With the products flying off the shelves, Giovani, the Director of Market Operations, looked like a new man. Even though he and his team were pulling around-the-clock shifts and hadn't seen their own beds in days, he was operating on pure adrenaline. It was as if an industry veteran on the brink of retirement had suddenly found his second wind.
Like every other department at Militech, Market Ops was Giovani's personal creation. Because they'd moved so fast, their initial prep work—while solid—was completely steamrolled by the sheer volume of orders.
Tyler had tried to help oversee the chaos, and Nick lent a hand when he could, but both were green. At the end of the day, the heavy lifting required Giovani's decades of experience. Despite being new to the company, Giovani wasn't just punch-clocking; he saw the massive potential of this product and refused to let the momentum slip through his fingers. He had become the engine room of the company, and even Tyler knew when to step aside and let the pro work.
Nick was more than happy to delegate. A good leader knows when to get out of the way of a specialist, and since Giovani had the fire in him, Nick was going to let him run.
"Mr. Harryson, you've got to lean on the manufacturer," Giovani said, practically bursting into Nick's office. "We've had over a hundred thousand new orders in the last forty-eight hours alone. The backlog is sitting at six hundred thousand units. If we don't start moving product, the customers are going to revolt. I have people whose orders have been pending for nearly two weeks; we need to ship now."
It was the classic chef's nightmare: a dining room full of hungry guests and no more rice in the kitchen.
"I hear you, Giovani. Deep breaths," Nick said, raising a hand to calm him down. He tapped his earpiece. "Kacy, get Steve from Great Wall on the line. Steve, you heard that? My head of ops is in here breathing down my neck. You've got to give me something. You promised those new lines would be live by now. What's the hold-up?"
A middle-aged man's exhausted, apologetic voice came through the speaker. "Nick, buddy, I'm doing everything I can. We're pulling double shifts. These lines were slapped together on the fly—the hardware needs calibration and the new hires need training. It's a process. But I swear, they'll be humming within forty-eight hours. We aren't going to leave you hanging."
"I've heard this story before, Steve," Nick said, his voice tightening.
"I know, I know," Steve replied hurriedly. "I've been sleeping on a cot in the manager's office for three weeks. My tech leads haven't been home since Monday. This is it—the final push. Trust me on this."
"Two days, Steve. If we aren't shipping by then, I have to look at other options," Nick said firmly.
There was a brief pause, then Steve's voice dropped an octave, sounding dead serious. "Two days. If we aren't running, I'll personally fly down there to give you an explanation and cover the penalties for the delay."
"Fine. I'll take you at your word one last time. Thanks for the hustle, Steve. Once we're out of the woods, the steak and drinks are on me."
"Looking forward to it. Talk soon."
"Call ended," Kacy chimed in.
Nick let out a breath and looked at Giovani. "You heard the man. The new lines go live in forty-eight hours. That should take some of the heat off your department."
"I'll believe it when the tracking numbers start generating," Giovani said, though he looked slightly less stressed.
"Sit down for a second." Nick gestured to a chair and poured Giovani a cup of coffee. "He gave his word. In this business, that's all you've got. But even when they start moving, I need our QC team on-site to stay sharp. Speed is great, but a bad batch will kill us faster than a delay."
"Don't worry about that," Giovani assured him. "Every pallet goes through three rounds of inspection before it hits the truck. Our guys are doing random spot checks on the line to make sure the defect rate stays near zero. Plus, we're honoring the seven-day 'no questions asked' return policy with free shipping. We're covered."
"Good," Nick nodded. "On another note, Taylor just cleared a new batch of hires through HR. Most are fresh grads—zero experience, but they're hungry. Taylor wanted to put them through a month of training, but I told him we need warm bodies in Ops right now. They aren't ready for the big stuff, but they can handle the busy work. Get them some mentors; there's no better way to learn than in a foxhole."
Giovani sighed. "Fine, send them over. Even if they're just filing paperwork and answering basic tickets, it'll free up my senior staff."
He knew it was the only option. Even a shark like Taylor couldn't conjure experienced tech ops managers out of thin air in a week. Besides, Giovani preferred the "blank slate" approach. Fresh grads were easier to mold into the company culture than industry veterans who spent half their time looking for their next gig.
"Exactly," Nick smiled. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere. We're in 'war-time' mode right now—you just have to hang in there a little longer."