Today I weighed 219.6 pounds.
In about 1980, Exxon consolidated the most successful of its
computer ventures into a single company: EOS, that is, Exxon Office
Systems. The separate parts of this venture had shown vague hopes of
success in the office market. Together, we formed a great dud that
took several years to properly crash.
One of the first challenges for EOS was to define internal
standards to enable the company’s various parts to evolve its
products together. This goal, very synergistic, was imposed from
above. Each segment of the forced marriage that created EOS knew that
its own development procedures were far and away the best. They hoped
to be left alone while the rest of the company fell into sync with
their own distant drummers. But in order to appear to acquiesce, we formed a
few committees.
I represented the Princeton Faction on one committee. At our first
meeting, I got a good intimation of how little we might ever
accomplish. At the second meeting, our hopeless prognosis socked me
in the face, because one of the two largest factions sent a
newly-hired employee to represent their interests. This man – I’ll
call him John – knew nothing of his new division’s history and
methods, and clearly carried no weight with his more entrenched
superiors. But there was, still, something very special about John.
He looked exactly like Woody Allen.
John represented the North Jersey faction of EOS. This second
meeting took place at the other large division’s headquarters,
south of Philadelphia. People generally believed that the Philly
division had built their building in a highly synergistic location,
if you can restrict the concept of “synergy” to computer
development and gourmet food. There was a superb restaurant nearby, a
restaurant suitable for expense account dining. We ate lunch there,
that day.
We were a four-person committee. We had not had a chance to
exchange words in private, but I was sure my friends were thinking
the same thing. He looks just like Woody Allen! Does he know? What
does he think? And of course, we were also thinking how impolite
it would be to say anything.
We sat down to eat, and soon our table was lit by a highly bright
light. A good half of the small restaurant lit up, quite the opposite
of what one expects. (Even in the 1980’s, many restaurants
preferred to keep their patrons in near darkness.)
Well, there was a reason. The manager of the restaurant appeared
at our table and apologized. He explained that the local Philadelphia
network TV station was doing a segment on his restaurant. If we
preferred privacy, he would be glad to move us to the darker half of
the room.
When the manager made this suggestion, John drew himself up and
said, “What’s it worth to you to have Woody Allen in your
restaurant on TV?”
