Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Dedication
- MAN SHORTAGE
- ADVERSITY
- BABYLON
- MERINO WOOL
- THE MONEY
- IT’S ELECTRIC
- MR. MEME
- HALFWAY IN LOVE
- THE DRY HUMPING
- BAD WEREWOLF PORN
- ACTION OVER DELIBERATION
- BUTTERMILK PIE
- SEVEN LIFETIMES
- THE HOTEL WASHINGTON TREATY
- BULL VS. COW
- ONE OF THOSE “NO” WOMEN
- MODERN WOMAN
- PLUS-ONE
- DESPITE APPEARANCES
- LOVEMAKING PRACTICE
- ENTANGLED
- CAT GIFS
- BROWN, BUT NOT TOO DARK
- CHEAT CODE
- BOILED POTATOES
- SELF-CHECKOUT
- BETTER JUDGMENT
- 8:15
- TWO TYPES OF PEOPLE
- OUTSIDE THE TENT
- OFF THE RAILS
- DATU
- CLOSED CIRCUIT
- TROJAN HORSE
- MISTER
- JOHN WAYNE
- REFINING FIRE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- NIKKI PAYNE
- DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
- Excerpt from SEX, LIES AND SENSIBILITY
- TL;DR
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“A tax on shareholders is what it is,” another man said.
Dorsey ground his teeth. He was always “young man” when the board wanted to put him in his place. He found his sister’s kind brown eyes. She silently mouthed the word “research.”
Dorsey gulped an entire glass of water and exhaled. He was bombing this meeting. He knew it. His sister knew it. And the board knew it.
He pointed to the slide. “Companies with strong social performance also have strong financial performance.”
“A positive association between charitable contributions and profits does not mean that giving serves a legitimate business purpose. Prosperous companies simply have more cash and highly valued shares, which makes it easier to give to charity,” a woman countered. That comment got a lot of approving murmurs. Dorsey’s chest tightened. Charitable giving should not be this controversial, but he had been locked in a battle of wills with the board for far too long, and they smelled blood in the water.
“Not always—” Dorsey began.
“Dorsey, we understand and appreciate you attempting to further your mother’s philanthropic legacy. But an economic recovery is no time to increase spending. We were all shocked by your family’s tragedy. But we must pull this company up, and we can’t get sentimental about Pemberley’s ultimate north star—development,” Hampden, a broom-bristle-mustached man said, his eyes a mix of pity and annoyance.
A cold-eyed woman shifted in her seat at the end of the table. “Do you have any new business? We’d like a report on the Netherfield properties.”
That was it. He was shut down. He was acting CEO and had never felt the acting part more completely than he did right now. At thirty, he was too young to be taken seriously and too old to brush off. The board had been prepared to hold a nationwide search for a CEO when Gigi sounded the alarm and pushed him out in front, muscling their majority shares into a hammer and forcing the other shareholders’ hands.
On cue, Gigi spoke, working her magic. “The CEO makes a valid point about the connection between strong philanthropic initiatives and economic success. Corporate giving programs can provide a competitive advantage when they are well designed and carefully executed, both of which I believe we’ve been capable of doing in the past,” she said. “I mean, I’m just a business student here, but I think after we successfully launch Netherfield Court, we might be well-placed for federal development projects.”
The room discussed the possibilities of federal contracting. The board members were seeing green, but Dorsey caught his sister’s double meaning. Give them Netherfield, and they will give you your philanthropy budget.
The meeting adjourned early, though Dorsey, ever the realist, knew his presentation was likely already forgotten. Hampden came up to him and clasped his shoulder.