In over a two decades working as either a publisher or editor in newspapers and magazines, and one decade as a restaurant owner, I had never nor was I a victim of FFP. I found it rather comical that someone would implement FFP without knowledge of the circumstances, but assumed it was one of general electric's Indian procedures that fit perfectly with his quirky dysfunctional characteristics that made one have bittersweet feelings for the little guy.
Yes, only an arrogant narcissist with enough insecurity to keep the other half of the co founder's shrink's couch full would fire one over the phone and offer a future termination date.
Like everything else in the company, from the framework used to build platforms and sites to the framework used to build an organization, the structure and leadership was shaky, at best.
And, just like everything in life, without structure and framework – a blueprint of sorts- you cannot have a successful company.
After the hang-up, I knew I would have a week to plot my course and to look at the past and the future. I immediately went back to the day almost four years earlier when I asked what their mission statement was. The co founder's reply an oddity both then and now: "We don't have a mission statement. We don't need one. We change on a regular basis."
No kidding.
I knew then the road ahead would be rocky but I also knew that you don't have to go to Harvard to get a great education. And, if I paid attention, I knew I could learn as much about the Internet and its relationship to the automotive industry by working for a fledgling company as I could by working for a company that was successful. I also knew from the subordinate position of The Co Founder, the slap dog in the eyes of general electric, that it would be impossible to implement anything unless it was the general's idea. So my first plan of implementation was to make sure he stole as many ideas as possible. He obviously stole the golf tournament idea.
I knew for a company that had absolutely no experience in golf tournaments or even country clubs it would be a great adventure to hold a national tournament in ten cities and agreed to oversee the event. The plan seemed relatively sane. Except for the lack of funding needed to organize and execute the event correctly, everything else was in order, with the exception of a true committment for the Pebble Beach event. Would the championship ever really take place at Pebble Beach? We were all skeptical.
The sales representatives that were told to get the potential clients to the tournaments knew little, if anything, about golf. I admit I know nothing about golf and really don't care to learn. However, I do know about sailing, and if someone where going to ask me to participate in a sailing regatta and they knew nothing about it I would probably decline. Especially if I assumed the outing was going to be sales based. Essentially that's what happened to our tournaments. Low turnout, low sales and low morale.
The company's ringer, however, was the new sales manager, Don Cane, who came with an impressive resume and a great spirit. Unfortunately for Don, he had no idea how the dysfunctional duo of general electric and The Co Founder would impede his progress. His goal, once hired was to organize, develop and expand the sales team. What he didn't know was that the company was having difficulty delivering the product it had already sold so to sell more would begin an implosion of dynamic proportion.
As Don was organizing, The Co Founder was fending off the problems from disatisfied clients and general electric was telling everyone to stay out of support. It was sitcom material except nobody was sponsoring the show.
Tomorrow: Why general electric calls them "Suckers".
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Man Has Some Hang-ups
(Blogger's Note: In one of the many comments sent in last week, one writer referred to me as a "White Supremacist." I find this ironic, actually humorous. I am writing this blog, about a book I am writing, based on fiction. However, as I have mentioned previously, I did work at an Indian run, Bangalore based company and did experience numerous adventures while there.
Supremacy, I have come to realize, is a lifestyle for many. It has little to do with race, but more with culture. The company within this fictional blog is built on the hard work and talent of a group of wonderful people in Bangalore, India. They are hard working, and professional. They are also underpaid and treated by the CEO of the fictional company I am writing about, like garbage. That has to do with his personal feelins of Supremacy. As a matter of fact, the character treats everyone that way, and as a reader, you will be introduced to his Supreme demeanor in the way he treats women, executives, waiters, waitresses and others whom he feels are subservient. The CEO character in this blog, general electrified - again fiction - feels he is so Supreme, that he will later say in one chapter in the book, "I never knew how to empty garbage until I moved to America." Now it seems he has learned how to create it.
As far as the White Supremacy comment, it was made by a person from a class society who has never been challenged before less the challenger would be shunned, fired, or worse. Of course within this blog, the challenger did get fired. And once again, the comment's author is throwing the stones as a defense for the life lived.)
Now on with the story…
Time passes as slowly as cars move in stand-still traffic, especially when the person on the other end of the phone has been ranting about customer service and damaged goods for what seems like a decade. Its a strange way to speak of a human being unless you don't look at underlings as human beings. After reminiscing about our apparent psuedo friendship, I came back to the world I was driving in. As the car behind me started its engine and traffic cleared I heard general electrified come up for air.
"Do you understand what I am saying," he said.
"Actually, you have been talking for over 15 minutes and I don't think I heard a lot of it," I said, knowing the frustration level had hit the crest I waited for his response.
"If you do not stop talking about customer service we are going to have to go our separate ways." The general said.
"What does that mean?"
"You know exactly what it means. Separate ways," he said.
"General, are you using the "F" word on a Friday? I asked.
"What word?'
"The 'F' word," I said, adding "Are you firing me?"
"Yes, you're fired." The general said.
"I knew it. I knew you didn't have the balls to do it in person. You had to do over the phone on a Friday afternoon. That is just like you. I am surprised you didn't send the co-founder out to do it like you did when you got rid of Mike Maxwell in Detroit. Remember him? You claimed he was a racist because he complained about customer service?"
"O.K. I'll fire you the next time you come in, on Monday. Are you coming in on Monday?"
"Come in on Monday, so you can fire me? No. I am taking vacation until after Thanksgiving. I'll be in a week from Monday." I said, half serious, half kidding.
"O.K. fine. I will fire you then. Good bye," he said as the phone went dead.
Finally, it looked like I could spend a weekend without a barrage of emails from the general who assumes if you are sending emails to you employees, you are running your company.
Tomorrow: The difference between customer service and support.
Supremacy, I have come to realize, is a lifestyle for many. It has little to do with race, but more with culture. The company within this fictional blog is built on the hard work and talent of a group of wonderful people in Bangalore, India. They are hard working, and professional. They are also underpaid and treated by the CEO of the fictional company I am writing about, like garbage. That has to do with his personal feelins of Supremacy. As a matter of fact, the character treats everyone that way, and as a reader, you will be introduced to his Supreme demeanor in the way he treats women, executives, waiters, waitresses and others whom he feels are subservient. The CEO character in this blog, general electrified - again fiction - feels he is so Supreme, that he will later say in one chapter in the book, "I never knew how to empty garbage until I moved to America." Now it seems he has learned how to create it.
As far as the White Supremacy comment, it was made by a person from a class society who has never been challenged before less the challenger would be shunned, fired, or worse. Of course within this blog, the challenger did get fired. And once again, the comment's author is throwing the stones as a defense for the life lived.)
Now on with the story…
Time passes as slowly as cars move in stand-still traffic, especially when the person on the other end of the phone has been ranting about customer service and damaged goods for what seems like a decade. Its a strange way to speak of a human being unless you don't look at underlings as human beings. After reminiscing about our apparent psuedo friendship, I came back to the world I was driving in. As the car behind me started its engine and traffic cleared I heard general electrified come up for air.
"Do you understand what I am saying," he said.
"Actually, you have been talking for over 15 minutes and I don't think I heard a lot of it," I said, knowing the frustration level had hit the crest I waited for his response.
"If you do not stop talking about customer service we are going to have to go our separate ways." The general said.
"What does that mean?"
"You know exactly what it means. Separate ways," he said.
"General, are you using the "F" word on a Friday? I asked.
"What word?'
"The 'F' word," I said, adding "Are you firing me?"
"Yes, you're fired." The general said.
"I knew it. I knew you didn't have the balls to do it in person. You had to do over the phone on a Friday afternoon. That is just like you. I am surprised you didn't send the co-founder out to do it like you did when you got rid of Mike Maxwell in Detroit. Remember him? You claimed he was a racist because he complained about customer service?"
"O.K. I'll fire you the next time you come in, on Monday. Are you coming in on Monday?"
"Come in on Monday, so you can fire me? No. I am taking vacation until after Thanksgiving. I'll be in a week from Monday." I said, half serious, half kidding.
"O.K. fine. I will fire you then. Good bye," he said as the phone went dead.
Finally, it looked like I could spend a weekend without a barrage of emails from the general who assumes if you are sending emails to you employees, you are running your company.
Tomorrow: The difference between customer service and support.
Friday, March 27, 2009
If It's Friday, It"s time for Lunch
Friday. I remember them well. In the beginning it was always Chinese food at some off alley, humidity filled room with metal chairs, Lazy Susans, and sticky tables. Friday was the day for recalculation on the company overview. At first, it seemed productive. However, eventually one realized that it was general electric's way of finding out if the emails he was going to barrage employees with over the weekend were going to be answered.
Fridays were also the days that the top management circle would rip the employees in the field and comment on numerous personality traits. It was also the day the general and The Co-Founder either had a make-up lunch or kept their dysfunctional dynamic going over the weekend. Odds were it was a make up lunch, but on occasion especially towards month-end, the tension at lunch was tougher than the afternoon meeting we would have about the soon-to-be launched golf tournament.
Let me just say a word on golf tournaments. I know nothing about them. I never have, and I never will. I know how to market them, and to organize them, but I am not a golfer. Guess what, neither was the general, or The Co-Founder.
Oh sure, they play golf, but there is a difference between one who plays and one who is.
It's kind of like corporate executives; there is a difference between what it says on your business card and living up to the title.
At one Friday lunch it was brought to the attention of management – the team at that time was miniscule – that The Co-Founder was going to be hiring a person to handle sales. If the golf tournament was going to take off we really needed someone to be able to organize the sales force and get them focused. All of the things you do when you start a company. Since I was still a consultant I could legally shake my head at lunch, chuckle, explain, and it didn't matter what my thoughts or suggestions were. The general was, well, the general.
I didn't realize until months later that the golf tournament was just another stall tactic for late product launch and that the reason no clients were to be invited to the tournament was that there were few clients anyone would want into a room together.
Golf is a game of concentration, focus and clear minded vision. Lividity over product failure in the middle of a golf course with a bunch of salespeople who you never saw would not contribute to par.
And, after one more pass of the Lazy Susan, the string beans with winegar, the hot and sour soup, the plan was cut in- Formica: A new sales manager would be hired, the golf tournament would be held in ten cities across the country beginning in May in San Francisco, the Championship was to be held in March of the following year in Pebble Beach and the sales representatives in each area were to send out the invitations and get 20 people – five foursomes to sign up. But they could not be clients.
Kiss, Kiss. Check Please…..FORE!!!!!!
Monday: Can the New Guy Golf ?
Fridays were also the days that the top management circle would rip the employees in the field and comment on numerous personality traits. It was also the day the general and The Co-Founder either had a make-up lunch or kept their dysfunctional dynamic going over the weekend. Odds were it was a make up lunch, but on occasion especially towards month-end, the tension at lunch was tougher than the afternoon meeting we would have about the soon-to-be launched golf tournament.
Let me just say a word on golf tournaments. I know nothing about them. I never have, and I never will. I know how to market them, and to organize them, but I am not a golfer. Guess what, neither was the general, or The Co-Founder.
Oh sure, they play golf, but there is a difference between one who plays and one who is.
It's kind of like corporate executives; there is a difference between what it says on your business card and living up to the title.
At one Friday lunch it was brought to the attention of management – the team at that time was miniscule – that The Co-Founder was going to be hiring a person to handle sales. If the golf tournament was going to take off we really needed someone to be able to organize the sales force and get them focused. All of the things you do when you start a company. Since I was still a consultant I could legally shake my head at lunch, chuckle, explain, and it didn't matter what my thoughts or suggestions were. The general was, well, the general.
I didn't realize until months later that the golf tournament was just another stall tactic for late product launch and that the reason no clients were to be invited to the tournament was that there were few clients anyone would want into a room together.
Golf is a game of concentration, focus and clear minded vision. Lividity over product failure in the middle of a golf course with a bunch of salespeople who you never saw would not contribute to par.
And, after one more pass of the Lazy Susan, the string beans with winegar, the hot and sour soup, the plan was cut in- Formica: A new sales manager would be hired, the golf tournament would be held in ten cities across the country beginning in May in San Francisco, the Championship was to be held in March of the following year in Pebble Beach and the sales representatives in each area were to send out the invitations and get 20 people – five foursomes to sign up. But they could not be clients.
Kiss, Kiss. Check Please…..FORE!!!!!!
Monday: Can the New Guy Golf ?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Don't Read, Must Read?
(Blogger's Note: Although some of the actions, descriptions, and events in this blog may seem real, the basis of this blog is fiction. If you feel you are in this blog as one of the characters, you should change your style, attitude and demeanor, as this blog and its content is just for entertainment during a very stressful workday. The characters within are all developed as part of the writer's craft. The plot has been observed during various venues. The author is a professional journalist who has been featured in The San Francisco Chronicle, The San Francisco Examiner, and various other publications. Think about it, would anyone who owns an Internet Automotive Marketing Company ever walk into a Mercedes Dealership and be so insulting that the General Manager contacts the company's headquarters, cancels his account and ask that the CEO never come in his dealership again? Of course not. That would never happen. Would a professional CEO call or email his employees over the July 4th Holiday and ask where all of the food went that was in the kitchen? Of course not. The Dorito Police take care of that. This is sitcom stuff. This is book stuff. This is just a figment of my imagination. It never really could have happened.)
There. It's been said. This blog is quickly becoming "The Don't Read, Must Read" according to unreliable sources that are peppered throughout the industry. I received a call from a Dealership in Oklahoma asking me which company I was referring to. What was he thinking?
As today's saga opens, General Electrified has sent notice to his employees they are not to read this blog. He is in his corner office, staring out the window, thinking of a more serene time. A time of smaller staff, less confusion, happier relationships, and golf tournaments.
Fading back into summers past, the scene takes place as the PR consultant offers a campaign starring an avatar, Robbie Roberts. It's PR Guy's idea that Robbie Roberts would take over the fledgling family Oldsmobile dealership after Robbie's father dies. Robbie would then take the dealership to new heights by using nothing but Internet tools to sell cars all over the country. Robbie Roberts Auto World is born.
"It should be based on the fact that Robbie Roberts is always on wacation," Said general electrified.
"Yeah, we could send out a postcard to select dealers inviting them to join Robbie- the Super bowl, skiing in Colorado, golfing at Pebble Beach. Those would work," Pr Guy said.
"We could suggest various products in each of the invitations driving traffic to those landing pages, " said the co-founder, adding, "actually, why don't we hold a golf tournament and invite clients."
"No, you don't want to invite clients, we already have them. We need to broaden our base. Let's invite potential clients."
"General, that would be a disaster. You are going to hold a tournament and not invite your clients. You could up sell them."
"PR Guy, don't tell me about sales. You do not want the clients at the event," said general electrified.
"Let's do ten tournaments and the ten winners will go to Pebble Beach to compete in a final championship tournament. The only requirement will be that they have to buy a product. That will work," said general electrified.
Ah, golf tournaments. A great way to show 'em your marketing balls.
Tomorrow: You Are Cordially Invited...To The Beach
There. It's been said. This blog is quickly becoming "The Don't Read, Must Read" according to unreliable sources that are peppered throughout the industry. I received a call from a Dealership in Oklahoma asking me which company I was referring to. What was he thinking?
As today's saga opens, General Electrified has sent notice to his employees they are not to read this blog. He is in his corner office, staring out the window, thinking of a more serene time. A time of smaller staff, less confusion, happier relationships, and golf tournaments.
Fading back into summers past, the scene takes place as the PR consultant offers a campaign starring an avatar, Robbie Roberts. It's PR Guy's idea that Robbie Roberts would take over the fledgling family Oldsmobile dealership after Robbie's father dies. Robbie would then take the dealership to new heights by using nothing but Internet tools to sell cars all over the country. Robbie Roberts Auto World is born.
"It should be based on the fact that Robbie Roberts is always on wacation," Said general electrified.
"Yeah, we could send out a postcard to select dealers inviting them to join Robbie- the Super bowl, skiing in Colorado, golfing at Pebble Beach. Those would work," Pr Guy said.
"We could suggest various products in each of the invitations driving traffic to those landing pages, " said the co-founder, adding, "actually, why don't we hold a golf tournament and invite clients."
"No, you don't want to invite clients, we already have them. We need to broaden our base. Let's invite potential clients."
"General, that would be a disaster. You are going to hold a tournament and not invite your clients. You could up sell them."
"PR Guy, don't tell me about sales. You do not want the clients at the event," said general electrified.
"Let's do ten tournaments and the ten winners will go to Pebble Beach to compete in a final championship tournament. The only requirement will be that they have to buy a product. That will work," said general electrified.
Ah, golf tournaments. A great way to show 'em your marketing balls.
Tomorrow: You Are Cordially Invited...To The Beach
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Rainmakers, Suckers, Idiots and Fools
Rainmakers. Suckers. Idiots and fools. All standard words used by The President of the company who paralleled himself to Jack Welch and General Electric after reading Welch's book. As a matter of fact, considering the great generals in history, Napoleon, Mussolini, and Hitler, his disrespectful demeanor to his troops that worked for him fit the mold. Yes, general electrified fits him well.
The man had a knack for capturing ideas, keeping them locked in his mental prison and then releasing them in meetings as though they were his own.
"I think I want to run a few full pages in Automotive News. It will build the brand. It will look good to the clients and manufacturers," he would profess, all the while not having an idea of brand building. He would read an article about another successful company and then switch his focus overnight, thinking if the other guy could be successful at it, so could he. General electric- the man- had been struggling with identity since we first met at the San Francisco restaurant show years before. He and his partner, the co-founder, were scoping out the restaurant industry. Fortunately for the restaurants of the world and the owner's who struggle to keep eateries growing general electrified chose the Automotive Industry to permeate with smoke, mirrors, SEO, SEM and the marketing expertise of a man who eight years before didn't know how to produce a press release.
That was a better time. Back then the company had fewer employees – nobody to make harassment charges- they had a smaller office on Market street- no empty cubicles depicting the failure of a 10,000 square foot office move, and no struggles with customer service and cancellations. You don't have cancellations if you don't have clients.
Yes, "start up" was General Electrified mantra of saving grace. And, it is the greatest mode ever created in business. But only in a fledgling Internet business can it be used as an excuse for product malfunction, inadequate service, and continual functionality failure.
However, the genius behind the endeavor, general electrified, and the man navigating the company through rocky waters had maintained throughout his continual failure of product that "eweryone has the same problem. Microsoft, Oracle, they all come to market late. This is new technology. Plus, car dealers are all morons. They don't know what's up," he would openly profess. What he failed to understand is that failing new technology gets old fast.
When I was summoned to General Electrified's office in 2003 I was surprised that he wanted to have a meeting. He said he wanted to redo my website for trade - I would do some marketing and public relations for his company and he in turn would redesign my website. Since our relationship had been casually friendly I opted for the deal and began to develop a marketing and public relations campaign.
What I didn't know was that he had burned through two other marketing guys because of his micro-management style before me. As a matter of fact his empployee burn rate is something his investors need peruse. Can all of these employees be that incompetent? If so, they should have different hiring criteria, if not they should have different General criteria.But that didn't matter to me; I was a consultant working for trade. How bad could his micromanagement style be?
Pretty bad is the only way to answer that question. In reviewing the 7968 emails I received (and never deleted) from the time I began work as a consultant until my departure, I realized that General electrified's frayed management style was peppered with harassment and brow beating. And, the victim here, was his co-founding partner, the restaurant equipment salesman who was used as the front man for a company that had little, if any, attachment to the United States in ways of business principles, strategies, or products. As the plot unfolds I was hired as a consultant to develop a smoke and mirror program to entice auto dealers to sign up for something that only a rainmaker could sell.
Tomorrow: How to plan a golf tournament and not invite your customers
The man had a knack for capturing ideas, keeping them locked in his mental prison and then releasing them in meetings as though they were his own.
"I think I want to run a few full pages in Automotive News. It will build the brand. It will look good to the clients and manufacturers," he would profess, all the while not having an idea of brand building. He would read an article about another successful company and then switch his focus overnight, thinking if the other guy could be successful at it, so could he. General electric- the man- had been struggling with identity since we first met at the San Francisco restaurant show years before. He and his partner, the co-founder, were scoping out the restaurant industry. Fortunately for the restaurants of the world and the owner's who struggle to keep eateries growing general electrified chose the Automotive Industry to permeate with smoke, mirrors, SEO, SEM and the marketing expertise of a man who eight years before didn't know how to produce a press release.
That was a better time. Back then the company had fewer employees – nobody to make harassment charges- they had a smaller office on Market street- no empty cubicles depicting the failure of a 10,000 square foot office move, and no struggles with customer service and cancellations. You don't have cancellations if you don't have clients.
Yes, "start up" was General Electrified mantra of saving grace. And, it is the greatest mode ever created in business. But only in a fledgling Internet business can it be used as an excuse for product malfunction, inadequate service, and continual functionality failure.
However, the genius behind the endeavor, general electrified, and the man navigating the company through rocky waters had maintained throughout his continual failure of product that "eweryone has the same problem. Microsoft, Oracle, they all come to market late. This is new technology. Plus, car dealers are all morons. They don't know what's up," he would openly profess. What he failed to understand is that failing new technology gets old fast.
When I was summoned to General Electrified's office in 2003 I was surprised that he wanted to have a meeting. He said he wanted to redo my website for trade - I would do some marketing and public relations for his company and he in turn would redesign my website. Since our relationship had been casually friendly I opted for the deal and began to develop a marketing and public relations campaign.
What I didn't know was that he had burned through two other marketing guys because of his micro-management style before me. As a matter of fact his empployee burn rate is something his investors need peruse. Can all of these employees be that incompetent? If so, they should have different hiring criteria, if not they should have different General criteria.But that didn't matter to me; I was a consultant working for trade. How bad could his micromanagement style be?
Pretty bad is the only way to answer that question. In reviewing the 7968 emails I received (and never deleted) from the time I began work as a consultant until my departure, I realized that General electrified's frayed management style was peppered with harassment and brow beating. And, the victim here, was his co-founding partner, the restaurant equipment salesman who was used as the front man for a company that had little, if any, attachment to the United States in ways of business principles, strategies, or products. As the plot unfolds I was hired as a consultant to develop a smoke and mirror program to entice auto dealers to sign up for something that only a rainmaker could sell.
Tomorrow: How to plan a golf tournament and not invite your customers
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Hello, We're Breaking Up?
When my cell phone rang on Friday afternoon before Thanksgiving I knew from the caller I.D. that it was my boss, the president of the company. Although I was stuck in detour traffic in the midst of wine country's Carneros appellation and I knew reception would be bad, I answered anyway.
Bad reception is an understatement. The voice on the other end of the iPhone stated his usual greeting.
"Hello, John. #$! here. What the F*&* have you done to her? She is damaged goods."
"Pardon me", I said, adding, "What are you talking about?"
"You know Goddamn well what I am talking about. She is still complaining about how bad customer service and support is. I have told you not to discuss that with her. She is just a stupid salesperson. She is just supposed to sell the product. You have ruined her. She is complaining to him about everything. I don't think we can save her."
"You are breaking up. I can't hear you very well." I said, hoping to alleviate a further altercation.
"Call me back then", he said.
"Are you nuts", I responded. "You want me to call you back so you can continue to go off like a lunatic about customer service. I don't think so."
I knew that my boss was under a lot of pressure. An acquisition he was attempting to formulate was not going well. He had to deliver something, anything by year's end as he had explained in a meeting only week's before, or the shareholders were going to cut the American company off. On top of this pressure, Thanksgiving was fast approaching and he was going to be alone for the holiday. His wife, who floated between the marketing and content departments in the company, wielding the stick of an undercover executive had decided to move back to Bangalore for the second time in three years to tend to the ailing family dog, which seems to have more lives than most cats we know.
All the while his proclivity for Captain Morgan's more affluent imported cousins was getting the better of him every night precisely after 6:00 p.m. as his late night email jags were being precluded by late afternoon yelling sessions.
As he continued to yell I proceeded slowly, locked in traffic on the two lane road rolling through Carneros. Home of Domain Chandon, The Carneros Lodge, and other well-known wineries the region was not only one of the world's most famous appellations but stood as a symbol of businesses based on quality, customer service.
Looking out over the golden vineyards of autumn I began to question why a supposedly bright man could be so blinded by an ego that he did not read the numbers he professed to worship. He ignored the fact that product cancellations outnumbered new contracts. And I thought it ironic that he would call someone who questioned the company's lack of customer service, damaged goods, when that was exactly why his company was failing. Having lost money consistently for 36 quarters the answer was in the accusation- he was selling damaged goods.
It wasn't always this way. Back in 1995 when I met the other half of the dysfunctional duo, he won my account because of his customer service skills. Back then, it was a matter of life or death the restaurant equipment I ordered would be delivered on time. With less than three days to go before my restaurant was due to open my barstools were in Tennessee. My restaurant was in Carmel, California.
That was how this all began. I had just moved to Carmel, California where I had purchased a restaurant, my fifth in group of single concept eateries based in the Mid West. I had left a career in journalism five years earlier. I purchased the Carmel location on my honeymoon as the beach in Carmel was too sensual to leave behind. I asked other restaurant owners where to buy equipment and was told Cresco Restaurant Equipment in San Francisco had a young, aggressive salesperson, who was great with owners and knew the meaning of customer service.
I had little idea how much a part that trip to Cresco would play in my future. Ironically, it was there I first met the present day partner of the screaming president. He was selling restaurant equipment. A puppy of sorts, looking for a future, he had a great sales approach and since he prided himself in customer service the word was spreading throughout the industry of his ability to deliver- on time.
Unbeknownst to either of us, his customer service ability would bond us then and years later when I went work for the company he co-founded with Captain Morgan's buddy. But the road that began in that restaurant supply house and was now stalled in a Vineyard traffic jam was much longer and less travelled than most would have endured. The real saga began in 2000 when we were all looking for Internet Gizmos.
Bad reception is an understatement. The voice on the other end of the iPhone stated his usual greeting.
"Hello, John. #$! here. What the F*&* have you done to her? She is damaged goods."
"Pardon me", I said, adding, "What are you talking about?"
"You know Goddamn well what I am talking about. She is still complaining about how bad customer service and support is. I have told you not to discuss that with her. She is just a stupid salesperson. She is just supposed to sell the product. You have ruined her. She is complaining to him about everything. I don't think we can save her."
"You are breaking up. I can't hear you very well." I said, hoping to alleviate a further altercation.
"Call me back then", he said.
"Are you nuts", I responded. "You want me to call you back so you can continue to go off like a lunatic about customer service. I don't think so."
I knew that my boss was under a lot of pressure. An acquisition he was attempting to formulate was not going well. He had to deliver something, anything by year's end as he had explained in a meeting only week's before, or the shareholders were going to cut the American company off. On top of this pressure, Thanksgiving was fast approaching and he was going to be alone for the holiday. His wife, who floated between the marketing and content departments in the company, wielding the stick of an undercover executive had decided to move back to Bangalore for the second time in three years to tend to the ailing family dog, which seems to have more lives than most cats we know.
All the while his proclivity for Captain Morgan's more affluent imported cousins was getting the better of him every night precisely after 6:00 p.m. as his late night email jags were being precluded by late afternoon yelling sessions.
As he continued to yell I proceeded slowly, locked in traffic on the two lane road rolling through Carneros. Home of Domain Chandon, The Carneros Lodge, and other well-known wineries the region was not only one of the world's most famous appellations but stood as a symbol of businesses based on quality, customer service.
Looking out over the golden vineyards of autumn I began to question why a supposedly bright man could be so blinded by an ego that he did not read the numbers he professed to worship. He ignored the fact that product cancellations outnumbered new contracts. And I thought it ironic that he would call someone who questioned the company's lack of customer service, damaged goods, when that was exactly why his company was failing. Having lost money consistently for 36 quarters the answer was in the accusation- he was selling damaged goods.
It wasn't always this way. Back in 1995 when I met the other half of the dysfunctional duo, he won my account because of his customer service skills. Back then, it was a matter of life or death the restaurant equipment I ordered would be delivered on time. With less than three days to go before my restaurant was due to open my barstools were in Tennessee. My restaurant was in Carmel, California.
That was how this all began. I had just moved to Carmel, California where I had purchased a restaurant, my fifth in group of single concept eateries based in the Mid West. I had left a career in journalism five years earlier. I purchased the Carmel location on my honeymoon as the beach in Carmel was too sensual to leave behind. I asked other restaurant owners where to buy equipment and was told Cresco Restaurant Equipment in San Francisco had a young, aggressive salesperson, who was great with owners and knew the meaning of customer service.
I had little idea how much a part that trip to Cresco would play in my future. Ironically, it was there I first met the present day partner of the screaming president. He was selling restaurant equipment. A puppy of sorts, looking for a future, he had a great sales approach and since he prided himself in customer service the word was spreading throughout the industry of his ability to deliver- on time.
Unbeknownst to either of us, his customer service ability would bond us then and years later when I went work for the company he co-founded with Captain Morgan's buddy. But the road that began in that restaurant supply house and was now stalled in a Vineyard traffic jam was much longer and less travelled than most would have endured. The real saga began in 2000 when we were all looking for Internet Gizmos.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
A Brief Introduction
Carboys and Indians, the blog- follows the developments of Carboys and Indians, the book - while offering snippets and previews of the book's direction in capsulated form.
Unlike those other books about Cowboys and Indians, those westerns dealing with the Cowboys and Indians of yesteryear, where Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and Maverick, were fighting the likes of Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Geronimo and all the other famous chiefs, this book has nothing to do with Teepees, Tomahawks, or Paint Ponies. It does have to do with the turmoil the chief executive creates on a daily basis as the India based Internet company floats along under the dysfunctional direction of one of the company's founders. The struggles the company has with customer service, getting products to market on time, and fulfilling the needs and promises made to customers, comes to light only after customer cancellations surpass new contracts.
Carboys and Indians is set in Internet Territory in San Francisco and in Bangalore, India. The Carboys within the pages are of the corporate ilk. They include those who have made a profession out of America's automotive industry. And the Indians are, for the most part, the hard working, underpaid employees of a Bangalore based company with offices in San Francisco. The company, a subsidiary of an India based publicly traded company, is run by an executive who considers his clients suckers, his employees idiots, and Americans, stupid.
And, it only gets better from here...
Tomorrow: A bar stools discussion leads to roads less travelled...
Unlike those other books about Cowboys and Indians, those westerns dealing with the Cowboys and Indians of yesteryear, where Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and Maverick, were fighting the likes of Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Geronimo and all the other famous chiefs, this book has nothing to do with Teepees, Tomahawks, or Paint Ponies. It does have to do with the turmoil the chief executive creates on a daily basis as the India based Internet company floats along under the dysfunctional direction of one of the company's founders. The struggles the company has with customer service, getting products to market on time, and fulfilling the needs and promises made to customers, comes to light only after customer cancellations surpass new contracts.
Carboys and Indians is set in Internet Territory in San Francisco and in Bangalore, India. The Carboys within the pages are of the corporate ilk. They include those who have made a profession out of America's automotive industry. And the Indians are, for the most part, the hard working, underpaid employees of a Bangalore based company with offices in San Francisco. The company, a subsidiary of an India based publicly traded company, is run by an executive who considers his clients suckers, his employees idiots, and Americans, stupid.
And, it only gets better from here...
Tomorrow: A bar stools discussion leads to roads less travelled...
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