Every search ends the same way: one chair, one name, and the room going quiet for a second.
Not a long list. Not a database.Four hundred conversations, twelve weeks, and a single name we'd put our own on. Nobody knows you're looking until you want them to.
Start a confidential conversationAround twenty searches a year, by choice. Enough to know every serious candidate in the market. Few enough that none of them is a file.
Every square is a person we spoke to. Not a search result. A conversation, usually an hour, usually somewhere that isn't an office.
They're running something well, somewhere else, and haven't thought about leaving. The first conversation is about their work, not your vacancy. The second one is the one that matters.
We interview the board, not the job description. What the last person got wrong. What "good" would look like in three years. Written up on two pages and signed.
Four hundred, give or take. Partners only. Nobody junior calls anybody. We tell you who we're talking to every Friday; you can stop any of them.
Half-day assessment each. References we find ourselves, not ones they give us. A written view on each, including the reasons not to.
We bring one. With a second in reserve you'll never need to meet. Then we stay through the offer, the resignation, and the first hundred days.
One fee, agreed before we start, paid in three equal parts. It doesn't move with the salary, so we have no reason to inflate it.
Twenty-two years in search. Placed the chief executives of nine companies you've heard of and forty you haven't, which she says are the better stories.
Former chair himself. Knows what a board meeting feels like from the other side of the table, and which candidates will survive one.
Eleven founder successions. Spends the first month with the founder and the last month with whoever replaces them. Both calls are hers.
A partner, an hour, somewhere that isn't your office. No proposal until you've decided you want one. Nobody is told you called.
Start a confidential conversation