In its report, for example, IBM says that the Internet’s first major commercial use will be business-to-business purchasing; IBM reckons this market to be 10 times larger than the consumer market. From Colgate-Palmolive we learn that in India annual use of toothpaste is only 67 grams per person, compared with a global average of 362 grams; as nations grow richer, their citizens brush more. Johnson & Johnson, the health-products company, reminds us of the rapidity of economic change; last year 35 percent of the company’s sales came from new products of the past five years.

These reports, of course, warrant skepticism. Their messages are selective (bad news drops to footnotes, if possible), and their tone is upbeat (few companies admit to bleak prospects or befuddled management). Still, they can instruct and entertain. Coca-Cola is probably the greatest brand name ever. The company claims that it sells nearly half (48 percent) of the world’s soft drinks. It also estimates that this represents “less than 2 percent of the approximately 64 ounces of fluid human beings need every day.” Roberto C. Goizueta, Coke’s driven chairman, apparently regards the other 98 percent as fair game. He writes:

“The Coca-Cola Company is still unquenchably thirsty–thirsty for more ways to reach more consumers in more places with more of our products, creating more value for you [the shareholders]… truly, we are just getting started.” (The italics are in the original.) In the United States, individuals on average drink 363 Coca-Cola soft drinks a year-almost one a day. It’s only 5 a year in China, 9 in Indonesia and 13 in Russia. At another point, Goizueta puts Coke in grander perspective: “A billion hours ago, human life appeared on Earth. A billion minutes ago, Christianity emerged. A billion seconds ago, the Beatles changed music forever. A billion Coca-Colas ago was yesterday morning.” (Translation: a billion Cokes are sold every two days.)

Fifty years ago reports weren’t like this. The 1946 report of Bethlehem Steel ran to 33 pages, versus Coke’s current 73 pages. The Bethlehem report had a gray cover, no pictures and no charts. Coke’s has a fire-engine-red cover and is splashed through with clever charts and graphics. The aim is to project corporate character, even charisma. And the boilerplate rhetoric is revealing; it illuminates prevailing management philosophy.

Bethlehem’s 1946 report doesn’t mention corporate purpose or social conditions except for a brief reference to strikes. In fact, 1946 was probably the most strike-prone year in U.S. history; one in 11 workers went out. But management was inarticulate and assumed that companies existed to make money. In the 1960s the spirit shifted. “Companies caught on to the idea that an important reader group [for reports] was employees-you could communicate your beliefs, your ethics, your strategy,” says William Bruns of the Harvard Business School. And executives wanted to show they were socially responsible as well as efficient. Here’s the American Can Co. in 1971:

“[I]n our changing social contract… management must satisfy the legitimate needs of all three participating partners–our customers, our owners and our employees.” By the mid-1980s the tone shifted again. Institutional investors (pension funds, mutual funds) and security analysts had to be impressed. So today’s champion slogan is “creating shareholder value.” This re-emphasizes profitability as a goal that, if not satisfied, might mean corporate extinction. (American Can, for example, was merged out of existence.) Still, most companies also try to use their reports to humanize themselves by telling stories about their unsung heroes: their workers.

Every so often these stories transcend shrewd publicity devices or cheap rewards. In its report, Merck-the $20 billion drug company-recounts the decadelong history of Crixivan, a protease-inhibitor drug used to fight AIDS. The project suffered constant setbacks. In 1988 the lead researcher died in the bombing of Pan Am 103. Early versions repeatedly failed in clinical trials. Manufacturing of the drug was immensely complex; initially it took a year to make 100 pounds of the active ingredient. But by early 1996 the drug was approved, and by year-end 125,000 patients were using it. The people who made this possible are spread across two pages of Merck’s report.

I don’t own stock in Merck or any other company mentioned in this column. But stories like this remind us that management–whatever it is–matters. Our well-being depends on it. The trouble is that annual reports never tell us conclusively whether a company is well managed. Is Microsoft? Just because it’s hugely profitable isn’t a guarantee. Microsoft’s great advantage is that its main product (Windows) is so dominant in a fast-growing market that it generates vast amounts of cash that might camouflage or offset other management shortcomings. In 1996 Microsoft had $2.2 billion in profits on sales of $8.7 billion.

But these reports do tell us something of the psyche of the people atop major companies. There’s a mix of anxiety about competition and bravado about performance. That may explain why so many U.S. companies still excel and why, also, so many CEOs feel entitled to their lavish (sometimes outlandish) pay. Their single-mindedness often verges on fanaticism. Jack Welch, the chairman of General Electric, said as much in a recent interview with Frank Swoboda of The Washington Post. Two decades ago, Welch said, being named CEO was the culmination of a career. Now “it’s the beginning of a career,” he said. “You cannot be a moderate, balanced, thoughtful, careful articulator of policy. You’ve got to be on the lunatic fringe.”