From legendary short seller to god of American capital

Chapter 210 Logan's First Day at Work



Chapter 210 Logan's First Day at Work

Chapter 210 Logan's First Day at Work

Logan had been awake for a while before the gaslight outside the window went out.

At that time, it was still dark outside the window. Logan looked out the window at the scattered lights in the distance, breathed a sigh of relief, and then lay back down on the bed.

About five minutes later, Logan suddenly woke up from his sleep, grabbed his pocket watch to check the time, and after realizing that not much time had passed, he fell back into a deep sleep.

Then I slept until it was broad daylight!

Logan Stone was finally awakened by the sound of a trolley bell coming from Washington Square. He sat up blankly and it took him a while to realize where he was. He then hurriedly looked at his pocket watch—it was already 7:45.

Logan felt a chill run down his spine. Rally had specifically told him yesterday to arrive a little earlier today, at least to make a good impression on that guy named Koshmote.

Logan was so nervous about this goal that he couldn't sleep last night, especially since it was his first time staying in his own apartment in New York.

I woke up several times during the night.

But just when he should have been awakened most, he fell into a deep sleep. As a result, what he feared most came true, and he was really going to be late today!

Logan rolled out of bed, walked barefoot across the parquet floor, and rushed to the wardrobe to start putting on his clothes.

When he was putting on his shirt, he pulled too hard, and a button popped off and rolled into the shadows under the bed. Logan didn't care that it was a new shirt he bought at Macy's yesterday; he just grabbed the stiff collar and forced it to button up, thinking he could just cover it up with a tie later.

Logan grabbed his coat and rushed out of the apartment suite. After closing the door, he hurriedly put on his leather shoes and ran downstairs in a few quick steps.

The hallway that seemed spacious and bright yesterday now felt as narrow as a snail shell to Logan. Although there was no dust on the handrail, Logan's hands almost sparked from the friction...

The landlady was standing guard at the front door on the first floor when she saw Logan rushing down in a flurry. Just as she was about to greet him, she saw him already running like a madman into the street.

The outside wasn't much better than inside the apartment. The sidewalks in Greenwich Village were already very narrow, and now they were mostly occupied by delivery carts. A butcher apprentice swung his machete by the roadside to avoid a pig's spine, and the splattered blood almost hit him.

Logan kept running forward without paying attention to anything else. Beside him, a newsboy was waving a newspaper and shouting the news that had happened last weekend.

A uniformed street sweeper was scraping horse manure off the road with a shovel, and the stench mixed with the aroma of freshly baked bread filled Logan's nostrils.

Just then, a woman with black hair and a pink dress suddenly appeared at the street corner. Logan couldn't stop in time and accidentally bumped into the woman.

The young woman let out a painful cry and then collapsed by the roadside.

Logan was a little confused, unsure whether to ignore it and continue running to work, or whether he should help the woman up first...

As he hesitated, the black-haired woman subconsciously shook off the stray hairs covering her face, revealing a stunningly beautiful face, staring at Logan with resentful brown eyes.

Logan immediately knelt down, extended his hands, and said sincerely, "I'm sorry! It's my fault, miss. I was in such a hurry to get to work at Morgan Bank..."

The young woman was about to say something, but upon hearing him mention Morgan Bank, a look of confusion crossed her face, and she asked in broken English, "..."

"You mean... Morgan Trust Bank?"

"Yes, miss. Today is my first day at work, and I'm going to be late."

Logan blushed and grabbed the young woman's hand, pulling her up.

The young woman frowned, brushed the dirt off her clothes, and then said, "You can go now...be more careful next time!"

Logan grinned sheepishly, then asked, "You're so kind! What's your name...? I'll apologize to you in person when I get back tonight!"

The woman frowned deeply as she looked at Logan's face, but remembering that he worked at Morgan Bank, she said something casually.

"My name is Anna. I live here. You should go to work now..."

Logan nodded, glancing back at Anna as he walked, and repeatedly waving goodbye to her.

As Logan turned his head back to the front, it suddenly dawned on him that the girl didn't seem to have left in the morning; rather, she looked more like she had just finished work and returned to Greenwich Village looking tired...

.

When Logan arrived at Morgan Bank, the guard in the gold-trimmed red and purple vest frowned at him, but still stepped forward and asked,

"Sir, is there anything I can do to help you?"

Logan was taken aback and quickly explained, "I...I'm here to work! I'm looking for Mr. Coster..."

The guard's eyes widened instantly. He raised his right hand high, pointing to the side of the building, and muttered a curse, "Get out the back door! You damned idiot, only customers can go through the front door!"

Logan ran down the stairs in a panic, followed the direction the man pointed to, and went straight into a passageway that read "For Internal Use Only".

It was 30 minutes later when he finally found Mr. Koster and was introduced to the foreign affairs service counter.

Mr. Coster glanced at Logan, frowned deeply, and even wore gloves before introducing him to Mr. Howard, the Inspector General of the Foreign Affairs District. Then he left as quickly as if avoiding a plague.

Logan looked at the tall, thin Mr. Howard and dared not say a word.

Howard deliberately ignored him, slowly scanning the entire hall.

The international teller counter is located in a side hall of Morgan Trust Bank. The marble hall is high and spacious, like a temple, and the crystal chandelier shatters the golden sunlight reflected from the high-hanging windows on the polished oak counter.

In the foreign affairs area, the counters are separated from customers by mahogany wood fences.

The dark green velvet carpet could swallow the footsteps of customers, but it couldn't swallow the metallic clicks of a typewriter.

A dozen or so sales clerks dressed in snow-white lace shirts stood with their heads bowed behind the counter, waiting for customers and also enduring Mr. Howard's critical gaze.

After a while, Howard came back and stood in front of Logan again.

His gold watch chain dangled from his chest, hanging in front of his black vest. Mr. Howard slowly pulled out his gold pocket watch, glanced around at the dozen or so employees of all ages at the international counter, and then snapped the watch case open.

The crisp sound of the pocket watch opening made everyone's backs straighten. Everyone remained silent, pretending to be busy with their own tasks, deliberately avoiding looking at Mr. Howard and Logan.

"Logan Stone..." Mr. Howard didn't raise his voice intentionally, but his cold gaze was like a razor shaving his face.

"Yes, yes, sir!"

Logan was sweating profusely, but he didn't dare wipe it away.

Howard stared at him and continued, "Every minute at the international counter is worth three ounces of gold, and you're 45 minutes late today!"

Logan's throat bobbed, all the excuses he could think of along the way stuck in the back of his tongue, but he dared not utter a single word.

Howard glanced in the direction Mr. Coster had left, then said casually,

"This is the last time... Morgan's men are always early, never late. If you dare to do it again, even if Mr. Koster personally delivered you, you're fired!"

Logan trembled slightly, a hint of fear in his eyes. He looked up at Inspector General Howard, his face showing a submissive expression.

"Yes, sir!"

Howard looked down at him, then gently tilted his chin to the right, pointing to a spot in the corner of the counter, and said...

"Go ahead, start as a clerk guarding the scales, distinguishing genuine from counterfeit gold coins. Remember, you need to be familiar with various gold coins from different countries, and be able to quickly differentiate between genuine and counterfeit ones."

(End of this chapter)


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