Trilemma Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’re wrong?
    â€œWe’re running out of time—”
    Tom pats my shoulder lightly. “We need to do this right,” he says, and strides away before I can answer.
    I watch him pace across the room with my eyes calm, my anger hidden. The decision on where to locate the operations center is on the critical path for the project. The location has become less important than the delay in starting the build.
    I’ve reasoned, I’ve cajoled, I’ve pushed, but Tom still won’t commit to a choice, and Adam listens to Tom.
    Corporate testosterone has a smell of its own; a subtle blend of cologne with high notes of expensive soap from the executive washroom where they wash their hands of responsibility for any mistakes, a touch of cigar smoke, maybe a whiff of the bouquet of a fine wine, a soupçon of eau de secretary’s perfume. There is never any stink of sweat. Never the stale odor of well-worn shoes nor the whiff of wet wool from walking the streets in the rain.
    I sit at the foot of the table with Hera’s chief executive, Adam Challoner, wearing the calm and confident mask I present to the corporate bosses.
    It’s best, I’ve found, to show no emotion at all. If you smile, they think you want to be liked and mark you down as needy. If you frown, they think you’re at a loss as to what to do and mark you down as indecisive. If you narrow your eyes, they think you’re challenging them, and they’ll huff and they’ll puff louder to make you back down. I prefer to keep them guessing. My father’s little hothead keeps her temper well hidden.
    Robert, representing the American shareholders, sits on the nearest side of the boardroom table. Alongside Robert is Quon Dao from Hong Kong who heads up a Chinese company that seeks to invest in New Zealand. Dao has short, thick, ash-colored hair and eyes like mine.
    On the other side of the table is gray-suited, gray-haired Stewart Hobb, CFO of Australian shareholder Ozcom and chairman of Hera’s Board. Beside Hobb is plump and pleasant Pita Lane from Christchurch representing the
iwi
—the term for a Maori tribe, and Mark Stanton, a lawyer from Auckland, whois the independent professional director who ensures good governance and proper bureaucracy. There’s something of an Old Boy and Old Girl network of directors in New Zealand, I’m told. Same as anywhere, I guess.
    Stanton is white-haired, red-faced, and pleasant when the going’s easy, gruff when it’s not. Right now he’s gruff.
    â€œThat is not acceptable,” Robert states after I present the plan. “The launch date is not negotiable.”
    â€œOkay,” I say. “Then working back from the March launch date, we’ll need to start the build by this date,” and I point at the chart. “Which means we need to complete the design by this date, which means we need to make the decision on the operations center by—”
    â€œThis week!” snaps Robert.
    â€œThis week?” asks Lane.
    â€œThis week.” I confirm.
    After the Board members have gone, the management team arrives for a debrief. Adam slumps amongst the clutter of papers, teacups, and leftover food, dark rings around his tired eyes. Hera’s head of human resources, Marion King, glances at him before taking her seat. Fred Mitchell, head of IT, and Ian Green, our marketing guru, help themselves to the leftover sandwiches and Tom snags the last sausage roll. CFO Deepak Gupta hurries in last and closes the door.
    â€œThey’ve told me to go with the Seaview site,” Adam tells us.
    Tom splutters pastry crumbs on the table. “But—”
    â€œNo buts,” says Adam. “That’s the decision. Let’s get on with it.”
    Tom glares at me. I gaze steadily back.
    He turns to Adam and lifts his chin. “Okay, boss. I’ll call the agent and make the final arrangements for Seaview.”
    â€œWe need to