Read Online Terms & Conditions by Robert Glancy - Free Book Online

to be really safe, I build a Chinese Wall topped with a barbed-wire super-injunction.’*
    * For those not fluent in legalese here’s a translation.
Chinese Wall
: fictitious wall built around a client that is a conflict with existing clients. In theory you could work for both Coke and Pepsi if you had a Chinese Wall in place, so no one working on the Pepsi account ever spoke to anyone on the Coke account. Of course this is an extreme example and neither Coke nor Pepsi would allow the same company to represent them, even if – quite literally – the Great Wall of China was rebuilt brick for brick down the middle of the office.
    Injunction:
a gag that stops the media discussing a corporation. Like name suppression but for a company as opposed to a celebrity flasher. But a
super
-injunction is far more potent than your bog-standard injunction. A run-of-the-mill injunction prevents the press talking about the incident but does allow them to write:
BP is being sued for an undisclosed amount by an undisclosed company over an undisclosed allegation.
    But with a super-injunction that same sentence reads:—is being — for an — by an — over an —
.
    Not much left in there once the super-injunction has gutted everything but the articles and prepositions. Super-injunctions state that you can’t even mention the company name. Can’t even hint at it. It’s a legal method so powerful that it verges on legal voodoo. It literally, and legally, makes problems vanish into thin air.* 1
    * 1 It’s how Oscar lives with himself, by constantly building internal super-injunctions around all of his terrible mistakes, affairs and fuck-ups so he never has to face them.
    After he’d mentioned the company name only once, Oscar started to omit it, putting a short pause in its place when he spoke: ‘When we start with [pause] we’ll ensure no one here works on it, except maybe you proofing major contracts that come out of [pause]* division.’
    * Such is the power of the super-injunction that our reality had literally been dubbed, as if a swear word was scrubbed from our dialogue.
    â€˜Oh my God, and there I was thinking the door was just a bunch of lawyers and accountants trying to find a way to break Dad’s Will and get us on the stock exchange.’
    Oscar looked shifty before finally admitting, ‘Well, actually we’ve done that as well. This deal with [pause] puts us onto a new financial level and that means we’re all, including non-partners like you, buddy, about to get very rich indeed. We’re aiming to go IPO this year.’
    â€˜But how can you break Dad’s Will? He wanted this to remain in our hands, not some faceless board of shareholders.’
    â€˜Well, Dad’s a clever man but he was sloppy and he left a tiny detail in the Will, which we’ve found a way around. He said and I quote, “As long as my name is on the business it will never under any circumstances go public.” So I’ve decided that we’re changing the name. We’re rebranding; everyone’s doing it these days. It’s that simple. I was thinking we call ourselves The Firm or Oscar’s Law. I don’t know . . . those clever marketing bods will think of something.’
    I was opening and closing my mouth but astonishment made me mute.
    â€˜Are you OK, buddy? Come on, we’ll be rich,’ said Oscar.
    Finally, words shot out. ‘How could you do this to Dad and to Mum and . . .’
    He shushed me and said, ‘Don’t get so emotional. This will benefit all of us. Dad made that Will in different times; we need to move on, buddy. Now, any more questions?’
    Accepting that I wouldn’t shift him on the IPO, I made a last desperate plea to his moral core. ‘Don’t you have any ethical qualms about working for a hideous weapons manufacturer?’
    Oscar smiled and, revealing his moral core to be as false as his Da Vinci