“Hi, I am Myron Econome, the new assistant general manager,” was the reply.
Myron Econome
“Why are you here?” inquired Pedneault.
“I want to introduce myself,” he replied.
“What for?” she wondered out loud, more to herself than to him.
“It seems the right thing to do,” he replied.
“Really? Our owner, John Percolo, your father-in-law, appoints you to a job with zero responsibilities but a ridiculously high salary, and you have the nerve to imagine that you might be useful?”, she said as she regarded him with bewilderment.
“That’s not fair. I have experience as a general manager!” he said defensively.
“You think your two years as GBC general manager qualify you to work at this level with a BBA ball club? That’s adorable.”
“I just want to understand the scope of my responsibilities.”
“Let me be clear. Your job has no responsibilities. None. Non, aucun.”
“Surely, I can advise them on trades and free agents.”
“Monsieur Econome, let me give you some advice. Stay clear of the Breums, enjoy your absurd seven-figure salary, and don’t even think of speaking to the press. Be grateful that your father-in-law gave you this position, but don’t think for a moment that you earned it. Trust me, old man Breum, who is 105, won’t hesitate to fire you if you embarrass him. Now please leave me alone, I have real work to attend to.”
Econome showed himself out.
