I have been reading the latest book from the Silicon Valley's "spirit captor", Po Bronson ("The Nudist on the Late Shift"), and am again impressed by the totally literary manner in which he manages to squeeze out the essence of so many companies in our industry. His collection of stories ranges from the business incubator in the basement of the Bancroft Hotel (Berkeley) to Disney Fellow Danny Hillis building a monumental-sized mechanical clock designed to run from January 1, 2001 through the Year 12,000. Bronson was allowed access to the most incredible negotiations, leaps of faith and acts of human idiocy (including a highly-detailed plan for the murder of a fellow worker) and the stories are an eclectic marvel. For anyone in our industry, in a start-up, or close to an IPO it should be a compulsory read.

It reminded me of the seemingly unstoppable desire of some people to speak with the "press." At a company visit in the Valley a few months ago I was introduced to an executive from a manufacturer that had been gobbled up by another (excuse me, "merged.") For some reason I was left to talk to this gentleman without anyone present from the parent company to offer guidance.

Only seconds after we started talking I was hearing details of the company sales levels, the percentage use of the foundry, problems with existing processes, details of new processes coming on line; the whole of this man's working world just tumbled out as if he was on an analyst's couch. The information was not used by me anywhere -- and officials from the parent assumed that would be the case when they heard about what had transpired -- but what if it had been a cocktail party, or at a trade show, somewhere the normal controls of decency might not have existed.

There are just some people you cannot let out in public.

When I was VP at a test and measurement company we had a VP of Engineering who really had his visionary head screwed on and was able to lead an extremely talented team into designing super products that were totally manufacturable; but the remainder of him was a disaster. We didn't let him hang around our trade show booths, we kept him away from the trade press, and we strongly avoided him having conversations with customers. He was no idiot, but it seemed that any conversation with outsiders would end up in too much information being given or, more likely, his clamming up in a manner that came across as if we were hiding something.

Mind you, that happens in the biggest of companies too. At the annual press/analyst meeting of one large analog company a couple of years ago I asked a question about a process; it was met with an extremely hostile reaction which sounded like a denial in some sort of spin-talk. Afterwards the chief scientist sought me out and apologized, but the damage was already done, he'd lost the sale with me.

As Po Bronson found out while tracking a perfect salesman in his work, "It is the tendency to interrupt that hinders engineers who try to sell. Even when they try to listen, engineers-turned-salesmen give in to the irresistible desire to impress the client with their brainiac (sic) ability to anticipate needs through logical deduction rather than allow clients to spell out their needs themselves." Touchý.

"The Nudist on the Late Shift (and Other True Tales of Silicon Valley)" by Po Bronson is published by Random House, Inc. (7/99), ISBN 0-375-50277-7.

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