
This is my true Business War Story about what happens when a billionaire CEO is fed up with "consultant's babble."
"The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent."
( 🎶 Cue Dragnet theme music.)

I'd been working with a well-known publishing company in L.A. — doing a combination of strategic consulting… some program rebranding…a major direct mail marketing program… and training the staff in Direct Response Marketing. It was a bigger gig than most of the Small-Medium Business work I usually do…
…and all had been going well. Or so I thought.
That day I am finishing a presentation of next-step recommendations in the main conference room. Our consultant (me) is in The Zone. George, the Number 2 Guy at the company, is pleased that the components are fitting together nicely. His two protective generals agree.
We're headed down the runway for a lunch break. I'm starving — I'd only had coffee and a banana, 5 or 6 hours earlier at the break of dawn.
Right at that point, a stately gentleman — looking a good bit like Mr. Rogers' dad — quietly walks into the room. Most everyone sits up a little straighter. Haven't met him, must be high-level management. He plops down… crosses his legs… leans over his knees for just a moment to inhale the whiteboard.
"Why in the world would you recommend ___________ , when we've always ______________ before?!" he asks with a sneer.
The style is not particularly friendly. He attacks Joel with a barrage of non-stop questions. Not always waiting for an answer,.
Boom! Boom! 😱 Perspective questions. Boom! Drill-down details. Boom! Big picture now. Dripping toxic skepticism of the recommendations and explanations.
Boom-Boom! 😱 I don't like strategy consultants, he says. And direct mail consultants don't know what they're doing, he says. Explain what you mean by (any point), he keeps demanding. Strategic questions. Targeted marketing questions. Questions about how everything will fit together and operate smoothly, if enacted.
Me the consultant was getting a little warm. I wasn't a criminal and I didn't think I should be under a hot spotlight at this police station. Hadn't even met this manager-type. Boom! Boom! 😱 One after the other. Now to the executive team: Do they think these recommendations are any good? Do they understand how to implement these tactics? Often the gentleman doesn't wait for a full answer before the next question.
I catch a quick glimpse of one wide-eyed, open-mouthed guy looking at his buddy across the conference table, as if to say "Oh, sweat, Joel is getting a whoopin'!"
Boom! Boom! 😱 Back to Joel in the crosshairs, Did you consider other options, why did you choose these?
Wait…the executive management team had just been wowed!… now this?!
[ insert colloquial 3-letter acronym 😱 for ASTONISHMENT here ]
Why the attack?
"Why this?" I think, Who does this guy think he is? The provocateur was reserved, but clearly a senior-level guy with authority in a roomful of executives. Wait — with a half-moment of not dodging the spiraling bullets, like in The Matrix… I realize "the guy" might be Jack, the legendary, multi-billionaire CEO. But…
No time for meandering, focus right back on defending the recommendations. They had been written over a few weeks, developed over a few months. They were good, Or at least I thought so. Strategy & Tactics & Creative Marketing Concepts. They provided strong value to the company — with a combination of fundamentals and innovative approaches.
Why have these obliterated by a random ambush…even if this guy is high-level? It seemed so capricious and improper. I was annoyed, watching my work (maybe) being destroyed.
Though thrown by the attack, I gave a to-the-point explanation to every successive challenge. Defending the recommendations. Clarifying apparent misconceptions. Providing perspective. Looking back, my thinking combined doubling-down… flexibility where it made sense… even two "I dunno, I'll check that out." responses.
It lasted 35 or 40 minutes. Non-stop. I was feeling like a blackened burger trying to jump off the grill.
The interrogator suddenly stops. Stands up. Takes one more mental snapshot of the whiteboard. Walks out of the room without a word.
Whew! Everyone visibly relaxes.
George, the Number 2 In Command, says to me ,"That was Jack." Yep, The iconic multi-billionaire CEO.
The room was quiet for a minute. ("Yikes! What did I just do? Did I just do the right thing?").
Breathe. Okay, then. Go on.
We tie up the recommendations in a nice bow, and start the lunch break. There were a few person-to-person glances, and a few overheard phrases as the exec team left the conference room — indicating "Does this consultant guy from Atlanta with the New York accent have any idea that he shouldn't be talking to Jack that way?!"
Joel retreats to his "onsite office."
For 20 minutes after the meeting, our consultant is glazed over. Exhausted. "Boy, did I just do a number on myself, I just pushed back against the boss, a hugely successful California icon who has built a business empire, and I'm just a little guy, a hired gun on a contract."
Our consultant expects to be unceremoniously kicked in the butt… bounced out… pointed back to the airport with his tail between his legs, for slamming the CEO's comments. Especially in front of his execs.
I was bummed out, looks like I screwed up, I told the truth, but I got in trouble. The price of being a consultant who sleeps at night, I tried to rationalize. Looks like I'll have to give up this gig — my coveted trips out to "The Coast," usually 10 days with a blissful weekend in the middle. I'd bring my Rollerblades for a day-long skate on Sundays from Santa Monica to Redondo Beach and back. Sunshine, great exercise. Past the muscle builders, bikini girls, jugglers, and assorted loonies on the boardwalk. It was a joyous circus in the sunshine.
While the majority of my work is with SMB, this business program was for a bigger company, with multiple components... a bigger scope of work over a longer term. We dug deep into the organization's strategy, direct mail marketing program, processes, and trained the marketing team on direct mail marketing techniques (essential to their business). Oh, well. the good gig, and the good time on The Coast, shot to hell. Rats!
,

After about 20 minutes, George, the 2nd In Command, glides by that nice little onsite office Joel had been getting used to.
George has a wide-eyed "Are You kidding me?!" look I hadn't seen in the few months of working together.
He had just spoken to Jack.
Turns out this iconic CEO hates, hates, hates consultants! But he somehow seemed okay with the meeting.
Then it dawned on me that months ago George mentioned the boss "hates consultants." But they hired me anyway, so it didn't cross my mind again.. Then after a few months of good feedback, this "challenge" — this overt provocation — in the meeting.
George says he suspected Jack wanted to know: Did this consultant have real rationales, real strategic thinking, real experience,… behind the recommendations? Were these working sessions — that were sucking up the time of some of his executives — worth the money? And would these recommendations be worth it when it cost many times more, to roll out in marketing campaigns?
George didn't suggest that Jack was satisfied or not, I don't think he knew for sure. And my fate was hanging by a thread.
But -- for the first-time ever, I'm told — this business icon would pick me up at 12:35 sharp at the South Entrance… to continue the conversation over lunch!
No way!
Did I screw up enough to earn more of Jack's Wrath? He wants to talk more… but he'd already grilled me. Does he get involved at this level? Does he want to berate me for being a smartass? Did I embarrass him? Did he value any small bit of the work?
Yes, I was early at the South Entrance, watching a number of cars pull up, waiting for some hot ride like a Jag or Maserati , but didn't see Jack. At the stroke of 12:35, a 15-year-old Toyota Road Runner pulls up, windows roll down: "Hi, Joel… jump in!" Joel asks Jack where we were headed… assuming it might be a fancy L.A. restaurant, where rich people dine for lunch. The boss said we were headed to his home in Beverly Hills! And to this point, I still wasn't sure if I was going to get more pushback on the recommendations, our interaction… I'm just trying to keep breathing evenly…
Some small talk and long silences while Jack chauffeured, The Boss seemed focused on his driving, squinting over his bifocals, or deep in thought.
The house was decidedly… unimpressive.
A 20-minute drive, and we arrived at a ranch house in Beverly Hills. Not the palatial estate I envisioned as we drove past some serious mansions. Car parked outside with a guy watching us.
The house looks bigger on the inside. The kitchen has a brand-new refrigerator… but the dark wood paneling says 1950's. No kitchen renovation? The place looks well-lived and musty, but smells clean. The CEO looks more relaxed as he played short-order cook — he makes tuna, with a measured dollop of mayo, and a small bit of grated onion,. He has really good rye bread, crispy crust. Eggsellent. Wrong kinda pickle, no problem.. Served in elegant mansion style — on a Dixie paper plate.
He told Joel that consultants and his underlings usually don't tell him the truth. He can't stand that! He gave me 3 examples of that disingenuous behavior — they were awful panderings.
Jack tells me he likes his reality unvarnished. (I'd also picked up that same phrase from my consulting mentor, Robert Fritz).
And he really liked my recommendations and straightforward defense when attacked.
Jack smiles.
Hot damn!
Truth can win. Straightforward works.
I 'm feeling tears of relief and validation coming on, but shut that down fast — just act like this happens every day, with some of the biggest icons of industry, I thought, Right.
Yeah, right… "two guys," just talking. I knew I was in the presence of greatness, and I certainly was humbled. Okay, a little intimidated, but mostly okay. His questions were well within my expertise and I'd seriously done the work — a barrel of formal and informal "holistic-type" consulting to discover details that fed my recommendations. Our exchange was candid and friendly… spirited and sometimes even playful.
It 's a great conversation. Unhurried. Covering strategy, branding, direct mail marketing, operations, even confidential stuff about personnel and how two teams were working together poorly and he wanted my perspective. We were having a conversation. Two guys.
He wants to know if I like the tuna. (It really was good!) He gives me feedback from the meeting, about what he and I said during the meeting. A couple of discussion points are very substantive. He recalls being surprised when I said in the meeting "There's lots of perspective missing from (your comment), you'll want to know…" — and then he laughed, saying "Joel. don't worry, I agree, you were right!" He even sorta apologizes for his overall attack, with a sheepish grin.
Lunch lasts well over 2 hours!
It stops at a very natural point. Jack smiles and tells me there's a driver outside to take me back to the hotel, and he drifts off into the ranch estate. I get into the car I'd seen waiting since we'd arrived. (Oh, sweat… he had been ready to send me back from the moment we arrived!) I asked the driver to drop me a mile or so from the hotel. This day needs a brisk walk. I fall asleep for a few minutes in the car.

By the time I get back to the hotel in Santa Monica there's a dark wooden box with a little latch, waiting for me inside my room — with two crystal glasses… and a bottle of 25-year-old Balvenie Sherry Oak Cask Scotch!
I'd mentioned that all-time favorite booze to George just before he hired me, about 6 months beforehand. OMG.
Now that was a most excellent day!
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Joel Alpert is a Swiss Army Knife consultant with a pocketful of unconventional skills in strategic thinking, brand development, direct mail marketing, executive coaching, and more. He's worked with very large and very small companies, usually SMB. You can visit: www.MarketPowerOnline.com
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