The Goal

alone; Sharon is down the street at a friend's house, and Davey is at band practice.

'When is this going to end?' she asks.

I stop midway through taking some underwear from a drawer. I'm getting irritated by the questions because we just went over the whole thing five minutes ago. Why is it so hard for her to understand?

'Julie, I don't know.' I say. 'I've got a lot of problems to solve.'

More fidgeting. She doesn't like it. It occurs to me that maybe she doesn't trust me or something.

'Hey, I'll call you as soon as I get to New York,' I tell her. 'Okay?'

She turns as if she might walk out of the room.

'Fine. Call,' she says, 'but I might not be here.'

I stop again.

'What do you mean by that?'

'I might be out someplace,' she says.

'Oh,' I say. 'Well, I guess I'll have to take my chances.'

'I guess you will,' she says, furious now, on her way out the door.

I grab an extra shirt and slam the drawer shut. When I finish packing, I go looking for her. I find her in the living room. She stands by the window, biting the end of her thumb. I take her hand and kiss the thumb. Then I try to hug her.

'Listen, I know I've been undependable lately,' I say. 'But this is important. It's for the plant-'

She shakes her head, pulls away. I follow her into the kitchen. She stands with her back to me.

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'Everything is for your job,' she says. 'It's all you think about. I can't even count on you for dinner. And the kids are asking me why you're like this-'

There is a tear forming in the corner of her eye. I reach to wipe it away, but she brushes my hand aside.

'No!' she says. 'Just go catch your plane to wherever it is you're going.'

'Julie- '

She walks past me.

'Julie, this is not fair!' I yell at her.

She turns to me.

'That's right,' she says. 'You are not being fair. To me or to your children.'

She goes upstairs without looking back. And I don't even have time to settle this; I'm already late for my flight, I pick up my bag in the hall, sling it over my shoulder, and grab my brief- case on my way out the door.

At 7:10 the next morning, I'm waiting in the hotel lobby for Jonah. He's a few minutes late, but that's not what's on my mind as I pace the carpeted floor. I'm thinking about Julie. I'm wor- ried about her... about us. After I checked into my room last night, I tried to call home. No answer. Not even one of the kids picked up the phone. I walked around the room for half an hour, kicked a few things, and tried calling again. Still no answer. From then until two in the morning, I dialed the number every fifteen minutes. Nobody home. At one point I tried the airlines to see if I could get on a plane back, but nothing was flying in that direction at that hour. I finally fell asleep. My wake-up call got me out of bed at six o'clock. I tried the number twice before I left my room this morning. The second time, I let it ring for five minutes. Still no answer.

'Alex!'

I turn. Jonah is walking toward me. He's wearing a white shirt-no tie, no jacket-and plain trousers.

'Good morning,' I say as we shake hands. I notice his eyes are puffy, like those of someone who hasn't had a lot of sleep; I think that mine probably look the same.

'Sorry I'm late,' he says. 'I had dinner last night with some associates and we got into a discussion which went, I believe, until three o'clock in the morning. Let's get a table for breakfast.'

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I walk with him into the restaurant and the maitre d' leads us to a table with a white linen cloth.

'How did you do with the measurements I defined for you over the telephone?' he asks after we've sat down.

I switch my mind to business, and tell him how I expressed the goal with his measurements. Jonah seemed very pleased.

'Excellent,' he says. 'You have done very well.'

'Well, thanks, but I'm afraid I need more than a goal and some measurements to save my plant.'

'To save your plant?' he asks.

I say, 'Well. . . yes, that's why I'm here. I mean, I didn't just call you to talk philosophy.'

He smiles. 'No, I didn't think you tracked me down purely for the love of truth. Okay, Alex, tell me what's going on.'

'This is confidential,' I say to him. Then I explain the situa- tion with the plant and the three-month deadline before it gets closed. Jonah listens attentively. When I've finished, he sits back.

'What do you expect from me?' he asks.

'I don't know if there is one, but I'd like you to help me find the answer that will let me keep my plant alive and my people working,' I say.

Jonah looks away for a moment.

'I'll tell you my problem,' he says. 'I have an unbelievable schedule. That's why we're meeting at this ungodly hour, inci- dentally. With the commitments I already have, there is no way I can spend the time to do all the things you probably would ex- pect from a consultant.'

I sigh, very disappointed. I say, 'Okay, if you're too busy-'

'Wait, I'm not finished,' he says. 'That doesn't mean you can't save your plant. I don't have time to solve your problems for you. But that wouldn't be the best thing for you anyway -'

'What do you mean?' I interrupt.

Jonah holds up his hands. 'Let me finish!' he says. 'From what I've heard, I think you can solve your own problems. What I will do is give you some basic rules to apply. If you and your people follow them intelligently, I think you will save your plant. Fair enough?'

'But, Jonah, we've only got three months,' I say.

He nods impatiently. 'I know, I know,' he says. 'Three months is more than enough time to show improvement... if

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you are diligent, that is. And if you aren't, then nothing I say could save you anyway.'

'Oh, you can count on our diligence, for sure,' I say.

'Shall we try it then?' he asks.

'Frankly, I don't know what else to do,' I say. Then I smile. 'I guess I'd better ask what this is going to cost me. Do you have some kind of standard rate or something?'

'No, I don't,' he says. 'But I'll make a deal with you. Just pay me the value of what you learn from me.'

'How will I know what that is?'