did. He leaned menacingly over the conference table. His huge,
muscular frame towered over Sunny.
“God damn it, we are working our asses off,” he growled.
Sunny backed off and apologized.—
SUNNY WAS a tyrant. He fired people so often that it gave rise to a little
routine in the warehouse downstairs. John Fanzio, the affable supply-
chain manager, worked down there, and it had become the trusted
place where employees came to vent or gossip. Every few days, Edgar
Paz, the head of Theranos’s security team, would come down with a
mischievous look on his face, a badge hidden in his hand. At the sight
of him, John and the logistics team would gather in excitement,
knowing what was coming. As Paz drew closer, he would slowly spin
the badge from its necklace and reveal the face on the front, eliciting
gasps of surprise. It was Sunny’s latest victim.
John had become good friends with Greg, Jordan, Trey, and Ted.
Together, the five of them formed a little island of sanity at the
company. John was probably the only strategic supply-chain manager
in the Bay Area who worked just feet away from the cold roll-up door
of the loading dock, but he liked it because it kept him away from
Sunny’s scrutiny and his obsessive focus on the number of hours
people worked.
Unfortunately, working in the warehouse is what eventually brought
about John’s own demise. One morning in February 2012, one of the
receiving guys who worked there with him arrived at work in a shiny
new Acura. He proudly showed it to John, who complimented him on
it. The next day, though, the car had a big dent in it. Someone had hit
it in the office parking lot. John found the culprit by checking all the
other cars in the lot for signs of a collision. It belonged to one of the
Indian consultants Sunny had brought in to help with software
development.
John confronted the owner when he came outside for a smoke break
with his friends. He denied it even though John had used a tape