Learning curves (8 page)

8

“External analysis is perhaps the most interesting aspect of strategy.” The lecturer at the front of the hall paused dramatically, and stared around the room ensuring that everyone’s attention was focused directly on him.

Jen stared at him indignantly.
Where’s Daniel,
she wanted to ask.
Why was internal analysis dealt with so quickly? It was just getting interesting . . .

The past few weeks had been a blur of swotting up on internal strengths and weaknesses, drinking far too many cups of coffee with Lara and Alan, and skulking around in corridors not learning very much from the conversations she overheard, but taking copious notes anyway. She now knew about the love lives of what felt like half the consultants at Bell Consulting, as well as who was applying for new jobs and how little Bruce Gainsborough, whoever he was, was rated by his colleagues. But she knew next to nothing about her father or his trip to Indonesia.

Still, she’d finished her assignment for Daniel and done rather a good job on it, if she said so herself. She imagined him reading it, imagined him thinking about her as he read it, then shook herself.

“Internal analysis will only take you so far,” the lecturer was saying. “As with people, looking inside yourself is not really going to help you decide your future. No, being self-aware may be a prerequisite, but then you need to start looking outside to the opportunities and threats on the horizon before you can work out your place in the world. And so it is for business. Consider the context of the business—who are its customers, what do they want, where do they live? Consider competitors— how strong are they and can you preempt their next move? What about your suppliers? Are they efficient? Cheap? What are the issues they’re facing? And then think about the wider environment—what’s happening in the world outside the business? Flood, famine, boom, bust, brain drain, immigration—they are all going to have implications for a business. It’s your job to identify those implications, and to devise a strategy to make the most of the opportunities, and minimize any risks.”

Make the most of opportunities and minimize risks,
Jen thought to herself. That’s what she needed to do at Bell. Her opportunities included bumping into Daniel accidentally on purpose, spying on her father, and listening in on more conversations in the elevator. The risks included being accused of stalking Daniel, being found out by her father, and being asked why on earth she was in the elevator all day long.

“So, introduction over, let’s look at some basic models,” the professor was saying. “The PEST is always useful—that’s Political, Economic, Social, and Technological influences. Would someone like to suggest a company, and we can work through the PEST on it?”

A young man in the front row shot his hand up. “How about a condom company?” he asked with a slight smirk, and everyone in the room agreed vigorously. Jen cringed— she was never going to live this one down, obviously.

The lecturer looked disconcerted. “A condom company, you say?”

“We’re comfortable with condoms,” the young man said as seriously as he could manage. “They’re flexible enough to really analyze effectively, and you can really . . . capture the, uh, key issues.”

A ripple of laughter spread around the room and the lecturer sighed.

“Very well then. Political influences on a condom company?”

There was silence.

Jen caught the eye of the lecturer and immediately wished she hadn’t.

“What about you,” he said immediately. “Give me a political influence on a condom company.”

Jen thought frantically. “Um, how about the government’s commitment to reduce the level of teenage pregnancy?” she ventured.

“Good!” said the lecturer with a smile. “That’s one. It’s an influence that could work either way—either the government could hand out free condoms, in which case our condom company has to make sure that they hand out its brand, or the government could preach abstention, which could mean fewer sales. If its brand is important and is about fun, like Mates, it may actively distance itself from government handouts because they’re seen as ‘responsible.’ So yes, lots of good stuff there. Who can think of others?”

Jen felt a little smile creeping onto her face at the compliment.

“AIDS awareness,” said someone else.

“Yes, but that’s not political. A government’s attitude to AIDS is what’s political—do they acknowledge there’s a problem and want to tackle it or are they ignoring it? Both will have implications for our company. Okay, economic influences?”

Lara stuck her hand up. “The cost of rubber,” she said with a grin.

“Absolutely. Very big influence,” the lecturer said to a great deal of giggling around the room.

He narrowed his eyes. “Social influences?”

“How much people are shagging,” someone at the back shouted out, to more giggling.

The lecturer sighed. It didn’t matter how old your students were; as soon as you had a group of people in a lecture theater they reverted to teenage humor.

“Someone turn that sentiment into a social influence,” he said with a sigh. “What about you?”

He was looking at Jen, and she reddened again.

“Um, how about rates of marriage?” she tried. “And demographics—how many people are having children at what age, that sort of thing.”

“Good. Why?”

“Because if there are lots of people married or in relationships who don’t want to have children, condom use will go up.”

“Excellent. Thank you. And finally, technological. Anyone?”

Alan put his hand up. “New developments like the male pill,” he said seriously.

“Good. Anything else?”

“Vibrators,” Lara said quickly.

“Explain?”

“Well if they’re good enough, women may not need sex with men anymore. . . .” She got a little round of applause from the few women in the room.

“Interesting idea,” the lecturer said, “which we won’t explore now—I’ll leave that to you, shall I? Now, when you’ve done your PEST, you need to—” He was interrupted by the door opening. Jen looked up and froze. Her heart started pounding and she could feel the blood drain from her face.

“Mr. Bell!” the lecturer said, immediately straightening his posture and looking far more formal than he had five minutes before. “What a nice surprise. Would you . . . um . . . like to have a seat?”

George smiled broadly. “You just carry on, Julian,” he said affably. “Thought I’d just take a quick look at this year’s intake if it’s all right with you.”

“Oh, absolutely. Yes. We were just doing the PEST analysis,” the lecturer said, obviously flustered. “On a . . . manufacturing company.”

George nodded and started walking to the back of the lecture theater.

Jen looked around desperately, then dropped a pen on the floor and dived down after it. This was one risk she hadn’t foreseen. And it could be the end of everything. Shooting a look at Lara, she hid under her desk and held her breath.

Lara looked at her curiously, evidently confused, and Jen tried to indicate that she was trying to hide, which she did with a series of hand gestures that frankly could have meant that she was hoping to travel to the moon one day. Still, Lara seemed to get the message and quickly deposited her coat over Jen.

“Mr. Bell?” she asked sweetly, turning round to face him. “What’s your take on the wacky world of condoms?”

Daniel grinned as he flicked through Jen’s assignment. Bookselling. She’d done it on bookselling. Was she trying to tell him something?

It wasn’t bad, either, he thought to himself. It was certainly more interesting than any of the other things he’d read that day. Management reports, financial statements, supply chain strategies . . . Why was it, he wondered, that the better you were at something, the less you got to do it? He’d been a great bookseller. And what had happened? He’d been promoted and promoted until he didn’t do any bookselling anymore. Didn’t get involved in promotions, in buying decisions, any of it. He just got to sit around talking to his chairman about cost efficiencies and to his finance director about whether to put a bookstore in Mall A or Mall B.

What should he write, he wondered. “A very interesting assignment with some good, original ideas”? No, that was way more complimentary than anything he’d written on any of the other assignments he’d marked so far. He needed to be consistent. But “Good. Interesting ideas” seemed somehow too curt.

She was bright, obviously. And her ideas
were
interesting. Maybe he’d wander down to Bell some time this week, bump into her, and give her verbal feedback. Over coffee or something . . .

He frowned. She’d probably be totally freaked out. Fuck it, maybe she was actually interested in bookselling. Maybe that’s why she’d been so keen to talk to him, so keen to ask him about what he did. She wasn’t interested in him at all.

He smiled to himself wryly.
Never mind, Daniel,
he told himself.
Nothing wrong with being an optimist.

Then, carefully, he wrote “A−. Very good work.”

Lara was staring at Jen with her eyebrows raised. Jen, meanwhile, was staring into her coffee, trying to think of a suitable explanation for her behavior in the lecture.

“So what, you’re terrified of authority figures?” Lara tried, a little smile on her face. “Or are you a convicted criminal on the run?”

Jen cringed. She looked closely at Lara and took a deep breath. “Lara,” she started nervously, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Lara’s eyes narrowed. “Was it you who nicked my notes on the balanced scorecard?”

Jen shook her head crossly. “No, of course not. It’s nothing like that.”

“Okay, then, shoot.”

Jen gulped, then put her hands together nervously. “You know this course. This consultancy firm.”

Lara nodded like she was talking to a five-year-old. “Yes, Jen. That’ll be Bell Consulting. I know it, you’re right.”

Jen punched her lightly in the arm. There was nothing for it—she was just going to have to come out with it.

“You have to promise—and I mean promise—not to tell anyone. At all. Ever.”

Lara’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, a secret. Okay, my mouth is sealed. What’s the gossip?”

“I’m . . . well . . .” Jen began, her heart beating loudly.

“Yes?” Lara prompted impatiently.

“I’m George Bell’s daughter. He doesn’t know I’m here, doesn’t know I’m doing the MBA, and he can’t know.”

“You’re what? You’re his daughter?” she said incredulously, spitting out coffee as she spoke. Jen wiped the coffee drops from her hand and nodded.

“And he doesn’t know you’re here?” Jen nodded again.

“But your name’s Bellman.” Jen raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, right, it isn’t. Seriously, you’re Jennifer Bell? You’re his daughter?” Jen nodded glumly.

“I have one question for you.”

“Okay,” Jen said uncertainly.

“What the hell! Why don’t you tell him? Jesus, you could be running this show in a couple of years. I don’t understand.”

“He’s not really my father.”

Lara looked at her strangely. “Look, if this is your idea of a joke, it’s really not that funny.”

“No, I don’t mean . . . Look, he left us when I was thirteen. I haven’t seen him since. And I don’t particularly want to. See him, that is.”

“So you’re doing your MBA here because . . . ?”

“Because . . . okay, this is really, really secret.”

Lara rolled her eyes. “Jesus, enough of the melodrama, okay?”

“Fine. I’m . . . I’m trying to find out if Bell Consulting is involved in corruption in Indonesia. You know the Tsunami aid money and the building program out there? Well, there are some dodgy deals being brokered. Dodgy houses being built.”

“And why would you think Bell’s involved?”

“Because one of the companies that just happened to get some of the prime contracts is Axiom, who are clients of Bell. Bell just happens to have offices in Indonesia, and its clients out there include several government departments. And” —she leaned over so she could whisper— “my dad’s going out to Indonesia next week.”

“Bloody hell,” said Lara, a look of shock on her face. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Jen looked at her awkwardly. “I need to get into his office. Look at his papers.”

Lara nearly fell off her chair. “You’re going to break into George Bell’s . . . sorry, your dad’s office?”

Jen smiled nervously.

“Seriously?”

Jen nodded, and Lara looked thoughtful.

“I s’pose you’re going to want my help, then?”

Jen shook her head, then hesitated. “Really?” she asked softly. “I mean, would you?”

“Hell, we’re a team, aren’t we?” she said matter-of-factly.

Jen grinned gratefully. “Does that mean we have to invite Alan along too?”

Lara laughed. “Oh that would be priceless,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Just asking him would be worth it to see the expression on his face!”

They both smiled and didn’t say anything for several minutes.

“And when exactly were you thinking of breaking in?” Lara asked eventually.

Jen looked thoughtful. “I thought next week. When he’s in Indonesia.”

“Right,” Lara said, doing her best to look totally unfazed. “Next week it is, then.”

Bill was wearing a stripy jumper and army combats and his hair was tied back into a loose ponytail. Jen found herself about to ask how he got it to lie so flat and glossy, then kicked herself.

“So, Jennifer, how’s it hanging?”

Jen smiled weakly. “Oh, you know,” she said vaguely.

He motioned for her to sit down. “So, already on to your second module, huh? Are you finding the course work okay?”

Jen nodded. She knew she had to think of something to say, otherwise Bill was going to be forced to ask question after question and he’d feel bad and she’d feel awkward and he was meant to be her personal tutor; they were meant to be building a rapport.

The problem was that she couldn’t think of anything to ask him about. Lara had been in to her see personal tutor that morning and they’d talked for two hours, covering (in no particular order), course work, whether it was a good idea to shag someone in your course—a theoretical question, Lara was keen to point out, since there was no one remotely shaggable around—rents in London, future career options, and whether or not her tutor’s husband was cheating on her (in Lara’s opinion the answer was yes, but she didn’t say that). So how come, Jen wondered, I can’t think of anything?