"Mary and I have twins. The future becomes—more important," Tom said.
Daddy would love this guy.
"You want to do your part," Oliver said.
"I'll be honest with you," Tom said, leaning forward, "we're looking for a good man for our MIS position. We need someone who can handle challenge, take on responsibility. Technology is changing fast, Oliver; Pilgrim must change with it. We're a large organization, but we keep a small turning radius. That's how we stay in front of the competition. Teamwork. You know—in the last analysis—business is all about people." He stopped to gauge Oliver's enthusiasm. Underneath all the nautical bullshit, Oliver sensed a fairly sharp guy, hard-working anyway.
"I can do the work," he said. "But it would take me six months to get up to speed."
"We've got four," Tom said.
"What are weekends for?" Oliver asked. That got him the job. That and the Jennifer connection and some boat talk.
He walked to Deweys and was greeted loudly by George. "Olive Oil, my God!" George waved at Oliver's blazer, slacks, and shiny shoes. "What have you done?"
"Pilgrim Atlantic is taking me aboard," Oliver said.
"My God . . . Is the money that good?" George's eyes gleamed.
"Money's good. It gets better if you keep your mouth shut and work sixty hours a week. I haven't actually started. I just came from the interview, but it's a pretty sure thing. I'll buy." Sam set two pints in front of them.