You TOO Can Wear the GOLD TIE!

Day 2,632, 10:07 • Published in Canada India • by Satya Yuga
Almost before Looncraft's gaze left the intercom, a tall management type stepped into the room. He wore conservative gray pinstripes and a gold silk tie. A complacent expression settled over his clean-shaven face as he said, "Yes, Mr. Looncraft?"

"Give Johnson your tie," said P. M. Looncraft.

The complacent expression fell apart. "Sir?"

Box of Firecrackers

"Your tie. Give it to Johnson." Turning to the floor trader, he added, "Johnson, would you please lend this man your tie for the remainder of the day so he will be presentable?"

Ronald Johnson came to his feet, beaming. "Yes, sir, Mr. Looncraft. Of course, sir. I appreciate this, I really do."

Box of Fireworks

"But, Mr. Looncraft," Lawrence moaned, his face dropping like that of a man whose proposal of marriage has been rejected, "I am supposed to have this another three days."

"Let me remind you that the gold tie belongs to the firm," Looncraft said aridly.

"But, sir, I earned it. This is my month to wear the gold tie."

4th of July Arsenal

"It belongs to Johnson now," Looncraft told him. "He has earned it by his concern and ernestness during a most unsettling business day. Johnson has performed with great presence of mind, and LD to recognize that service."

Lawrence stiffened. His hands stayed at his sides. He ignored the offered blue tie.

"I must remind you, sir," he went on hoarsely, "that company policy expressly stipulates that the gold tie may be worn for thirty days before an employee is required to surrender it." Tears were streaming from Lawrence's eyes now. This was a humiliation. He was being degraded for no reason that he could fathom. "I must protest this in the strongest terms."
Vampire Hunter

"I accept your protest," P. M. Looncraft said evenly. "Now, give Johnson your tie."

Lawrence whirled on Johnson like a cornered animal.

"Johnson! What is Johnson? A sniveling wet-behind-the-ears trader. I have been with LD twenty years, and the first time you call me by name is to ask me to surrender the tie. I have attained the gold tie seven times. That is an LD."
Battlefield Chalenge Hero

"Duly noted. Now, give Johnson your tie," Looncraft repeated. His voice remained even.

Lawrence looked at the impassive face of his superior, then at the outstretched hand of the eager young trader, Johnson. "I won't have this," he sniffled. "I won't be treated like this. I quit!"

And Lawrence flung off the gold tie, throwing it in Johnson's shocked face before storming out of the office blubbering.
Pacific Hero

Ronald Johnson gingerly picked up the tie from the maroon rug, and after apologizing for his coworker's unfortunate outburst, began to tie it around his neck in a standard foulard knot.

"I can't tell you how much this means to me, Mr. Looncraft," Johnson said fawningly.

Looncraft rose from behind his desk. "I understand," he said, smiling humorlessly as he shook the trembling hands of his young employee. "Now, I want you to get back to work. You needn't trouble yourself with these well-intentioned concerns of yours. You have a bright future with us."

"I know," Ronald Johnson said, his eyes bright with that familiar gleam.
Cupid Killer

P. M. Looncraft returned to his desk, knowing he had chosen well. He had selected Johnson to manage the Global account because the man was, whatever else, conscientious. This was as it always was with conscientious men. Offer them mere money to ignore an irregularity and they would spurn it with ill-disguised distaste. But offer them recognition or glory, and they were your servants. It had worked since the early days of Looncraft Dymstar. It had worked for his ancestors, back in the days before there was a United States of America. His ancestors would simply wave a sword over a man's head and call him knight, and the man would give up his life for that title and those who conferred it upon him. It was the same with the gold tie. It was just a silk tie. Anyone could buy one. But when P. M. Looncraft dubbed it the company tie and forbade any employee to wear one like it, every man on the floor doubled his productivity to vie for the gold tie. Status-hungry traders who couldn't be bothered to earn raises because they were already earning obscene amounts in commissions were slaves to their desire to wear three feet of golden silk around their necks.

Early Kicker

Still, Looncraft was disappointed in Johnson. He had not tied his tie with a full Windsor, and that was the mark of a slacker. Ah, well, the man was probably Scandinavian. Most Johnsons were.

-- "The Destroyer #81: Hostile Takeover", Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir
Top Fighter

Comment below with what laborious obstacles and/or financial detriment Plato has driven you to throw at this game to wear your own three feet of golden silk on your profile page.