Wall Street's high-rise skyline gleamed in the midday sun. Carnegie entered one of its most prominent buildings, heading straight for the top floor without an appointment.
"Did you schedule a meeting, sir?" the secretary asked nervously.
"Tell Jonathan that Carnegie is here," he barked.
The reply was swift. "The chairman is in his lunchtime prayers. Please wait a moment."
When Jonathan finally appeared, he greeted Carnegie with a calm demeanor. "Mr. Carnegie, what brings you here at this hour? It's nearly time for lunch."
"Lunch? Wall Street doesn't know the meaning of the word," Carnegie retorted.
"Well, our Chairman Fang insists we all eat. 'We work to live, not live to work,' he says. Besides, I fast on Sundays, so I make sure to enjoy my weekday meals."
Jonathan's relaxed attitude would have seemed frivolous to most, but his record of success silenced critics.
"I didn't come to discuss your meal habits," Carnegie said sharply. "We're on the verge of a depression."
