Page 20 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
MADS
The elevator doors open,and a broad grin crosses my face. I love this company I built and the people I built it with. I enjoy jogging, and when I realized the exercise apps I was using gave me very different results than that of other joggers going the same route, I knew I had a problem to solve. Thankfully, my early tech investments ensured that I had enough to pull together the team that could solve it.
Wolfe Athletics, seeing the same problem in the market, became our biggest client. We partnered with them to create an app and a trackable device embedded in their cross-trainers so everyone from mall walkers to serious athletes could get back all manner of data.
On the flip side, a little bit of this success feels like the dog who finally caught up with the car. We’re exploding worldwide because there are so many things our technology can be useful for. Unfortunately, some of those are low-key horrific, in a way I never considered.
People say I’m smart, but I didn’t realize that creating a damn near indestructible tracking device the size of a dime and half as thin would have so many terrible uses. It seems I can be real stupid sometimes.
Anyway.
When I look out at the open-floor design, I remember to be proud of what I’ve built.
The office has open-table seating, cubicles spread out to the sides, and rooms you can sign up for if you need a little quiet. In the middle is a social space, with comfortable couches, yoga balls, and various configurations for people to sit and work or take a break.
There are folks of all ages, nationalities, and religions working together, and the energy here is good. This one open space looks like a slice of New York, and I love it.
“Yo, Deadliest Catch,” someone, probably Darren, yells from the scrum. “Nice jacket.”
I look down at my orange puffer jacket as a round of laughter greets my ears. I fake pout. “Shut up. I like my jacket.”
“So do the guys on the space station,” Darren tosses over his shoulder, grabbing a green juice from the community fridge. More laughter at my expense.
“I am the CEO of this company.”
“Yeah, and I’m the VP of Human Resources, and I’m telling you that jacket is a crime against humanity. I’m gonna need to see you in my office to discuss your Geneva Convention-violating attire.”
“You don’t have an office.”
“Neither do you.”
“Shut up,” I say again.
Before I can think up a decent comeback, one of our newer interns comes running up to me. “Mads! I think I've got a solution for the pressure-point issues we’re having with wider-width shoes.”
I grab their tablet and review the specs they’re so excited about. Huh. It’s a new matrix and is well within our capabilities.
“Nice design, Pax,” I say, gripping their shoulder. “What I want you to do is put some time on the calendar with one of the developers and Stanley, our architect. Really look at the logistics. Have them rip it apart and put it back together, then the three of you can come to me with a workable model. Sound good?”
Their eyes open wide. “You know, I heard people say this is a great place to work and that you listened, but I don't think I really believed them. You're going to spoil me for working for anybody else.”
“That’s the point. If I have you from start to finish in your career, we stand to make each other quite a bit of money and have fun while doing it.”
Pax fist bumps me, which I fuck up, but they don't laugh too hard. I really thought being a billionaire CEO meant fewer people would be laughing at my nerd-boy tendencies, but…alas.
Finding an open space on the couch, I pull up my emails for the day and whistle under my breath at the sheer volume. Harris, my assistant, plops down next to me. “I've already cleaned out the trash from your inbox, so everything in there needs your eyes.”
“There are three hundred emails in here, Harris.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” he says, accompanying his stolen bit of wisdom with finger guns and not an ounce of sympathy.
Working with these Gen Z kids is a trip. Are they professional? Fuck no. Are they fun? Fuck yes. More importantly, can they do their jobs? Abso-fucking-lutely.
People say Gen Z is too entitled, but they forget this generation was raised by parents who listened to them, heard their ideas, and paid attention. That's not entitlement. That's a human used to being treated like what they say matters.
The faster organizations figure out that these so-called entitled youth are the product of better childhoods, the faster they can evolve their businesses. Of course, that would mean listening to people, something the big boys absolutely despise.
Meanwhile, I’ve got highly qualified people from all generations lined up out the door to work with me.
