Evan wrote down the model number anyway.
He had been setting aside twenty dollars here and thirty there for six weeks.
That was who he was.
Not dramatic.
Not wealthy.
Methodical.
Grant Worthington understood none of that.
Grant arrived at Blackidge eight months before the year-end assembly.
He was fifty-one, tall, silver at the temples, and effortlessly polished.
His suits looked expensive without appearing flashy.
His shoes never showed factory dust.
He could stand beside a production line for forty minutes and somehow leave without getting anything on his cuffs.
The board had hired him after two weak quarters with a clear mission.
Reduce costs.
Improve cash.
Prepare the company for outside financing and a large commercial expansion.
Nobody publicly used the phrase “make the company look attractive.”
They did not need to.
Grant began speaking about efficiency before his second week.
By the end of his first month, he had divided most internal functions into two categories.
“Revenue generators.”
And “support cost.”
Sales generated revenue.
Business development generated revenue.
Executive strategy generated revenue.
Calibration did not.
Quality assurance did not.
Maintenance did not.
Shipping did not.
The warehouse did not.
Payroll certainly did not.
Evan first heard Grant use the phrase during a quarterly meeting.
A slide appeared showing departmental cost ratios.
Grant stood beside it with a laser pointer.
“We have to distinguish between the parts of this company that produce growth and the parts that consume growth.”
The red dot moved across the screen.
“Support cost has expanded beyond sustainable levels.”
Evan sat in the third row.
The calibration department appeared in yellow.
Grant called it “necessary overhead.”
Mara leaned toward Evan.
“Necessary until he figures out how to ship sensors without testing them.”
Evan almost smiled.
Three weeks later, Grant walked a pair of investors through the engineering bay.
They stopped near Evan’s station.
One investor asked what the calibration fixtures did.