“What part of ‘I am not running a charity’ do you not understand?” I roar at the sobbing girl. “Get the fuck out. And Sansa Taylor. You’re unoriginal, just like your parents and their terrible taste in names.”
A censored image pops up on the screen.
“You’re fired. No, not for sending this lewd text message at eleven at night. FYI, I was in the office at that time. You clearly weren’t. The rest of you take note.”
Knowing smirks among the senior investors.
“Now, Sansa, if you’re going to try and fuck me for a payday, at least try to be subtle about it. I might respect you more if this held any measure of finesse. A duck face and cheap lingerie? That’s embarrassing—do better. You’re fired because you’re lazy.” I pause. “The rest of you, look to Dara as an example of a dedicated employee. Dara here slept with a client to land a deal. Dara is a rock star, and she received a three hundred thousand dollar bonus this Christmas.”
“My kids really like the house you bought us!” Dara calls, blowing me a kiss.
“The houseyoubought them,” I correct. “You see that? That’s commitment. That’s dedication. That’s not leaving a paper trail. The rest of you,” I add, looking to the remaining nauseous-looking interns, “take note. These people were fired because they fucked up. Don’t fuck up.”
A final picture comes up, one I’d made Mandy add.
“Austin—yes, I know your name, donut boy. No, I’m not firing you. I don’t have to. You’re going to have a mental breakdown by Thursday.”
Out on the floor, money changes hands as investors place bets. After all, what is corporate finance if not government-sanctioned high-stakes gambling?
Mandy taps a frosting-covered finger on her tablet, and the screen to the right of me shifts.
“This is the leader board. Notice that Austin is not on here. You’re still allowed to surprise me, donut boy, but anyone with even a passing understanding of statistics will not bet in your favor.”
I survey the group.
“I’m not an idiot. If you all earn me over fifty million this summer, then you all will have jobs. I’m not sacrificing a hard worker just to maintain a reputation or anything like that. Money above all. If you don’t earn that amount, then I’m only taking the top three.”
I let the words hang in the air.
“Look to your left, look to your right, look behind you. Only one of you will survive. Welcome to hell week. This week, you’re expected to work one hundred twenty hours. You should have already done ten. Anyone who wants to go complain to Mommy and Daddy can get your shit and leave. Now, get out of my sight.”
Several of my employees salute me. The teams who were assigned them collect their shaking interns.
“Mandy, my office. Five minutes.”
Her shoes squeak on the floor as she hurries after me. “I thought it was illegal to fire people publicly like that?”
“I’ll pay the fine. I don’t care.”
In my office, the glass door closes behind her with a soft click.
“The port authority account.” I tap my pen on the stack of papers on my desk. “I need you to pretend you’re a competent assistant and find me a way into this deal.”
“Sure.” Her voice is syrupy-sweet. “I’ll just pretend you’re a competent investor and wave my magic assistant wand and get you a dinner invite with Benji Isaacs.”
“And she uses sarcasm to cover her ineptitude.”
“You wish. Lucky for you,” she adds brightly, “I don’t have to pretend. He’s going to be at the Forever Furry Foundation fundraising dinner next week. His new girlfriend really wanted to go. It’s turning into quite the must-attendevent. Just got confirmation of the tickets and a very nice thank-you note for your generous donation.” She hands me the card. “And if you ask nicely, I’ll let you bring Pepper.”
“Why would I want to take that disgusting animal anywhere?”
Her overweight corgi waddles to the glass window that separates my office sanctuary from hers, complete with a steady stream of coffee cups, snacks that sprinkle crumbs all around her desk, colorful folders, and an array of pastel-colored sticky notes and sparkly pens she used to keep all my requests organized.
“Forever Furry Foundation is pet rescue.”
I bang the edge of my hand on my desk. “The dog-pound people? You gave half a million dollars to the dog-pound people?”
“You said ‘unlimited budget.’Sir.”
