Critical Chain: A Business Novel Read Free

opportunity," I earnestly say. "I will not let you down."

"I hope not," he smiles. And then, without a smile, "Richard, that's one of the things I wanted to discuss with you."

I lean forward. When Jim calls me Richard it is serious.

"Richard, as you know, there is no lack of more senior candidates who want to teach in the program. Do you know why I insisted on you?"

I don't. I only know that Jim liked me even before I was his doctoral student. I'll never forget that when I was struggling to get a second chance in academia he was the one who arranged for me to come here.

"I chose you because of your unique style of teaching," he surprises me.

"Teaching through open discussion?" I'm astonished.

"Yes," he says categorically. "For this program I'm more and more convinced that that is the only prudent way. The students have the relevant day-to-day experience. Open debate, steering a group of people to develop the know-how themselves, is how we should teach them. And I don't have many instructors who are both willing and know how to do it."

Now I understand, but it scares me. "Jim," I start to protest, "it's one thing to do it with regular students, but I'm not sure I can do it with actual managers."

"Why not? What's the difference?"

"What I'm actually afraid of is that I won't be able to steer them. That my theoretical knowledge will be insufficient relative to their practical knowledge," I answer frankly.

"Don't." Jim is firm.

"But..."

"Listen Rick. With these students, the most important thing is not to pretend to know when you don't. They pay a lot of money for tuition—much more than regular students, and they have an open door to the dean and even the president, and they don't tolerate garbage."

I start to wonder if I'm up to it. Maybe it will be my downfall.

My thoughts must be written all over my face because Jim starts to cheer me up. "How many years have we known each other? Huh? I know that I can trust you to be open with the students. And over and over you've proven to me that you know much more than you think you do. Don't be afraid to use your regular style. I'm sure it will work with them."

Not having much choice, I promise, "I'll do my best."

"Good." Jim is pleased. "Now all we have to do is decide which course you'll teach." Heading toward the door he casually adds, "Have you given it a thought? Miriam, what happened to our coffee?"

He disappears into her room. A minute later he reappears with a tray.

"Jim, when I started my doctoral thesis, do you remember the warning you gave me?"

"I gave you so many," he grins, handing me a cup. "Which one are you alluding to?"

"Not to bite off too much," I remind him. "To forget the dreams about changing the world and take on a subject I could finish."

"Yes, I do. Good advice. Especially to a Ph.D. student."

I take a sip of coffee. "When is the right time to dream?" I ask.

He looks at me for a little while. "The middle age crisis!" he announces his diagnosis. "What does that have to do with which course you want to teach?"

I decide to answer his question with a question. "Isn't the course I'm going to teach in the Executive MBA program going to affect what research I'll be concentrating on?"

He thinks about it. "It might," he admits. When I don't reply, he grins, "So you want to make a difference. You want your research to be a yardstick for an entire field."

I nod.

He examines me for a little while longer. "I guess that the only way to flush it out of your system is to give it a try. So in which field do you contemplate making your contribution, Dr. Silver?"

"I don't know," I admit, ignoring the sarcasm. "A field in which the existing know-how is not enough."

"That's true for every field in business," he dryly says.

"What I mean is . . ." I'm searching for the words. "A field where it's apparent that the existing know-how is not giving satisfactory answers."

"What satisfactory answers are is a matter of opinion." Jim is thoughtful. "Try to