Critical Chain: A Business Novel Read Free Page A

specify what you don't want; maybe that will lead somewhere."

"I don't want to chase fads," I firmly say. "And I don't want a field that is overcrowded with research."

"That makes sense. Go on."

"I want a field that is in real need," I repeat myself. "A field in which no real progress has occurred for quite some time."

"Fine," he says, waiting for me to at last specify which course I do want to give. The problem is, I don't know. It's very embarrassing.

"Project management," Jim slowly says, "fits your description like a glove. If you are looking for a field in need, project management is a prime candidate. And in the last forty years or so, at least in my opinion, nothing new has been suggested."

"But, Jim, you teach that course."

"True, true." He starts talking to the ceiling. "And besides, I have used the course to start some interesting research. Quite interesting research."

"I could help you finish it. You know that I'm good at doing the library digging, and my writing abilities are decent."

"Yes, they are." He still stares upward.

"Jim, let me teach this course for one year. One year only. I'll do my best to help you finish your research. I'll do all the dirty work."

He shifts his eyes to the table and starts to talk, more to himself than to me. "I would like to concentrate on my production systems course. So much has happened in that field lately. It will be good preparation for a nice textbook." He looks me straight in the eyes. "So, about the project management course and the related research, what exactly do you suggest?"

Chapter 3
     
     
    She is tall, over six feet tall. And slim. Elegantly dressed. Almost too elegant. Always. Not the type one calls beautiful, but striking. First impression is of expensive silk. Maybe because she never raises her voice, maybe because of the traces of a soft Southern accent. But it's just a first impression and it doesn't last for long. It's the underlying steel that is hard to escape noticing.
     
    She is analytical, ambitious, an excellent manipulator, and she introduces herself as B.J. vonBraun. That's also the way her name appears on her letterhead. The rumor is that the first initial stands for Brunhilde. Nobody dares verify it. Her letterhead also says: University President. The crowned, unchallenged queen. And there is no king, not recently anyway.
     
    It's summer, and Washington, D.C., is sweltering. It's hot even after sunset. But not at the restaurant where the university presidents are holding their formal dinner.
     
    B.J. is seated between Bernard Goldsmith and Alistair Franklin. It wasn't too difficult to maneuver them to sit with her. Both are sharp, and experienced old acquaintances. But most importantly, they each have large business schools at their universities.
     
    "How is your business school registration?" B.J. asks, as if just making conversation.

"Could be better," Alistair says casually.

Before B.J. has a chance to probe more deeply into this vague answer, Bernard does the job for her. "Do you mean that you've started to notice, as we have, that maybe the bonanza is about to be over?"

That's what she likes so much about Bernard; he always gets to the point without being aggressive. What she likes about Alistair is that he never avoids the issue.

"It's too early to tell," he answers. "But you may be right. This year we aren't going to send many ‘we are sorry' letters."

Bernard nods. "It seems as if we are accepting anyone who knows how to spell his name. Hopefully. What about you, B.J.?"

Judging by his tone of voice, Bernard is as concerned about the subject as she is.

"The same, I'm afraid."

Mindlessly she continues to eat her Caesar salad. So it's not unique to her school. This is good news in a way, but alarming in another.

Alistair articulates what they are all thinking. "The last ten years or so were very good for us. Organizations' demand for new MBAs grew, and the desire of young people to acquire MBAs grew proportionately. We