Colby Chaucer stood alone in the big office.  In his hand he held his sealed bid. He desperately hoped to get the contract to build the new hospital parking garage.   It would pull his construction company out of a six-month slump that was threatening him with Chapter Thirteen bankruptcy.  He had already laid off half of his work force, and he had very little for the rest of them to do. The old hospital administrator had stepped out of the office and around the corner.  Colby could hear the conversation the administrator was having with someone, and it sounded like he was going to be waiting in the old man's office for awhile.  Right now Colby's eyes rested on a piece of paper lying on the gleaming mahogany desk.  The letterhead was that of Colby's competitor; it had to be the other bid the hospital had received.  He could tell it was his competitor's bid, but he couldn't see the amount written on the bottom line. It was obscured by a can of Pepsi Cola the old man had haphazardly left sitting there. If Colby could just move the can long enough to see the bid, he could change his bid to undercut his competitor's figure.  He looked around.  He could still hear the old man talking. The conversational tones of the exchange were such that Colby was sure he'd have time to reach across the desk, lift the Pepsi, look at the bid, then open his own envelope and change his figure if necessary...

    Mitchell Anderson was standing in line at the cafeteria.  He had spent all morning in an interview with the board.  He had answered all their questions favorably, and the job was his as soon as lunch was over. He would be president of the largest bank in the region.  His income would swell from nothing to beyond his wildest dreams.  He was already thinking of how his lifestyle and future would change as a result of landing this job.  He spoke cheerfully with the Chairman of the Board as they slid their trays of food down the polished stainless steel counter.  Near the end were the condiments.  He was surprised to note that each slice of butter was twenty cents.  He slid one pat of butter onto his potatoes with his table knife, and then quickly slid a second one to his plate, stuffing it inside the pile of mashed potatoes so as to hide it from the cashier...