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What wisdom could a horse trainer have to offer a corporate manager? Let's start with the fact that the word "manage" has an equine origin. It comes from Latin, by way of the Italian "maneggiare"--to handle, to train horses. To find out whether the connection goes any further than etymology, senior editor Julia Kirby interviewed the man who is perhaps the most famous thoroughbred trainer of all time: D. Wayne Lukas. Over the course of his 40-year career, Lukas has broken virtually every record in the history of the sport. He's had a horse in every Kentucky Derby for the past 23 years. In 14 different years, he has made more money than any other trainer in the United States; his lifetime earnings mark is now approaching an incredible $250 million. Although his accomplishments are undeniable, Lukas remains a controversial figure in his industry. Early on, he bucked long-standing traditions and came up with a training program unlike anyone else's. His willingness to ship horses across the country to compete in fields where they had better chances of prevailing meant more victories, happier clients, and a reputation for success that brought Lukas even better horses. One of the biggest assets a trainer can have is a good eye for selecting not just talented horses but also talented assistants. Horse training is a trial-and-error, learn-by-experience profession, and a lot of it is handed down. There aren't any books that demonstrate how to train a horse to win the Kentucky Derby. Lukas may be famous for holding almost every record in racing, but his ability to develop a whole new generation of great trainers may be his most important legacy.

Ed Davidson is on top of the world, literally and figuratively, at the beginning of this fictional case study. He's in the Swiss Alps, headed for Davos and his first experience as a delegate to the World Economic Forum's annual conference. And he has reason to believe he is about to be made president of his company, Carston Waite--and, therefore, heir apparent to the CEO position. Then his phone rings. It's his mentor, Frank Maugham, the CFO and a board member at Carston Waite, calling to inform him of a major setback. "David asked me to let you know you are not going to be named president," he says. "At least not yet. He wants to stay close to the business." But Frank has a plan to change the CEO's mind. Meanwhile, Ed feels betrayed and humiliated--and his desire for revenge against the CEO mounts. When the news comes that Frank's plan has failed and has cost Frank his job, Ed is already deep in a plot of his own. He's in Davos because David had to back out; Ed is supposed to deliver the CEO's remarks in his stead. But why not use this opportunity on the world stage instead to deal a parting blow? In R0401A and R0401Z, a psychoanalyst, a psychiatrist, an executive coach, and a governance expert comment on Ed's state of mind and his best course of action. They are Kenneth Eisold, the president of the International Society for the Psychoanalytic Study of Organizations; Dee Soder, the founder and managing partner of the CEO Perspective Group; Jeffrey P. Kahn, the CEO of WorkPsych Associates; and Charles M. Elson, the Edgar S. Woolard, Jr., Chair of Corporate Governance at the University of Delaware.

Ed Davidson is on top of the world, literally and figuratively, at the beginning of this fictional case study. He's in the Swiss Alps, headed for Davos and his first experience as a delegate to the World Economic Forum's annual conference. And he has reason to believe he is about to be made president of his company, Carston Waite--and, therefore, heir apparent to the CEO position. Then his phone rings. It's his mentor, Frank Maugham, the CFO and a board member at Carston Waite, calling to inform him of a major setback. "David asked me to let you know you are not going to be named president," he says. "At least not yet. He wants to stay close to the business." But Frank has a plan to change the CEO's mind. Meanwhile, Ed feels betrayed and humiliated--and his desire for revenge against the CEO mounts. When the news comes that Frank's plan has failed and has cost Frank his job, Ed is already deep in a plot of his own. He's in Davos because David had to back out; Ed is supposed to deliver the CEO's remarks in his stead. But why not use this opportunity on the world stage instead to deal a parting blow? In R0401A and R0401Z, a psychoanalyst, a psychiatrist, an executive coach, and a governance expert comment on Ed's state of mind and his best course of action. They are Kenneth Eisold, the president of the International Society for the Psychoanalytic Study of Organizations; Dee Soder, the founder and managing partner of the CEO Perspective Group; Jeffrey P. Kahn, the CEO of WorkPsych Associates; and Charles M. Elson, the Edgar S. Woolard, Jr., Chair of Corporate Governance at the University of Delaware.

Ed Davidson is on top of the world, literally and figuratively, at the beginning of this fictional case study. He's in the Swiss Alps, headed for Davos and his first experience as a delegate to the World Economic Forum's annual conference. And he has reason to believe he is about to be made president of his company, Carston Waite--and, therefore, heir apparent to the CEO position. Then his phone rings. It's his mentor, Frank Maugham, the CFO and a board member at Carston Waite, calling to inform him of a major setback. "David asked me to let you know you are not going to be named president," he says. "At least not yet. He wants to stay close to the business." But Frank has a plan to change the CEO's mind. Meanwhile, Ed feels betrayed and humiliated--and his desire for revenge against the CEO mounts. When the news comes that Frank's plan has failed and has cost Frank his job, Ed is already deep in a plot of his own. He's in Davos because David had to back out; Ed is supposed to deliver the CEO's remarks in his stead. But why not use this opportunity on the world stage instead to deal a parting blow? In R0401A and R0401Z,a psychoanalyst, a psychiatrist, an executive coach, and a governance expert comment on Ed's state of mind and his best course of action. They are Kenneth Eisold, the president of the International Society for the Psychoanalytic Study of Organizations; Dee Soder, the founder and managing partner of the CEO Perspective Group; Jeffrey P. Kahn, the CEO of WorkPsych Associates; and Charles M. Elson, the Edgar S. Woolard, Jr., Chair of Corporate Governance at the University of Delaware.

Supply chain management is all about software and systems, right? Put in the best technology, sit back, and watch as your processes run smoothly and the savings roll in? Apparently not. When HBR convened a panel of leading thinkers in the field of supply chain management, technology was not top of mind. People and relationships were the dominant issues of the day. The opportunities and problems created by globalization, for example, are requiring companies to establish relationships with new types of suppliers. The ever-present pressure for speed and cost containment is making it even more important to break down stubbornly high internal barriers and establish more effective cross-functional relationships. The costs of failure have never been higher. The leading supply chain performers are applying new technology, new innovations, and process thinking to far greater advantage than the laggards, reaping tremendous gains in all the variables that affect shareholder value: cost, customer service, asset productivity, and revenue generation. And the gap between the leaders and the losers is growing in almost every industry. This roundtable gathered many of the leading thinkers and doers in the field of supply chain management, including practitioners Scott Beth of Intuit, Sandra Morris of Intel, and Chris Gopal of Unisys. David Burt of the University of San Diego and Stanford's Hau Lee bring the latest research from academia. Accenture's William Copacino and the Warren Co.'s Robert Porter Lynch offer the consultant's perspectives.

Preparations for GPC's 75th anniversary are in full swing when the company archivist, David Fisher, uncovers a stash of letters from the founder to a wartime sweetheart. Amid Hud Parker's declarations of devotion is a page featuring formulas for GPC's first product, Parkelite. But it seems clear from the document that Hud Parker was not the miracle plastic's true inventor. David recalls that a lawsuit was brought against the company in 1938 by the father of Karl Gintz, claiming that his son, by then deceased, had been the sole inventor of Parkelite. Hud and Karl had been fellow chemistry students at Princeton, close friends, and army buddies. The lawsuit was decided in favor of GPC, but, David believes, this newly unearthed document would have allowed the Gintz family to prevail. Now Hap Parker, grandson of the founder and GPC's current CEO, must decide what to do. His grandfather's name doesn't deserve to be impugned: Even if Hud hadn't invented Parkelite, he built the company that brought it, and many innovations since, to market. Newland Lowell, GPC's lawyer, counsels Hap that it may not be necessary to divulge the discovery. He lays out a convincing argument that this evidence might not have changed the trial's outcome and he states that no heirs to Karl Gintz have been located. He speculates, plausibly, that the two fellow chemists might have been collaborating on the innovation all along. Still, concealment makes Hap uncomfortable: GPC's corporate culture has always embraced integrity. He's just decided to make the finding public when a chance encounter with three managers gives him pause again. Is it fair to GPC's 8,000 employees to destroy a myth--even if it is a myth--that informs a vibrant and fair-dealing culture? In R0206A and R0206Z, four commentators weigh in on this fictional case.

Preparations for GPC's 75th anniversary are in full swing when the company archivist, David Fisher, uncovers a stash of letters from the founder to a wartime sweetheart. Amid Hud Parker's declarations of devotion is a page featuring formulas for GPC's first product, Parkelite. But it seems clear from the document that Hud Parker was not the miracle plastic's true inventor. David recalls that a lawsuit was brought against the company in 1938 by the father of Karl Gintz, claiming that his son, by then deceased, had been the sole inventor of Parkelite. Hud and Karl had been fellow chemistry students at Princeton, close friends, and army buddies. The lawsuit was decided in favor of GPC, but, David believes, this newly unearthed document would have allowed the Gintz family to prevail. Now Hap Parker, grandson of the founder and GPC's current CEO, must decide what to do. His grandfather's name doesn't deserve to be impugned: Even if Hud hadn't invented Parkelite, he built the company that brought it, and many innovations since, to market. Newland Lowell, GPC's lawyer, counsels Hap that it may not be necessary to divulge the discovery. He lays out a convincing argument that this evidence might not have changed the trial's outcome and he states that no heirs to Karl Gintz have been located. He speculates, plausibly, that the two fellow chemists might have been collaborating on the innovation all along. Still, concealment makes Hap uncomfortable: GPC's corporate culture has always embraced integrity. He's just decided to make the finding public when a chance encounter with three managers gives him pause again. Is it fair to GPC's 8,000 employees to destroy a myth--even if it is a myth--that informs a vibrant and fair-dealing culture? In R0206A and R0206Z, four commentators weigh in on this fictional case.

Preparations for GPC's 75th anniversary are in full swing when the company archivist, David Fisher, uncovers a stash of letters from the founder to a wartime sweetheart. Amid Hud Parker's declarations of devotion is a page featuring formulas for GPC's first product, Parkelite. But it seems clear from the document that Hud Parker was not the miracle plastic's true inventor. David recalls that a lawsuit was brought against the company in 1938 by the father of Karl Gintz, claiming that his son, by then deceased, had been the sole inventor of Parkelite. Hud and Karl had been fellow chemistry students at Princeton, close friends, and army buddies. The lawsuit was decided in favor of GPC, but, David believes, this newly unearthed document would have allowed the Gintz family to prevail. Now Hap Parker, grandson of the founder and GPC's current CEO, must decide what to do. His grandfather's name doesn't deserve to be impugned: Even if Hud hadn't invented Parkelite, he built the company that brought it, and many innovations since, to market. Newland Lowell, GPC's lawyer, counsels Hap that it may not be necessary to divulge the discovery. He lays out a convincing argument that this evidence might not have changed the trial's outcome and he states that no heirs to Karl Gintz have been located. He speculates, plausibly, that the two fellow chemists might have been collaborating on the innovation all along. Still, concealment makes Hap uncomfortable: GPC's corporate culture has always embraced integrity. He's just decided to make the finding public when a chance encounter with three managers gives him pause again. Is it fair to GPC's 8,000 employees to destroy a myth--even if it is a myth--that informs a vibrant and fair-dealing culture? In R0206A and R0206Z, four commentators weigh in on this fictional case.

Eric Palmer arrived at the top floor of Camden Robotics, a supplier of industrial automation tools, excited to tell CEO Tom O'Reilly about his latest win: a print ad account with a well-known local software maker. "You pulled in more business?" the boss responded. "It's really working out, then, isn't it?" Six months earlier, Palmer, the head of marketing communications at Camden, had been in a less optimistic mood as he'd walked into the executive suite. His department had recently expanded and hired some pricey designers, but because of the economic slowdown, Camden was launching fewer marketing campaigns, and Palmer had feared that his department would be targeted for layoffs. Instead, O'Reilly proposed recasting the marketing function as a business unit. It would continue to provide services to other units within the company, but it would also be free to engage in "value pricing" and could propose project work internally just as outside agencies might. In addition, the new group, Creative Central, could serve customers outside Camden in its spare time to earn revenue to defray its expenses. At first, the reaction to the news was overwhelmingly positive across the company. Palmer was thriving in the role of corporate entrepreneur. But several months into the change, the complaints started. As the discontent grows, O'Reilly is left to decide whether this organizational change is working. In R0204A and R0204Z, commentators Dan Logan, Michael McKenney, Mark P. Rice, and Jeffrey W. Bennett weigh in on this fictional case study.

Eric Palmer arrived at the top floor of Camden Robotics, a supplier of industrial automation tools, excited to tell CEO Tom O'Reilly about his latest win: a print ad account with a well-known local software maker. "You pulled in more business?" the boss responded. "It's really working out, then, isn't it?" Six months earlier, Palmer, the head of marketing communications at Camden, had been in a less optimistic mood as he'd walked into the executive suite. His department had recently expanded and hired some pricey designers, but because of the economic slowdown, Camden was launching fewer marketing campaigns, and Palmer had feared that his department would be targeted for layoffs. Instead, O'Reilly proposed recasting the marketing function as a business unit. It would continue to provide services to other units within the company, but it would also be free to engage in "value pricing" and could propose project work internally just as outside agencies might. In addition, the new group, Creative Central, could serve customers outside Camden in its spare time to earn revenue to defray its expenses. At first, the reaction to the news was overwhelmingly positive across the company. Palmer was thriving in the role of corporate entrepreneur. But several months into the change, the complaints started. As the discontent grows, O'Reilly is left to decide whether this organizational change is working. In R0204A and R0204Z, commentators Dan Logan, Michael McKenney, Mark P. Rice, and Jeffrey W. Bennett weigh in on this fictional case study.

Eric Palmer arrived at the top floor of Camden Robotics, a supplier of industrial automation tools, excited to tell CEO Tom O'Reilly about his latest win: a print ad account with a well-known local software maker. "You pulled in more business?" the boss responded. "It's really working out, then, isn't it?" Six months earlier, Palmer, the head of marketing communications at Camden, had been in a less optimistic mood as he'd walked into the executive suite. His department had recently expanded and hired some pricey designers, but because of the economic slowdown, Camden was launching fewer marketing campaigns, and Palmer had feared that his department would be targeted for layoffs. Instead, O'Reilly proposed recasting the marketing function as a business unit. It would continue to provide services to other units within the company, but it would also be free to engage in "value pricing" and could propose project work internally just as outside agencies might. In addition, the new group, Creative Central, could serve customers outside Camden in its spare time to earn revenue to defray its expenses. At first, the reaction to the news was overwhelmingly positive across the company. Palmer was thriving in the role of corporate entrepreneur. But several months into the change, the complaints started. As the discontent grows, O'Reilly is left to decide whether this organizational change is working. In R0204A and R0204Z, commentators Dan Logan, Michael McKenney, Mark P. Rice, and Jeffrey W. Bennett weigh in on this fictional case study.

When you think of UPS, what comes to mind? Most likely, you conjure up images of brown delivery vans, but this $30 billion company is much more than a package delivery carrier. Since its founding in 1907, UPS has continually broadened its territory, its offerings, and its mission to better serve a changing marketplace. Today, it employs over 360,000 people and operates in some 200 countries and territories. In this interview, CEO Jim Kelly--who began his UPS career 37 years ago as a driver--talks candidly about the challenges of trying to grow such a huge, mature business. He explains the company's focus on international expansion: "Going forward, the rest of the world offers more growth opportunity than the United States because we have a long way to go to achieve the same density abroad that we have domestically." And he discusses how UPS chooses which new business streams to pursue. To move forward, Kelly says, UPS has had to recast its mission: UPS enables global commerce not just by delivering packages but by facilitating the worldwide flow of information and funds as well. His biggest problem, he admits, has been giving UPS employees the confidence to take on all that new territory. He talks about how he helped foster a new self-image as a company of innovators, undaunted by an uncertain world. Once UPSers reflected on the many changes the company had undergone--from a local messenger service to a common-carrier wholesale business to an airline offering next-day deliveries to a logistics management and finance business--they developed, as Kelly puts it, a sense of, "Yeah, it's new and it's different...but that's okay. We've done that successfully for many years."

TQM, thought leadership, dot-com, dot-bomb, golden parachute: the litany of business jargon could go on for pages. HBR talks with Marjorie Garber about jargon, why we respond to it as we do, and why it's here to stay.