Michael went great. I introduced the two even though I was meeting Michael for the first time. Michael brought along his intern, Judith. They had a nice conversation under a little umbrella on the restaurant’s patio, and I half-listened while I watched the occasional boat float by on the river. By the time the food came, they were already talking about materials and joints and maintenance of the tables.
This lunch took place back before iPads and decent cell phone screens, so for a demo Michael had this little device with a screen on it. I guess it was a DVD player. It showed a woman spinning open the table to grow it to the bigger size. It still think those tables are incredible, but see one for the first time and it’s like magic.
Bert nodded and complimented Michael on his execution. They discussed the origins of the design and how he had improved it. I guess because Michael started to get into technical secrets, Judith began to look a little itchy. She pulled out a briefcase and produced NDAs—non-disclosure agreements for me and Bert to sign. In case we were out to steal secrets, I guess.
I didn’t have a problem signing, but Bert crossed out a few lines. He explained himself carefully. Apparently there were some clauses that might prohibit him from building things that he already had experience building. It made sense to me. He and Michael struck an agreement and they signed. Only Judith looked nervous at all.
I had a nice lunch. The others didn’t each much. They were too busy talking. Fortunately, our table was fairly isolated from the rest of the diners so it was quiet.
If he had incurred any ill will over the NDA, Bert won them back with his idea. I didn’t entirely grasp his concept, but apparently Bert came up with a way to marry the sections of the table together more securely, so the surface would appear more flat. Michael mentioned it was an unsolvable issue, but with a couple of pen sketches on the back of the NDA, Bert solved it. He was in. Michael offered to bring him into the manufacturing process and then phase him into sales and marketing as production stabilized. Bert loved the idea. Apparently, he gets bored and prefers shifting responsibilities. I thought Bert’s need for change would be a red flag to a small business owner, but Michael smiled.
Honestly, I was already beyond worrying about whether Bert was a good fit. Michael should have been able to evaluate him now that they had met in person. I was already counting the commission I’d get from this placement. He was offering Bert my idea of a fortune.
When we stood, everyone shook hands and smiled. I didn’t like the way that Bert showed his shovel-teeth to Judith, but Bert wasn’t my problem.
The next day I got a letter from Mr. Bert Williams. It included sincere thanks for my “vision” and a thousand in cash. The bills were weird. I took them to the bank at lunch and handed them to the cross-eyed teller. She pronounced them old, but valid, and deposited them into my account. When I was walking back to my office, I had the urge to call up Michael and call off the deal. He could still hire Bert if he wanted, but I didn’t want a commission from that placement. I’m not sure if things would have gone better or worse if I’d made that call. On one hand, he might have stopped the hiring process. On the other, it might have been used as evidence that I knew something was wrong. I didn’t call.
Two weeks later, after Bert started work, Michael sent me an effusive letter. He talked about what a great fit Bert was—how all the yachting folks took to the old man, and how the engineers and craftsmen worshipped him. He said in the letter that he was tempted to pay my whole fee upfront, but he didn’t. Successful businessmen have an instinct that steadies their hand even when it doesn’t silence their pen. He paid me the advance and promised to pay the rest on the day Bert’s probationary employment period ended.
I moved on to
This lunch took place back before iPads and decent cell phone screens, so for a demo Michael had this little device with a screen on it. I guess it was a DVD player. It showed a woman spinning open the table to grow it to the bigger size. It still think those tables are incredible, but see one for the first time and it’s like magic.
Bert nodded and complimented Michael on his execution. They discussed the origins of the design and how he had improved it. I guess because Michael started to get into technical secrets, Judith began to look a little itchy. She pulled out a briefcase and produced NDAs—non-disclosure agreements for me and Bert to sign. In case we were out to steal secrets, I guess.
I didn’t have a problem signing, but Bert crossed out a few lines. He explained himself carefully. Apparently there were some clauses that might prohibit him from building things that he already had experience building. It made sense to me. He and Michael struck an agreement and they signed. Only Judith looked nervous at all.
I had a nice lunch. The others didn’t each much. They were too busy talking. Fortunately, our table was fairly isolated from the rest of the diners so it was quiet.
If he had incurred any ill will over the NDA, Bert won them back with his idea. I didn’t entirely grasp his concept, but apparently Bert came up with a way to marry the sections of the table together more securely, so the surface would appear more flat. Michael mentioned it was an unsolvable issue, but with a couple of pen sketches on the back of the NDA, Bert solved it. He was in. Michael offered to bring him into the manufacturing process and then phase him into sales and marketing as production stabilized. Bert loved the idea. Apparently, he gets bored and prefers shifting responsibilities. I thought Bert’s need for change would be a red flag to a small business owner, but Michael smiled.
Honestly, I was already beyond worrying about whether Bert was a good fit. Michael should have been able to evaluate him now that they had met in person. I was already counting the commission I’d get from this placement. He was offering Bert my idea of a fortune.
When we stood, everyone shook hands and smiled. I didn’t like the way that Bert showed his shovel-teeth to Judith, but Bert wasn’t my problem.
The next day I got a letter from Mr. Bert Williams. It included sincere thanks for my “vision” and a thousand in cash. The bills were weird. I took them to the bank at lunch and handed them to the cross-eyed teller. She pronounced them old, but valid, and deposited them into my account. When I was walking back to my office, I had the urge to call up Michael and call off the deal. He could still hire Bert if he wanted, but I didn’t want a commission from that placement. I’m not sure if things would have gone better or worse if I’d made that call. On one hand, he might have stopped the hiring process. On the other, it might have been used as evidence that I knew something was wrong. I didn’t call.
Two weeks later, after Bert started work, Michael sent me an effusive letter. He talked about what a great fit Bert was—how all the yachting folks took to the old man, and how the engineers and craftsmen worshipped him. He said in the letter that he was tempted to pay my whole fee upfront, but he didn’t. Successful businessmen have an instinct that steadies their hand even when it doesn’t silence their pen. He paid me the advance and promised to pay the rest on the day Bert’s probationary employment period ended.
I moved on to
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