Chapter 2: The Board

The Board (after The Event)
John looked out over the isle of dogs - a true island since the fall of the Thames barrier. John's unsurpassed gut feel for political manoeuvring and lightning fast reactions had allowed him to lead the construction of the barricade, raising the North bank of the Thames by almost 20 metres around the isle. He simultaneously led a similar project across the East India dock road, creating the bounds of his initial empire, the Zone 1 operations of New London Limited.

Now everything the light touched belonged to him, sadly most of it now lay submerged. The familiar old landmarks of Decathlon, Stave Hill and the Bootcamp Cafe all lay buried under swirling torrents, lost like memories of a simpler time where Lycra, burpees and brunch took up more headspace than corporate governance, acquisitive expansion and public relations.

As he gazed upon his kingdom from the 50th storey of 33 Canada Square, John realised that if he looked closely, he could just about make out his old penthouse in Canada Water. Amazingly, only the tower block that housed his former home stood tall. Whilst others had crumbled and washed away, his remained. "Quite the allegory", he thought, "man am I smart".

He wondered if the small startup, BCF (co-chaired by his old acquaintances Chad and Santiago, who's HQ actually occupied the old Scottson penthouse), was still operating. He assumed it wasn't, and he was not uncertain. Inside information remained a valuable currency, particularly when it didn't have to compete with sterling.

John turned his pristine leather office chair slowly. Deliberately. To address his subordinates.

"Good morning gentleman. And m'lady"

John Scottson (CEO) tipped his imaginary hat at Maz. He was nothing if not an equal opportunities employer. With a woman, Dr Lindsay in his wheelchair and John's own past sexual experimentations all represented on the board, he was only the hiring of Lim Wyn away from calling "house" on diversity bingo.

The board comprised Dr. Lindsay Scott-Peters (President of R&D), Maz Scottson (COO), Bobby Castellano (President of Acquisitions & Business Development), Ned Greenwood (CFO) and the COSEC.

"OK Simpkins, what's on the agenda?", barked John.

"Just an investment proposal from Ned and Bob's acquisition review today Sir", muttered the CoSec, handing out the paper agenda and materials. All printed single sided.

"OK Mr. Greenwood, the floor is yours"

Ned Greenwood (CFO) stood and skilfully laid out his plans for "tax" relief for small enterprises - a scheme proposing to relax the obligatory contribution of "multi-purpose productivity units" required of every employee of NLL.

In a world without the banking system, time is the only resource that truly carries value. As part of the hiring process, every New London Ltd. employee is given a 27 point productivity assessment - covering physical, mental and skill tasks as well as others that remained a mystery.

The results of this assessment are processed through NLL's proprietary productivity algorithm and the employee is assigned an indexed productivity score (IP). An IP of 100 (roughly average) would mean that every hour of an employee's time is worth 100 "multi-purpose productivity units" or "MPUs".

Employees are required to submit labour to the value of 5,400 MPUs per week to the various divisions of NLL. That's 9 hours a day. for 6 days for someone with an IP of 100.

Ned's proposal was to reduce this to 4,000 MPUs for budding entrepreneurs to allow them time to pursue launching a startup, under the proviso, obviously, that the business provides tangible economic contribution to NLL within a 1 year timeframe. An "small business tax credit" if you will.

"Thanks Ned. Ned?"

"Yes John"

"We've known each other a long time haven't we?"

"Yes John, way before the event"

"Yeah, good times. Tell me Ned. When exactly is it that you think I became a fucking socialist?"

"Sorry John?"

"The unencumbered allocation of our resources by the free market is the one thing that holds the fabric of New London Ltd. together. The day I introduce market distortion is that day we crumble. Denied. Next item."

Ned Greenwoord (CFO), sat down sheepishly, yielding the floor to the next speaker.

Bobby Castellano (President of Acquisitions and Business Development) began his update.

"Good news that the acquisition of Elephant Partners is complete and the re-branding of the subsidiary to 'NLL Zone 7' is imminent"

"Great work, I thought we were having trouble getting the two Webster partners to agree terms?", said John.

"Well, it turns out the partner upstairs, Mr. Airbee, coerced them into relinquishing voting rights so they could move a few floors higher in the tower. As the sole wielder of power at Elephant partners, and less of a naive realist than the others, he was more than happy to sign"

Ironically, the Websters actually owned the penthouse of Elephant Tower before The Event. However, they had moved to a house in order to raise a family and had let their penthouse to Mr. Airbee. When the waters rose, ownership rights had lapsed and this simple mistake had stripped the Websters of any leverage they could have had. Despite an admirable and rapid rise to partnership at Elephant Partners after the event, their position was always untenable.

"Coerced them by himself? He may have potential?", quizzed John, knowing the answer.

"Not completely, one of my team may have provided some consulting advice on the process. And yes, don't worry, the consultancy will be reflected in the Zone 7's tax bill!", Bob replied.

"Excellent stuff Bob. Now. We've skirted around our real challenge for too long. It's time for the game changer" said John, all too casually.

Bob, usually calm stood rigid, his usual slightly curved shoulders replaced by the perfect posture of a marine at attention. He knew this day would come but didn't think it would be this soon.

It was time to return to Suburban Associates LLP and begin negotiations.

Chapter 1: Morning

Morning (before The Event)

5.44am – Lim Wyn
Lim crouches in darkness. Waiting.


5.55am – Bob Castellano
It was a full 10 seconds before Bob realised it was his alarm. The new “Early Riser” sound on the iPhone starts soft and slowly builds to coax you out of bed, making sure that you wake slowly and naturally and never, ever, ever hit…

*SNOOZE*


6.17am – Dave Godders
Dave awoke to the sound of his daughter crying, as he did every day. He thought to himself:

"When did my inner monologue start narrating my entire life? And why is it in the third person?

He didn't know. Maybe it started the day little Frankie came along - the inane outward baby babble had to be replaced with something coherent internally. Got to keep the mind sharp and focused and all that. Keep my head in the game.

"I've got this sweetie. You get some rest. I love you so much."

Dave kissed Paris gently on the forehead, tucked the duvet back under her and slowly made his way to Frankie’s room.

"I'm so lucky" he thought to himself. Perfect wife, perfect daughter, perfect home. Life couldn’t get much better than this.


6.20am – Dr. Lindsay Scott-Peters
Downward dog.

Push it, push it

*STRETCHING INTENSIFIES*


6.25am – Bob Castellano
It was a full 10 seconds before Bob realised it was his alarm. The new “Early Riser” sound on the iPhone starts soft and slowly builds to coax you out of…

*SNOOZE*


6.27am – Lim Wyn
Lim crouches in darkness. Waiting.


6.30am – John Scottson
"Hello, I'm John". Nope. Forgettable.

"Hi there! John”. Nope. Dial up the corporate Johnny.

"John - new Senior VP of GFS". Nope. No titles. Man this is tough.


6.35am – Dr. Lindsay Scott-Peters
Knee to chest - pull it harder

*STRETCHING INTENSIFIES*


6.37am – Lim Wyn
Lim crouches in darkness. Waiting.


6.40am – Bob Castellano
It was a full 10 seconds before Bob realised it was his alarm. The new “Early Riser” sound on the iPhone starts soft and slowly builds to coax you out of bed, making sure that you wake slowly and naturally and never, ever, ever hit snooze.

Fuck this fucking morning.

Right Bobby. Squeeze eyes shut. Fire them open. Leap out of bed and let's kick another day's ass!

*SNOOZE*


6.44am – Lim Wyn
Lim crouches in darkness. Waiting.


6.45am – John Scottson
"John Scottson". Bingo.

Now to work on the handshake angle...

"Morning Johnny! Coming to Bootcamp?"

"Not a chance! Today's the big day remember?"

"But you know Bootcamp is proven to make you more productive at work? Studies show that waving your hands above your head and running in circles increases endorphins and can reduce bingo wings by 37% in only 17 minutes per day!"

"Jesus Christ Maz, for once would you just stop with the 'Bootcamp' chat - this is a big day for me!"


6.51am – Lim Wyn
Lim crouches in darkness. Waiting.


7.02am – Dr. Lindsay Scott-Peters
Toes touched. Job done.

*STRETCHING UNTENSIFIES*


7.05am – Lim Wyn
The door to the cupboard creaks slowly open. The soft warm light of the bedroom seeps into Lim’s lair.

Lim leaps into action – screaming like a rabid orangutan. Thrusting his crotch towards his unsuspecting victim.

“RRAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!!”

Donna recoils in terror, letting out a squeal that reminds Lim of the documentary he watched on the birth of the world’s first St. Bern-huahua (yes the “huahua” was the female bit).

“You fucking asshole. Lim. You complete and utter cock goblin”

Totally worth it.


7.11am – Dave Godders
“Bye honey!”

Paris softly rearranged his tie. Looked him up and down and gave an approving smile.

“Perfect. Have a good day sweetie”

Godders couldn’t help but notice the way the soft morning light glistened off the dew drops that were forming as the morning frost slowly.

He shut the door and began his trip to the office. Whistling a cheery tune as he almost skipped down the road.


7.15am – Bob Castellano
It was a full 10 seconds before Bob realised it was his ala..

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Late.


8.11am – Dave Godders
"Simpkins! Get here now you unimaginable cretin!”

“In what fucking world is double sided printing acceptable? At my hourly rate I can't waste fucking time working out which fucking way to turn the fucking pages.”

“Pull your fucking finger out or I'll bust you back down to associate quicker than you can suck off the whole corporate law division."

“And that’s pretty fucking quick Simpkins. Radler tells me you’re the fucking Yoda of sucking dick.”

“This is asset backed securitisation, you ridiculous twat. not the fucking Vauxhall conference."

Shit. That was going so well. Everyone knows it's the Vanarama National league. I'm showing my age and I need to keep my "youngest partner in history" aura or Thompson will have my job in no time.

"Now go fetch me my fucking macchiato and try not to fuck that up too"

Flat white. The kids drink flat whites. Fuck.


8.27am – John Scottson
"John. John Scottson"

90 degree arm angle – perfect. Alpha, but not aggressively so. Assert presence, but don’t dominate. Let them think they’re on top then pounce on their first mistake.

"Nice to meet you John, welcome to Jaipur Capital"


8.42am (for an 8am meeting) – Bob Castellano
Sorry guys, trains messed up. What do I need to know for 8.45? Always on Monday's ey?"

Note to self – the train excuse no good for a month.