You Don't Have To Be Evil To Work Here, But It Helps by Tom Holt Page B

then he believed her.
    Bloody hell.
    It was at this point that Colin realised he was going the wrong way. Easy mistake to make, since he’d just passed Argos, and surely Argos was next to the Post Office - apparently, not any more. He was practically at the end of the High Street. He turned round.
    If magic really really existed, and Dad was getting them both mixed up in it, then he desperately needed to know what the hell was going on. He ran.

CHAPTER FIVE
    ‘So,’ he asked her, ‘where do you see yourself in five years’ time?’
    Cassie snapped out of her train of thought like a dog surprised with its nose in the shopping. ‘Well, here, I hope,’ she said. ‘I like it here, really.’
    She could see him mentally counting - two, three, four. ‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ he said. ‘But what I meant was, do you feel that you’re likely to progress exponentially inside the team structure? Do you regard yourself as essentially goal-driven?’
    She blinked. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I don’t know very much about football. I didn’t even know we had a company team. Someone told me about the pub quiz, but—’
    Seven, eight, nine. ‘What we’re looking for, essentially,’ he said, ‘is predators. Team players who’ll go out there and take the market place by the scruff of its neck. Which is why, among other things, we’re actively evaluating a more performance-related salary mechanism.’
    If Cassie had been paying attention, she’d probably have been able to figure out what he was getting at. ‘Ah,’ she said.
    ‘Predators,’ he repeated. ‘Pro-activity. The days when we could just wait for clients to come in through the front door are over, Ms Clay. In today’s market environment, you’ve got to go into the long grass and flush them out. Do you think you’re prepared to do that?’
    ‘Oh, absolutely,’ she replied.
    ‘What we all need to take on board team-wide,’ he went on (he had a little pointy nose, like a hamster), ‘is that we’ve all got to take our share of responsibility for ensuring that we get out on the street and fight for every last scrap of business we can get our claws into. Hence the performance-correlated pay structure concept. In today’s business arena, Ms Clay, the rule is, you only eat what you kill.’
    Cassie frowned. ‘I’m a vegetarian.’
    He looked at her blankly for a moment, then wrote something on his piece of paper. ‘Have you got any hobbies?’ he asked.
    ‘No.’
    He ticked a box, paused, tapped his glasses down his nose an eighth of an inch so that he could read his own handwriting. ‘What key performance indicators do you feel would be most indicative, given your position in the team network?’
    She looked at him. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I was miles away. Do you think you could repeat that, please?’
    He repeated it. Still drivel. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I suppose whether I’m getting my work done properly and on time. Is that the sort of thing you mean?’
    He folded his arms. He had tiny wrists poking out of billowing white cuffs, as though he was wearing his big brother’s hand-me-down shirt. ‘What I want you to think about,’ he said, ‘is benchmarks.’
    ‘Benchmarks.’
    ‘You’ve got it. Preferably, we want to be working toward a steeply escalating benchmark curve, ideally within a six-to nine-month time-frame. Do you think that’s something you could fully commit to?’
    ‘Rather,’ she said.
    ‘Excellent. So how would you set about achieving target attainability?’
    Cassie looked at him and thought, I wish you’d shut up, you stupid little man. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the usual way, naturally.’
    He closed his eyes, then opened them again. ‘Maybe you don’t quite understand. I’m talking about how we can work together to make sure you push the envelope in your particular post.’
    She had absolutely no idea what he was drivelling on about. ‘You mean, letter-boxes?’
    ‘Fine.’ He drew a great big black