I asked my brother: What does it mean to make money?

He said: The boss gives you 200, you do 200 worth of work—that’s called just trading for a meal to eat.
I said that’s not right. The boss gives you 200, but you only do 50 worth of work—that’s what you call making money.
He froze.
I said: Think about your company’s supervisor—what are they doing every day? Watching over you, so you don’t slack off. When you do things well, he says it’s because his leadership is excellent; when you make mistakes, he says he saw you weren’t capable from the start.
My brother slapped his thigh: Damn, I get it.
The next day, he quietly transferred the company’s three clients to his own private account; every day he only worked two hours, and the money he made was more than double what it used to be.
The supervisor pulled him aside to talk: This won’t do. If the company finds out, they’ll fire you.
He replied: Then don’t be idle either. You manage me, and I’ll give you 10%.
The supervisor’s eyes lit up.
Now the two of them are partners—the supervisor handles keeping the higher-ups in the dark, and he handles digging out the lower-level people. In half a year, they made more than 400,000.
Yesterday, the company’s audit found out. The supervisor was the first to expose him, saying he’d been deceived.
My brother asked me what to do—how should I handle it.
I said: Didn’t you just do 50 yuan worth of work? Now you don’t even have to do 50 anymore.
Siren sounds came from the other end of the phone.