Chafferers with Laptops

I'm in one of those inexplicable reading droughts again, and for once, it may be a good thing. I've been reading Barbara Tuchman's "Stilwell and the American Experience in China, 1911-45", which is an amazing book, but not at this moment compelling me to gobble it down in one gulp.

So, last night when I took the girls to a late Sunday evening skating session, I took my nifty 12" Powerbook.

And here's what happened:


Post Modem


Chapter 1

“So, Mr. Nash. How quickly can you help us fill this position?”

I really don’t like taking on new customers, but the economy of the last few years had finally caught up with me. My base of customers wasn’t half what it had been before the turn of the century and the ones that remained weren’t hiring much. But I was far from destitute and when times are bad, companies have to be sure and hire the right people the first time around. So they need me, but they don’t like it. They’re more likely to argue with my fee structure and try and bargain with me. I rarely bargain and I certainly wasn’t in the mood for it today.

“I’m sure I can find the right person for you pretty quickly. Just how quickly do you need someone?”

Mr. Bemidji managed a weak smile. “Today, tomorrow, any time this week.” He made a strange strangled laugh. “Really Mr. Nash. We need someone immediately. We wouldn’t be speaking to you if we didn’t need to find a replacement, er, well immediately.”

I took a moment and scratched behind my right ear and looked again at his desktop. Some people have clean desks, but very few have completely empty ones. The office was clearly his, but he had arranged it in such a manner that after every task he could return it to a complete null state. When I had been escorted in he was using a slim sliver laptop, but he closed it and slid it into a desk drawer before rising to shake my hand and offer me a seat. I waited, scratching and thinking until he looked close to tears.

“Perhaps you’re talking to the wrong man. It will probably take a few weeks for me to discover what you need and several more to find the right person. I’m not sitting on a stable of blank slates I can shoe horn into any opening.”

“Mr. Nash …”

“Let me tell you how I work, Mr. Bemidji. You’ve spoken to three of my customers already. That’s why I agreed to this meeting. The way I work and my fees are not negotiable. But if you let me do my job, I will find the right person for you.”

Time to wait again, but it wasn’t long.

“Mr. Nash, I was told you were the best executive recruiter in the area.”

“Headhunter. I’m a headhunter, Mr. Bemidji. I don’t dignify it with fancy titles. And I’m not here to find just someone to fill a job, am I? You need someone very specific, and I’m here to find that person for you.”

Bemidji shifted, but only slightly, in his chair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes, Mr. Nash. We need someone very specific.”

“And I’d be happy to help you.” I took a single sheet of paper from my portfolio and laid it in front of him. “If you’ll sign here we can begin.”

He stared at the contract in front of him. He’d seen it earlier when I emailed him a copy and instructed him we would be signing it, unaltered, before we began. He spoke without taking his eyes off the contract. “This is a very unusual way of doing business, Mr. Nash.”

“It is, isn’t it? But it’s the way I work and the only way I work. Sign it and we begin or don’t and I’ll leave.”

My agreement is very simple. Once engaged, I research the company, the tasks, the history, everything down to the competition and market conditions. Then I bring back a single candidate. I name the salary and benefits package. There are no interviews, no committees, no HR vetting. The company receives a “dossier”, for lack of a better term, and they have 24 hours to decide. I do not offer a second candidate. My fee is equivalent to one year’s salary of this new hire.

“You can do this?” he asked.

“Yes. I can.”

He slid open the drawer to his left, selected a pen, and signed the contract without hesitation, then replaced the pen, closed the drawer and pushed the contract back across the desk to me. “Mr. Nash, last night the president of our company was murdered. We need you to find a replacement in no more than three weeks.”

Now it was my turn to sigh. I took out my pen and signed the contract, dated it and placed it in my portfolio.

“Then let’s get started.”