Guest Author: Excerpt Two

Posted May 5, 2009 by Casee in Promotions | 1 Comment

Here is the excerpt that Libby especially likes. I have to admit, my 1st person allergy notwithstanding, this book sounds really cute.

9:13 a.m.

“You know Mitch—always doing the unexpected.” Anne repeated the words she’d used on Lenny but this time they were in a whispered conversation with a reporter at CNBC. Someone had turned her radio off by the time she came back upstairs and she’d yet to flip it back on.

The reporter was incredulous. “So you’re saying he’s cutting his salary? Is this a gimmick, Anne—something to get in the headlines?”

“Of course it will be to get in the headlines, Darren. But that’s the point. He wants to set an example for other CEOs. He looks at it this way— ”

She searched for a Mitch-like metaphor, feeling simultaneously proud and frightened when she came up with one in a nanosecond.

“—executive salaries are giant ticks sucking the blood from the body of Corporate America.” Anne spoke slowly so Darren could type what she was saying. She knew he was typing even though she’d told him all this was “off the record.” Darren had “come across” this story in the first place because she had “accidentally” faxed a memo on this topic to him when she was faxing out a routine press release. Wouldn’t you know it? Of all the reporters in her spreadsheet list, she ended up making a mistake like this with Darren the Unscrupulous. She asked him to hold the story until it was official, but he wouldn’t commit. That Darren. He was a coy one.

“In order for the companies to be re-energized, the tick has to stop sucking,” she continued. “The bloodletting must cease. The CEO’s salary is the tick,” she explained, just in case he didn’t get it. “Mitch thinks all CEOs should follow his example. He’s thinking of putting a proclamation up on the company web site, daring others to sign.”

Oh yes, Mitch would put up that proclamation. Anne made a mental note to get Greg working on that after her phone call.

She heard Darren snicker as he typed. “That’s good, Anne. Really good.”

“You know Mitch,” she said, “always at the forefront. He expects the parade to catch up to him.”

At the end of their conversation, she reminded Darren how this was all “on background” and it had been a mistake for him to see the memo and wouldn’t he be a sweetheart and hold it just this once? After she got off the phone she wondered precisely how long he’d wrestle with his conscience before violating her request to keep the story quiet. A half hour? Naw, more like five minutes. He probably had getting past his conscience on speed dial.

She stood, stretching as she did so. Sheila wasn’t in her cubicle, and Ken wasn’t back from his errand. His neat desk held a perfectly-aligned stack of papers related to the Annual Report. She had to get Mitch’s message to Ken or he wouldn’t be able to finish a draft of that project. She really didn’t want to sabotage Ken today. She would get on it as soon as she finished the task at hand, Mitch’s proclamation to the world that CEO salaries had to stop ballooning out of control while the proletariat labored in the fields for peanuts. She sat back down and got to it.

The words flowed effortlessly from mind to fingers to screen:

“Whereas American business is a constantly evolving paradigm (Mitch hated that word) that requires fresh ideas, innovative innovations (how’s that for prose that sings?), new approaches and bold strokes to survive, I, Mitch Burnham of The Burnham Group, proudly proclaim this date as the beginning of a new revolution….

“As CEO of The Burnham Group, I have long made more money than Croesus. My salary, like those of other CEOs, is a double-digit multiplier of the average salary of those in my employ…

“I proudly proclaim that I will cut my salary to a modest yet fair amount, slightly above the salary earned by the best-paid employee in my business (that would be Lenny)…

“I proudly (there’s that word again) challenge all CEOs to do the same, to cut their salaries to amounts more in line with what their average workers’ take home and to stop sucking the lifeblood from their companies and their stockholders by padding their own bank accounts and feathering their own nests (nothing like clichés to spice up a business communique)…”

She emailed this to Greg with a quick note—“this goes on the first page of the web site.” She neglected to tell him to hold it until she gave an “okay to launch” directive. She knew that Greg prioritized his work by what he found most interesting. Anne’s guess was that he’d find this tantalizing enough to push it to the top of his to-do pile.

After finishing this grand task, she looked around again. Still no Ken or Sheila. Darn. She felt like gabbing. She also felt like snacking. Normally she’d run to the vending machines downstairs and get herself a bag of pretzels to quell the morning hunger pangs. But today, that wouldn’t do. So she picked up the phone and called the local Bonne Buns bakery, ordering pastries and cinnamon buns for the entire office. That would be a nice treat to nail down the image of Mitch’s generosity.

“Send the bill to Mitch Burnham’s account—today,” she purred into the receiver.

That accomplished, she took off for the hallway leading to Mitch’s office.