People in America: My Uncle Don Quixote

Chapter 313 The 36 Stratagems: Using a Stratagem Against Another (Bonus Chapter 1/3, Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Midtown Manhattan, PepsiCo North American Headquarters Building.

When Richard Wayne, president of PepsiCo North America (Chapter 297), pushed open the conference room door, two interns in the hallway were so frightened that they pressed themselves against the wall.

It's not their fault; for the past six hours, Richard Wayne's roars in that conference room could be heard clearly throughout the entire floor.

Richard Wayne, furious, didn't even glance at the two minor characters and strode toward the elevator.

His personal assistant, Sean, had to jog to keep up with him.

This debriefing session regarding Levi's LW beverage was originally scheduled to conclude on the night of the Super Bowl.

However, due to a lack of data that day, the departments shifting blame to each other, and Gatorade still having a lot of unresolved issues from its own investigation, the debriefing process was dragged on for three days before a final conclusion was reached.

Richard Wayne summarized the core of this six-hour debriefing meeting, involving seven departments including Gatorade, PepsiCo North America, supply chain, public relations, and legal, in a single sentence: "We were fucked by a 19-year-old, it's that simple."

It wasn't a misjudgment of his ball skills, since that's something the whole world can see; rather, Gatorade misjudged the perceived threat posed by LW beverages.

Richard Wayne immediately demoted and transferred the senior vice president of PepsiCo's North American strategic investment department.

This senior vice president was the first to propose targeting Li Wei, and even sent a man named Mason Reed to probe the acquisition of LW.

The beverage, and the fact that this action wasn't reported to him, is utterly foolish.

“Mr. Tucker,” Richard Wayne said, “you need to know that the trigger for this incident wasn’t because you wanted to target him. You were right, it’s just that you were fucking too slow.”

"You were the first person to get close to him. When Mason Reed went to the golf course, LW was just a concept. How much was he worth back then? 5 million? 10 billion? If you had just offered 10 billion US dollars to buy him outright, this whole thing would be over."

"So," he said, looking at the former senior vice president of strategic investment at PepsiCo North America, "get out of here, go where you belong, clear out your office, and stop hanging around in front of me."

After saying that, he glanced at all the attendees who had bury their heads in the sand, snorted coldly, and left the conference room.

In the underground parking lot, a black Maybach was waiting in its parking space.

Richard Wayne opened the back door and got in, followed closely by his assistant Sean, who opened his iPad to prepare a report on the upcoming schedule.

"Mr. Wayne, your dinner meeting is scheduled for 7:30," he said, glancing at the schedule. "The location is the Angus Hall on the third floor of the Metropolitan Club. The NFL has already cleared the area."

Richard Wayne nodded without saying anything, and gestured for the driver to start the car.

The Metropolitan Club is located at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and 60th Street on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. It was founded in 1891 by J.P. Morgan.

This Italian Renaissance limestone building has witnessed over a century of American economic transactions, as well as countless scandals, conspiracies, and betrayals.

The walls inside are probably the walls in all of New York that most need psychological counseling.

The Maybach drove onto Sixth Avenue, while Manhattan's traffic snaked and crawled along.

As luck would have it, the Maybach got stuck in front of a newsstand.

As Richard Wayne looked out the window, he saw a life-size poster on the side of the newsstand, showing Levi wearing a dark blue jersey and holding the Lombardi Trophy, the symbol of the championship, in one hand.

He suddenly turned to look at his assistant, Sean.

"Get out of the car," he said.

"Huh?" Sean was taken aback. "Now?"

"Go tear down that newsstand poster for me," Richard Wayne gestured with his chin. "Hurry up."

"Okay, okay."

Sean was no stranger to Richard Wayne's unreasonable demands, or rather, he was quite adept at doing such things.

He immediately unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the car, and tore the poster down in one swift motion.

"Hey!" the newsstand owner rushed out, "Are you an idiot?"

"Sorry, sorry," Sean immediately pulled out $100 and handed it to the newsstand owner. "This is for you as compensation. I'm really sorry."

"You should have said so earlier," the newsstand owner said with a smile. "I have a few left. I'll sell them to you cheap if you want them, 50."

One US dollar bill will suffice.

Sean ignored him completely and squeezed back into the Maybach before the traffic began to move.

As the traffic crawled along, Levi's face disappeared from his sight, and Richard Wayne felt his mood improve slightly.

"Alright," he said now, "tell me about the people who are here tonight, is there anyone I need to be particularly careful about?"

Sean scrolled through the encrypted memo on his phone: "Today's guests include Howard Payne, Vice President of the NFL Competitions Committee, and Alan Donovan, Vice President of Business Development for the League—"

'

"Allen's here?" Richard Wayne paused, then smiled. "Looks like the NFL can't sit still this time either."

“Yes, but he was invited by the competition committee,” Sean said. “In addition, the representative from the gaming side is Jason, a special advisor to the Las Vegas Integrated Gaming Commission.”

"I don't know him," Richard shook his head. "Continue."

"Then this time a total of 18 teams participated in the meeting, and they jointly nominated 3 representatives: Dallas Cowboys President of Operations Stephen Jones, Kansas City Chiefs General Manager Brett Vicki, and San Francisco 49ers Owner Jed York."

The Dallas Cowboys and the Giants are rivals; this game is a grudge match.

The Chiefs' Mahomes lost the title of the world's best quarterback to the Giants' Levy.

The 49ers' quarterback was even forced to retire on the spot by Levi in ​​the Super Bowl. Although Marcus Anderson himself didn't think so, his boss, Jade York, was notoriously petty.

"What about John Mara?" Richard Wayne asked. "Is he confirmed to be attending?"

"It's confirmed, but his assistant said he might be a little late for a follow-up check-up after chemotherapy."

Richard Wayne nodded and closed his eyes to rest.

Sean wisely turned off his phone, trying not to make any noise.

About 15 minutes later.

The Maybach stopped at the edge of the red carpet, and Richard Wayne opened his eyes.

"Let's go," he said, getting out of the car first.

Stepping off the red carpet, he effortlessly made his way through the portico. The shadows cast by the stone pillars above under the lights made his face appear alternately white and black.

Richard Wayne entered the lobby on the first floor and, guided by a waiter, took the wooden elevator, which was reserved for members, to the third floor.

The carpet in the third-floor corridor is so thick that it absorbs all sound; even if someone were killed here, their screams wouldn't be heard outside the building.

Richard Wayne reached the end of the corridor, completely ignoring the "Under Maintenance" sign hanging on the double doors, and pushed them open.

After entering, he glanced around and found that most of the people had already arrived.

At the long table in the center of the room, Howard Payne, vice chairman of the League Competition Committee, sat at one end, with Alan Donovan beside him.

To his left are three team executives, representing the will of the 18 league teams.

Richard Wayne sat in the middle of the long table, leaving the last seat to the special advisor to the Las Vegas Gaming Commission.

Each person had a thick stack of documents in front of them.

Everyone is waiting for one person to arrive.

After an unknown amount of time, the door was pushed open by a waiter, and John Mara walked in.

He looked thinner than during the Super Bowl, and was slightly out of breath just walking from the elevator to the lobby entrance.

John Mara.

He finally arrived.

He seemed a little slow as he walked to the other end of the long table and sat down opposite Howard Payne.

Then the two sides fell into a five-minute silence.

No one spoke first.

John Mara remained calm and composed, seemingly unconcerned about the meeting, as if he were a completely unrelated old man who had come here simply to watch the show.

Howard Payne didn't want to speak first either.

In negotiations, once someone speaks first, their tone, actions, and expressions will be noticed by the opponent. Whoever speaks first is the first to show weakness. This is a basic skill in negotiation.

In a sense, this is what it means for a wise person to speak slowly.

Allen, Richard Wayne, the special advisor from Las Vegas, and the three representatives all looked at Howard Payne.

Finally, Howard couldn't hold back any longer and spoke up: "John Mara," he said, "do you know why this meeting is being held today?"

"I don't know," John Mara said with a smile. "I thought they were coming to invite me to dinner."

Howard Payne almost slammed his fist on the table and cursed.

What do you mean by inviting him to dinner? What is this old fox pretending to be stupid about?

He took a deep breath and swallowed back the swear words that were about to come out.

"John, since you insist that I make myself clear," he tapped the table, "then I will make myself clear."

He opened the document and read it aloud, item by item.

"After the playoffs, more than 41% of viewers said they would watch less of other teams' games if the Giants remain undefeated next season," he said, staring at John Mara. "That means 30 teams' stats for 15 games will decline because of the Giants' improved stats. The Giants are harming the interests of all other teams."

"Regarding the betting odds," he glanced at Jason, the special advisor to Las Vegas, "I won't go into details here; Mr. Jason will explain it to you separately. But I must point out that because the Giants have performed so well this season, the entire U.S. betting industry has lost at least $4 million in profits compared to previous years."

"Sponsor's Perspective 1"

Richard Wayne coughed, seizing the opportunity, "I know Mr. John Marat, so I'll just say it directly."

He looked at John Mara and said eagerly, "Gatorade, a PepsiCo subsidiary, is the only official beverage sponsor of the NFL. Due to the malicious competition from Levi's LW beverage, PepsiCo's stock price has evaporated by nearly 10 billion US dollars. Gatorade's sales at this year's Super Bowl also fell short of expectations. We are considering whether to join forces with Under Armour and Nike to reduce our sponsorship amount for the NFL next season."

After he finished speaking, he seemed to want to express some opinions about Levi, but Howard stopped him with a look.

He instantly understood that the main point of this negotiation was to win over John Mara, not Levy.

He gave Howard a look and closed the file.

"Thank you, Mr. Richard Wayne," Howard said, turning his gaze to the silent John Mara. "John, I'm not here to argue with you. These are real figures. You've been in this industry your whole life; you know that."

He paused.

"Your player is indeed a genius; he may even be the most talented player in NFL history, and no one can deny that. But the league should not sacrifice the interests of the other 31 teams to achieve its own success at the expense of one genius or the peak of one team. This is not in line with the core spirit of the NFL since its inception."

1

"My question is simple—John, what are you going to do?"