Damien
For a few days after the leadership meeting, matters simmer along. Some people are discontented—Ted Boric, Arther Scott, Lina Aquino—but nobody wants to come out and oppose me directly. That’s fine with me. I’m done playing nice. As long as my changes are implemented, I don’t care if they’re refusing to link arms and sing “Kumbaya.”
But on a Monday morning a couple of weeks after the shake-up, matters come to a head.
Jack Rutherford, the president of the Australian division, calls me at eight in the morning. He gets right to the point. “I wanted to let you know that I’m quitting.”
Fuck.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and struggle to wake up. “Where are you going?” I ask him, running down the list of potential options. If Jack wants to stay in Australia, which I assume he does—he has three children, two of them still in school—then he’s being recruited by either Laverton, Neale Minerals, Elliot Chemicals, or Wells Petrochemicals. Laverton would be my best guess. Their last earnings report was disappointing, and their board would be looking for new leadership. “I’d appreciate a chance to counter.”
“Laverton.”
I wish I felt better about being right.
“And I don’t think you can counter, Damien,” he continues. “It’s not about the money. I’ve been in the industry for twenty years. When I joined Cardenas, I thought it was a good place to grow. But I can’t work with my hands tied behind my back. I have to have the freedom to make decisions. When your father died, I thought things might improve, but they didn’t. And now, the Bonnie Rock thing is the last straw.”
“What Bonnie Rock thing?” I open my laptop and send Luis a note, asking him to get me details on Bonnie Rock and Laverton ASAP.
He doesn’t appear to hear my question. “The M&A team doesn’t know a damn thing about Australia,” he grits out. “Ted Boric is an idiot. My team did the due diligence. An opportunity like Bonnie Rock doesn’t come along every single day. It would have set us up for another five years of double-digit growth. Instead of moving quickly, Ted Boric put it at the back of his queue, and now it’s too late. They’re going to sell to Neale.”
Luis is on it, as usual. He replies to my email in seconds. I read the details. Bonnie Rock is a samarium mine. The rare earth mineral is mined mostly in China and used in control rods of nuclear reactors.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, and more fuck. Jack is right; this is an opportunity we should have jumped on. But anything to do with nuclear technology would be a new market for us, and Boric doesn’t think big. And now we’ve lost out to Neale Minerals.
No wonder he’s ready to quit.
“I’m either in charge of the Australian division or not,” he finishes. “And it’s obvious to me I’m not. I don't want to work in this environment, Damien. I don’t need the aggravation.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and fight to keep him. “Laverton is headquartered in Perth,” I point out. “That’s a long way from Sydney. Your daughter is in high school. It’s a hard time to move your family across the country.”
“I’ve thought about it,” he says. “Evelyn will adjust.”
I feel terrible about this. I've been avoiding the problem. I knew Boric wasn’t on board with my changes; I should have kept a closer eye on him. But for the first time in a long time, I prioritized my personal life. Dating Sophia, hanging out by the lake. I even took the canoe out.
It came at a cost.
“I’m making changes,” I tell him. “My team has a list of items to tackle. In six months, I promise you that the Cardenas Group will be a very different place to work for.”
“I saw your proposal,” he acknowledges.
He did? “Then you know what I want to do. I have Tomas’ buy-in. Things are going to get better.”
“And do you have your mother’s buy-in?” he asks shrewdly.
Damn it.
“Give me two weeks, Jack.” My team routinely analyzes our competitors, and Luis has forwarded me Melanie’s Laverton assessment from last year. “Laverton isn’t perfect either. They’ve been showing declining earnings for three years straight, and their board isn’t noted for their patience. There will be a lot of pressure on you to deliver results immediately, but there’s not a lot you can do in the short-term.”
His silence tells me he knows the problems he’s inheriting. Thank you, Luis and Melanie.
“I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I don’t know, Damien.” He’s quiet for a long time. Then he says, “Okay, fine. Two weeks.”
It’s time to talk to my mother. I hang up and pour myself another cup of coffee, ignoring the dull ache in my chest. I’m going to need all the caffeine in the world for this conversation.
I’ve talkedto my mother in the last two weeks, but we’ve both tiptoed around the changes I’m making. I know she doesn’t approve, but she hasn’t come out in opposition, and I’ve been happy enough to avoid this confrontation. No matter what she might think, I don’t want to stress her out.