Read Online It's Not Luck by Eliyahu M. Goldratt - Free Book Online Page A

don’t worry about Mexico,” Sharon immediately interrupts, “Dave promised to drive me every day, and trust me, I’m not going to let him off the hook.”
    “I had hoped that we could strike a deal,” Dave says. “But, okay Dad, no long journeys. Promise.”
    Relaxed, I turn to the next page. “You read,” I say to Dave. “Start from the statements at the bottom.”
    “ ‘When I’m away,’ ” he starts reading, “ ‘the car is at your disposal.’ ”
    Puzzled, Sharon asks, “Does that mean Daddy’s decided to give you the car?”
    “I wish,” he says, “but unfortunately it only means that he is trying to figure out what will be the negative outcomes if he does.”
    “Ah.”
    “Carry on,” I encourage him.
    “ ‘I’m away for a lengthy period of time,’ ” Dave continues to read, and then adds his own interpretation—“one week is not so long.”
    “Speak for yourself,” Julie says.
    “Okay, Mom, no more of these remarks. I’m now reading the next level: ‘For a lengthy period you can use the car whenever you want.’ ”
    “No,” I say. “You are not reading a list of statements, you are reading a logical tree. Read according to the arrows.” And to demonstrate, I point to the first statement and start to read it properly: “ ‘If, when I’m away, the car is at your disposal, and . . .’ ” I shift my finger to the second statement, “and ‘I’m away for a lengthy period,’ then . . . ” and I point to the higher statement, “then ‘for a lengthy period you can use the car whenever you want.’ ”

     
    “Obvious,” is Dave’s only comment.
    “Now read the next entry,” I say, and smile at Julie. She smiles back. We both remember what Jonah said: “When the reply is ‘obvious’ or ‘it’s only common sense,’ it means that you are communicating.”
    Dave continues to read: “ ‘When people can use something regularly, it becomes a habit—a right.’ ”
    “Right?” I ask.
    “Yes, that’s usually the case. Now can I read the next level?”
    “Yes, but try to read the cause and effect relationship. Use if . . . then . . . ”
    “If ‘for a lengthy period of time,’ ” he reads slowly, “ ‘you can use the car whenever you want,’ and ‘when people can use something regularly it becomes a habit—a right,’ then ‘you get used to having the car at your disposal.’ Now I see what you’re concerned about, but . . .”
    “Dave,” I interrupt him, “before you start to dismiss it by some rash promises, I’d prefer that you realize how important this concern is. Please read it to the end.”
    “Okay, I’m reading. The additional entry first: ‘I don’t want to share my car.’ ”
    “Now the unavoidable derivative. If . . . and . . . then . . . please.”
    “If ‘you get used to having the car at your disposal,’ ” he reads without much enthusiasm, “and ‘I don’t want to share my car’, then ‘it will be annoying for you to get a “NO” in the future.’ ”
    “Correct?” I ask.
    “Yes,” he admits, “I can see how it could lead to friction.”
    “Well?” I ask.
    “I don’t know,” he replies. “Whatever I say now can be interpreted as if I just want to ignore the problem.”
    I sure am glad I took the trouble to write it in such detail. I’m about to suggest a resolution when Julie sends me, just in time, a look. I swallow my words, and instead say, “Take your time, Dave. My trip is not until next week.”
    Dave gives a convincing demonstration of a fish, opening his mouth to say something and regretting it. At last he says, “Maybe, if I promise not to ask for the Beamer for . . . two months?”
    That’s too much. Moreover, I don’t think that Dave could keep such a promise—he’s too much in love with my car.
    “Why do you think that would work?” Julie asks him.
    “Simple,” Dave answers. “If a week is enough to get spoiled, then two months must be enough to reverse it.”
    “What do you say?”