HBR Case Study
BY JOHN HUMPHREYS, ZAFAR U. AHMED,
AND MILDRED PRYOR

World-Class Bull
Inspired sales ploy or ethical breach? be kidding me, Sam,”
Jeremy sputtered. “Chris brought in the single biggest piece of business we’ve won here in more than two years. He’s our top performer! He broke that logjam with Armadillo!
He was absolutely brilliant!”
From the window of his 10th-floor office at Specialty Fleet Services, sales vice president Jeremy Silva spied two of the bright yellow repair trucks of Armadillo Gas & Power a block away, flanking a rectangular gash in South Polk near the old Paramount building. Getting Armadillo’s lucrative fleet-management business had been a long, hard slog. Had it not been for the fiendishly clever machinations of sales ninja Christopher Knox (known as “Fort” to his colleagues, because of his golden touch), SFS would still be trying to dent Armadillo’s famously resistant armor. And now, to Jeremy’s amazement, human resources vice president Samantha Williams was informing him that she wanted to reprimand Knox for a breach of the SFS code of ethics.
“If ‘brilliant’ is a synonym for ‘devious,’ maybe so,” said Sam, eyebrows raised. Sam was Jeremy’s friend and frequent ally, having helped him push through a reorganization of the sales force, including new incentive and commission structures. But she was also currently the chair of SFS’s ethics review board.

“An ethics breach is an ethics breach.
As our code states, ‘deceptive business practices’ are unethical. There have to be consequences. And you, of all people, should know that.”
True enough, Jeremy thought.
When he had arrived at SFS five years ago, on the heels of an embarrassing kickback scandal, Jeremy had been a driving force behind creating the corporate code of ethics. And now it was being wielded against his star sales animal, Fort Knox. How had it come to this?

Daniel Vasconcellos

“YOU’VE GOT TO

One Tough Customer
Six months earlier, regional sales manager Will Meyers had returned from yet another frustrating visit with Armadillo’s
CFO, Dale Landry. “I just never get any closer,” he said with a sigh, collapsing into a booth with Jeremy and Fort, who were already digging into a late lunch at Texas Two-Step, Amarillo’s leading shrine to barbeque. Will was going to make them listen to him vent no matter what, and Jeremy got him going.
“So, Dale didn’t like the FleetNet demo?”
“He sat and watched, didn’t ask a single question, and shrugged when it was over,” Will grumbled.
HBR’s cases, which are fictional, present common managerial dilemmas and offer concrete solutions from experts.

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HBR Case Study World-Class Bull

FleetNet was SFS’s new online system for providing customized support to clients.
Using GPS-enabled modules installed in every vehicle, the system tracked location, miles traveled, fuel efficiency, and the driver’s behavior (speed, jackrabbit starts, hard stops, and so on) in real time. It also compiled maintenance and accident records, and tracked the cost of upkeep and repair for every vehicle a customer owned or leased, the vehicle’s up-to-theminute resale value, and countless other data points of vital interest to clients’

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fleet managers. It was consequently a thorn in Will’s side that even though Armadillo’s fleet manager was enthusiastic about FleetNet, he had to defer to Dale Landry, the only person authorized to pull the trigger on a change in the company’s fleetservice providers.
“Worst thing is Dale’s always encouraging me to drop by to make another pitch,” Will complained. “I think he’s kinda sadistic.”
Chris Knox licked barbeque sauce off his fingers. “Dale Landry…isn’t he

the guy with the hobby ranch by Palo
Duro?”
“Yeah, I think that’s him,” Will said.
“Only time he shows signs of life is when he’s talking about his bull. He said he showed it down in Lubbock last weekend, and it won some kind of a ribbon.
Whoop-de-freakin’-do.”
Fort nodded and stared at the pile of bones on his plate. “Would you mind if
I took a run at the guy? I think maybe I can get his attention.”
Will looked over at Jeremy, and Jeremy shrugged. “At this point, we’ve got nothing to lose, right?”

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“Nope,” Will agreed. “I’ve done everything I can think of. It’s time for someone else to try.”
“The commission’d be all yours,” Fort offered. “Nah,” Will said. “It’ll take Armageddon to land Armadillo. If you pull it off, you’ll have earned the commission – and you’re welcome to it.”
“The two of you will split it,” Jeremy said. “Fair’s fair.”

Bull Artist
Fort did his research. Dale and Carol
Landry had inherited their small but picturesque ranch (which Dale, being a CFO, would have admitted was the size of a rounding error compared with some of the far bigger spreads nearby).
The Landrys had a small herd of longhorn cattle and, indeed, one bull in particular that they were bumper-sticker proud of – as in, “My Bull’s Smarter than
Your Honor Student.”
Fort drove down to the Landry ranch on a Saturday morning. He’d planned

want you to think I was up to anything fishy.” “By all means,” she said. “My husband and I are very proud of Big Buddy. He’s won numerous awards.” Fort could almost swear that Carol Landry blushed.
He thanked her, excused himself, walked back down the fence line to where the bull was standing, took a dozen digital photos, and then went on his way.
On the long drive back to town, Fort stopped by a bridge over a modest brook that ran along the edge of some woods.
He watched the water sluice over colorful stones. It was hypnotic and serene, belying the restive forces at play beneath the surface.

Taking the Bait
“Hi there, remember me?” Fort inquired in a playful tone. Carol Landry did indeed remember the polite young man who had asked to take pictures of Big
Buddy. She invited him in. It had been a couple of weeks since their first encounter, and Fort had a surprise for the

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was up to anything fishy.” for the encounter to seem like a happy accident. As he turned up the winding drive to the residence, he saw an enormous longhorn bull standing by the fence, aloof from the herd. “If pursuing
Dale Landry hasn’t worked,” he thought,
“let’s see if I can get him to chase me.”
Knocking at the front door, Fort was in chess-player mode, thinking several moves ahead. Carol Landry answered the door. The game was on.
“Hi, there,” Fort offered cheerfully, his bright smile and personality on full display as the two introduced themselves. “I hate to bother you, but I was passing by and caught sight of that big bull of yours.
If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take some pictures of him. He’s pretty amazing.” Then he added, “I always believe it’s best to ask permission – I wouldn’t

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Landrys. He handed Carol Landry an elegantly framed photo of the impressive bovine. “The pictures turned out so well, I thought you might like to have one,” he said, beaming. In truth, Fort was an above-average amateur photographer.
Even if it hadn’t been part of his scheme, he would have been proud of the photo, the way he’d captured something essential about the subject – an impassive stubbornness, black eyes like glass. Fort’s pleasure with the print radiated to Carol.
“Wow, it’s just magnificent, Mr. Knox!” she exclaimed.
“Please. Call me Chris.”
She angled the photo on an entry table beside a leather-bound biography of the British explorer Henry Stanley. She continued to thank him as he grinned

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HBR Case Study World-Class Bull

car (Cadillac Escalade) so that he could ensure that Dale would be home for his next “spontaneous” visit.
He let three weeks pass – three weeks during which Dale Landry would see and appreciate daily the artful portrait of his beloved Big Buddy and would hear from his wife (more than once, Fort was certain) about the polite, thoughtful, generous young man who had taken the picture and had it framed for them. Time was his ally. It would be foolish to betray any eagerness. Like rich tea, the ingredients of Fort’s strategy needed to steep.

and made his getaway. But he wouldn’t be gone for long.
As Fort headed back down the road, away from the Landry ranch, a car came toward him over a rise. Behind the wheel he saw the impassive face of
Dale Landry, full of chiseled concentration, entirely unsuspecting. (Of course,
Fort had Googled Dale and Big Buddy and had found a number of photos of the two of them posed together, Big
Buddy looking utterly indifferent to the ribbons in which, judging by the size of his grin, Dale was taking such pleasure.)
Fort noted the make and model of the

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Springing the Trap
By the time of his next visit, Fort could barely refrain from congratulating himself as the Landrys’ driveway came into view. He was brilliant! He was positively clairvoyant! During the intervening weeks, through “casual observation” (a term he preferred to “surveillance”)
Fort had discovered that Dale Landry typically came home by noon on Fridays.
“Bingo!” Fort said to himself. Not only was Dale’s Escalade parked in front of the house, but he and Carol were outside, each brushing one of Big Buddy’s hefty flanks.

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“Dr. Landry, I presume?” Fort said, echoing, in a feeble British accent,
Henry Stanley’s famous salutation upon finding the elusive Dr. Livingstone.
“That’s me,” said CFO Landry.
“Dale,” said Carol Landry, “this is Chris, the nice man who brought us that wonderful picture of Big Buddy.” Then, turning to Fort, she said, “I’m very sorry to say I’ve forgotten your last name!”
“Knox. Chris Knox, Mr. Landry.” They shook hands.
“Well, Chris Knox, I’m real glad to be here to meet you. We truly do love the picture you took. This old bull is almost like family. So, thank you very much.”
At Carol’s insistence, they went inside for iced tea. “So, tell me, Chris, what do you do besides photographing large farm animals?” Dale asked. Fort told
Dale that he worked in sales for Specialty Fleet Services.
“Really?” Dale exclaimed. “That’s a heckuva coincidence. I’m with Armadillo Gas & Power, and you folks have been chasing my business for years.” After explaining that he worked a different territory, Fort offered a morsel. “We provide our customers with lots of data, very customized. Because of that we tend to focus on really large accounts.
I’m not that familiar with Armadillo
Gas, but maybe you don’t need the high level of service we offer. Maybe we’re a little more expensive than what you’ve got now.”
Fort noted the slight flaring of Dale’s nostrils – so interesting how people really do start to look like their pets. “Well,
I gotta run,” he said. “But, hey, I’m real glad you liked the photo.” He drained his iced tea, said his thank-yous, and left.
Dale Landry called first thing Monday morning – just as Fort figured he would.
But Fort didn’t return the call. Instead, that Friday, he brought the Landrys a calendar with photos of prize longhorns.
“This is so beautiful,” Carol said. But Dale seemed preoccupied, mostly asking Fort questions about “this online service-net thing you do.”
Fort also engineered a couple of other encounters (too many might have

aroused suspicion). Camera in hand, he ran into Dale Landry at a livestock auction one beautiful Saturday morning.
And in the middle of the following week,
Fort went to watch his nephew play a
Little League game, and there was Dale, watching his own kid – Dale, Jr. (nicknamed Little Buddy!) – play second base for the other team.
Every time he spoke with Fort, Dale seemed more agitated and more curious about SFS. Fort tried hard to contain himself. He couldn’t help thinking that Dale Landry was so accustomed to being pursued that he seemed kind of lame as a pursuer. Fort was invariably nonchalant, often redirecting their conversation away from business, as though that was the last thing on his mind.

“Where’s the harm? Nobody got cheated. Nobody paid a kickback.”
On a day when Dale had left two messages before lunch and one after, Fort figured it was time to call back. He’d barely gotten out “Hey, Dale” when the
Armadillo CFO cut him off. “I’d like to see that demo again,” he said. “Can you and Will Meyers come over here sometime tomorrow and run me through it?”

didn’t violate a single item in our ethics code. When all this happened, Landry wasn’t even a customer of SFS!”
“Technically speaking, maybe not,”
Sam said. “But the story of what Fort did is now an official source of motivation for our sales force. God forbid, but will people be out in the field trying to top him? The whole thing has me thinking that maybe the code of ethics has a blind spot in it.”

Time to Cut the Bull?
It was a happy day when Armadillo signed its contract with SFS. So pleased was Jeremy Silva with Fort’s performance that he sent an e-mail to the entire sales team (subject line: “world-class bull”) describing Fort’s every maneuver.
Jeremy wisely credited Will with having paved the way for what Fort finally achieved, making it easy for Will to be gracious toward his cocky colleague.
But some at SFS were less delighted than Jeremy and his team. Copies of Jeremy’s e-mail made their way through the company and, eventually, to the ethics review board. Now Jeremy was forced to defend Fort from the very ethics process he had initiated.

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“Look,” said Sam Williams, holding up a printout of Jeremy’s e-mail in praise of Fort’s tactics, “what if somebody sent this over to Landry? How do you think he would feel about SFS? He’d feel like we made a fool of him – and his wife!
And he’d be right! So, I think we have to ask ourselves, as an organization, when does a so-called smart sales strategy cross the line to become deceitful? Does this sort of thing put our relationships with clients at risk? Does it damage our reputation? The code requires us to deal honestly with customers and other stakeholders. Is this honest?”
Jeremy sputtered, “Where’s the harm?
Nobody got cheated. Nobody paid a kickback. Armadillo is getting a better service than it had before. And Fort

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