Page 1 of Their After Hours Playbook

One

Zach Armstrong’s manifesto was nearly complete. Fifty-seven tightly written pages, along with twenty-four supplemental graphs and diagrams. It was a road map to push Armstrong Sports into the twenty-first century and catapult them past the competition. Implementing this wasn’t going to be easy, but he was the CEO now. The boss. He’d been waiting his entire life for a chance like this.

With more than eighty employees, including thirty agents, several hundred athlete clients and a luxe, sprawling office in Midtown Manhattan, it was a massive responsibility. Everyone was counting on him for their livelihood. It wasn’t bravado, but he welcomed the challenge. He thrived on pressure, long hours and hard work. And the fact that his job brought together the three things he loved most in the world—sports, being an agent and his family—was all the inspiration and encouragement he would ever need.

Zach’s admin, Teri, stepped into the doorway of his office. Tall and trim, she wore her brown hair in a chin-length bob and seemed to always dress in gray. Zach had worked with her from his first days in the marketing department, when Teri showed him the ropes for a few years until he transitioned to being an agent. It was only right that Zach brought her along when he moved into the executive offices. “Is there anything else I can do for you before you head over to the draft?” Teri leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms over her chest.

He glanced at the time on his computer screen. The Women’s Professional Basketball Association, or WPBA, draft was set to happen in a little over an hour. “The day flew by. I’ve got to get going soon.” His vision swiftly returned to his work. He felt a tug deep in the center of his chest. He could hone this document for hours. That’s how strongly he believed in his mission, but also how much he knew it had to be perfect.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this, but I’m glad you are. I’m glad you’re dragging this agency out of the Stone Age.” Teri had worked for Armstrong for nearly twenty years. She started a good decade before Zach arrived. She was well aware of how things around there never seemed to change. Case in point—in the entire history of the firm, less than one percent of their clients had been female athletes.

“Growth requires progress and change, and I’m determined to grow our agency. The way I see it, I owe it to my dad.” Zach’s father was actually his stepdad, Tom Armstrong, who, until three weeks ago, had been the CEO of the company.

Teri walked into Zach’s office and nodded at one of the chairs in front of his desk. “May I?”

“Of course.”

She took a seat and crossed her legs. “Is that how you plan to sell all of this to Tom? As a growth strategy?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“The fact that I’m going to the draft?”

“No one from our agency has ever attended the event. Tom doesn’t know you’re going, does he?”

Zach shook his head and shut down his computer, then organized some folders on his desk. “No. He does not.”

“Zach, this thing is nationally televised. What if a camera catches you? Then everyone will know what you’re up to.”

It was ridiculous that this part of Zach’s plan might be deemed in any way controversial, but this was where he found himself. Zach’s stepdad, Tom, had always professed that it only made “smart fiscal sense” to focus on male athletes since they historically made more money in sports. Tom wasn’t wrong about that, but times were changing, and Zach was intent on creating a far more diverse client roster. This was about building resiliency within their company. If they didn’t, Armstrong might be left behind like the dinosaur it was quickly becoming.

“Hopefully no one will spot me on TV. And if they do, then I’ll deal with it. I’m having dinner with my mom and Tom tomorrow night. I’m presenting my plan to him then.”

“How do you think he’s going to take it?”

Despite Zach’s rules-be-damned approach, he was still unsure how this would all go. Certainly Tom would pick apart the economics of Zach’s idea to go outside their current business model. Plus, Zach was under strict orders not to upset Tom, lest his blood pressure get out of whack. “I’m going in armed with numbers. Lots and lots of numbers. With the amount of dollar signs attached, he’ll listen.”

“Good. He’ll like that aspect of things, I’m sure. Are you also going to tell him that you want to hire more women agents, too?”

“Absolutely. Of course, it’ll be a lot easier if you tell me that I can mention you as one of our new agents.”

“Oh, no. I’m happy being support staff in the executive offices. I’m not a shark like you.”

“I’m not a shark, Teri. I’m more of a honey badger.”

“Cute and fuzzy on the outside, but will do anything and everything to get what you want?”

He laughed quietly. “Precisely. I do not care what stands in my way.”

“I’m sure that’s what Tom loves most about you being in charge,” Teri said.

Zach hoped that proved to be true. Although Tom wasn’t his biological dad, Zach thought of him that way. He was the only father Zach had ever known. And he’d also been an incredible husband to Zach’s mom, who’d married Tom when Zach was only two years old. “I guess we’ll see, huh?”

“We sure will.” Teri straightened in her seat. “I’d wish you good luck, but something tells me you’ll do just fine in a room full of women.”

Zach laughed as he wrote himself a few notes in his planner for tomorrow. He did have a reputation for turning on the charm, but it was never anything intentional. It was just the way he was. It wasn’t his fault that women were drawn to him. Nor was it his fault that he often used that to his advantage. “A few women might not be super happy to see me there.”

“Let me guess. Paige Moss?”

“Tom never liked her. And apparently the feeling was mutual.” Tom’s advice rang loudly in his head. Watch out for Paige Moss. She’s a pit viper. Zach had never understood why Tom disliked Paige or her agency so much, but Tom had a poor opinion of other agents. They were all the enemy. Zach didn’t see it that way. Yes, they were competition, but Zach felt it was best practice to know everyone and play nice when possible. You never knew when a sliver of kindness might pay a dividend. And if you eventually had to screw someone over, hopefully they’d remember that you weren’t all bad. “I should probably get out of here.” He got up from his desk.

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