"Nothing, maybe," Cleary conceded, pushing himself up out of his chair. He went to his window to stare out at the parking lot. "You can be a test engineer all your life, if that's what you want."
"It isn't."
"And what do you want, Mike?" he said, turning back to face me.
"Your job," I said. "In time."
He nodded. "Well said," he decided. "But if you want it, you'll have to learn that business is about ninety per cent people and about ten per cent operations. You know, as you have clearly shown, that Fred Stone is pushing to get me out of here a little before my time, and pushing to make sure that he gets this spot, for which there are other claimants of equal rank in the organization. Oh no," he said, holding up his hand. "Don't tell me that is none of your affair. Right now you are in the unusual position of being able to cast a vote that will decide just how soon Fred Stone can make his move for the top spot. And as long as you sit there and try that smug line of 'I just test 'em and let the chips fall where they may,' you are really siding with Fred Stone. I need something else out of you, and you know it. What's it going to be? Are you a wise enough head at your years to pick a winner in this scrap? And what if it isn't Fred? I'll have your hide, young man."
"That's what your snippy little brunette said," I told him. "She told me that you'd eat me for breakfast, and she was right." I got to my feet.
"Where are you going," he growled. He was still standing behind his chair.
"To look for another job, Mr. Cleary. There must be some place where the honest result of a test will be assessed as the honest result of a test rather than a move in a political fight."