What do you think is the role of money in life?
Baron was montarily stunned by the question. Not because it was too difficult, but because... ’It seems... a question like this doesn’t quite match this company’s elite reputation, does it?’
(With the exception of a certain Jack the Thief.)
It was like preparing for an interview at Penguin Company. You’re nervous, your mind cramd with C move semantics, virtual function chanisms, smart pointer implentation principles, and heap/stack object construction limitations... only for the HR manager to open the door and ask, "What do you think is the role of Penguin Coin in gas?"
’The role of money in life? What role could it possibly have?’
’From my perspective, isn’t it just that the more money you have, the better your quality of life? An improvent in material conditions leads to a corresponding improvent in one’s state of mind.’
’Then again, if I looked at it from another angle—the textbook answer from high school civics—it’s to act as a dium for the exchange of goods, driving the ’goods-money-goods’ circulation, blah, blah, blah...’
Baron thought for a mont. The question probably wasn’t as simple as it seed. But looking at Howard, who still had the leisure to be sipping his tea, it also seed possible that Baron was overthinking it.
But as he mulled it over, he had a sudden realization. He hadn’t co to Westminster to actively seek employnt, so why was he adopting the mindset of a job applicant?
’This is just like a trial partnership. If it works, great. If not, we go our separate ways. It’s not like they’ll kill for failing an interview, is it?’
’Jack was right. I can’t lose my nerve. Gold is everything... Gold is everything.’
Baron gathered his thoughts for a mont. "It allows to get this job without an interview."
It’s a cliché: money isn’t omnipotent, but you can’t do anything without it.
’Jack said Gold is everything. Perhaps that was a hint that Westminster’s corporate culture is one where money is paramount.’
Howard raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with his secretary, Stella. He could see the astonishnt in her eyes, and she in his.
"Mr. Constantine, I have your file right here. It says you once worked for a ti as a collections agent at the Sheffield Industrial Bank on the Outer Side. I’m very curious to know how you pitched bank loans to clients."
The bank’s vice president shifted from his relaxed posture to sitting bolt upright. He motioned for Stella to bring him a fountain pen, then tossed it to Baron.
"Now, using your loan-pitching techniques, sell this pen."
Baron caught the pen and, without the slightest hesitation, turned to Stella. "Miss Stella, I have been captivated by your beauty since the mont we t. Would you be so kind as to leave your contact information on my shirt?"
Stella froze for a mont but recovered quickly, offering a perfectly polite smile. "I’d love to, but I don’t have a pen."
Baron handed the pen to Stella. After she took it, he extended the white cuff of his shirt, and she actually wrote her contact information on it.
Howard simply watched from the side in silence, looking perfectly calm and unperturbed.
Just as Stella capped the pen and slipped it into her pocket, Baron extended his hand to her again. "A Montblanc fountain pen. Friendship price, one hundred pounds."
Only then did a smile appear on Howard’s face.
Stella shot Baron an exasperated glance but still took out two fifty-pound notes and stuffed them into his pocket.
Baron held the two large bills and looked at Howard. "The art of the sale is to create a need, Mr. Vice President."
"Is selling a pen back to its original owner also a technique?" Secretary Stella asked sweetly.
Baron shook his head. "That’s talent."
Howard nodded. "Mr. Constantine, I must say, your ntal agility is truly rare...
I have no further questions for you. Next, Secretary Stella will ask you two questions. They aren’t critical, just a small test of your risk assessnt abilities."
Stella?
Baron’s heart skipped a beat. ’I just sold her pen back to her. Is revenge coming this quickly?’
The secretary sat gracefully on the other sofa. Disregarding that her boss was right there, she picked up her notepad, crossed her legs, and her twelve-centiter heels gave off a sharp, queen-like aura. Her thighs, visible beneath the skirt suit, were perfectly shaped and long.
She got straight to the point. "Mr. Constantine, first question:
How do you get an 800-kilogram cow across a bridge with a 700-kilogram weight limit."
She glanced at the Oga watch on her wrist. "You have one minute to answer."
’Get an 800-kilogram cow across a bridge with a 700-kilogram weight limit? Is this a brain teaser?’
’No, that’s not it. If this were a simple brain teaser, there would be all sorts of solutions, like butchering the cow and carrying it over in pieces.’
"Twenty seconds left," the secretary reminded him helpfully.
’The key is in the question... Gold is everything... Gold is everything...’
An idea flashed through Baron’s mind like lightning. Without a shred of hesitation, just as the secretary began a ten-second countdown, the answer flew from his lips:
"It walks right across!"
Stella was silent for a mont. "Why?"
The mont the secretary asked that question, Baron knew he had it in the bag. He replied instantly:
"The 700-kilogram limit refers to the bridge’s minimum safety threshold, not its absolute maximum. Every industry builds in design redundancy to cope with unforeseen circumstances.
If a bridge rated for 700 kilograms collapsed under 701, then the bla—the responsibility—would lie entirely with the designer.
Therefore, a 700-kilogram bridge can not only handle an 800-kilogram cow, it could probably even handle a 1,000-kilogram truck without a problem."
It’s just like how sports teams keep substitutes in case a star player gets injured, cars have spare tires, and train security starts checking tickets half an hour early.
The question was a test of one’s ability to exploit the real rules behind the written ones. Rules are static, but people are dynamic.
Children look for perfection; adults only care about priorities.
The secretary was silent for a mont.
"Second question: If you were a restaurant owner and a custor found a fly in their food, what would you do?"
This ti, Baron answered without any hesitation:
"I’d have to charge him an extra pound."
"COUGH, COUGH, COUGH..."
Howard choked on his tea. Stella was also stunned by Baron’s answer. The look of utter shock on her finely-featured face betrayed her, all her initial composure and calm completely gone.
Howard said, "Mr. Constantine, I must say, your answers to Secretary Stella’s questions have all been... uniquely inspired. I have one last question to conclude this interview."
"I’d like to know, what is the Westminster People’s Bank in your eyes?"
Howard folded his hands and said solemnly,
"This may affect your final score."
"The truth, or a lie?" Baron asked.
Howard smiled. "That depends on your own choice."
"The lie is that the Westminster People’s Bank looks very high-class and impressive."
"And the truth?"
"Is that I’m not so great myself."
"Mr. Constantine..." Howard chuckled, then his expression grew serious. "For this interview evaluation, I’m personally giving you an S Level."
"I’m deeply honored," Baron said.
He completely missed the stunned, distant look in Stella’s eyes.
’An S Level interview evaluation!’
’Ever since the Westminster People’s Bank was founded, there have been S Level Commissioners in every generation, but those who managed to earn an S Level in the interview evaluation itself were exceedingly rare.’
Stella thought to herself that the last person to receive an S Level on their interview evaluation was likely that one-and-only SS Commissioner.
Baron had no idea what was going through Stella’s mind. He assud that with the evaluation over, he could move on to the onboarding process.
But who would have thought that Howard would then stand up and say, "Next, we will proceed to the final containnt phase."
"Containnt?"
Baron rose to his feet as Stella explained, "It’s the most fundantal skill for a Westminster Commissioner. Your natural affinity for the arcane will determine the level of the Taboo Items you can ultimately contain and wield."
"Please follow ."
Stella pulled open the office doors. The sharp sound of her high heels on the marble floor was like a strident, percussive tune.
——————
[P.S. *The Wolf of Wall Street* is a wholeso family film suitable for all ages. I highly recomnd watching it with your parents.]
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