The Rules of Playing with Fire (The Dallas Connection #2)

1. Mihir

MIHIR

I n my experience, it is always difficult to come to terms with the dire reality of one’s situation. To acknowledge the unsavory, accept the unpalatable, and do it with grace. Some weep and wail. Others panic and throw in the towel. The only way out, however, is to swallow that bitter pill and lunge forward. Rip off that Band-Aid in one swift motion.

That’s where I come in. Ripping off Band-Aids is my specialty.

I sat at the head of the table in the boardroom, facing the Dallas skyline. I didn’t care that it wasn’t my boardroom—it never was. But when I was in a boardroom, any boardroom, I sat at the head of the table.

“These are my recommendations,” I’d said when we started the meeting over an hour ago, my eyes scanning the sea of suits before me. “I’m sure you’ve had a chance to review them.”

“We have, Mr. Seth,” the Chairman of the Board had said before anyone else had a chance to nod. I had turned my eyes to him and acknowledged him with a slight nod. He was an alpha, like me.

Right now, though, he looked at me with displeasure, irked that despite his resistance to my guidelines, it was their only way out of this swamp of debt pulling them down.

“Gutting entire departments?” he asked in a cool voice, but I spotted the anxiety beneath those calm waters. “Is that the best way to proceed?”

“It’s your only way,” I responded directly to him. “If you want to stay afloat and grow in the direction you want, that’s what I would do.”

This wasn’t a mid-sized enterprise, the kind that usually consulted my company for debt management and restructuring. This was a monster that had grown too big before it realized its strength or its potential for growth, a monster that would do wonders if tamed and trained to perform the specific task that was its métier. My job was to show this monster its reflection and help it hone its superpower.

“Outsourcing the software and support?” the Chairman asked, his eyes on the folder before him for effect. “This application has been the backbone of the company. We conceived the idea, developed the software. We had proprietary rights over it. It’s what got us the initial investment.”

“ Had being the operative word.” I crossed my feet under the table, leaning back in the chair and steepling my hands. “It was an ingenious invention at the time, but that was then. We now have companies offering the same kind of software—better, some might argue—and support for a fraction of the cost of hosting an entire department in-house. Bodies in cubicles amount to valuable real estate.”

A flash of whispers erupted across the room. Shifty glances were sent my way, but this was what I did, and I was incredibly good at my job.

I waited for the room to settle before adding, “And downsize the Genesis team.”

Another wave of gasps and dismissive groans.

“Genesis is our biggest revenue generator. That’s the product that gets us the business.” This time, the current CEO and one of the founding members spoke. Genesis was his baby. “That’s our pride,” he contended. “Our identity in the market.”

I shifted my weight in the chair to lean forward. “Do you know how much Venus brings in?” I asked, referring to one of their minor product teams.

“A fraction of a fraction of Genesis,” the Chairperson declared with authority.

“With a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of the resources of Genesis,” I replied. “Venus might be small, but that’s where your potential lies. Ease off on the big-revenue venture, and see how your smaller products can drive your business. Manufacturing millions of small parts for a giant car company will open the doors you haven’t been able to get a foot into yet. Parts that will become your forte. No one has yet ventured into the electronic chip design that Venus has mastered already. It will get you the exposure you need.”

Another round of exchanged looks and whispers floated around the room while I waited patiently.

“Most of the layoffs I recommend are the dead weight. It’s all included in the report. It’s not sheer misfortune that they will lose their jobs. I’ve done the profitability review and interviewed individuals and teams.” I looked around the room pointedly. “Which, if you had done before you brought me on, could have saved you some money.” That would be the big dollar amount they had paid me.

A shroud of silence descended on the room as they realized the truth in my words.

“Get rid of a third of the Genesis team. More, if possible. That’s all the product needs. Divert resources to smaller products, and purge the software department.”

A young man, too young to be on the board if not appointed by his father, looked aghast.

“That’s…merciless,” he said, then quietly added, “It’s ruthless.”

And there it was. The word had been slapped on me along with a few others. Coldhearted, cutthroat, cruel. Words used for me in and out of boardrooms. I had made my peace with it a long time ago. That image actually got the job done. And when they hated me to the core, they used another word. Bastard.

I chuckled inwardly.

“My team will be in touch to set up the Chief Transition Officer and guide them through it. I presume you have someone in mind for the job?”

“Yes,” the CEO said with resignation in his voice.

“And I’ll always be available if you have any questions or concerns,” I added as I pushed my chair back to stand, then gave a sharp tug on each of my cuffs.

The room rose with me. Not that they needed to. I wasn’t their boss. I wasn’t their anything. Still, power had a way of making people feel deferential and helpless.

The only one who kept his seat was the Chairman. I gave him a short nod, and he responded with a terse one.

That was it. The Band-Aid had been ripped off. Of course, the board would deliberate how much of my advice to heed, but if past experience was any indicator, they would follow my recommendations to a T if they wanted to succeed.

If they did follow my recommendations on the layoffs, I knew one person I’d snatch up. She was the only one who knew her shit and had worked hard to prove her mettle.

I called my driver and asked him to bring the car around. Then I called my office, and when my secretary answered on the first ring, I instructed her to procure the coder’s résumé.

“Got it,” she said as I heard the clicking of her keyboard in the background. “Only her?” she asked teasingly.

“What do you think?” I snorted and heard her soft laugh as I disconnected the call.

There weren’t many people in this world who impressed me, and honestly, it made my job easier. But once every few years, I came across a rising star, a hardworking genius, a unicorn who didn’t know their worth. Those were the people I helped place in strategic positions using the network I had created and cultivated over the years. This coder was one such star. She was smart, and she worked hard, two things I appreciated in a professional. Talent, persistence, and diligence, that rare combination, was what made a unicorn. The chances of that happening were extremely rare.

As I saw my car pull around the corner of the building, my phone buzzed, and a familiar name lit up my screen.

“Hey, Tara.” The smile on my face was involuntary.

Tara was a warm soul who had a knack for making everyone around her happy. That she was set to marry my friend Sameer was enough to make me thrilled for the both of them.

But Tara’s voice was devoid of its usual trill. “Mihir,” she said hurriedly, “I have a big favor to ask.”

“Is everything alright?” I shuffled my phone from my left hand to the right as my driver held the door open for me.

“Oh yes, everything is fine,” she said with an embarrassed chuckle. “Are you busy? I hope I’m not interrupting a meeting.”

“Get on with it,” I said as I slipped into the car. She was used to my brusque nature.

“Sona’s coming in today. She lands in about thirty. Sameer was supposed to pick her up at the airport, but he’s stuck in a meeting.” Then she dropped her voice and said, “And I’m stuck at his parents’ house. Can you please pick her up and drop her at my place?”

Sona was Tara’s best friend, who lived in Brooklyn.

“I would’ve asked her to get a cab, but it’s her first time visiting Dallas. I…”

“I know. You want to be a good friend.” I looked at my watch. I had no major commitments until late afternoon. “I’ll get her. And if I can’t, I’ll send my car to pick her up.”

“Thank you,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll text you her flight details.”

“How are things there?” I asked. Big families tended to come with big drama, I’d always held.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Tara reassured me with her trademark sass. “But it is emotionally exhausting.”

“Can I take you out drinking tonight?”

“Tonight’s the party, remember?” Her voice got sterner. “Hey, you didn’t forget, did you?”

“Well, my parents will be there, and Mom will make sure I am too.”

“Good.” I heard the smile in her voice. “I’ll see you at the condo. Have a late lunch with us if you can spare the time.”

“Sure,” I said and directed the driver to take us to the airport.

When she hung up, I placed another call, this time to Grant, one of my two best friends since grade school.

“Grant, I have a fantastic candidate for your friend’s startup,” I said when he answered. “Ask him to call me.”

“And hello to you too, Mir,” he dissed.

“Are you in town, or still globetrotting across the world?”

“I’m back from my Asia trip, but I’ll be in Europe next week.”

I smiled. “What are you acquiring this time?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” he said, and it wasn’t a joke. Grant was an oil dynasty heir. “Everything is set for you at the lake house,” he added.

“Thanks. I’ll need to use your bedroom. Anything I need to be wary of?”

“Nah, it’s quite tame now. I haven’t used it in months.” Grant was also a rebel who used his wealth and behavior to piss off his parents. “Do you need any help there? I can send my people up.”

“No, we’ll be alright. Call me when you’re back,” I said. “Don’t forget about my startup candidate. She won’t be on the market for too long.”

“Will do. Talk later.”

My phone dinged with a text, and I checked the flight details. Tara had forgotten to text me Sona’s number, but it didn’t matter. I knew how to find her.