could be induced to say anything negative, though, so I assumed it was just sour grapes over his having left their firms for better positions.
      I phoned Steve the next day to ask him back for a second interview.. We negotiated all morning, making a few minor changes in the boiler plate of our standard employment contract. It was the same one I used for engineers, except that senior marketing people get a hell of a lot more stock options and far too much money. Signing the contract with Steve scared the hell out of me, because I didn’t know what it was going to be like spending much of my life chained to the guy, but I didn’t think I had much choice. Karma.
      By the time Annamaria returned, two weeks later, Steve was well under way. His voice carried throughout the office and with it the message he preached into every phone call. “I’m quasi-technical, but I think I know what the users want, and we have it.” Like much of what he said, it didn’t make much sense when analyzed, but it sure sounded good.
      The phones rang and kept ringing until the number of lines had to be doubled and even that wasn’t enough to keep up with the volume. Everybody called Steve. Ad reps from computer magazines phoned with deals, protected rates, and invitations to dinner with their editors. PR account execs talked about their regard for the company and its obvious star quality and “Could we get together on say, Thursday, for lunch, let me show you what my agency can do for you.” The magazine editors themselves called, prompted, no doubt by their ad reps, who could smell money coming their way now that Steve was around.

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