Learning curves by Gemma Townley Page A

sandals over socks. She just had to get through this meeting with her private tutor, then a lecture on something boring, and then she was going to start her corporate espionage in earnest.
    Somehow Angel had managed to get under her skin with those comments about her father the day before. She’d refused to admit it, of course; Angel had this theory that when you got agitated about something it was usually because there was a kernel of truth there that you didn’t want to admit to or face, and there was no way she was going to let Angel think she’d struck a chord. But the fact was that she had, and the more Jen thought about it, the more determined she became to prove that this whole exercise had nothing to do with her father. Or Gavin, for that matter.
    So as soon as she’d gotten back from brunch, she’d made a list of all the things she needed to do—find out where people gathered to talk, figure out where key people worked, find out who was on the Axiom account. Now all she had to do was get on with it. She was going to show everyone that she was serious.
    “Okay, so, Jennifer Bellman. Right?”
    Jen looked at the man impatiently. This wasn’t quite what she’d expected. This was her first meeting with her personal tutor and she’d been expecting someone in a suit, someone who looked like a Bell consultant, who would quiz her on strategy and internal analysis and ask about her assignment results.
    Instead, the man in front of her had long straggly hair that looked like it could do with a cut, and he was sitting crosslegged on his chair.
I wonder if he does yoga,
Jen found herself thinking idly.
I wonder if he’d be interested in Angel’s classes.
    “Great. Well, I’m Bill. The official title is Dr. Williams, but I’m happy with Bill if you are? I like to keep things informal if you know what I’m saying.”
    Jen realized that he actually wanted an answer, so she nodded again and said “Yes, that’s fine,” just for good measure. She was getting quite good at pretending to be an MBA student, she thought to herself confidently. Maybe next year she’d have a go at pretending to do a PhD. . . .
    “Great. That’s just great. So, Jennifer. What can I do for you?”
    Jen gave him a sideways look. Why should he be able to do anything for her? It wasn’t like she’d set this meeting up or anything. It was on her agenda, that’s all.
    Perhaps she should ask him about corporate greed, she thought to herself with a little smile. She could ask him whether he knew that his precious firm might be implicated in the corruption scandal in Indonesia.
    Then again, perhaps not.
    “Nothing. I mean, you know, I don’t know what a personal tutor does, really,” she ventured after a pause. Bill smiled.
    “Anything and everything. Except supply you with drugs!” he said brightly. Jen managed a half smile.
    “See these bookshelves?” he said, pointing to a row of fitted shelves. “These books are invaluable when you’re doing an MBA. And you can borrow them from me so you don’t have to go to the library. Which will save you a lot of time, believe me.”
    Jen surveyed the books. There were a few things like
Ten Ways to Improve Yourself and Your World
or
How to Be More Effective and Save the Planet,
but there were also some scary-looking books like
Economic Growth: An Epistemological Study
and
The Strategy Focused Organization: How to Align Your Objectives to Drive Bottom-Line Performance.
    “I didn’t think that Bell Consulting was particularly interested in improving the world,” she said caustically as she reviewed the titles.
    Bill frowned. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. Corporate social responsibility is big these days.”
    “Good for marketing, is it?” Jen asked sweetly.
    Bill raised his eyebrows. “I guess so, although I happen to think it’s a bit more important than that.” He grinned again. “So, then, there’s your workload,” he said, moving over to his desk and sitting on the edge of it.