The Job (32 page)

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Authors: Douglas Kennedy

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BOOK: The Job
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” Ballantine also knew that Jerry had professional aspirations beyond the role of security goon. So when he decided to reinvent himself as a self-empowerment guru, he promoted Jerry to the role of middleman-letting him liaise with his publishers, his literary agent, and the lecture tour company that initially booked Ballantine’s speaking engagements.

“After Mr. B’s first book, The “You Conquest, became a major national best-seller, he allowed me to do a lot of the running on the deal side. I mean, the first book sold for three hundred thousand, the second for one point eight million, the third for two point six million, and he can now command around fifty grand per lecture. Last year alone, he did something like two hundred motivational talks-which adds up to some pretty impressive math, wouldn’t you agree?”

I nodded. Many times.

“Now, of course, the Great Motivator is such a one-man industry that I’ve hired a team of three coordinators to handle all his touring logistics. Which is fine by me-because, to be frank with you, I was starting to get a little bored with the entire self-empowerment biz. Having helped make it such a success, there was kind of a ‘been there, done that’ feeling to it. Since Mr. B. is also somebody who doesn’t like to stand still-and is always thin kine about the potential for business expansion-he agreed that it was time we consider other entrepreneurial prospects. And after studying assorted investment possibilities, we decided to embark on something rather adventurous, yet potentially very lucrative. Ever heard of private equity funds, Ned?”

The coffee had just arrived at the table. So, too, had the pitch. I sat up straight and made certain I was looking focused.

“Are they like mutual funds?” I asked.

“Not exactly. Mutual funds are a very restrictive, conservative form of investment. They’re what Mr. B. calls the Missionary Position School of High Finance-because, though effective, they’re not exactly the sexiest way of making financial whoopee. You see, mutual funds are heavily regulated. You can only invest in listed companies, you’re very restricted in terms of the investments you’re allowed to make, and you’re also operating in an incredibly crowded marketplace. Do you know that the American public invests fourteen billion a month in mutual funds? And the pool of money tied up in these funds is so large, the return on the investment is only what the market sector has to offer-at the absolute most, twenty percent in a truly fantastic year. Which-if you’re a play-it-safe kind of guy-probably works for you.

“But, when it comes to money and everything else in life, Jack Ballantine is definitely not a ‘safety first’ type of guy. Neither am I. Which is why we decided to avoid the entire mutual fund business. But then we discovered this thing called private equity funds-which turned out to be a whole different speculative ball game. And perfect for anyone with a gambler’s streak.”

The way Jerry described it, running a private equity fund was a bit like betting on some very untried horses. It was a collective investment scheme in which a group of speculators bought stakes in companies that were not yet established (or listed on the stock exchange), and that needed capital in order to expand.

“Essentially, the game works like this,” Jerry said.

“We, as the operators of the fund, approach financial institutions and wealthy private individuals, encouraging them to invest in our equity partnership. Then we seek out new businesses that are developing potentially hot new products. If we think the business in question is an excitine investment, we use some of the fund’s money to buy an equity stake in the company. When it goes public, we already possess a very lucrative chunk of its stock. If we choose the right company, the investment returns can be fantastic.

“Say, for example, we’ve backed a tiny software company that has developed a new cutting-edge Internet browser. In exchange for one million dollars’ worth of capitalization, we now own half of its shares. Then a couple of midsize Net providers decide to incorporate this new browser into their software. Suddenly our little Internet browser company is a hot investment prospect. After an initial public offering, it’s floated on the stock exchange for thirty million. We’ve earned fifteen million on our one-million-dollar investment. And that’s just the start of our profitability. Because if its stock price climbs higher, we could be on our way to making a small fortune.”

I came in here.

“In other words, the object of the exercise is to spot the next Microsoft when it’s still just a burgeoning little company.”

“I knew you’d pick up on this quickly,” Jerry said.

“Microsoft is exactly the sort of dream investment that every private equity fund would like to make. Say, back in the late 1970s, you met these two computer gee ks named Bill Gates and Paul Allen, who were just developing this weird thing called DOS, and were looking for some urgent capitalization to move their business forward. And say you threw them two million in exchange for a five percent equity stake in their little company. Do you know what that stake would be worth today, had you held on to the stock?”

“Several hundred million?”

“Try billions. Of course, stumbling across the new Microsoft is our ultimate fantasy. By and large, however, we’re looking for intriguing small companies that could yield us a minimum initial return of fifteen to twenty percent when they go public, and that could, of course, be worth far more, should their stock prices continue to rise.

“It is a gambler’s kind of investment. But if you talk to any fund manager on Wall Street, he’ll tell you that private equity funds are the hottest investment possibility going. And there are plenty of institutions and well-heeled individuals out there who are willing to put around ten percent of their investment funds into the hands of private equity managers. Because everyone knows that, if you bet on the right company, the payoff can be huge.”

My excitement was growing by the minute. This was exactly the sort of professional arena I’d always dreamed of entering-the arena of high finance, a realm which made selling space in a computer magazine seem negligible, declasse. It would be a huge career jump. I’d finally be playing in the major leagues.

Jerry motioned for the waiter to replenish our coffee, then said, “Now you’re probably wondering about our own private equity fund, and how you might fit into its general structure.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

The fund was called Excalibur. It specialized entirely in new technology. It had been operating for six months. It currently consisted of private investors, most of whom had past business dealings with Jack Ballantine. However, given his newfound fame as the Great Motivator, Ballantine’s name was not directly attached to the fund. Ever since his real estate business went to the wall, Mr. B. had become deeply sensitive about having himself identified with any form of overt financial speculation, given the press’s penchant for mocking him whenever possible. So-for sound public relations reasons (and to avoid any conflict of interest with Ballantine’s self-empowerment empire)-the fund was “an autonomous entity,” registered offshore to a holding company that was owned by a subsidiary of Ballantine Industries. But, of course, the IRS was aware of the fund’s existence.

“Officially speaking, offshore funds aren’t subject to American tax. However, the Internal Revenue Service expects any American with offshore interests to come forward on a ‘good citizen’ basis and report his involvement in such a fund. Which, of course, we have done. Because the IRS can turn nasty if they discover you’re duping them.” He arched his eyebrows.

“And because we’re such good citizens.”

To date, the fund had invested in just one single info-technology operation in eastern Europe. What it now needed was new investment possibilities. And Jerry wanted me to use my extensive network of info-tech and software contacts to “talent-spot” emerging companies that might make exciting investments.

“Yon have to find us that erroun of eeeks ODeratins out of a ca rage in Palo Alto who have just worked out a way of tripling the speed of the Pentium chip. Or that three-man operation in Spokane that has developed a new, improved, emergency recovery utility for software programs. And if you succeed in both selling the fund and scouting out lucrative new companies, you could end up a very well-off guy.”

He then explained the package. Because the fund was still very new and not yet profitable, he could “only” pay me a basic salary of $60,000. However, I’d receive a 3 percent equity stake in any companies I talent-spotted, and in which the fund ultimately decided to invest.

“Think about it. Say you convince us to buy a two-million-dollar, fifty percent equity stake in that Spokane software company. It floats on the exchange for forty million. That’s an instant twenty-million gain for us, and you own three percent of that stock. In other words, an immediate six hundred thousand. Pick us just two winners like that every year, and you’re going to be, financially speaking, nicely set up.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This wasn’t just a job-it was a pursuit that could potentially transform my entire professional life. I would be able to eradicate all my debt, build up some capital, regain a little self-respect. And, in the process, hopefully win Lizzie back.

“So what do you think, Ned?”

“I think this is exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

“Well, life is all about timing. Because I’ve been scouting around for someone like you, with your sales and computer business background. And when you called me yesterday, I couldn’t help but think, so that’s what they mean by synchronicity.”

“There’s only one small logistical problem,” I said.

“I’m going to need to take advantage of your spare bed for a few more days while I look for a new apartment.”

“Why go to the expense of finding a new place? You stay as long as you like at the loft. Like I said to you yesterday, I’m hardly ever there.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. Not having to worry about rent for the immediate future meant I could pay off my debts pronto.

“By the way,” Jerry said, “though I appreciate the gesture, there’s really no need to clean the place yourself-I’ve got a woman who conics in twice a week to do that for me.”

“Hey, I’ve got to do something to ease my guilt….”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re not a freeloader-you’re an investment. Somebody who is going to make us a lot of money.”

“That’s what I’d like to do,” I said.

“That’s what you will do.”

“So when do I start?” I asked.

“After you play tennis with Jack Ballantine.”

Initially I thought this was Jerry’s idea of a joke. But he was absolutely serious.

“I told Mr. B. that, besides being a first-rate salesman, you were also a monster tennis jock. Know what he said?

“Well, before we hire the guy, let’s see if he can kick my butt on the court.”

” I was suddenly nervous.

“Do you mean that the job is contingent on whether or not I beat him?”

“No,” Jerry said.

“The job is dependent on whether or not he likes the way you play the game.”

I tried to protest that I was really out of shape, and not the behind-the-baseline gunslinger of high school. But Jerry just shrugged and said that Ballantine was expecting me at nine the next morning at the Health and Racquet Club, and if I wanted the job I’d better be there.

“Does it have to be the Health and Racquet Club?” I asked.

“It’s where Mr. B. always plays. In fact, he was one of its founding members.”

“I was a member there, too,” I said.

“But not anymore?”

“I kind of let my membership lapse.”

Jerry smiled knowingly.

“How much do you owe them?”

“It really doesn’t matter….”

“How much, Ned?”

“Eight hundred,” I said with an embarrassed gulp.

“That’s nothing,” Jerry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a substantial wad of cash.

“Jerry, you really don’t have to do this….”

“All I’m doing,” he said, counting off eight $100 bills, “is making certain your same with Mr. Ballantine tomorrow goes off without a hitch. So get there early and make certain the club management have this money in their hot little hands before Mr. B. shows up. We don’t want an embarrassing scene.”

“How will I pay you back?”

“From your first equity stake.”

“But say I don’t get the job?”

“You will get the job. Just remember one thing. When you’re out there on the court with Ballantine, play to win. It’s the only game he understands.”

I tried to remember that advice the next morning when I found myself waiting nervously in the lobby of the New York Health and Racquet Club, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Jack Ballantine. As Jerry suggested, I had shown up twenty minutes beforehand to deal with the little matter of my overdue annual fee. The club manager, a petite, pumped woman in her forties named Zelda, wasn’t exactly effusive when I walked in the door.

“Ah, Mr. Allen,” she said dryly, “we’d thought you’d left the country.”

“I have been out of town a bit,” I lied, “but you’ve been on my conscience.”

With that I handed her an envelope, filled with eight $100 bills.

“This should bring us up to date.”

“Better late than never, I suppose-even if we did have to send you six letters….”

“Like I said, I’ve been away a lot. But I do apologize….”

“You do realize, of course, that this simply cancels out last year’s overdue fees. Your membership, however, still remains lapsed. So if you want to play here again, you’ll have to reapply.”

“Well, I’m a guest today.”

“And I suppose whomever you’re playing with is a fully paid-up club member?” she asked with blatant sarcasm.

“He is,” said a nearby voice.

Zelda looked up and was stunned to find herself staring at Jack Ballantine. He was standing right behind me, dressed in a gray Ralph Lauren tracksuit and carrying a tan leather tennis bag.

Morning, Zelda,” Ballantine said, flashing her a big white smile. She became instantly obsequious.

“Oh, Mr. Ballantine, how nice to-” “You giving my guest a hard time, Zelda?”

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