"Ah, hell."
"Right. They are integral to the case unit."
"You're telling me we have to build new housings just because we have bad clips?"
"Exactly."
Sanders shook his head. "We've run off thousands so far. Something like four thousand."
"Well, we've got to do 'em again."
"And what about the drive itself?"
"It's slow," Lewyn said. "No doubt about it. But I'm not sure why. It might be power problems. Or it might be the controller chip."
"If it's the controller chip . . ."
"We're in deep shit. If it's a primary design problem, we have to go back to the drawing board. If it's only a fabrication problem, we have to change the production lines, maybe remake the stencils. But it's months, either way."
"When will we know?"
"I've sent a drive and power supply to the Diagnostics guys," Lewyn said. "They should have a report by five. I'll get it to you. Does Meredith know about this yet?"
"I'm briefing her at six."
"Okay. Call me after you talk to her?"
"Sure."
"In a way, this is good," Lewyn said.
"How do you mean?"
"We're throwing her a big problem right away," Lewyn said. "We'll see how she handles it."
Sanders turned to go. Lewyn followed him out. "By the way," Lewyn said. "Are you pissed off that you didn't get the job?"
"Disappointed," Sanders said. "Not pissed. There's no point being pissed."
"Because if you ask me, Garvin screwed you. You put in the time, you've demonstrated you can run the division, and he put in someone else instead."
Sanders shrugged. "It's his company."
Lewyn threw his arm over Sanders's shoulder, and gave him a rough hug. "You know, Tom, sometimes you're too reasonable for your own good."
"I didn't know being reasonable was a defect," Sanders said.
"Being too reasonable is a defect," Lewyn said. "You end up getting pushed around."
"I'm just trying to get along," Sanders said. "I want to be here when the division goes public."
"Yeah, true. You got to stay." They came to the elevator. Lewyn said, "You think she got it because she's a woman?"
Sanders shook his head. "Who knows."
"Pale males eat it again. I tell you. Sometimes I get so sick of the constant pressure to appoint women," Lewyn said. "I mean, look at this design group. We've got forty percent women here, better than any other division, but they always say, why don't you have more. More women, more-"
"Mark," he said, interrupting. "It's a different world now."
"And not a better one," Lewyn said. "It's hurting everybody. Look: when I started in DigiCom, there was only one question. Are you good? If you were good, you got hired. If you could cut it, you stayed. No more. Now, ability is only one of the priorities. There's also the question of whether you're the right sex and skin color to fill out the company's HR profiles. And if you turn out to be incompetent, we can't fire you. Pretty soon, we start to get junk like this Twinkle drive. Because no one's accountable anymore. No one is responsible. You can't build products on a theory. Because the product you're making is real. And if it stinks, it stinks. And no one will buy it."
Coming back to his office, Sanders used his electronic passcard to open the door to the fourth floor. Then he slipped the card in his trouser pocket, and headed down the hallway. He was moving quickly, thinking about the meeting with Lewyn. He was especially bothered by one thing that Lewyn had said: that he was allowing himself to be pushed around by Garvin-that he was being too passive, too understanding.
But Sanders didn't see it that way. When Sanders had said it was Garvin's company, he meant it. Bob was the boss, and Bob could do what he wanted. Sanders was disappointed not to get the job, but no one had promised it to him. Ever. He and others in the Seattle divisions had come, over a period of weeks, to assume that Sanders would get the job. But Garvin had never mentioned it. Nor had Phil Blackburn.
As a result, Sanders felt he had no reason to gripe. If he was disappointed, it was only because he had done it to himself. It was classic: counting your chickens before they hatched.
And as for being too passive what did Lewyn expect him to do? Make a fuss? Yell and scream? That wouldn't do any good. Because clearly Meredith Johnson had this job, whether Sanders liked it or not. Resign? That really wouldn't do any good. Because if he quit, he would lose the profits pending when the company went public. That would be a real disaster.
So on reflection, all he could do was accept Meredith Johnson in the new job, and get on with it. And he suspected that if the situation were reversed, Lewyn, for all his bluster, would do exactly the same thing: grin and bear it.
But the bigger problem, as he thought it over, was the Twinkle drive. Lewyn's team had torn up three drives that afternoon, and they still didn't have any idea why they were malfunctioning. They had found some non-spec components in the hinge, which Sanders could track down. He'd find out soon enough why they were getting non-spec materials. But the real problemthe slowness of the drives-remained a mystery to which they had no clue, and that meant that he was going to
"Tom? You dropped your card."
"What?" He looked up absently. An area assistant was frowning, pointing back down the hall.
"You dropped your card."
"Oh." He saw the passcard lying there, white against the gray carpet. "Thanks."