It's Not Luck

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Book: It's Not Luck Read Online Free PDF
Author: Eliyahu M. Goldratt
take care of right now.”
    “And I thought that the big gambling was in Las Vegas or on Wall Street,” he says in astonishment.
    “Yes, but let’s put it aside.” I tell him about my upcoming trip to Europe.
    “Should I schedule a briefing meeting with the presidents of all the companies?” he asks.
    “Good idea, but stagger the meetings. I want to spend half a day with each. Now, let’s figure out what paperwork I need for the trip.”
    It takes us almost two hours to compose the long list of papers Don will have to prepare for me. On this trip I will not be traveling light—in any aspect.

5
     
    “In two weeks,” I say as casually as I can, “I’m going to Europe.”
    “Aaawsome!” Sharon jumps in her chair. “You have to bring me ‘Hard Rock Cafe’ shirts.”
    “For how long?” Julie asks. She doesn’t look too happy.
    “About one week,” I reply. “I have to meet some prospective buyers for the companies.”
    “I see,” says Julie, looking even more unhappy.
    “Daddy, what about my T-shirts?”
    “Sharon, decide, coffee-shirts or tea-shirts?” I ask. Only to get a long lecture on these particular shirts. When I was a kid we treasured baseball cards. Now it’s funny T-shirts. I guess each generation of kids finds fascination in something useless to collect. The only difference is in the price. The shirts are outrageously expensive. I promise Sharon I’ll do my best—subject of course, to my schedule restrictions.
    “And what about you?” I ask Dave. “What do you want?”
    “I don’t need you to bring me anything,” he smiles. “I want something you already have. Can I have your car while you’re gone?”
    I should have guessed it. Dave has a crush on my car, any occasion is a good excuse to ask for it, and when appropriate, I yield. But for a whole week? No way.
    “I’ll pay for the gas,” he hurriedly adds.
    “Thank you, very much.”
    “And the ten-thousand-mile check-up that’s due, I’ll take care of that, too.”
    Not really decisive arguments. Since he got his driver’s license a little over a year ago, he’s become a car freak. I think he spends more time disassembling and assembling his junk car than he spends studying.
    In order not to ruin dinner, I say, “Let me think about it.” He doesn’t press the issue. Dave is a good kid. The rest of dinner we spend talking about the places I am going to visit—Frankfurt and London. Julie and I were there once, before the kids were born, and they—especially Sharon—are interested in hearing about our romantic memories.
    After dinner I turn on the TV. There is nothing to see. I give up and turn it off. Julie is humming over her files.
    “I’m bored,” I say. “Let’s go somewhere.”
    “I’ve a better idea,” she smiles. “Why don’t we both work on your commitment?”
    “What commitment?”
    “The commitment you just gave Dave. You answered him, ‘Let me think about it.’ ”
    Count on Julie to turn any potential problem into a win-win situation. What she’s referring to is the fact that whenever we answer, “Let me think about it,” we are actually giving a commitment. We are committing ourselves to take the time to think about it—whatever the “it” is.
    “That’s a good idea,” I say, knowing that otherwise I’ll never give Dave’s request a second thought. Until he raises the issue again, that is. And then I’ll have to shoot from the hip. One thing I have learned is that I am not John Wayne. Whenever I try to shoot from the hip, I usually hit my own foot.
    It’s strange. I do take my commitments seriously, and I do know that if you say to somebody “Let me think about it,” usually the person with the crummy idea does come back and demand an answer. Nevertheless, too often I find myself in the embarrassing situation where I haven’t devoted any time really thinking about it.
    It’s not. only that it’s difficult to clearly verbalize gut feel, it is unpleasant to criticize
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