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“Over and over again,” Michael said with the conviction of seven years’ worth of figures to prove his theory.
“Lose money to make money,” Coppel said.
“Sometimes.”
“Building a whole new level of trust, a new approach to doing business—which, I suppose is really an old-time traditional approach.”
“At least at Smythe and Westbourne.”
The other man nodded. “So you think you can determine what the customer wants.”
“I do.”
“How?” Coppel might be testing him, but he was intrigued as well.
“By becoming the buyer instead of the seller.”
Coppel nodded, his brow clearing. “You put yourself in the shoes of the consumer.”
“And realize that just as all people aren’t the same, all consumers and their needs aren’t the same, either.”
Looking down at some papers spread in front of him, Coppel said, “You appear to have a real talent in this area.”
Michael didn’t know about that. He thought his real talent lay in profit-and-loss margins and personal infrastructures.
“What about your family?” Coppel asked. “How much of your time do they require?”
And for the first time since he’d been summoned to this interview more than a month ago, Michael allowed himself to hope. He wanted a move up to one of the bigger, more diverse companies in the Coppel holdings. He needed a new challenge.
“None, sir,” he said with the confidence of knowing he had the right answer. “I’m divorced.”
“No children?” It was a well-known fact that Coppel didn’t believe a man should desert his children. Which was why he’d never had any of his own.
“None.”
Nodding, Coppel broke into a small, satisfied smile.
“You have anybody else who might want a say on your time?”
You got a lover? Michael read into the question.
“No.”
He saw women occasionally, but he’d been sleeping with Susan again, on and off, over the past three years, although they’d been divorced for seven. He couldn’t seem to find a passion for anyone else.
“Any dependents at all?”
What is this? Michael shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. He sent a sizable amount of money to his parents and brother and sisters back in Carlisle, but that was nobody’s business except his.
“Why?”
Eyes narrowed, Coppel sat forward. “I’m thinking about offering you a new position, a move from a subsidiary company to Coppel Industries itself.”
Michael didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t breathe.
“But the position I have in mind would require constant travel, and I won’t even consider offering it if that meant you’d be shirking personal commitments. I don’t break up families.”
Coppel had come from a broken family, had his father run out on him, been forced to quit school and provide for his ailing mother. He’d entered high school at nineteen after his mother passed away. He’d put himself through college exterminating bugs, and the rest was history. Not only history, but public knowledge now that Coppel was one of the top businessmen in the country.
