Chad

I first saw Chad Beckstrom at Jim Stafford's funeral, and that consisted of a look which said you're that guy makin' a move on my girl. All I'd done was say hello to Michelle, who I'd met twice before.

Beckstrom works at Stafford Oil. I can't say he got a massive promotion there thanks to me, but his hiring as the head of field operations in the Permian Basin for the company mostly coincided with my getting rolling on the restructuring of the company they hired me to do.

When Michael Stafford brought Chad in to interview for the Midland job, I sat across the conference table and watched him describe Stafford's Permian operations as a "clusterfuck" — which was accurate, and the most useful thing he said all afternoon. He also hit Michael up for a fifty-thousand-dollar housing allowance on the spot, which Michael agreed to before I could say a word. At some point in the proceedings, Chad said something under his breath that I won't repeat here. Let's just say he has opinions about men who wear nice shoes.

Here's the thing about Chad: he's going to do the job. He'll live in Midland, he'll put in the hours, and he will get Stafford's Permian operations right. That is not nothing. That is, in fact, exactly what Michael needs and what I'm being paid to recommend. I need him. I just don't have to like him.

The other thing is Michelle. Chad is both her boyfriend and, now, the man with the future of my largest consulting client in his hands. Which means that particular door stays closed, and I'm the one who has to be okay with that.

So far I'm managing.

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