Thursday, November 11, 2010

Misconceptions Part 1

“Alls well that begins well,” shouted Mark as the stock exchange bell rang over the trading floor… then the inevitable screaming.

“Trade – Trade – TRADE!” bellowed Mark just as the rush of lookers and losers gathered towards the man.

It was September 28th and the world was doing well, and even better was the New York Stock Exchange, the last bastion of old world capitalism.

Jason Phillips looked on the floor and laughed a little. It was so right. All this activity, all this trading, all this money and all of the world at their disposal.

He opened his hand a let a stock slip right out. It was another failing junior mining stocks slip for a proposed mine that wasn’t going to gain traction. The U.S. Environmental Department wasn’t about to give the mine it’s blessing given that it would once again lead to a political quagmire involving environmentalists, residents, competing mining players and politicians whose wheels needed to be greased. And the discovery wasn’t much to talk about anyhow; just another small coal deposit in the Appalachians that might cost more to develop than the profits it would produce. At least that was the scuttlebutt on the trade floor. And while Jason didn’t put a lot of investment in rumours on the floor, he knew enough about the project that at 48 cents per share, it had hit its peak. Trading activity was low on it and no one was going to buy in. Jason sold the stock for 28 cents, just to get ride of it.

“Hey thanks Jason,” said Mark, who happened to be the purchaser.

The final bell rang to end the trading day.

“Absolutely,” Jason responded joylessly before he threw out his hand for a shake.

“Hey, rumours are flying around right now that the banks are about to fail in a major way. There are big meetings down the street and someone said you could hear the CEO of AIG screaming out his window,” Mark informed Jason.

Jason looked at his watch and asked if there was anyway to get to Frugal Feliz on 34th before the real dinner rush hit.

“This could be bad, Jason. If these banks fail – and they might – we could be looking at catastrophic turmoil of the likes we haven’t seen since… well we haven’t seen it; not at least in our time here at the exchange.”

Jason laughed and shook Mark’s hand. He said there wasn’t much to be done if it were true, which he highly doubted.

“Hey look at this,” he said wryly, throwing his Blackberry in front of Mark’s face.

“Ugh, what is that?”

“Two girls and a cup. Now aren’t you glad you know me?”

It had been a successful two weeks for Jason. He had made play after play with exceptional speed and precise moves: coffee beans prices are about to go down? Sionara before anyone’s awoken. Harder gas emission controls and greater bureaucracy surrounding purchasing a truck? That means truck prices would level off. See ya! Big baby diapers going out of business? Give me some of that Proctor and Gamble stock. And so on.

When Jason wanted to sell, he sold and not only sold but sold well. As a floor trader, you had to be exceptionally coordinated with the people in the trading office down Wall St. Like a good wide receiver, you had to be able to read the trade calls, make the adjustments mid stream and then either catch or release whatever was coming your way.

“What a fucking week, Mark. Made some good money. Bonus city here I come.”

Mark’s face scrunched, as if the bitter pill he swallowed contained a monkey’s anus.

“Yeah, well fuck you Jason. I’ve heard some of those coffee bean plantation owners were none too happy with the stock sell off. They are saying guys like you made their crops worthless. I’ve even heard that they are here in the city and will march on Wall St. on Monday.”

“So, Frugal Feliz or no?”

“I’ll meet you there, Jason. But you’re paying…”

The conversations on the trading floor had themselves worn out. It was Friday and the weekend – the City that Never Sleeps weekend – was about to begin.

Mark’s comments had impacted Jason more than he’d have suspected. At times, he’d thought about the effect his trading activity had on those who relied on strong prices to make a living in far flung places where the actions of Wall St. were as familiar as a conquistador to a Mayan. The more he’d thought about it, the more the sensation grew in his heart. It pulsated through his chest and he walked out of the stock exchange looking like a proud general. He had never felt more powerful.

“Where to?” the Cab driver asked.

“Frugal Feliz. And if you get me there before the dinner rush, there’s an extra $20 in it for ya, my boy.”

The taxi sped towards the causeway.

Yes, thought Jason, never more powerful.

No comments: