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A Fable in Two Acts
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It's always helpful to see
The Enemy up real close
of TheColumnists.com
I was stunned while holding up a sign on Wall Street to protest moneyed special interests, the banking industry and the entire capitalist system, when a Morgan Stanley trader suddenly strolled over and asked me to lunch.
I told him to get lost, spat on him and
said I wasn’t buying his brand of slick, money-grubbing
BS.
He looked crestfallen and pleaded with me to understand how terrible
he personally felt about the collapsed economy, so I took pity
on the guy and reluctantly joined him for lunch at the Yale Club.
I figured it helps to know the enemy and stalk him in his lair.
I was granted a one-day leave from the protest to help overthrow
corporate greed.
P. Madison James IV (or Jimbo as he said to call him) offered
to bail me out of my crippling credit crunch with a loan of $25,000
at 8% interest. When I said I couldn’t be bought quite so
cheaply, he offered me a job at his office as an apprentice day
trader, with a $500,000 annual bonus if I showed up every day.
I told him I felt I could do more good out on the streets by
calling attention to the inequality between the wealthy and the
working class. He said he admired my principles but felt that
a little money in the bank and a job might make me realize there
is no future in protesting the free-market system, fragile though
it is, which needed people like me.
I said that giving me a job to assuage
his conscience wouldn’t fix a broken economy or its built-in
inequities. After a four-course lunch, we wandered into the library
to continue our chat about the free-market system and Keynesian
economics.
Over brandy and a cigar, I told Jimbo I would be willing to consider
his offer and maybe try a week as a Wall Street trader just so
I could see up close how corrupt capitalism really is. After
discussing it with my wife, I felt I might be more effective
working within the system than in the streets, especially with
winter approaching and my parka wearing a bit thin. I tendered
my resignation from Occupy Wall Street.
At the end of the week I left Morgan Stanley for a better opportunity
over at Goldman Sachs, where I was given a corner window office
and various perks, including a lovely secretary, Madeleine. I
proved remarkably adept at the job, learning the ins and outs
of day trading and two-hour lunching in only a few weeks. Outside
my window, meanwhile, the Wall Street protesters were still chanting
to bring down the banks, brokers and big business conglomerates.
I wandered outside in my three-piece pinstripe suit and struck
up a conversation with a guy named Joe holding a bullhorn who
screamed in my ear how people like me were wrecking the country.
I listened politely and suggested we discuss it over lunch at
the Four Seasons. Joe said he needed a break, so we headed uptown
for a bite to eat.
©2011 by Gerald Nachman. The illustration is the work of John Darkow and is courtesy of The Columbia Daily Tribune. This column first posted Oct. 31, 2011.
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