get by the year-end report, I’ll work with you on the forecasts for next year.”
Chapter 11
Monday at the Symington Medical Center—9:20 a.m.
Ron felt uncomfortable sitting at the small conference table in Dr. John Hazleton’s office. It was the most expensively decorated office in the building, being furnished out of the doctor’s personal funds rather than from the construction budget. John’s taste leaned toward the flashy and didn’t seem to adhere to one style or another. He had a mixture of Oriental, Mediterranean, American Indian and African artifacts, wall coverings, antiquities, carpets, furniture, and sculptures placed around the office in no particular order, as far as Ron could tell. That was Dr. John Hazleton; renegade in his personal style and in his business practices.
John was chosen as chairman of the New Business Committee for two reasons. First, because he wasn’t on any other committee at the time, and second, because his scholastic training seemed, at the time, to support the special analytical skills that would be needed to do a thorough vetting of any candidate wanting to join the group.
The New Business Committee did an excellent job of screening new partners for the first two years. Then, as the open slots narrowed, John raised the standards higher than many of the other partners believed necessary. Conflict arose between some of the partners and John when the committee rejected several businesses that the partners had supported.
Dr. John Hazleton, it seemed, was more interested in new partners that would make a larger than normal contribution to the profits of the corporation or would present a prestigious aura for the Center. To him, with only two slots left, it was now or never if the partners expected a higher return from the enterprise. Most of the other partners were looking to the longer term and wanted more diversity in the disciplines represented, rather than immediate profit enhancement. Several of the partners even talked of removing John from his responsibility as chairman.
When Dr. John Hazleton entered a room, he did so with much bravado. He was a man in his late fifties, six-three, and one hundred and ninety-five pounds. He visited a salon periodically to trim and touch up his jet black hair. It was apparent that he knew the value of his magnetic persona and took advantage of every opportunity to primp and pose regardless of the gender or status of his audience.
“Good morning, Ron, so sorry to keep you waiting. Holidays always seem to mess up our schedules. I hope you and Lynn had a very nice Thanksgiving.”
“Yes, we did, John, and I hope you and Lorraine had the same.”
“We certainly did. Dorothy was home from school and Michael drove down from Rhode Island with Betty and the kids. It was nice having a houseful of family again. Dorothy stayed the weekend and left for school this morning. That’s why I’m a bit late. I wanted to give her a proper sendoff.”
“I know we were on for nine; I apologize. It’s just that I only get to see her a few times a year since she transferred to Oregon State University for her PhD. OSU has an outstanding program for New Venture Research. I don’t know exactly what that all entails, but it’s what she has her heart set on doing. I know that whatever she does, she’ll be good at it. She has a great mind and total dedication to whatever she pursues. So, Ron, what’s on your mind this morning?”
“John, I want to talk to you about expediting the study your committee is doing on Mitchum’s Pharmacy and St. Stephens Rehab. It’s been several months since they submitted their applications.”
“To be more precise, it’s been exactly sixty-three days.”
“That’s exactly my point. That space has been open and not producing revenue since the former tenants left. That was over seven months ago. Our bottom line is being hurt by these vacancies.”
“I’m well aware
Chapter 11
Monday at the Symington Medical Center—9:20 a.m.
Ron felt uncomfortable sitting at the small conference table in Dr. John Hazleton’s office. It was the most expensively decorated office in the building, being furnished out of the doctor’s personal funds rather than from the construction budget. John’s taste leaned toward the flashy and didn’t seem to adhere to one style or another. He had a mixture of Oriental, Mediterranean, American Indian and African artifacts, wall coverings, antiquities, carpets, furniture, and sculptures placed around the office in no particular order, as far as Ron could tell. That was Dr. John Hazleton; renegade in his personal style and in his business practices.
John was chosen as chairman of the New Business Committee for two reasons. First, because he wasn’t on any other committee at the time, and second, because his scholastic training seemed, at the time, to support the special analytical skills that would be needed to do a thorough vetting of any candidate wanting to join the group.
The New Business Committee did an excellent job of screening new partners for the first two years. Then, as the open slots narrowed, John raised the standards higher than many of the other partners believed necessary. Conflict arose between some of the partners and John when the committee rejected several businesses that the partners had supported.
Dr. John Hazleton, it seemed, was more interested in new partners that would make a larger than normal contribution to the profits of the corporation or would present a prestigious aura for the Center. To him, with only two slots left, it was now or never if the partners expected a higher return from the enterprise. Most of the other partners were looking to the longer term and wanted more diversity in the disciplines represented, rather than immediate profit enhancement. Several of the partners even talked of removing John from his responsibility as chairman.
When Dr. John Hazleton entered a room, he did so with much bravado. He was a man in his late fifties, six-three, and one hundred and ninety-five pounds. He visited a salon periodically to trim and touch up his jet black hair. It was apparent that he knew the value of his magnetic persona and took advantage of every opportunity to primp and pose regardless of the gender or status of his audience.
“Good morning, Ron, so sorry to keep you waiting. Holidays always seem to mess up our schedules. I hope you and Lynn had a very nice Thanksgiving.”
“Yes, we did, John, and I hope you and Lorraine had the same.”
“We certainly did. Dorothy was home from school and Michael drove down from Rhode Island with Betty and the kids. It was nice having a houseful of family again. Dorothy stayed the weekend and left for school this morning. That’s why I’m a bit late. I wanted to give her a proper sendoff.”
“I know we were on for nine; I apologize. It’s just that I only get to see her a few times a year since she transferred to Oregon State University for her PhD. OSU has an outstanding program for New Venture Research. I don’t know exactly what that all entails, but it’s what she has her heart set on doing. I know that whatever she does, she’ll be good at it. She has a great mind and total dedication to whatever she pursues. So, Ron, what’s on your mind this morning?”
“John, I want to talk to you about expediting the study your committee is doing on Mitchum’s Pharmacy and St. Stephens Rehab. It’s been several months since they submitted their applications.”
“To be more precise, it’s been exactly sixty-three days.”
“That’s exactly my point. That space has been open and not producing revenue since the former tenants left. That was over seven months ago. Our bottom line is being hurt by these vacancies.”
“I’m well aware
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