Chapter 256: Rules, Signatures, and New Trends

“Good morning, Mr. Bennett!”

A bank employee was locking his car door. Bennett’s car happened to be parked next to his, so he stopped what he was doing, saluted politely, and greeted him.

Lately, people noticed Bennett was in high spirits, more approachable than ever, and full of enthusiasm and energy at work.

This made it hard for bank employees not to compare the passionate Bennett to the low-profile, almost invisible Mr. George.

When they didn’t compare, there was no issue, but once compared, many found Bennett acceptable as a successor to George.

Institutions like banks often have strong internal factions. People dislike outsiders from headquarters and prefer those who rise slowly from the grassroots.

This emotional resistance and preference came from personal connections, but on this issue, everyone sided with Bennett.

“Morning to you too!” Bennett replied as he opened his car door, even calling the employee by name, which brightened the employee’s face.

After nodding to each other, they parted ways. On his way to the office, Bennett greeted others enthusiastically; he was in a great mood.

The night before, he and Annie had attended an opera. He noticed Annie didn’t like the solemn atmosphere or the opera itself, but it was an essential part of upper-class life.

Cultured people mostly discussed art—opera, paintings, and related topics. To fit into high society, one must first improve their cultivation and taste.

Lowbrow things were best left behind.

Though Annie was impatient and restless, she sat through the evening with him, applauded the performers, strolled under the stars, and dined together.

Watching Annie transform from a stripper into a refined member of high society pleased Bennett immensely, especially the sense of control it gave him—filling a void he’d long felt in relationships and family.

This was real life—a perfect life.

As soon as he entered the office, his secretary brought him coffee. He used to have some interest in her, but now, not so much—Annie was far better.

Without hesitation, he took the coffee and asked the secretary to close the door behind her, then started working.

Career and family, both flourishing—nothing made a man happier.

Immersed in work, Bennett quickly finished some simple tasks, then moved on to the big stuff. The branch staff liked to call large tasks chunks.

Opening the first file, an inch thick, his expression grew serious. It was a commission from the local court and city hall to the bank.

To prevent fraud in judicial auctions, Congress had passed a law requiring third-party auctions; judicial bodies and local governments had no auction rights but retained supervisory authority.

This appeared to largely solve fraud issues, or at least that’s what the proposal’s supporters believed.

Previously, Sabin City had widely reported on the Liston chemical plant accident, which left workers deformed and disabled. They suffered physical pain and unbearable expenses, often abandoned by their families, dying on the streets or in welfare homes.

The realistic, relatable reports shocked society, even inspiring other cities in neighboring states to demand investigations.

The case had significant impact; citizens petitioned, state judges and the Baylor Federal Justice Department agreed, and Sabin City initiated compensation procedures—including asset auctions.

Whether due to the bank’s capabilities, they secured this opportunity, which made Bennett favor the current bank president—at least he was getting things done and producing results.

He reviewed the files: city hall had seized a light industry warehouse and production workshop owned by Liston Group, including pneumatic sewing machines and other machinery for auction.

There were also raw materials for production. City hall set a minimum acceptable price; the bank’s auction results had to exceed this or the handover would be problematic.

Bennett noted the prices were low, even a bit cheap.

Given the current economic climate, the prices were reasonable; few would be interested in production machinery now, as buying it equated to buying scrap metal.

But hiring workers to produce with them would be too costly.

After confirming the paperwork and legal procedures were complete, Bennett began processing according to regulations: first submitting some documents to the bank president for approval, then coordinating with city hall on the bank’s revenue.

Finally, he’d apply for an auction venue, unless city hall designated one, and prepare invitation cards and public notices.

There were many interesting tricks in this process. In society, people often heard rumors that certain auctions offered assets at giveaway prices, but these were just rumors; ordinary people rarely participated.

Bank announcements never appeared in newspapers—only internal bulletins—cutting off outside information.

Only two groups could attend such auctions: bank employees and their friends and family (especially for cheap, fragmented assets like company cars from bankruptcies, sometimes cheaper than scrap), and those invited by the bank, usually partners or wealthy depositors meeting financial criteria.

Others could only hear about it and envy, but never attend.

Except for requests requiring the president’s personal approval, other tasks could be handled by writing proposals with opinions and directions, then delegating.

For example, applying for the auction venue wasn’t Bennett’s job; his staff handled communication with city hall and internal coordination.

He thought the matter would be resolved quickly, but an unexpected problem arose.

“There’s no George’s signature here…” The president said after reviewing Bennett’s proposal. “George, as head of the credit department and auction supervisor, must approve it first before I sign.”

The president tossed the documents back on the desk. “Our partner is city hall, not some internal department. We must follow the rules!” He adjusted the nameplate on the desk reading Bank President while speaking.

Bennett, having worked in the branch for years, understood the president’s meaning and took no offense—it was simply the rules.

His signature had to come after George’s, showing respect for bank and social protocols.

Disrespecting the rules would only backfire.

No longer inclined to challenge authority, Bennett immediately left the president’s office with the documents and found George in another office.

Opening the door, he saw George playing indoor golf on a roughly thirty-foot-long, five-foot-wide putting green with a ten-foot diameter green.

Such courses were popular as golf was replacing polo as a sport for the new aristocracy—a sign of social change and generational clashes between new and old capitalists.The older generation was passionate about polo; the new generation of capitalists was just as enthusiastic about golf.

When the door opened, George didn’t stop what he was doing. He remained at the hitting spot, calculating the precise force needed to sink the ball.

“Wait a moment, let me finish this shot!”

As he spoke, he executed a textbook putt. The golf ball rolled smoothly along the course and dropped into the hole.

“A beautiful shot!” George said, placing his club back into the bag, removing his grip gloves, and walking toward his chair.