The plant itself is huge -- 80 acres under a sheet-metal roof -- but Ohlson turns away from it and pulls in across the street, at a single-story brick building, home of the purchasing department. "Alloys Purchasing Sales Call Policy," says the sign on the door. "All calls are by appointment. No calls on Monday or Friday. By direction of purchasing manager." (Not the warmest welcome a salesperson might ask for, but a whole lot more friendly than the sign in the guard booth at the entrance to the plant. "We shoot every third salesman," it says, under a picture of a cowboy pointing his six-shooter. "The second one just left.") Ohlson steps in, looks around, and sees not a soul. Must be lunch hour. A moment later, though, down the hall comes Larry Haddock, Reynolds's silver-haired senior buyer, waving a cigarette. "Y'all stroll on back," he says, remarking on the glorious sunshine, the warm fall weather, and the injustice of spending such a fine day indoors instead of on the golf course.
One of the first things a visitor learns about Haddock is that he's an Auburn guy. On the wall of his office are two framed, numbered prints: "Legends of the Plains," a gallery of stars featuring Bo Jackson; and "Reverse to Victory," a dramatic rendering of Lawyer Tillman high-stepping it into the end zone in the 1986 Iron Bowl. Now, Norman Carter, the purchasing agent back at Franklin, is an Alabama guy. In this state, you're either/or. There is no middle ground. Unless you're a smart salesperson who didn't grow up around here, like Ohlson, in which case your only comment for the record is a very lame "I think they're fortunate to have two great teams."
But fan loyalty only begins to describe the differences between Carter and Haddock. The two are miles apart, at opposite poles of the purchasing agent's profession. Carter, says Ohlson gently, is "fairly directed." If Harbin at Franklin wants a particular kind of valve, Carter goes and gets it for him. Carter may not even hear about an order until after the decision to proceed has been made. At Reynolds, by contrast, if Haddock's not in the loop, it's not going to happen. "Purchasing runs this damn place," Ohlson grumbles.
Some salespeople prefer a situation in which a guy like Haddock is in charge. The skills it demands are old-time skills: building friendships, scratching backs, finding a way to beat the competition on price. That's not Ohlson. His heart is with the engineers and the guys inside the plant. He fixed motors when he was a teenager, worked in a body shop, and lived for a while on a farm. After high school he spent two years at a college in Granite Falls, Minn., studying fluid power. He has technical skills that may even surpass his selling skills, and it's clear where his heart lies. "If the engineer thinks something is good for the plant," says Ohlson, "he ought to be able to say, 'This is what I want.' "
But that's not the way things work in Muscle Shoals -- Ohlson knows that. That's why he has come here first, to Haddock's office, to deliver his proposal; and only afterward will he go across the street and give a copy to Bob Wood, the engineer who requested it.
The proposal has three pages. Ohlson hands them over one by one, making sure Haddock has all the time he needs in between to read and ask questions. Page one is a cover letter. The only point of that is to make plain that Ohlson's not trying to sell Reynolds a solution to a problem it didn't know it had. It was Wood who recognized the problem, and Wood who asked for help solving it; Ohlson's not making this up. Page two describes the existing system (a self-contained hydraulic assembly, part of the production line), explains why it's inadequate, and outlines what needs to be done to make it right. Page three offers two solutions: Reynolds can buy either the components alone, which the Reynolds maintenance staff would then have to assemble and mount, for $3,100 (that was all Wood asked for); or a complete new package built, tested, and guaranteed by Activation, ready to bolt down on the day it arrives, for $5,300 (that was Ohlson's better idea). "That ain't bad at all," Haddock says, pulling on his cigarette. "Thought you was gonna bust my chops."
Not included in Ohlson's proposal are the technical drawings he made while he was designing the system. Perhaps that wouldn't be an issue with a different kind of purchasing agent; but Ohlson is afraid that if he gives Haddock the drawings now, he might use them to put the job up for bid. Haddock can have all the drawings he wants later, after Ohlson has his purchase order.
Next item. "I notice you're using Moog Servo valves," Ohlson says while Haddock lights another cigarette. "Where are you going for repairing and refurbishing those valves?"
Simple question, complicated motive. Moog Servos are expensive valves: they cost thousands of dollars to buy and hundreds to refurbish, a very profitable line. Ohlson knows that somebody is servicing Moog valves for Reynolds -- he saw the repair tags hanging from the valves the last time he was in the plant -- but who? He cares because Activation has just signed a contract to represent Moog in Alabama. Ohlson isn't sure yet whether Activation will be servicing Moog valves internally or taking orders and sending them back to the factory. Either way he wants the business.
