was their form of communicating competitive dangers to all employees, painting competitors in vivid black and white; shades of gray did not exist. Did this gladiator goading induce ever-greater aggression and anticompetitive behavior among the foot soldiers? I might never know.
CLEANING HOUSE
“We have an unfair advantage, and we intend to keep it that way.”
This is how VP Jim Harris, the predecessor in my new job, described how he had run the business. I was appalled and wondered what else was wrong with him or my new group. By the spring of ’87 MS had gained a dominant position in the OS market for IBM PCs, and I didn’t believe a market leader needed to express such arrogance when dealing with clients. Yet Jim, the entrenched pit bull—as some called him—insisted.
This intense sales executive had joined MS from Intel in ’83 and, through grit, charm, and exhaustive effort, developed a healthy $50 million OEM business for the company. However, my first meeting with him surprised me. Not only had he cleaned out his desk, but he also indicated his desire to stay at home for the next three months, preparing for his move to a new destination. Sure, he would take my calls and make introductions to key customers, but otherwise, he would be hands off. I was tickled by his confidence. Retreating so quickly nevertheless felt strange!
Getting acquainted with my new colleagues and charges and fully coming to terms with policies and procedures of the OEM branch was next on my agenda. A journey chocked with jolting revelations! What I discovered absolutely rocked me. The OEM group consisted of roughly thirty-five salespeople along with five logistic personnel plus several administrative assistants contributing largely by selling MS-DOS and a much smaller number of MS Windows units. The sales team was divided into four groups. Three were serving the larger customers. The fourth was dedicated to a staggering number of smaller ones. There were no marketing people whatsoever, and no written policies and procedures could be found.
By far the most extraordinary black hole in the OEM universe, salespeople were prohibited from possessing the official price guideline (PGL). Jim had designated the maintenance of this top secret document to one of his lieutenants. No one else had direct access. Management feared the covert document could fall into customer hands. Not having faith in the sales teams relegated them to lowly messenger roles. My first thought: No trust, no power, no customer respect, change ASAP. My management style differed sharply when directing people. Right then I realized a little grassroots empowerment in good old German military tradition would go a long way with my new crew!
To test my conclusion, I began dropping into offices to get to know my new cohorts, showing interest for special customers’ projects, their plans, and high-profile challenges. My new teammates, not overly accustomed to management addressing them directly and soliciting advice, initially hesitated to respond. What was going on here? Languishing on this, I rapidly recognized that gazing into history served no purpose. I needed to urgently move on, introduce my kind of trust-generating management style. Auftragstaktik to the rescue!
Attached to the group were several attorneys responsible for developing standard contracts for broad-stroke clientele and unique versions negotiated mostly with large customers. A knowledgeable and reliable controller handled revenue reporting and billing. The group overall was roughly the same size as the one I’d left behind in Germany but was raking in twice the proceeds.
An evident impediment to progress led me to attack the PGL matter first. In Europe we had carefully fashioned and put into motion a single one for all countries. Jeremy Butler, who was now VP in charge of all non-US business, was pleased when I approached him, proposing unified worldwide pricing. In confidence he told me Jim Harris had