom?... or 
who?... or whatever."

Sandy just grinned back. Then she took the girl and gave her a hug. 
"Jane, I'm so happy for you! I've learned something from you that I'll 
tell you about some day. When is the happy event going to be, now that 
you're engaged?"

Jane pretended to yawn. "There's no hurry. I've got my diamond. Isn't 
that all a girl really needs?"

"As a matter of fact, no." Sandy replied. "You need someone to use to 
warm your feet on when you're in bed."

"Golly, Sandy, you're right! I never thought of that. Maybe it'll be 
earlier than I thought." Both of the girls smiled while the guys just 
shrugged.

"You can't win, you know," Steve said to Cliff. "I think it's one of the 
basic ground rules. You know, like Catch 22? You go all through the 
rules and then you get to the end. The last rule says, 'Regardless of 
anything stated or implied in any prior rule, the guy loses.' I hope you 
have accepted it, Cliff." The foursome sipped their champagne, and Sandy 
and Cliff both inspected Jane's beautiful engagement ring. Then the 
conversation swung back around to the company.

"Steve, how does it look with our major customers? I know you haven't 
had a chance to do much except plan, yet," Cliff said, "but do you have 
any feeling? I'm particularly concerned about Magna Motors. You look at 
that account and the quality we're giving them - or not giving them - 
and you wonder why they're still buying from us at all. Have you heard 
anything?"

"No, I really haven't. But frankly, I'm worried, too. If Ajax really 
made a run at our piece of the Magna business, there's no reason for 
them not to get it. Their quality is much better than ours, and their 
pricing is only a little higher. I suspect that they are a lower- cost 
supplier to Magna on an all-costs-in basis," Steve replied. "Jane, have 
you ever called on the Japanese? I really feel stupid asking, because of 
the cultural differences. Because if a girl ever wants to feel good 
about the position of women in the United States, all she needs to do is 
spend some time in the Orient. In general, women don't count for much 
there." Steve looked at her. "The reason I'm asking, though, is Kaga 
Motors has a plant across the lake in Michigan. Have we ever called on 
them?"

Jane looked thoughtful as she answered, "I don't think anyone from 
Murphy ever has. You know how Flood was... how we all were up until the 
last couple of weeks. We considered Japanese business to be out of the 
question. Would you like me to take my lovely new ring across the lake? 
Is that what I'm hearing?"

"Would you mind taking a crack at it?" Steve asked. "It certainly can't 
hurt, although some of what Bill was saying this afternoon about the 
state of our production machinery was scary. It seems like the best bet 
would be to make it strictly exploratory. What specific types of rings 
and valves do they use? What sort of delivery are they accustomed to? Is 
it as good as they would like? That sort of thing. Does it make any 
sense?"

"Sandy, my future lord and master has decreed that I go across the great 
waters! Let's keep our fingers crossed!"



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