At 52, after 18 years of propping up a failing company, I sat in a boardroom while the CEO’s 27-year-old daughter — whose only qualification was her father’s wallet — flicked a manicured hand at…
“You’re underdressed for this meeting. ” The CEO’s daughter flicked a manicured hand toward my charcoal Armani suit like she was shooing away a pigeon. It was 7:45 a. m. on a Tuesday. The Boston high-rise boardroom smelled of burnt espresso and the specific metallic fear that comes before a $3 billion merger discussion. I’ve … Read more