There are very few people in this industry whom I actually trust and stay in contact with. One of them, Gary, who I used to work with and now works for a competing firm is absolutely brilliant. He’s the first guy people go to when they have questions on anything. I typically don’t relate to what the main stream would refer to as normal… and Gary is no exception.
Everybody has a few little quirks, eccentricities and peculiar behaviors… not Gary. Gary has ALL of them. Remember the hit 70’s TV show Three’s Company..? Remember Don Knot’s character “Mister Furley”?….That’s Gary! He is Wall Street’s own version of Mister Furley complete with kooky looks, nervous ticks and flamboyant mannerisms that we all remember.
It’s been a while since I’ve worked with this guy, but there’s a couple things really stand out in my mind. Gary needs to eat his breakfast every morning at 8:30. If he doesn’t eat at 8:30 – he’s all fucked up and his day is shot. Like many people, Gary loves cereal. He likes the cereals that come in those tiny little sample boxes, usually three per sitting and isn’t afraid to mix different kinds together in the bowl. What’s really odd, and I feel for the poor guy sitting next to him these days, is that Gary doesn’t pour any milk into his cereal bowl. He uses a spoon with no milk! Who does that? This probably doesn’t sound like a big deal, but when you’re the guy sitting next to Mr. Furley every day for three years watching him spoon Honey Fucking Nut Cheerios into his mouth every morning and all you hear is CRUNCH…CRUNCH….CRUNCH… You want to plunge a survival knife into somebody’s chest.
Now I still don’t know why, But Gary would spend lot’s of time chit-chatting with the Larry, the mail guy and George, the man who came around the office emptying the garbage cans every afternoon. They would talk about sports, music, and compare weekend plans. It was fucking strange. We’re talking about a trading room and this guy would have the trash man sit on the corner of his desk and talk for 15 minutes at a clip. I don’t know what your mail guy is like, but Larry is definitely short some postage. He’s the 45 year old guy that wears the same GAP khakis everyday pulled up to his armpits with a short sleeve dress shirt and tie. He doesn’t have to wear a tie but I’m guessing his momma told him to do that before they carted her off and locked her away.
Where Gary crossed the line is when he decided that he would help to make me a better person. He thought it would be a good idea to extend his twisted relationships with the “help” over to me. Like I have any interest in getting to know George the garbage man or go hanging out in the mailroom after close… Fuck that. But every day Gary insisted on dragging me into the conversations. He could see it was pssing me off, but was convinced somehow that it was for the greater good. In his mind those people were going home happier because “we” respected them as individuals and took the time to acknowledge their presence. Although his heart was in the right place, I had enough and decided to have some fun with the situation.
Slowly, when Gary wasn’t around or not listening I had began to convince the trash man that Gary was gay. At first he didn’t believe me, but as the weeks passed, I had him convinced beyond a doubt. Since I’m a complete ahole, that wasn’t enough. I began telling the George that Gary would talk about him all the time and how he had admitted to being attracted to him. The conversations became shorter and more uncomfortable as the days progressed – it was beautiful. I went from being aggravated each afternoon to looking forward to the awkward encounters. I felt the need to really freak this guy out so I went to see my brother Robert.
Robert has been divorced three times, keeps quite an interesting bag of tricks in the trunk of his car and spends the bulk of his time performing sexual experiments on dirty girls he meets on-line (that’s a story for another day). Robert hooked me up with a 15 inch rubber coated purple dildo that I smuggled into the office the following Monday and waited for my chance. Wouldn’t you know it… I waited three frigg’n weeks with that purple dildo in my bottom drawer – just waiting for Gary to be off the desk when George came around. For three weeks I was afraid to open my own drawer. I couldn’t even get paper clips. Finally the day came. Gary was off in the kitchen getting himself a soda, and George was just working his way down our row. Quickly I grabbed the purple monster, threw it Gary’s top drawer and closed it. Here came George. As he approached our desks, I leaned over “Pssst…..pssst”, and motioned to George to come closer an lean in. “George – you’ve got to see this” I whispered and slid Gary’s drawer open.
George lost all facial expression and without saying a word headed for the door. I was looking forward to a much more colorful reaction, but unfortunately that’s all that happened. George never came back to our area again. He would still come in every afternoon and empty the trash cans, just not ours. Poor Gary. to this day Gary has no idea why George the garbage man wouldn’t even make eye contact anymore.
Shit happens,
Dopey
