Page 21 of Don't Hate Me
Marc
“Marc?”
I looked up from where I was sitting across from the reception desk, and saw a man not much older than me approaching. Clean shaven, conservative haircut. He was wearing jeans and a sweater, reminding me it was the weekend. But as my first day on the job, I’d still gone with a suit and tie.
I stood and shook his hand. “That’s me.”
“I’m Trevor. I’ll be your mentor while you’re here at Landen Enterprises.”
“You always work Saturdays?” I asked, as I followed him down a row of cubes that were neat and orderly.
No pictures on the desks, no personal items. Just PCs with double, sometimes triple, monitors. A smattering of people occupied the cubes, also working the weekend. Assistants, investors. There had been someone at the front desk to greet me when I arrived.
Maybe not as busy as during the week, but not as quiet as the weekends were at the bank where I’d done my last internship. I knew, because I’d worked weekends then, too.
“Most of them, yeah,” he answered. “It’s a dog-eat-dog environment around here. I’ll tell you that right now. Landen handles a few clients personally, but the rest are up for grabs amongst the investors. The person who works the longest and the hardest tends to win more business. And more business means…”
“More money,” I finished, knowing instinctively that’s what drove Trevor’s dedication. Mine, too, for that matter. Princeton was a stepping stone. The goal was total and complete economic freedom for me and George.
Now maybe Ash, too, if her father was going to make her choose.
Trevor led me to a vacant cube. Showed me the login to the software they used to do their investing, then showed me my own personal account.
“This has a thousand dollars in it,” I said, stating the obvious.
Trevor laughed. “Welcome to Landen Enterprises. Every rookie gets a thousand in cash to start investing. Landen’s theory—if you can’t make money for yourself, he can’t trust you to make it for his clients. How much and how fast you grow that balance determines when he might let you make investments on behalf of a client.”
“Is there a client list I should be studying?”
“Yes. You signed your NDA?”
I nodded. “Yes. And handed in my drug test and got my fancy security card,” I said, holding up the lanyard under my suit coat.
“It’s here,” he said, showing me where in the program to access the list. “Broken up by broker.”
I did a quick study of the broker list. “They’re all men.”
Trevor snorted. “Yeah, don’t tell any feminists you might know, but Landen doesn’t think women have the DNA necessary to invest. They’re only good in a support role. Says it’s too much of a cutthroat business.”
I would not be sharing that with Ash.
Curious, I clicked on Landen’s name to reveal his list and was prompted for a password.
“Uh, no. The boss keeps his clients close to the vest. No one knows who they are. Other than they are rich motherfuckers.”
I thought of Evan Sanderson and wondered if he was on Landen’s list.
“So that’s it?” I asked. “My job right now is just to invest and grow this money?”
Trevor snorted. “That’s it. Easy right?”
I laughed. No, it wasn’t easy. Otherwise everyone would do it, and everyone would be rich motherfuckers.
“You’ll find a ton of research through the software, but don’t rely on it too much. You’ll want to use outside sources, too.”
I raised my eyebrow then. “I appreciate the help.”
Trevor smiled and nodded. “You got this. I’ll stop back around at lunch. I’ll show you the good places to eat and let you know who the real assholes are in the company.”
