Chapter Fifty-Five: Recruitment?

You know, people at White Pictures are well aware that sequels to Police Academy can make money. Do you really think they’re clueless about their own business? With an investment of several million dollars, there’s no way they lack the funds. Don’t be misled by White Pictures’ modest size—when it comes to cash flow, they’re among the most well-funded in Hollywood. Judging by their shooting schedule, next year’s film also seems to be a small production.

It appears their strategy is to stick with small-budget comedies. Even if Police Academy hadn’t been a hit, their risk would have been minimal. Worst case, they could always shoot a sequel. That’s exactly how MGM operated in later years—whenever the company was on the brink of collapse, they’d borrow money to make another James Bond film, their lifeline that repeatedly revived the half-dead studio.

While people marveled at White Pictures, news broke in the IT world: the Big Blue planned to invest forty million dollars to acquire a forty percent stake in White Software.

Valuation and an actual deal are two different things. If Big Blue succeeded in buying in, that so-called valuation would inevitably soar.

Yet the external chatter didn’t affect White Software’s plans. Some thought the valuation was too high, others thought there was still room to grow. What none of them expected was that White Software turned down the offer.

The reasoning was interesting: the cap for strategic investors was five percent; anything more wouldn’t be accepted.

Clearly, they weren’t even interested in discussing valuation. Obviously, a hundred million dollars meant nothing to them—whether you invest or not is irrelevant.

In truth, William White was torn. While he wasn’t averse to working with a giant, he didn’t want to be ousted from his own company. The current shares couldn’t be divided up like that—at least, not now.

He also knew full well that perhaps they were merely testing the waters—otherwise, there wouldn’t be so much public noise. The board was probably divided as well.

If they really wanted to buy in, it would be done quietly. Who would make such an overt approach, scaring the founder half to death?

For William White, Big Blue’s interest wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He certainly wouldn’t agree to such a disguised takeover, which meant there was no basis for cooperation.

Should he develop an operating system himself? At that time, the prevailing OS was DOS, and the graphical interface had been pioneered by Macintosh.

Old Joe was undoubtedly a tragic figure. Even after his hardware flopped, he still had a chance for a comeback—but once Bill Gates got hold of the graphical OS, Apple’s disaster became inevitable.

Corporate traditions are indeed a strange thing. Apple, being an insular company, chose to be domineering—that was their only way. Aside from the few programs White Software supplied, they’d already started charging tolls for others.

In fact, White paid their tolls too—thirty percent of sales, not a small sum. But greed is hard to curb; now they wanted fifty percent.

William White refused without a second thought. If there wasn’t a fair environment, White Software could just withdraw from the Apple ecosystem entirely.

Apple never expected someone to be even more decisive than they were—White simply threw in the towel and walked away.

Although they suspected it was just posturing, they didn’t dare risk it—William White was a madman, and you’d better not test his limits.

Could they actually bar him from the Apple system? Don’t be ridiculous—this is America, land of antitrust. At most, they could suggest clients not use his software or recommend alternatives. Beyond that, it was out of the question.

William White suspected Apple might also want a stake; after all, insiders are more persuasive when it comes to a company’s prospects.

Now, the bystanders were thoroughly confused.

A software company valued at a hundred million, a film company that’s already made at least that much—trying to discuss valuations was pointless, no one knew how to measure them.

Among the Big Seven studios, the weakest, United Artists, was valued at less than four hundred million. If you claimed White Pictures was worth two hundred million, few would object.

But comparing them to United Artists seemed absurd. The latter still had James Bond and a massive film library.

Their strength was far greater, yet their valuation was barely double. What an incomprehensible comparison!

United Artists’ frustration was palpable. If not for their greed, they would have enjoyed substantial returns.

Distribution channels aren’t easy to build—hasn’t anyone noticed White Pictures is throwing money around like mad?

Not only is United Artists missing out on profits, they’re facing hefty fines. Most importantly, relations with White Pictures have soured beyond repair. How this will affect the future is anyone’s guess.

William White no longer frequented the school to chase girls, much to everyone’s relief. Had he continued his exploits on campus, it would have been utter chaos.

It wasn’t out of saintliness—playing the innocent is fine occasionally, but doing it long-term leads to a split personality. Besides, he wasn’t a stamp collector; there was no need to cultivate such a reputation.

Society is forgiving toward students, but having become a successful figure, his image now mattered. If a real scandal broke out, would he own up or run away?

Don’t be surprised—some things are just the byproducts of youth. They’re not ready to shoulder responsibility.

It’s nothing new in America—even the great Joe tried to shirk responsibility, claiming he wasn’t up to the task.

Ha! Even legends had their wild days. Once they’re successful, nobody brings up such awkward stories—his reputation remains spotless.

Having an illegitimate child isn’t a big deal, as long as the woman is reliable. But if they’re twins—one yours, one the neighbor’s—then things get interesting.

As has been said, unless you’re in a committed relationship, don’t expect much from college romance. It’s just too chaotic. If you mapped everyone’s connections, you’d be shocked to find you’re indirectly linked to almost everyone. If something went wrong, you’d be beyond regret.

Then, there’s the matter of driving skills. As a professional driver, he needed a supercar—family sedans just weren’t suitable. Technical failures, from a blown engine to a flat tire, would only annoy him.

All the super machines were in Hollywood. The famed goddesses of past lives each had unique talents—otherwise, how could they have become legends?

Is it just a pretty face? Hardly! Beautiful girls are a dime a dozen in Hollywood—so common, they’re nearly an epidemic. Most of the handsome men and women end up doing action films.

A few thousand dollars is enough to sign them—yet even these “worthless” resources are hotly contested.

Does being attractive guarantee fame? Not at all!

There’s no telling with chemistry—some lucky souls do step easily onto the first rung, but after that, it’s all up to them.

Leisurely days pass quickly. Despite his spotty attendance, he managed his studies quite well.

The professors had nothing to say—as long as he earned his credits, they wouldn’t make things difficult.

Special treatment exists in America too, not just elsewhere—though it might be more common elsewhere, that’s all.