Game Changer by Douglas E. Richards Read Free Book Online Page B

the
progress he had made.
    In the morning, he would plan
ways to stay ahead of the pack, and then plot out his strategy for bringing
Matt Davinroy to his knees.

 
    7

 
 
    Professor Rachel A. Howard sat
at the edge of the desk with her legs dangling down, her beige flats not even
close to reaching the floor of the small classroom. A heavy glass bottle of Snapple
peach tea, flash-chilled just minutes earlier in her minus thirty-seven degree
freezer, was open and waiting beside her, with a silver tablet computer on her
lap.
    Dressed in faded jeans and a light
red cotton T-shirt, cut below the waist, Rachel Howard was eminently
approachable and almost always cheerful, and as informal as she was brilliant.
Anyone who had an encounter with her outside of Harvard University, who didn’t
know who she was, might think she was a homemaker, or a travel agent, or a
caring, friendly social worker.
    When Rachel was at a grocery
store, movie, or social gathering, her appearance, style, vocabulary, and
demeanor could not have been less intimidating, and none could possibly guess
that this woman possessed a legendary intellect, was widely considered the
foremost neuroscientist in the world, and was rumored to be on a short list for
a future Nobel Prize for the groundbreaking papers she seemed to publish with
astounding regularity.
    In academia, business, or for
that matter any human endeavor, there were two ways to get ahead. One was to
know how to play the game, become skilled at sucking up to the right people,
projecting the right image, playing politics, and manipulating others.
Unfortunately, many of those practicing these dark arts were not highly
competent in their actual jobs, and could excel only by being ruthless and
unethical, stabbing colleagues in the back, poisoning their reputations for
personal gain, and taking credit for the work and ideas of others.
    The second way to get ahead was
to be so gifted, so talented, it didn’t matter how well or poorly you played
politics. You could dress like a slob, be boorish or intimidating, fail to show
up for mandatory cocktail parties, or even be a total asshole. Or, as was the
case with Rachel Howard, you could exhibit the opposite spectrum of behavior.
You could be friendly, gracious, and unassuming. You could go out of your way
to bestow credit wherever it was deserved.
    If you were not extraordinarily
talented, these traits would get you liked, but not promoted, especially when
swimming in shark-filled waters. Nice guys—or gals in this case—finished last.
    Unless your competence was so
great that nothing could hide it, no politicking, backstabbing, or idea theft
could diminish it. Results, when they were stellar enough, could trump almost
all other considerations.
    There was an old joke her
father, a businessman, had told her. A regional sales manager rushes into the
office of the president of the company. “One of my salesmen just said that you
should go jump in a lake,” he reports to the president. “I assume you want me
to fire him immediately.”
    “What an absolute jerk!” says
the president. “This is intolerable. Just out of curiosity,” he adds, “how are
his sales numbers?”
    “He’s the top salesman in the
region. Has been for the entire year.”
    The president of the company
nods. “On second thought,” he says, making his way out of his office, “don’t
fire him.”  
    “Okay,” says the subordinate in
confusion. “But where are you going?”
    “I’m going to find a lake to
jump into,” he replies happily.
    Rachel smiled at this memory as
the first of her students wandered into the classroom, followed within minutes
by five others. All six wore casual clothing that took a cue from her well-known
style, or lack thereof: jeans, yoga pants, and the like, and each had eyes that
shined from the fires of an extraordinary intellect within. The Neuroscience
program at Harvard was unequaled, and the graduate school had its pick of the
most