The "A" Team

When Jack Thompson, president of Lund Structured Woods, decided to create a research and development department for the division, his decision met with universal enthusiasm.

"Why the hell do we need R & D?" bellowed Dirk McAllister, Lund's vice president of manufacturing, over a plate of chicken-fried steak, gravy, and curly fries.

"Keep it down, will ya?" responded Jack sotto voce as he looked sheepishly around to the adjoining tables at the Charlotte diner while shoveling a load of fries into his mouth.

"Why?"

"Because we're in a frickin' restaurant."

"It's a diner, Jack."

"Where I have lunch every day."

"Every day? What's your cholesterol?"

"Only 190, and my triglycerides are good too. Could you please pass the ketchup?" Despite Jack's daily ritual with gravy and fries, he was a fit man in his early sixties with a gray crew cut.

"Amazing, but why R & D?"

"Dave Lund ordered me to do it. He's the boss."

"Just because his family owns the business?"

"It's a good reason; plus, he's the new CEO of Lund."

"But he's young, new to the business, and doesn't know jack."

"Huh?" Jack asked with a puzzled look.

"It's an expression. He doesn't know jack shit about us. Structured Woods makes panels by waferizing trees and gluing them together in huge presses. It's as basic as it gets. What does Dave Lund think R & D can do?"

"I dunno—maybe develop some new products."

"Jack, this is all a bunch of Dave's Harvard Business School bullshit. He probably learned about this in some ivory-tower course about innovation. He's a former management consultant and hasn't done anything himself. This isn't frickin' Apple—we're a wood-panel company! And he's no Steve Jobs."

"I know, I know. He's doing a bunch of Harvard stuff that won't work, like the Lund Management Council, where we get together and talk about our core competencies."

"Our what?"

"Core competencies—it's business-school speak for `what we're good at.'"

"We're good at one thing, Jack: making boards for home construction, and lots of them, at the lowest cost. We don't need a council to figure it out, but creating an R & D department will only get in the way and increase our costs."

"I know."

"Well, what lucky sucker on your staff gets to manage R & D?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about ..."

Dirk McAllister was a gruff man in his midfifties who had spent his entire career in wood manufacturing. He welcomed change like the National Rifle Association embraced universal background checks. After getting his orders from Jack about R & D, Dirk devised a simple plan to handle the situation: hire the cheapest, most innocuous scientist possible and make sure he stayed out of the way.

To accomplish this task, Dirk needed to assemble an unusually weak team to screen and interview candidates. His first choice was obvious: Darrell Hartman, Lund Structured Woods's vice president of human resources and chief people officer. Darrell had a strong reputation for intellectual mediocrity. Some of his Lund colleagues even speculated that Darrell buys his clothes for full price at Jos A. Bank Clothier. He was equally known for political correctness and sentimentality—his title of chief people officer being a prime example.

The second choice was more difficult, but Dirk wanted to augment the soft side of his team with a woman. For this, he picked Lund's vice president of finance, B'linda Mae Jones. B'linda, whose nickname was Trophy (short for "Apostrophe"), was the clear intellectual superior of Darrell, but she was a die-hard women's libber, a perfect bias for hiring a gentler, more innocuous scientist. Trophy offered other benefits, notably her perfect, large breasts atop a slender five-foot-two body and a wild frock of long, curly blonde hair. Her breasts were the talk of Structured Woods and garnered the nickname Bonnie and Clyde.

To round out the team, Dirk asked the Charlotte office receptionist, Beverly Stroup, to join. Beverly was a petite, likable woman in her midthirties who idolized Darrell for his advanced sensitivity and executive capacities—an obvious sign of her dimness.

Dirk decided to locate his new scientist in Lund's manufacturing plant in Athens, Georgia, a three-hour drive from the Charlotte headquarters. The location would minimize Dirk's interaction with him or her. To keep the new scientist even farther out of the way, Dirk would build a cheap lab in the attic of the Athens plant, a desolate place with no windows that was full of plant fumes, a location sure to dissuade any capable candidates from taking the job.

Challenges like this brought out the best in Dirk.

To initiate the search for the new scientist, the team engaged a recruiter who had retired as a human resources manager at a Georgia manufacturing facility. He was a sole practitioner in his sixties, and Darrell had met him at a sensitivity-training workshop in Atlanta years earlier. The choice exceeded Dirk's hopes for incompetence.

Fortunately for Dirk, recruiting scientists in the world of wood products was nearly impossible—wood companies simply didn't have R & D. Wood was like sand—what was there to develop? But the recruiter persisted and introduced several candidates. The team rejected all for being under-qualified, despite Dirk's insistence otherwise. Dirk decided not to overrule his team, lest his strategy become too apparent.

Several weeks later, the team met in Charlotte to review another batch of resumes. The Charlotte office was in a one-story business park outside the city, with dirty carpets, horrible coffee, and motivational posters that Darrell had acquired to improve the morale of the organization. His favorite was a colorful skydiving formation with the caption, "Teamwork: Aim High."

Darrell, Trophy, and Bev sifted through piles of resumes, growing increasingly despondent that none had the right qualifications for the position. Trophy suddenly took an interest in one and queried the team, "Hey, have y'all seen this one? It's from a Dr. Chen, who's apparently Chinese. He's doing a postdoc at Michigan Tech."

Darrell looked up from his pile and said, "No, I haven't. What's his background?"

"He has a PhD in wood science from Beijing University and is now at Michigan Tech researching how to make wood composites lighter and stronger."

"Dr. Chen, huh?" Darrell said, thinking out loud. "That would be good for our diversity. What's his first name?"

"It just says Chen."

"Maybe he's like Madonna," Bev offered.

Two weeks later, the team assembled at the Athens plant to interview Dr. Chen. The plant was a monstrosity, with huge log piles, giant machines, and more than 150 employees. Its conference room had a large, rectangular table with cheap veneer, mismatched chairs, and motivational posters about teamwork and leadership. Dirk had arranged for coffee, Coke, and Diet Coke for his team and Dr. Chen, as well as chocolate doughnuts and bags of Doritos, Trophy's favorite. Darrell had brought detailed interview guides for each team member, complete with a color-highlighted list of topics not to broach, like asking the candidate if he was pregnant.

At 10:00 a.m., the plant receptionist, a woman in her twenties named Billie, knocked on the conference room door and entered.

"Excuse me, y'all, but Dr. Chen is here."

Walking behind her was a slightly rotund Chinese man about five feet, six inches tall, in his midthirties, wearing black plastic-framed glasses.

"Hello, my name is Chen," he declared with a warm smile and heavy Chinese accent.

Chen wore a white lab coat with his name inscribed above the many pens in his front pocket. He also wore an old, blue tie.

Darrell was the first to greet Chen, and he introduced him to Dirk, Trophy, and Bev.

"Please sit down, Dr. Chen," Darrell said, offering a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"Thank you, Darrell. I am very happy to be here in Athen."

"Dr. Chen, would you like some coffee or perhaps a Coke and doughnuts?" offered Bev. She and Trophy were already sipping Diet Cokes and munching on Doritos.

"Do you have hot waters?" asked Chen as he pulled out a red tin adorned with Chinese characters. "I have tea from China, a present from some friend in Beijing."

"We'll get you hot water right away," Trophy responded. "Is it sweet tea?"

"No, it's Chinese oolong tea, good for healths."

"Maybe I should try some," Dirk said, chuckling.

"Be my guests," Chen said as he passed the tin to Dirk. Dirk handled it like a live grenade and gave it back to Chen.

After Bev brought back a mug of steaming hot water, Chen grabbed a pinch of tea from his tin and put it in the water. The leaves floated for a couple minutes before getting soaked and sinking to the bottom.

"Chen," Trophy asked, "don't y'all use tea bags in China?"

"No, B'lindas, we just add some leaf and drink it."

"Extraordinary!" Bev exclaimed.

Trophy decided to start the interview. "So, Dr. Chen, you're from China?"

Darrell immediately turned red and gave Trophy a dirty look, pointing to the colored warnings in the interview guide. Dirk chuckled; Bev looked confused and concerned.

"Yes, B'lindas, I am from Beijing, the capitols."

"How's the weather over there?" Bev asked.

"Very hot and humids in the summer and freezings in the winter."

"How do you like America?" Bev continued.

"Michigan Tech is also freezings, and I like The Today Shows."

"Well, Dr. Chen," Trophy explained, "Georgia has very nice weather, and we also have The Today Show. Katie Couric was my favorite, but she left the show."

"Yes, I liked her, but my favorite is Al Rokers."

"He's great with the crowd outside!" Bev interjected.

"Yes, Bev, somedays, I would like to visit the studio."

Bev was absorbed in thought and came up with the next question. "Dr. Chen, are there still any Communists in China?"

"Yes, many Communist."

"Oh, my! Do you know any?"

"Yes."

"Are they dangerous?"

"No, Bev. I even have some cousin Communist."

The group's attention was riveted.

"Seriously?" Bev asked incredulously.

"No jokers."

"Well, I'll be!" Bev exclaimed. "Are you a Communist?"

Darrell shuffled through the interview guide and papers, searching for guidance on the Communist question.

"No, I am just some wood doctor."

Darrell interrupted to steer the interview in a different direction. "Dr. Chen, can you explain to us your postdoctoral work at Michigan Tech?"

"Yes, Darrell, I do some experiment to understand how to make wood composite stronger by making wood grains in alignment."

"Oh, my," Bev said in amazement.

"How do you do that?" Dirk asked.

"We make some board with different alignments and then measure the strength with machine."

Bev stared at Chen like he had invented gravity.

"Could your work help us at Lund?" Dirk continued.

"Yes, Mr. Dirks, maybe you could make some board lighter with same strength—to save many dollar."

"Now you're talkin'," Dirk said.

"At Michigan Tech, we reduce board weights by 15 percents."

"My word!" Bev said.

After a brief pause, Bev continued. "So, Dr. Chen, do you have any hobbies?"

"Yes, I make fortune cookie." Dirk sat up straight, thinking the interview was getting really interesting.

"With the fortunes inside?"

"Yes, Bev, I write the fortune and put them inside some cookie."

"How do you know?" Bev asked.

"Know what?"

"How do you know each person's fortune?"

Dirk chuckled; Darrell looked confused; Trophy smiled.

"It takes much practice, Bev," Chen explained.

"Good Lord!" Bev commented.

Darrell chimed in. "Dr. Chen, do you have a staff at Michigan Tech?"

"Yes, Darrell, I have two assistant."

"Did you hire them?"

"Yes, I did some interview, like this."

"Can you describe them?"

"The first is master student from Upper Peninsulas of Michigan. He is a man about twenty-five year old—"

"His gender and age are irrelevant, Dr. Chen. How do you manage him?"

"We have tea in the mornings and talk about doing some experiment. Then he does it and puts result in computer."

"Do you agree on his objectives?"

"Huh?" Chen looked confused.

Darrell continued. "Do you have forms to describe his objectives that you both sign?"

Dirk interrupted. "Darrell, it's okay. Chen can learn how to use forms here." Clearly, Dirk had found his man.

After an hour, Dirk asked Chen if he would mind waiting in the reception area so they could talk. As soon as Chen left, Dirk said, "Well, what do you all think?"

"He's perfect," Bev responded. "Chen is so smart!"

"He's really nice, too," Trophy added. "I don't think he'll make waves here, especially since he's not a Communist."

This was music to Dirk's ears.

"Darrell?" Dirk asked.

"Well, his work is impressive, and I agree he's nice. I'm concerned that he doesn't use forms to define objectives."

What a fucking moron, Dirk thought. I better think of something.

"Good point, Darrell, but remember, he works for a university in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan—not a sophisticated corporation like Lund. I'm sure you could train him in no time."

"Yea, Darrell," Bev said, "Look what you did with me."

Trophy interjected, "She has a point, Darrell; when it comes to forms, you're world-class."

Darrell accepted Trophy's derision as a strong compliment. "Gee, I'm flattered. You've convinced me. Chen will be great."

"It's settled then," Dirk exclaimed. "Bev, go get Dr. Chen and let's give him the good news!"

Fumes

The afternoon before Chen's first day at Lund, Darrell drove to Athens to prepare for Chen's indoctrination. Chen was the most senior hire in years, and Darrell felt strongly he had to handle this himself. He packed a large box of forms into his 1995 blue Volvo station wagon, along with his gag-a-maggot smelling safety boots and overnight bag, and headed for Georgia. Darrell's wagon was notorious among the Lund team, most notably for foot odor, a pungent mixture from his omnipresent tennis shoes and the safety boots. His pine-tree air freshener was like a BB gun against panzers.

On the dashboard, Darrell had a bobble figure of a bearded man in a robe, Andy Gibb of the Bee Gees. It was a visible warning to new riders, as the second-worst part of driving in Darrell's Volvo was his music collection. Unsuspecting riders found themselves trapped for hours listening to The Best of the Carpenters, John Denver, Helen Reddy, The Bee Gees, and other pieces known for sentimentality.

The next morning, Darrell arrived early to set up in the plant conference room. Remembering that Chen favored tea over coffee, Darrell brought a jug of sweet tea and a dozen assorted doughnuts. As he was arranging ten piles of forms on the conference table, the human resource manager for Athens, Sophie Grimaldi, joined him. Sophie was in her early thirties. A recent MBA graduate from the University of Georgia, Sophie had head-turning good looks with her wavy, dark-brown hair; fetching, big brown eyes; perfect smile; and trim, athletic figure, coupled with world-class breasts. Sophie wore little makeup and dressed casually with tight jeans and a black button-down shirt. Sophie ran intellectual laps around her boss, Darrell, which was why Dirk intentionally kept her off the R & D interview team.

"Good morning, Sophie," Darrell said.

"Hey, Darrell. What's up?"

"I'm glad you're here. Today is a great development opportunity for you."

"How so?"

"A critical skill for advancement in human resources at Lund is the mastery of forms. As you can see, I've laid out ten piles for Dr. Chen. For the next hire, I'd like you to be able to lay out the forms yourself."

"Do you think I can pick it up that fast, Darrell?"

Sophie's sarcasm escaped Darrell. "All good development is a stretch, Sophie, but I would never throw you out of the boat and ask you to swim. I'll be there, just in case."

"What a relief."

"I think you have great potential, Sophie. In seven to ten years, you could be the HR manager for a bigger plant, and in another ten, you could be ready for my job."

"That soon?"

"Absolutely. You are on a fast track."

A moment later, Dr. Chen walked into the room wearing his glasses and white lab coat with his name above its pen-infested front pocket.

"Good morning, Darrell," Chen said with a smile.

"Welcome, Dr. Chen. I'd like to introduce you to the human resource manager here in Athens, Sophie Grimaldi."