They're focused on bigger systems and desktops, which, along with
service, account for most of our business. I must concede that I
understand their lack of enthusiasm. We are an East Coast
company. We're buttoned-down numbers people. Out west, they do
things differently. Profits follow passions."
Matthew's eyes narrowed. "I think I'm beginning to catch your
drift."
"I'll get to the point, then. Wallaby's products are not
compatible with our systems. Ours take a lot of time to learn how
to use. Granted, Wallaby's Mate isn't a whole lot better, but
there's something about it that makes it friendlier, and it's
certainly easier to lug around."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Matthew quipped.
"Right. So I'm not going to beat around the bush. I've got
nothing to lose by sharing my fantasy with you." He took another
gulp of water, then went for it. "Matthew, I really like Wallaby.
I think it has created, and will keep creating, exciting
technologies. Peter Jones has an absolute vision of what small
computers should be. We at ICP can't do that. We are a big
company, with big computers." William's hands unfolded before
him. It was a gesture of offering. "So what if Peter Jones and
Wallaby became a part of ICP, but were left alone in California
to do their thing?"
Matthew was speechless.
"Say you, Matthew, were to go into Wallaby, the strong leader
that you are, and begin bending Jones and the company toward
becoming compatible with ICP's systems? Then, when the company is
oriented in a compatible direction, so that Wallaby's computers
can work with our big systems, ICP and Wallaby merge, but let
Wallaby maintain its freedom as an independently operated
subsidiary.
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