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9
Enemy at the Gates
Carla hurried down the corridor, coffee in hand and file folders under
her arm. She hated to be late for these meetings, but she had just
received some new information that might help with the decision
making today.
10:02, glared the large clock at the head of the room.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Carla, putting down her folders onto the
conference table at her place. Pulling her wallet from her purse, she
retrieved two dollars and placed them in the center of the table.
Despite all the changes the company had undergone during the past
year, this one ceremony—a dollar a minute for lateness—was maintained.
Some time-management consultants had recommended it
years ago to the executive committee as a means of disciplining
themselves, and it stuck. They just loved it; now every meeting involving
directors and above is run by this rule. The pot, when the