Héloïse did not know what a supply chain manager was, but the thought of the inventory being like water intrigued her.
“Lowering the water level—that’s to say, the inventory—” he went on, “has two major advantages. First, it lowers the working capital associated with inventory, which comes out as cash. Second, it offers endless opportunities for continuous improvement for all departments in the company working together to reduce those rocks.” Thierry paused. “But of course not all inventory is a waste. For a ship that has to endure rough seas, inventory can be used like ... like a break wall to smooth the waves ...” Thierry’s voice faded, as if he now spoke only to himself.
Héloïse didn’t dare interrupt, but he had lost her.
“I hear with my left ear that the inventory is like water and with my right ear that it should be a break wall?” she wondered. “That doesn’t make sense. Low water is dangerous for a ship. And in the other example, what are the waves?”
Finally, Thierry reassured Héloïse that the work of defining the management process for each item sold, manufactured, or purchased by the company was well under way. He had taken a course recently to learn how to manage inventories in order to better protect the flow. He was in the process of analyzing all bills of materials to decide which components should be stocked, how, and in what quantities. Before the summer break at the end of July, it would simply be a matter of clarifying with his team the parameters for managing inventory by category. Then he would coach them so that they can take ownership of an easy visual way he discovered to sort out priorities.
“Scheduling in a company that tolerates ‘firefighting’ is probably one of the most difficult and stressful jobs on earth,” he said. “It is management’s responsibility to provide safe working conditions, for the body and the mind of each employee—including those who plan the flow of products. After all,”—he threw up his hands—“their performance directly affects the return on the capital invested in the company.”
Héloïse had noticed his attention to the employees. He always took time to make the rounds of the shop floor and personally greet the workers, which she herself had never done. She could see there were decidedly nice sides to Thierry Ambi, even though he always seemed stressed.
In particular, she remembered their last meeting when she told him of the decision of the shareholders—that is, her grandmother and her mother who inherited the shares of her late husband—to offer him the position of CEO for at least as long as it would take to settle the company’s future. Throughout the meeting, she had felt decidedly ill at ease. Was it because she had never before found herself in a position of authority and resented feeling like a fraud? Was it because she so clearly needed him more than he needed her? Or was it because Thierry Ambi himself had seemed ill at ease, in view of the tragic circumstances, to be seizing such an attractive opportunity? Maybe it was simply because he was one of those men who felt uncomfortable working with women.
Héloïse had made a mental check of her physical appearance. She knew both how to captivate a music audience and how to appear neutral when she needed to. She had been wearing a pantsuit with a classic blouse and had not worn any makeup. But Thierry Ambi had barely looked at her and hadn’t asked any questions, even though she had deliberately made no mention of any financial compensation that might accompany this sudden increase in responsibilities.
The day before, she had asked her partner, Thomas, for advice. He had answered intuitively, “Compensation should be as it is with musicians: in proportion to the artist’s talent.”
This was of little help to Héloïse, who was sure that in industry the rules governing salaries were more complex than that. She had put the matter off, but it was now time to approach the subject frankly. She had taken the time to discuss it with her mother, and was now ready to make Thierry Ambi an offer that she felt was fair: his increase in salary would be proportionate to the profits of the company. Put another way, Thierry Ambi would be “profit sharing.” Her mother, who in the past had suggested a bonus scheme for all employees, immediately approved this idea.
It’s twenty to nine, and Thierry Ambi has not yet arrived. Héloïse does not want to broach this subject if they don’t have enough time to discuss it. She begins to grow impatient and, at the sound of footsteps in the corridor, leaves her office to have a look. But it is not Thierry Ambi; it is Hubert Lancien, arriving early for the meeting.
Hubert, nearing sixty, is still a good-looking man. Certainly his job at H. Rami as a salesman for luxury technical goods obliges him to maintain a discreet and elegant manner, but it isn’t just that. As a horseman, he has the allure and presence of a bygone era; his gestures are lithe and his voice rich and melodious.
He makes straight for Héloïse the moment he sees her, opens his arms spontaneously, as if to embrace her, but then stops himself short. There has always been a certain closeness between them, which had not been affected when Henri Rami put more distance between the two men some years ago. Before the accident, whenever she and Hubert had met by chance, they had never spoken of the company but rather had warmly discussed their shared interests in nature. She owes much of her love of the forest to Hubert. Since her childhood, he has helped her discover the secrets of its inhabitants, whether those of the stag, the cuckoo, or the oak. But right now it is necessary to discuss other things. Hubert speaks first.
“The meeting starts at nine, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but I need to talk to Thierry beforehand. Is he here yet?”
“His car wasn’t in the usual parking lot just now. But he sometimes parks in the employees’ lot. Would you like me to go and check the shop floor?”
Héloïse recognizes Hubert’s generosity. Not only does he not appear to bear a grudge against her for following her father’s choice of Thierry Ambi over him, but he also shields her from embarrassment about the shop floor. Although they had never spoken about it, he knows that Héloïse doesn’t like to go through the doors at the end of the corridor, which lead to the two workshops, one for metal and one for wood.
“Yes. Thank you. And tell him to come to my office right away.”
She turns away from the doors to the workshops and goes to greet Léon in his office, directly opposite Georgette’s. Léon, who is in charge of procurement, is in the midst of a lively private conversation with Yasmina, the new secretary. Secretaries seldom stay long at H. Rami—a fact that has a rekindling effect on Léon, an old bachelor forever hoping to find his soul mate in the form of the new recruit.
They are animatedly discussing their respective vacations, which had ended the day before. Their time off had been disturbed somewhat by worries about their future with the company. Héloïse’s appearance stops them cold. Without even giving them time to mumble hello, she shakes their hands briskly and retreats back down the corridor in a heavy silence. Héloïse is keen for this day to end.
9:00 A.M. Once more in her father’s office, Héloïse paces back and forth, unable to concentrate on any one thought. Hubert has already been back twice to tell her that there is no sign of Thierry. He asked Georgette to phone his house, but to no avail. Thierry has a cell phone of course, but only Henri Rami had known the number, for Thierry never really connected with any of the employees outside of working hours.
He was polite with everyone, but his sudden arrival in January—with the bizarre title of “supply chain manager,” which no one else understood—had started things off on the wrong foot. Henri Rami had hired him without any discussion with his employees at all, as though his presence would change nothing. In fact, all the relationships between the supervisors, the staff, and the workers had gradually changed. As usual, everyone waited in vain for some sort of explanation from the boss, without ever daring to ask for one. This brewing crisis was finally resolved by Henry Rami getting rid of the secretary.