What about Bob?

THURSDAY, JUNE 12, 2014
The Weekly Screed (#680)

What about Bob?

by David Benjamin

“Grosscup here.”

“Hello… I’m calling for a Mr. G. Grayling Grosscup, chief executive officer of… let’s see… Gilt Edge Investment Strategies.”

“Speaking.”

“Oh! Well, hi there. My name is Rosalie Higby — with H.R., at Amalgamated Tanaka USA. Mr. Grosscup, as you know, you’re one of our major shareholders.”

“Well, yes, I am. And I’ve been very pleased with your performance.”

“Well, I should hope so. Just scanning your account here, I can see that your last dividend was — WHOA! — big enough to choke a shark, you might say.”

“That’s not exactly something I’d say.”

“Well, suit yourself, sir. The reason I’m calling is that you’re not sharing.”

“Say what?”

“It’s simple, Mr. Grosscup. You’re holding but you’re not sharing. Since that stock purchase almost four years ago, Amalgamated Tanaka hasn’t received a nickel, a kind word or even a postcard from you.”

“Miss, uh… Higby, I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.”

“Well, Grosscup, maybe it’ll help to ask a question: Every three months, what do you expect from Amalgamated Tanaka? What do you get from us?”

“Oh. I get a quarterly statement.”

“Exactly, Mr. G! Excellent! And what do you expect to see on that statement? — no, don’t answer. I know what you want. You expect to see big, fat, bloated profits, right? You expect a constantly rising, doubling, tripling, gravity-defying stock price! You expect explosive, spectacular, untrammeled double-digit growth every three months — despite the cost of business, despite our obligations to customers and employees, despite economic fluctuations and global conditions, despite war, famine, pestilence and politics. Correct me if I misread you, Mr. Grosscup, but — even if we have to fire a few thousand wage-earners without warning or recourse, if we have to bribe a few Third World kleptocrats who tolerate sweatshops, human trafficking and outright slavery, even if we have to gut our R&D budget, compromise safety standards, rape the environment, steal wages from undocumented workers, compromise every principle we’ve ever held dear and sell our firstborn children into lifelong bondage to the Visigoths — you want us to grow! Grow like Topsy! Grow like mold in a Petri dish, grow like cancer in a lab rat — every 90 days, come hell or high interest rates! Izzat right, Mr. Grosscup?”

“Well, when you put it that way — ”

“Oh, I don’t have to put it that way. Shareholders just like you have been putting it pretty much that way ever since this company — or any company — went public. But the question is, Grosscup, what if we don’t?”

“Don’t what?”

“Grow, Mr. G! What if we take our earnings and squander them on long-term planning, employee security, quality, durability, innovation, diversification and social responsibility? What then?”

“Well, I — ”

“You’d ditch us like a soiled virgin, wouldn’t you, Grosscup?”

“Yes, I suppose. But that’s a normal reaction.”

“Exactly! And that’s why we’ve decided to take your money and share it.”

“Share my money?”

“Yes, with Bob.”

“Bob? Who’s Bob?”

“Good question, Grosscup. Bob is a guy way more important to this company, in the long run, than you. Bob’s a research chemist working on a new technology for biofuels that could change the world. Clean the air, provide cheap power — virtually pollution-free — to every corner of the world.”

“Wow. That’s great.”

“No, not great, Grosscup. It’s sad. It’s heartbreaking. We were just about to fire Bob and his whole team, because — as it turns out — changing the world takes a lot longer than 90 days. If we don’t dump Bob, tomorrow, our quarterly report is going to look like crap to people like you who want your pound of flesh on the first of every third month. If we miss one payment, wham! Normal reaction. You guys all suddenly take your money and scram — like roaches when the light comes on.”

“Roaches?”

“But then, a funny thing happened on the way to the guillotine. As we were notarizing Bob’s pink slip, someone said, ‘Hey, what about Grosscup?’ I mean, here’s a guy who calls up his bookie — well, broker — and bets a wad of his disposable cash on Amalgamated Tanaka. Does he know a thing about us? To him, we’re an acronym in The Wall Street Journal. Does he really need the money? If he did, he wouldn’t be gambling with it. But someone does need the money.”

“Bob?”

“Damn right, Grosscup. So, you know what we’re gonna do?”

“Bob?”

“You got it, G-man! We’re gonna share your wealth and hold onto Bob.”

“Can you do that?”

“We’re doing it, Grosscup. You gave us the money, and we’re not giving it back — at least not ‘til Bob finishes his project. So, meanwhile, relax, Grosscup. Get your mind out of the stock ticker and console yourself with the knowledge that deferred gratification is a great American tradition. Oh, one other thing…”

“Oh, God. What else?”

“You still have that big house in Westchester County, right? Your kids are grown and gone? Lots of empty rooms, big yard, four bathrooms, swimming pool?”

“Well, yes. That’s where I live. Why do you ask?”

“Well Bob and his family are going to need a place to stay…”