What Lola Wants (Leave Your Shoes On 1)
Einstein said, “I see there’s a projection system in this room. Would it be possible to plug in my thumb drive so I can bring up some visual aids?”
He even had a PowerPoint presentation?
Maxi fought the gape.
Who the hell was this guy?
Obviously finding Einstein charming—as Maxi had suspected—Avril said in an eager voice, “Certainly, Ryan. That’s no problem at all.”
&nbs
p; Traitor!
Maxi scowled.
While she attempted to get her wits about her, Mr. PhD pushed open the floor-to-ceiling doors that housed the projection screen with a flourish, as though he were unveiling the newest USS Enterprise. His slide deck came up and Avril handed over the wireless mouse with a laser pointer. Which he used!
The little red dot homed in on several components of a multilayered, spiked chart as he said, “I calculated Staci Kay production over the past five years and laid it all against our closest competitors and discovered that we’re only operating at a production rate of forty-two-point-three-nine-five percent.”
“Once again,” Maxi stated with measured patience, “that’s because we currently have a reduction in staff, with so many walking out when demand for our product substantially increased.”
“Actually, Ms. Shayne,” he said in a conspiratorial tone that sent a shiver of excitement through her, “I ran these figures based on production six months ago, long before our staff began its mass exodus.”
She opened her mouth to speak, to refute, to… anything. No words came out.
“The fact of the matter is,” he continued, the sexy accent still oozing down Maxi’s spine, “when we were at one-hundred percent functionality and staffing, the output never exceeded the roughly forty-two percent. That means our production has never been at full capacity. Therefore, it’s no wonder we’re suffering under this new paradigm of amplified sales.”
“Excuse me,” Jack Holden, VP of Production, cut in.
Maxi saw Donovan steal a glance at the nameplate before he congenially said, “Mr. Holden, a pleasure to meet you. Please do not think I’m picking on the Production department. I’m merely offering the facts. All of the supporting documentation and data for my findings are contained within your booklets, including appropriate attributions and sourcing.”
Not exactly placated, Jack said in a prickly tone, “We’ve never failed to meet production deadlines and have never disrupted flow or timelines for Facilities, Shipping, or Distribution.”
“Yes, I’ve learned that as well,” Dr. Donovan said, seeming to maintain his cool despite Jack still visibly bristling. “But that’s because sales were such that they fell within that forty-two percent of production—there was never a need to speed up manufacturing and assembly, because there wasn’t additional demand beyond that base level. However, with the phenomenal success of the new ad campaign that is not only sweeping the Internet, appearing in magazines and on TV, being showcased on billboards, and permeating the global market, the numbers game is wreaking havoc on operations.”
Jack crossed his arms over his chest and fumed.
Einstein shot a look Maxi’s way. “May I continue?”
“By all means,” she drolly encouraged. He’d either end up being the most hated man in the building or the most revered. The pendulum could swing either way; Maxi burned with curiosity at the outcome.
She wasn’t particularly thrilled with the PhD’s take-charge, brainiac attitude. At the same time… her skin tingled and there was a slight tickling sensation against her clit. The genius was living on the edge with this stoic group. Everyone in the room was under fire, and all it took was a quick glance around the conference table to see they wanted to shoot daggers Einstein’s way if he singled out their functional area as a weak link.
But she couldn’t deny he had a valid point with supply and demand—it was precisely the issue she’d homed in on.
Dr. Donovan changed slides and said, “At the moment, the spike in sales should be manageable. In less than two weeks, certainly not. Reason being, we had plenty of backstock to supplement our stores, third-party vendor orders, and online sales. However, that excess is rapidly depleting. There will be a huge lull in distribution in precisely two-hundred and sixty-seven hours and twenty-seven seconds—in broad strokes, eleven days from right now—if we don’t jump on operational improvements immediately.”
Maxi heard the restless shifts of chairs and felt the agitation of the executives envelop the room.
“What do you suggest?” she prompted, playing along to see if Einstein would let out enough rope to hang himself with this crowd or win them over. A risky game to play, but he intrigued her.
Several VPs appeared wholly uncomfortable, as though they’d just been ripped new ones. Others were as captivated as Maxi.
“First,” her new director flipped through more slides as he said, “it’s imperative that our current staff reach peak capability. Think of it this way. When we’re staffed at one hundred percent but are only producing at forty-two percent, that offers the potential to improve by fifty-eight percent without employees even going above and beyond the call of duty. They’re just working their normal eight-hour shifts. Right there that will push out our timeframe for full-blown crisis to twenty-three days. That should be sufficient time to hire more workers and pump up our distribution.”
He shot Maxi a voila! look before continuing. “Of course, we’ll have to incrementally improve upon that workforce capacity. But as long as we’re operating at full capability, we shouldn’t slip behind and will eventually come out ahead of the curve, especially if we incentivize staff to push just a bit harder during their normal workday and encourage those who walked out to come back. ASAP.”
He gave another smug smile.