What Comes After What Comes Next

Watts Wacker's mission is to get a handle on the future for some of the most powerful companies in the world. But at the moment he's simply trying to get a female bartender to tell him a joke. He's in the Gallatin Gateway Inn, a railroad-era hotel outside Bozeman, Montana -- a small town that's a regular stop on his never-ending quest to look and listen for signs of change.

Wacker is a 43-year-old blond teddy bear who can talk movies and sports -- not to mention particle physics and virtual reality -- with the best of them. He can't get into an elevator without striking up a friendly conversation. He always has a joke at the ready, even a few for the politically correct crowd. (Hear about the new restaurant on the moon? Great food. Good service. No atmosphere.) Tonight, though, the object of his research attention is playing coy.

Then, ever so gently, Wacker's companion suggests that they're from the "Seinfeld" team, looking for material. Her eyes light up. She forgets about the martini she's shaking and immediately tells a joke (unprintable). Soon the bartender and her colleagues are making repeated trips to the table, freshening drinks and making sure the polenta is perfect.

Wacker relishes the unexpected deception. "My friend was responsible for getting the whole Steinbrenner thing on the show," he says. "He just hires me when he needs help."

The bartender's joke didn't say much about where America is heading. But the encounter spoke volumes about a trend Wacker has been watching for years. "Celebrity has become our number-one mass motive," he explains. "Everybody wants to be a celebrity or be associated with them. A few years ago I did a 'content analysis' of local TV news. I analyzed hours of tapes and made extrapolations. Over the last 20 years, something like 65 million Americans have had a meaningful experience with television -- meaning they or a member of their family was on the local news, seen by their friends, adulated, in effect, as a star. Andy Warhol was right. We are all going to get our 15 minutes of fame.

"That has big implications for companies," he continues. "How do you treat your customers like celebrities? I've worked with Marriott on this question. Hotel guests don't want to stand in line when they check in; they want to feel important. That's why we created 'cocktail party' reception areas at Courtyard by Marriott. When guests arrive, they feel like they're at a party being thrown for them. They feel like celebrities."

Watts Wacker, resident futurist at SRI International, the global consulting firm based in Silicon Valley, is not yet a celebrity himself. He does make occasional TV appearances. ("Three years in a row," he boasts, "on 'Good Morning America,' I predicted Christmas sales closer than any economist.") But unlike mass-media futurists such as John Naisbitt and Faith Popcorn, Wacker does his best work behind closed doors -- huddling with executive teams, consulting with new-product groups. A recent Time article on futurists never mentioned Wacker. "I'm the hardest working nobody in this business," he jokes.

In fact, Wacker is one of the most offbeat -- and influential -- minds in corporate America. His high-profile clients include Nike, Chrysler, MCI, and Bank of America. Wacker even played a role in creating Nickeloden's "Nick at Nite" TV lineup, featuring sitcoms like "The Dick Van Dyke Show," "I Dream of Jeannie," and "The Mary Tyler Moore Show."

Why reruns from the sixties and seventies? Wacker sensed an opportunity based on research into changing patterns of family life. Reruns, he suggests, are a distinctly American form of oral history.

"Young people want to know everything they can about their parents," he explains. "Traditionally, they got that knowledge from their grandparents. But we're living in a time -- the first time in history, really -- where elders aren't around. They're off in Florida. One way to teach youngsters about their parents is to broadcast the TV shows they watched as kids."

Wacker also works closely with Avis, the rental car giant. "He's been invaluable to us," confirms Ron Masini, vice president of product and program development. "He gives us an overview of what he sees: 'These will be the influences on travelers over the next several years.' He also suggests specific services. He proposed that we use handheld computers to supply customers with information about flights and gates. We've made commercials around that service."

Most recently, Wacker's ideas have been having an impact at Gateway 2000, the young, fast-growing computer manufacturer based in South Dakota. Gateway, with annual revenues of $5 billion, is Wacker's kind of company. Its founder, 33-year-old Ted Waitt, sports cowboys boots and a ponytail. Waitt's company is as much about ideas and attitude as it is about technology -- and its defining idea is to keep moving forward by shedding the past.