A man's muffled laughter, reminiscent of grunting, was heard in the distance. Then, someone in the distance, in a male baritone, commented:
- Smith, are you deaf? They're calling you.
- I hear, I hear...
From behind the third gray office partition from Richard's position, a young man of about twenty-seven appeared, wearing a dark business suit. His brown hair was combed to the side. His brown eyes studied the young courier intently.
"I'm Smith," the guy responded.
"Okay, mister, here are the invoices for you," Richard said, glancing at the papers. "Come on over and pick them up. Let's not overexert the young body."
Smith grinned and walked toward the boy. He took the papers and began to look through them.
Richie took advantage of the moment to ask:
- Mr. Smith, I noticed that you work with hotels. Do we have many hotels?
"I have a dozen hotels on my balance sheet," Smith replied. "Or are you talking about something else?"
"I basically wanted to know how many hotels Rich Group owns," the boy said.
"Well..." Smith drawled thoughtfully. "More than fifty."
Thus, studying documents and casually interacting with various employees, Richie gradually gained a deeper understanding of the company's structure and scope. Every hour of every day, he learned something new, and the puzzle gradually began to form a coherent picture.
Richie learned about the properties owned by Rich Group, the company's turnover and profits.
He discovered that the company was only allocating a small portion of its profits to dividend payments. The bulk of its net income was used to purchase land and build new properties: shopping centers, office and residential buildings, and hotels. The company's global workforce is approaching 10,000.
The firm has major divisions. The head office, where all the money and documents flow, is already known; it's where Richard works. But, in addition, the firm has two other divisions in London: the first is Rich UK and Ireland; the second is Rich Fund Management. Three more large subsidiary offices are located around the world: Rich America, Rich Europe, and Rich Asia Pacific.
The company is teeming with enormous amounts of money. The hundreds of millions of pounds a year that Gerald, his daughters, his ex-wife, and, to a lesser extent, Richard receive are mere cents compared to the sums being invested in business development.
Richie understood that even if he received ten million pounds and invested it profitably in venture capital, he wouldn't catch up with his father's fortune. It was a completely different amount. Now, if he had half a billion...
On the other hand, if you think about it, with that kind of money, there wouldn't be much point in straining yourself. You could invest in successful companies and live off the dividends. And no one would give you such a huge sum anyway. You should be happy with what you managed to negotiate.
A month flew by. It seemed Richie had just settled into his routine: exercise, breakfast, work, lunch, fencing or economics classes, strolls through London's tourist attractions and museum visits-and then suddenly everything changed. Business leaders took over the young man's education, introducing him to the company's operations and teaching him how to run a business.
If before Richard only briefly looked into the managers' offices on the fourth floor, now he crawled out from there only closer to lunch.
So two more months flew by, spring flashed by quickly: whoosh - it was March, and outside it was already June.
Richie was glad that another marathon was finally over. The teachers who had spent their working hours on the boy didn't spare him. They saw that he was a quick learner, so they didn't make allowances for his age and trained him as if he were their successor. A week with one manager, a week with another. Thus, Richie worked in all the important departments: finance, legal, contracts, leasing, marketing, logistics, construction, and management.
It's not as if the transmigrator instantly became a financial guru, but he learned a lot and began to understand business, and that's the main thing. After all, dry academic knowledge of economics is pointless. Every year, thousands of students graduate from college with economics degrees. So where are they? What do they do? Has everyone really started their own business and is now turning millions into money? Of course not! Most of these people end up working as bank clerks or become office plankton. And if they're unlucky, they end up working in a field other than their field.
The same professor who teaches Richard. He's an excellent economist, but he doesn't run a business himself. At most, he invests his spare cash in securities.
Richie returned from fencing practice. Today was his last day at the Rich Group office. The boy didn't even bother stopping by, as usual; he went straight home and began eagerly awaiting his father's return. The transmigrator was already mentally rubbing his palms in anticipation of the promised money. He had already roughly planned how he would spend it.
Amid the emotional turmoil that plagued the young man all day, Richard ignored the nagging pain in his tooth. But at home during lunch, food got into the tooth, and the boy howled in excruciating pain.
John came running at the sound of the scream. He jumped up to Richie and asked in a frightened voice:
- What happened? Where does it hurt?
"Tooth!" Richie's eyes welled with tears, and he grabbed his right cheek with his dominant hand. "My tooth hurts..."
"Oh!" the valet sighed. It was hard to tell if he was relieved it wasn't a serious injury or worried about the child's condition. "Well, it's a long way to our dentist in Chester," he mused. "Hmm... Then we'll go to the nearest private clinic. A good one."
John grabbed a huge yellow phone book and began flipping through it quickly. Finding the page with dental clinic phone numbers, he began searching for the nearest one. Having found the right clinic, the valet called the number listed and made an appointment.
Soon, Richie and John took a taxi to the dental clinic. Unfortunately, Gerald had left the Bentley early that morning on business, so they had to make do with whatever was at hand. But Richie didn't care what he drove; all the other transportation around him was ancient. The transmigrator just wanted to get to the dentist and get rid of the pain; he couldn't care less about anything else.
John brought his patient to a small private dental clinic. There was a modest-sized waiting room with a few chairs and a table for visitors. The clinic had only two dental rooms.
After Dr. Granger treated the boy's tooth, Richard went into the waiting room. John went into the doctor's office to pay and discuss the details of further treatments, such as rinsing. Since the valet was a very fussy man, the conversation promised to be lengthy.
Richie was incredibly happy to be free of his toothache. It gave him a feeling of euphoria.
In the waiting room, the boy found a girl sitting at a table and writing something in a notebook.