White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 8

Credit-card roulette

It did not take many days before Neil was interviewed for the job, charmed the HR manager, and got the job.

"I had Westen farms conduct a poll on what people found aesthetically pleasing in their cereal bowls," he told his new colleagues, as he had told the HR manager. "You know what people liked to see?"

"What?" Andrew asked, standing beside Jessica.

"Raisins," he told them. It was true. Just that he had not initiated the research since he had never worked there. But he had done his research, which made it possible for him to say 'raisins' a hundred percent certainty.

"Raisins?"

"Well, a finite amount of raisins. Market research gave us the key formula," he continued, self-centered and promoting his existence. "A 6:1 flake-to-raisin ratio. I made sure every box we packaged met that standard. Sales went through the roof."

"Wow."

"That's how you got this job?" Trent from a cubicle nearby grunted. "Breakfast cereal?"

"Ready-to-eat-cereal market, $10.7 billion last year," he told the man.

"Right, the little plastic prizes in the box," Trent mocked.

"Yeah," Neal nodded to the other two and then turned to Trent. "That's billion with a 'b.' But tech's where it's at, dawg. That's why I want to talk to you guys, you know, get some pointers." Ask them for help, make them valuable to someone who has done well, Neal figured would get them talking. "Want to grab some drinks later?"

"Oh, well, we've already booked a dinner at Draytons," Andrew apologized, "so..."

"Oh, you should come," Jessica said at once.

"Jessica..." Trent complained.

"Screw you, Trent. Andrew?"

"Fine with me."

"See?"

"Fine," Trent whined. "You can play the game," he grinned at Neal. "He can play the game, right?"

"What's the game?" Coming from Trent it was probably not something Neal thought he would enjoy. Or rather Trent thought he would not enjoy it.

"It's a little tradition we have here," Trent explained. "It's called credit-card roulette. Go out, run up a nice tab, throw all our company cards on the table, and let the server pick one."

"And that card foots the bill," Neal concluded. Mean.

"Blows your dinner budget for the month," Andrew nodded to this.

"You up for it?" Trent asked.

"Lock 'n' load, Trent."

"Nine o'clock then," Jessica smiled.

"Mr. Danvary?" miss Samuel called his attention, walking up to them. "George," she corrected herself. Neal always preferred first names and 'Danvary' was a horrible last name he had got from the FBI. "The auditor would like to see you. He spoke to accounting and has some questions about your 2009 w2s."

The second day at the office he would hardly have anything the auditor would be interested in. If it had been a real auditor. But no one brought up the subject.

"Excuse me. See you guys later."

"I don't like him," he heard Trent say behind his back.

"You don't like anyone, Trent," Jessica pointed out.

"I like Andrew."

"'Cause I owe you money, Trent," Andrew returned with a laugh. So Trent was in need for money, Neal noted.