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fandomhigh2014-03-07 12:10 am
sharp_as_knives) wrote in fandomhigh2014-03-07 12:10 am
Entry tags:
Flavors, Food Choices, and Menu Planning - Friday, 4th period
Hannibal jerked his chin in a nod at the class as they came in and fiddled with a pen. Stupid American smoking bans. His suit jacket was decent quality but fairly casual, and he wore it without a tie, the first couple buttons of his shirt undone. He slouched just a little.
The classroom had computers with assorted financial programs on them. Hannibal waved at them. "You want any business to do well, even a legitimate one," his disdainful tone there was noticeable even through his thicker-than-before accent, "you have to know finances. You can hire people for it, but you better not trust them, or they'll rob you blind. Always be able to know what you're looking at."
He swung a chair around and sat on it backwards. "After that, there's a few things a real businessman needs to know." He grinned wolfishly and ticked them off on his fingers. "Diversify. You keep everything in one place, it gets shut down, you have nothing. You put everything in one business, they change regulations...pfft."
"Plus it's easier to make it look good." He snorted. "None of this listing prostitutes as convention workers. Nobody believes that shit anymore. You have an entertainment business, a hospitality business, a hire agency? You put a few of them each place. No big numbers, less to trace. You don't trigger alarms, and if they do find anything, it doesn't kill your whole profit. List as many as you can as contractors, short term. Fewer regulations, lower expense."
He pointed at their computers. "You each have five subsidiaries. One is juggling things in your favor, one is stealing from you. Find out which. And don't let your shareholders or the police find out."
That's right, class: today you were cooking books.
[Hannibal is now male again! And from a universe in which he never got adopted by his uncle, grew up in a Soviet orphanage, then killed and fought his way to the top of the Lithuanian mob. Enjoy, class!]
The classroom had computers with assorted financial programs on them. Hannibal waved at them. "You want any business to do well, even a legitimate one," his disdainful tone there was noticeable even through his thicker-than-before accent, "you have to know finances. You can hire people for it, but you better not trust them, or they'll rob you blind. Always be able to know what you're looking at."
He swung a chair around and sat on it backwards. "After that, there's a few things a real businessman needs to know." He grinned wolfishly and ticked them off on his fingers. "Diversify. You keep everything in one place, it gets shut down, you have nothing. You put everything in one business, they change regulations...pfft."
"Plus it's easier to make it look good." He snorted. "None of this listing prostitutes as convention workers. Nobody believes that shit anymore. You have an entertainment business, a hospitality business, a hire agency? You put a few of them each place. No big numbers, less to trace. You don't trigger alarms, and if they do find anything, it doesn't kill your whole profit. List as many as you can as contractors, short term. Fewer regulations, lower expense."
He pointed at their computers. "You each have five subsidiaries. One is juggling things in your favor, one is stealing from you. Find out which. And don't let your shareholders or the police find out."
That's right, class: today you were cooking books.
[Hannibal is now male again! And from a universe in which he never got adopted by his uncle, grew up in a Soviet orphanage, then killed and fought his way to the top of the Lithuanian mob. Enjoy, class!]