Hi-Tech Hijack (7 page)

“Law firm, good morning,” a receptionist answered Eddie’s call the next day. The distinguished firm of Berkowitz, Mendelsohn, Cohen, Cohen, and Porat included the five partners—who were all unwilling to relinquish the honor of having their names in the office title—plus ten associates and dozens of interns, paralegals, clerks, and secretaries. Two receptionists had already resigned, unable to withstand the demands of reciting such a long list of names every time they picked up the phone “like in any respectable law firm,” as S. Cohen, one of the partners, had put it. Following the resignation of the second receptionist in a row, the partners held a rigorous debate that ran long into the night and decided—in what was seen as a revolutionary act in the legal community—to forego the mentioning of their names and to make do with the simple greeting of “Law firm, good morning” before noon, and from 12:01 p.m. onward, “…good afternoon.”

“Good morning, do you handle the business of Biotec.com?” asked Eddie.

“Yes, I’ll transfer your call. Who may I say is calling?”

“Eddie Bartal.”

“Here you go, Eddie.”

“Good morning, this is Galit. How can I help you?”

“Do you handle the affairs of Biotec.com?”

“I’m the department secretary. What is this regarding?”

Eddie couldn’t help but notice the efficiency and high level of customer service awareness, even from the short preliminary talk with the receptionist and the secretary. He was impressed. He came to the office situated at the intersection of Herzl and Lilienblum in Tel Aviv later that same day.

That area of the city, once the beating heart of the Tel Aviv business arena, had quieted down to a large degree as more and more businesses moved to the Diamond Exchange District in Ramat Gan and farther north to Herzliya, but it still housed many of the older, larger law firms. The office of Berkowitz, Mendelsohn, the two Cohens, and the one Porat resided in a 1930s building listed as a protected structure of historic significance. Its exterior had been cleaned and renovated with adherence to the Bauhaus style, but its interior told a different story altogether. On the inside the building had been completely gutted and rebuilt in an ultra-modern style with an internal glass elevator and parquet flooring in the corridors and conference rooms. In the lawyers’ rooms, the floors had been carpeted—the thicker the carpet the more senior the lawyer.

Some clients they must have to be able to pay for all this
, thought Eddie as he was riding up the elevator to the third floor accompanied by the smiling secretary.

“Who will I be meeting with?”

“Your meeting is with Edit. She handles Biotec.com’s human resources business.”

“I’m assuming Edit is a lawyer?”

“No, she’s a para,” said the secretary.

Eddie had no idea what that meant as “
para
” in Hebrew it means cow. But before he had the chance to ask, he was shown into a conference room where a young, attractive woman was waiting for him.

Well, she definitely does not look like a cow
he thought

“Hi, Eddie. I’m Edit, and I’m the paralegal that handles Biotec.com’s affairs.”

“Excuse my ignorance, but what does that mean exactly?” he asked while taking a seat in a large, black leather chair.

“It’s what we call someone with an academic education who works at a law firm, but isn’t a lawyer and deals with non-legal issues.”

“Does that mean you do illegal stuff?” asked Eddie, trying to break the ice with a bit of banter and to see if the formal, efficient paralegal had a sense of humor.

“I guess you haven’t had the chance to work with any law firms in the United States.” Her tone was somewhat patronizing. “It’s very common there and was embraced here in Israel as well. The idea is that law firms can also provide other services parallel to advocacy, and there’s no need for lawyers to deal with these issues. I, for example, am a business graduate with a specialty in human resources, and here, I do all the placement for Biotec.com and for other companies the lawyers are working with.”

“You learn something new every day,” said Eddie.

“Absolutely. Life is a never-ending learning experience. So I gather you’ve missed the first train to Santa Monica, so to speak, and that you want to join the next group that’s leaving in two weeks. I have here for you a summary of the terms they are offering. Why don’t you take a half an hour to go over them, and then we can discuss any questions you may have.”

“I’m assuming they can’t be much different than my original contract.”

“I suggest you go over it in peace, and then we’ll talk. There’s coffee and tea or soft drinks if you want anything. Take your time. I’ll be back in half an hour.” Edit wore a professional smile, got up from her chair, and left the room with Eddie’s gaze following her impressive legs and arrogantly attractive figure. Then he returned to the file that had been placed before him. He brought the original contract that he had signed before the trip to Africa with him and was now glad he did so, since the file he was given only contained the new Santa Monica contract.

Going through it, he realized quite quickly the terms were significantly different than the ones he had been promised in the original contract. When Edit reentered the room Eddie was much less easy going and friendly.

“There’s been a serious change in terms for the worse,” he snapped at her.

“In which of the counts do you see that exactly?” she asked.

“Mainly in the counts that aren’t there,” he replied sarcastically. “The fee may be in dollars, but it is lower than the average pay for starting scientists in the States. I have friends who’ve gone over to work for another American company, so I can compare. More serious are the options, which were dramatically cut in comparison to what was promised to me, and their exercising period has been prolonged. Also, I am not willing to commit to staying in the States ‘as long as the company sees fit.’ There has to be a minimum time period, say three years, after which I can decide if I want to stay or continue the research from Israel while keeping my options.”

“Circumstances have changed, Eddie. The company that made you the offer, Biotec.com, in effect no longer exists—or has become dormant, to be more precise. You’re now being offered this job by an entirely different company-Biogreen.com . Of course the two are related, and the American company has a sense of obligation and responsibility toward the employees recruited by Biotec.com, but it is in no way obligated to meet the terms Biotec.com has offered.”

“And you mean to tell me all the employees that made the move accepted these terms? I thought the new company still wanted us at least as much as Biotec.com did. Otherwise, why offer us all the relocation?”

“It certainly does. But still, we’re talking about an American company now, with everything that implies.”

“What exactly does that imply?”

“A position in a large, leading American organization is a chance few people would give up.”

“So that means I should give up the terms I agreed to? I’m supposed to pay a fine for the fact that the Americans are graciously willing to hire me?” Eddie was getting angrier by the minute.

“Getting upset isn’t going to get us anywhere, Eddie,” Edit said in a patronizing, pedagogical tone of voice she must have learned in one of her negotiation management courses. “We are simply executing the orders of those who gave us power of attorney. You know this is an American organization with rules of its own, and they don’t bend easily or change the rules for any one individual. They were certain the package they are offering is very interesting and that very few would turn it down, and as it turns out they were right.”

“Well, you may have one of those few sitting before you right now,” he said, shutting her down. “The fact that they are American no longer guarantees success. They are just starting out and can fail like many others did. Money does not ensure success, and without the right people, they aren’t going to get very far.”

“Yes, but money can buy time and people to get the job done.”

“I can’t see that happening
in my case
.”

“You’re listed as one of the people the company very much wanted to have, so with your permission I’d be willing to forward your comments to them and see if that changes anything, although I’m skeptical. Let’s be more specific: tell me exactly what your expectations are regarding the options or any other issue, and I’ll check. But remember what they say—‘it’s better to have fewer shares in a big company that’s worth a lot than lots of shares in a small company with questionable prospects.’ ”

“I’d like to speak personally to someone from the Santa Monica management,” Eddie suggested.

“I don’t think they’ll be open to that.”

“This sounds just like a governmental bureaucratic system.”

“Well, as you may know the Americans are very meticulous when it comes to their work routines and don’t appreciate any exceptions.”

“You know what? If that’s the case, then don’t waste your time. I’m out.”

Edit stared at Eddie for a long while, and when she was convinced he really meant what he said, she spoke more softly and asked him to wait in the room for a few minutes.

“Hello, Eddie.” A tall man, accompanied by Edit, entered the room wearing a light blue shirt with the sleeves folded up to the elbows and a tie. “My name is Shuki, and I’m head of the paralegal wing at the firm. Edit filled me in on your conversation. The people at Biotec.com marked you as one of the most promising candidates they had, and I’d hate for us to miss out on you because of the new situation.”

“You won’t be missing out in any case. You’re being paid by Biotec.com to do what you do. Those who stand to miss out on something are either me or the American company.”

Shuki smiled politely but condescendingly and spoke in a sugary tone. “Let me give you something new to think about.” He opened a blue binder in a dramatic fashion, flipped thorough it briefly—letting Eddie cool down for a bit—and then went on. “As you may know, we handle several other biotechnological companies, and we know of another company, I am not at liberty to say which one at this time, that is looking here in Israel for up-and-coming talents such as yourself. If you’re interested I’d like to offer you a position at this company, which is still working in Israel in Rehovot; they are a competitor of Biotec.com. I’m sure you know it, though I can’t tell you its name.”

“You represent them as well?” Eddie found that surprising.

“It’s being handled by different lawyers at our firm, and obviously we don’t transfer information from company to company. Our firm specializes in intellectual properties and biotechnological patents so we handle several companies, some competing against one another. As to the paralegal department which I’m responsible for, I have no problem offering you a position in the competing company. I am not restricted by the ethical rules the lawyers are bound by. I understand you’re not interested in going to Santa Monica, and I see no wrong in offering you an interesting alternative that suits your skills and that will benefit both you and the company.”

Eddie stayed silent for a while.
It may be legal, but it certainly stinks
, he thought.

“I’d have to think about it,” he said after a moment.

“Absolutely, take your time. Here’s my business card. Just don’t wait too long. Things here move quickly.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that already. I’ll get back to you in a few days.” Eddie got up and shook hands with Shuki and Edit.

The super-efficient law firm with its five partners and hordes of lawyers and paralegals made Eddie feel frustrated, even disgusted. He needed some fresh air and quiet. He was too agitated to wait for the elevator and almost ran down the three flights of stairs out to the steaming Tel Aviv streets. His emotional turmoil led him west toward the sea, and he did not stop until he arrived at the low cliff above the southern beach. He sat on a rock overlooking the sea and Jaffa and fell deep into thought.

Within an hour or two, I came to learn about an ugly side of the hi-tech industry
, thought Eddie.
I’ve been planning my career for more than six months with a sealed and signed contract in my pocket, and just like that, they tell me it’s all gone. The contract is void since they made sure to put in a clause that states everything is cancelled if the company moves abroad. Now they’re offering me a worse contract, and when I won’t take it, the same law firm tries to push me into the arms of a different company that probably preyed on all the people who decided not to move to Santa Monica. They’re pulling this stunt with the lame excuse that the paralegal department isn’t bound by the same ethics as lawyers are. I wonder what the guys at Biotec.com and that other company think of them; they can’t all be idiots
.

Spending the morning at that law firm made Eddie totally reluctant to commit to any company that might be represented by or that would give power of attorney to such an office. He wondered if that was how the whole industry conducted itself. He stared at the Mediterranean Sea for a long while, but the calmness of its blue waters and lapping waves was not as infectious as he would have hoped. Finally he stood up and walked over to the pay phones at the building across the street. He called two class mates from the university, Noam and Oded, who had found jobs straight after finishing their bachelor’s degrees three years earlier and invited himself to their offices in the industrial park between Rehovot and Ness Ziona.

They met at the end of the work day at Café Napoli, one of the favorite spots for the science park workers to hang out. The shelves along the counter wall were stacked with packages of the Italian coffee brand Segafredo in a variety of kinds and flavors. On the wall in a large, bold print was the coffee menu with what seemed like an endless array of serving variations.

They chose a quieter part of the coffee shop to sit in behind a partition in deep chair—perfect for a private conversation away from the crowded section.

The graceful waitress served them the macchiato, cappuccino, and latte they ordered, and for a little while, they talked pleasantly, reminiscing about their time together at the university and gossiping about girls from their class—which girls were already married and which of the attractive ones were still single and maybe available. Orit’s name did not go unmentioned, which offered Eddie an opening to speak of his experiences of the past couple of days.

“Eddie, you’re still a bit naïve, that’s all. But you’ll soon grow out of it,” said Noam. “We’ve been through similar experiences, each in our own field. I was also meant to go to the United States to work for the company that purchased the start-up I started with. And the Americans tried to sell me all sorts of stories about different value assessments to get me to give up most of my stock options. They always find some Israeli asshole to do their dirty work for them, one that can handle the Israeli trickster, as they see us. I came to realize that going over there would mean becoming dependent on some capricious factor, one that I was not sufficiently familiar with, and I decided to supposedly settle for less at the company I’m working for now. Since then the tables have turned—the technology the Americans stuck to turned out to be unfeasible while the start-up I work for has been thriving. All those analysts who know nothing about the technology we deal with are declaring us the next big thing and getting the investors all fired up for our IPO (initial public offering) in a few months. When I joined them, the future of the company was still unsure, so they gave me a substantial amount of options, since they weren’t worth much. Now they’re worth a fortune. But who knows—surprises can happen between now and the IPO.”

“Sounds like you made the right call.”

“Yes, but here’s the tricky part: rather than speeding up development by investing in more talented people like you, the company is spending its money on publicity. When someone asks Rafi, the founder and entrepreneur, what’s the logic behind pouring the rest of the money in public relations, he says it can take more than a year for a second development team’s work to come to fruition, while investing in meetings with analysts and PR experts has an immediate effect, which is what we need right now. The seed money that was raised by the first venture capital fund that invested in us is running out, and the fund guys are the ones pushing for the PR moves instead of actual progress. Rafi is a decent guy and a brilliant technologist, but he’s in a catch-22. He managed to bring in the fund people thanks to his genuine belief in the idea around which he built the company, and now he feels obliged to them and doesn’t feel comfortable pressuring them into putting in more money from their own pockets. And so principles and truths are pushed aside, and the race is on to raise more money from funds or by public offering with the help of analysts. Let’s just hope the money comes in before the whole thing blows up.”

“I take it the analysts are a significant force in the hi-tech industry?”

“They are, which is one of the worst things about this industry. Analysts are people who are meant to give out their conclusions about the performance of companies—either in the general press or in the statement papers of the various venture funds. An analyst is supposed to be someone who understands the industry he or she is writing about. Problem is, most of the analysts have no practical experience whatsoever. They’re usually business-school graduates, which gives them the illusion that learning how to analyze a balance sheet actually means they know how to run a company. Instead of working in the industry, they criticize it. You know that saying that every theatre critic is a frustrated, unsuccessful actor or director? That’s them exactly,” said Oded, summing up his dislike of analysts.

“But the analysts, as superficial as their work may be, at least have an obligation to give objective assessments; they have a responsibility to the public investors.

“Originally, yes, they started out with a commitment to the investors. But over the years, they watched longingly as their peers working for funds became richer and richer while they got left behind. So today, every serious analyst has a bypass route to one of the funds. It’s all done with the backup of lawyers and accountants, who ensure no connecting trail between the analyst and the fund can be traced. And that’s on top of the light greasing from the company itself.”

“Something tells me you don’t mean the light greasing of guns as we used to do in the army.”

“No, Eddie. By light greasing, I mean a well-disguised, indirect bribe. Here, let me give you an example. For our research and development, we needed live tissues from panda bears, so the company invited the analysts to a seminar about our work in the National Center for Panda Preservation—in China, of all places. As you know, pandas are rare and at risk of extinction, and the Chinese government was pressured by green organizations from around the world into establishing a center where the pandas are protected. They even manage to breed them sometimes, and pandas rarely breed in captivity.

“The analysts’ tour included a two-week, all-expenses-paid trip to China, paid for by the preservation center that supposedly invited the analysts. Except the funding was done through the center’s international donations fund. As I’m sure you can guess, the donation in this case was made by our company toward the center, thereby covering the cost of the trip without directly linking the analysts to our donation, which was disguised in the payment for the research we held at the center. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs boasts about the Israeli assistance to China and to the protection of animals. Even the UN mentioned our company in a discussion about a new generation of enlightened hi-tech companies that strive to make the world a better place and so on. And as you can imagine, the report the analysts published after the trip was basically a long list of praises about our company. That way it’s a win-win arrangement. The only tiny, little thing is that the analysts’ recommendations to buy into our company and invest in it are far from objective.”

“So that’s how the industry works? And here I was thinking you guys actually wanted to save the world.”

“Yes, that’s what we wanted when we were fresh out of university. We were sure all the principles and values we were taught in the scouts and the army and the tools we acquired in university would enable us to build a better world.”

“It’s all a sham,” Oded chimed in. “We’re pawns in the hands of sharks and charlatans who care about nothing but the bottom line, the profit, and the quickest ‘exit’ from the company with the most cash. All the theories about building a team, grooming human capital, and all that is total bull.”

“And you’re all right with this? With being playthings controlled by this group of frauds?”

“Don’t kid yourself, Eddie. You’ll be in the same situation. All you can do is pray that the company you end up with is one of those five percent of companies that succeed, and then at least you’ll be left with a hefty sum in your pocket when you cash in your options.”

“There’s another dodgy group in the investment community that bears the respectable title of ‘angels’,” said Oded. “The angels are all sorts of contractors and bored rich guys with too much money on their hands. Some have no education and take pride in hiring people like us—scientists, doctors, and professors who research areas they know nothing about. Talking with their friends on the weekends, they impress one another with the interesting investments they make, and then they come to work and treat us like servants. The maximal planning horizon they are capable of is two years—the time it takes to build a house. When you try and explain to them in board meetings that biological processes require a pre-determined amount of time defined by nature and that there’s nothing we can do to significantly change them, they lose their minds. They think they bought a dot-com company—a software company that issues a new version of its products every six months. It doesn’t even register with them that they invested into the life sciences field, and that the time frames here are completely different.”

“That’s extremely disappointing to hear,” said Eddie in a low voice. The three friends were silent. Then they got up and started depart.

“I’ll have to do some real, hard thinking before I decide what it is that I’m going to do with myself.”

“If you come up with an interesting idea that can get us out of this swamp, I’d love to hear about it,” said Oded. “But you need to make up your mind quickly, Eddie, because sooner or later this bubble called hi-tech is going to blow up in our faces, and we better be prepared.”

“I’ll be in touch, guys, and thank you for your time. Talking with you was very informative, and I have the sense it’s going to save me a whole lot of frustrations and unwanted surprises. I’ve had enough of those these past few days.”

They left the coffee shop for the busy traffic of early evening, and Eddie stepped into his dad’s Mitsubishi pick up and headed back to the tranquility of Hefer Valley.

He spent the evening in front of the TV, staring at the news and lost in thought, bouncing back and forth in his mind between the imaginary Santa Monica and the reality of the little slice of earth between Rehovot and Ness Ziona. He wished he had his best friend Amit to talk to about all this, but he was still on his travels; and Eddie wondered if he had already made it from South Africa to Australia. He thought of the talk they had on their way to Kenya about starting the Ebola project. He had been very articulate at that time, giving plenty of well-grounded reasons and explaining to Amit and convincing himself why he shouldn’t start his own company before gaining some experience in a bigger one. Now only a few months later, he was leaning toward changing his mind completely.

The phone ringing shook him from his reveries, and he got up to answer it. The clock on the wall opposite him said 11:00 p.m.

“Hello?” he said in a tired voice.

“Good evening, Eddie.” Someone greeted him in English. He recognized the voice immediately.

“Rose! Good evening to you. How’ve you been? I haven’t had a chance to write yet to thank you for the wonderful time we spent in London.”

“I’m fine; at home in London right now. But I’m coming to Israel tomorrow with a group of young Jewish people for a weeklong tour. It’s part of some Zionist initiative; I don’t know what it is exactly.”

“Yeah, I know Zionism isn’t your family’s strong suit.”

“Be nice for a few minutes, Eddie. I was curious to see what kind of natural reserve a creature like you grew up in, and I decided to come check it out for myself rather than trust your stories.” She laughed that wonderful laugh of hers.

“Sorry, Rose, I was just kidding. I’d love to meet you.”

“What’s going on with you? Have you started your new job yet?”

“I was supposed to; but there have been some last minute changes, and I still don’t know when I’ll be starting.”

“Great! That means you’ll have no problem making the time to see me.”

“Sure. How long will you be here for?”

“The tour is one week, but I have an open ticket,” she said, dropping a very thick hint.

“Your schedule must be pretty packed.”

“It is, but they’re giving us tomorrow night off to settle in and rest.”

“So will it be ok if I come to your hotel tomorrow evening?”

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby at nine p.m. See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

This girl is something special
, thought Eddie.
It hasn’t even been a week since we parted, and already she’s found a reason and a way to come to Israel. Maybe there’s more emotion hiding under that cynical British humor of hers than I thought
.

During their London week together neither Rose nor Eddie displayed any deep feelings. They had slept together from the first night in direct continuation of the brief affair they had in Africa and spent the entire week together. But in the background was always the understanding that in a few days’ time they would go their own ways, and that there was no point building any expectations beyond that.

The word
love
was never mentioned, and even when Rose whispered in his ear after they had made love, “No one has ever made me feel this good,” her tone and manner made it sound like she was grading him for a good technical performance, not speaking from the heart. Eddie, whose mind was always busy with the next step of his life, never allowed himself to forget that he was headed back to Israel for the job that was waiting for him. Just like the previous time they spent together on the farm in Zimbabwe when he never forgot the task ahead of him at the Ebola valley. Anything else could only be considered if it wasn’t going to get in the way of the mission. Rose on her part was living her life between London and Zimbabwe and showed little interest in Eddie’s stories about Israel. It seemed they were both enjoying a temporary fling, and that was that. He never asked himself why it was that he chose to stop in London for a few days on his way back to Israel. It was only on the flight home that he suddenly felt how good the time he had spent with her was and how much he wished she was next to him.