The point people in the transition plan were the Acrian managers and Serafini representatives who handled the interviews with CTC employees, including everyone from clerks to vice-presidents. In the process, 160 CTC and Acrian people were let go. That left about 90 of the CTCers who had to be integrated into Acrian. Adapting an idea from General Electric Co., Harris set up a "buddy system," pairing CTC employees with Acrian counterparts of similar background and job description, people who already played the role of teachers within the organization.
"We didn't use it everywhere," he says, "just in a few key areas like manufacturing, marketing, and engineering. Where we tried it, though, the system was pretty effective. It wasn't a case of 'report to us every week' or anything, but the buddies had a lot of direct input" into performance reviews of the new employees.
Mary Kuykendall, a former test supervisor at CTC, remembers the buddy system as being particularly helpful with the technical aspects of her new assignment. "Working with my 'lead' got me into the flow of the company much more quickly," says Kuykendall, who is now a senior planner in production control at Acrian. "But I guess what impressed me most was how open everyone was about the problems around here. Jack and Jim [Huiskens, senior vice-president] were easy to approach, and they passed along information that surprised me. The cooperation on all levels was excellent."
But, for all their efforts and good intentions, Acrian's managers soon began to encounter problems. One involved former CTC customers who, after a five-month honeymoon, started taking out on Acrian their frustrations with CTC products, a situation that put extraordinary pressure on the sales force. Another was a chronic shortage of work space for the new employees. (Harris says they used to joke about hiring the "short shift" -- employees who were "three foot six, so we could fit them on a new mezzanine level.") A third was what Bray calls the "not-invented-here" factor: Acrian workers who belittled anything with the CTC imprint on it, CTCers who reciprocated the sentiment. Through what Bray calls "a short period of friction that seemed to last a long, long time," the two sides worked toward a mutual accommodation.
In the end, however, what most undermined their efforts were events unrelated to the acquisition, and beyond anybody's control. The first was the failure of a $20-million public offering, intended to meet the company's long-term financing needs and reward the loyalty of employees, including the CTC veterans, to whom Harris had given equity participation. Just as he was putting the final touches on the deal, at the end of 1983, the IPO window "slammed shut right on our fingers," he recalls. "We eventually got some money through private financing, but we ended up with a major sense of disappointment in the organization. People started leaving in droves. It was like they were dropping votes in a ballot box on the way out the door, and each vote said 'No."
"The expectations were so high then, and the volume of work so heavy, that I guess there had to be a crash," says Bray. "I dunno, maybe the ones who left had planned on leaving anyway and were just waiting around for the stock offering so they could take something with them. When we didn't go public, [some of the CTCers] wanted to see the failure as Acrian's."
The wave of reaction washed out many of the bridges that had been built during the transition period, and complicated what turned out to be a rough year across the board for Acrian. Although hardly a "troubled" company -- it managed to stay profitable, for instance, which was no mean feat in the Valley circa 1984-85 -- Acrian was squeezing nickels, not roaring ahead as planned. Meanwhile, it had to contend with all the issues faced by any growing company -- questions about its marketing mix and customer base, about the adequacy of its management systems, about its ability to operate smoothly on a larger scale. Late in 1984, Harris brought in another consultant, Murray Silverman, to help cope with such problems. "I didn't come in to 'change the culture' at Acrian, because Jack had already worked on that," says Silverman. "To my mind, the later problems were more a function of the complex technology the company is working on. Engineers aren't always great at communicating with each other, much less the marketing people. But they've made some good progress."
On balance, Harris agrees that most of his original goals for the merger have been realized. Acrian grew swiftly to the $20-million mark and has stayed competitive during difficult times for the industry as a whole. Yes, there was new-employee attrition, but, given both the ethic of the Valley and the inopportune timing of the IPO debacle, much of it was beyond his control. If he could do it again, he says, he would concentrate even more on the people aspect. But didn't he go to heroic lengths on that score the last time?
"Maybe," he answers, "but keep in mind that I was also running a company. And when you do that, you get side-tracked."
Sidetracked on what?
"Oh," he sighs, "I probably focused too much on this order or that factory. Or I made too many things 'untouchables' -- certain manufacturing processes we used, certain sets of products we had. All this stuff cost me some time and some people, and people are what this whole damn thing is about."
Asked to distill the lessons of his experience, Harris smiles. "First," he answers, "go find someone who's been through this before. I don't care what you think you know, talk to somebody who's been there. Second, make the decision early on, should I keep this person or not? If you want him, make him a family member as quickly as possible. Third, maintain your sense of humor -- at all costs. Because sooner or later, I promise you, you're gonna need it."
