THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 13

After an exhausting two month training course, Mike was assigned to an industrial sales territory in Toronto. He dove into his new career with a deep and abiding commitment. His dedication to career, strong sales aptitude, and exceptional communication skills made him very good at the job. A collision with big business bureaucracy, however, brought a swift end to Mike's initial surge of enthusiasm. The company's compensation scheme was heavily based upon job categories and very lightly on job performance. No matter how hard he worked or how productive he was, his salary remained relatively constant. He didn't want to complain about the apparent inequity, but he couldn't help but wonder bitterly what he could do to get a decent raise. The restraint led to frustration and unhappiness, both of which he carried home with him at night and on weekends, further compounding the tension in his marriage.

It soon became clear that remaining at Canam without upgrading his academic credentials meant middle management mediocrity. He had traveled too far and paid too many dues to allow that to happen.

Just when he had decided to look for another job, he was invited to attend a three day marketing conference arranged by Canam's marketing management in Lake Placid, New York. The event was programmed to involve some rest and relaxation, but its primary purpose was to create a sense of teamwork and belonging within the sales force.

The afternoon session of the second day was held in the conference wing of White Face Hotel. The speaker, George Reimer, was the director of retail gasoline for Canam. He talked for an hour with the help of the usual visual aids, including slides and bar-charts, magnified and illuminated onto a large screen. He spoke with pride about the incomparable retail gasoline network of Canam, the new and expanded credit card facilities, the aggressive real estate acquisition program, and the new, ultra-modern service station designs.

After concluding the visual segment of his presentation, Reimer asked for someone to raise the lights. "I need to talk about a problem that's facing our company—the entire industry, actually. We're literally swimming in gasoline, gentlemen. Gasoline surpluses have given rise to what I consider to be a disease—that of the private-brander, an independent operator who buys gasoline at the refinery gate and retails that gasoline through his own outlets in direct competition with us. He can discount to a level which multiplies his annual sales volumes geometrically, and reduces ours proportionately."

Reimer scanned the audience above his spectacles. "The smart ones in the audience can readily see that I have just described a vicious circle. The private-brander, with about twenty thousand dollars in his pocket, can lease a piece of real estate at the corner of Spruce and Goose, throw some pumps and tanks in the ground, put a price sign on the street, and he's in business. After he runs this shit-box for a year, he has enough money to build ten more shit-boxes. Then we've got ten times the problem. Even worse, the son of a bitch is indestructible."

Reimer took a brief drink of water. "We've concluded that the only viable solution is to buy out the disease once the private-brander reaches a critical size. This policy is only marginally effective, at best. It makes me feel like the proverbial little boy with his finger in the dike." He scowled and scanned the room. "If any of you can think of a better solution, I would be happy to entertain it. Thank you all for your kind attention." Reimer displayed an obsequious smile, removed his spectacles, and returned to his seat.

The audience responded with a polite applause.

Mike was amazed. How could such a large and successful company allow itself to be caught in such a dilemma? And why would Reimer disclose the problem to such a broad audience? It was a sign of weakness, the sort that usually was a tightly held secret within the ranks of senior management. Reimer's presentation had demonstrated the human characteristics of a large corporation—showed that the huge monolith had vulnerabilities. The man had destroyed Mike's long held vision of the corporation as a flawless machine.

In his talk, Reimer had compared Canam to a large ocean liner, forced to dodge traffic in a crowded harbor where small, fast boats had a decided advantage. The smaller boats were free to go wherever they wished, so long as they steered clear of the ocean liner. The speech strengthened Mike's decision to leave Canam. He was certain it would be more exciting and profitable to operate one or more of the small, fast boats than to be a crew member on board the ocean liner. To gamble his youth on the corporate brass ring would involve too much personal compromise, particularly if the brass ring turned out to be no more than a solid gold watch.