Introducing Deputy Dog and his first post:
I’ve worked on trading desks for almost 20 years – everything from boutiques to bulge brackets and pretty much every desk has a few over-the-hill sales traders I refer to as fossils. In their old feeble minds, they think since they started under the buttonwood tree they don’t need to work in order to keep their seat. This isn’t elementary school – you don’t get a satisfactory just for showing up on time.
These fossils shuffle in around 7:30 am, take an hour to log on and then another two hours (of which 40 minutes is spent on the crapper) to work through the sports section. Besides being cranky all the time and smelling like soap, too often these geriatric door knobs cover the large institutions and have been grandfathered onto the account making it impossible to shake them off. Only if the account knew what a disservice they were getting. These guys are just occupying space where they should be put out to pasture allowing younger, hungrier guys to have a shot. I don’t understand… If you can do crossword puzzles and drink tea at home without worrying about having a stroke on the desk then why wouldn’t you?
In between shopping for adult diapers and Floridian cemetery plots, would it kill these barnacles to answer a light or two? God forbid they make an outgoing call. Things are bad enough these days you think they’d be worried about layoffs – not- they feel that they have been on a desk for 30+ years that they have tenure. They should round up these fossils and put them in a museum where they belong.
As a block trader these are a few of my favorite senior citizen responses and questions:
- “Can I have a look in XYZ – remember I sold 20k 3 weeks ago?” What the fuck do you want with a look anyway? Who uses the floor these days? (BTW – When Snookie and The Situation rang the bell I couldn’t even tell who they were because the blended in so well down there – There’s more fist pumping on the floor than at D’jais at Belmar.)
- “Hey are we doing anything in XYZ?” You’re kidding me right?? WTF! We traded 25 million and been involved all day. Shave the inside of your ears you geriatric fuck and listen to the hoot or strap on your bifocals on and read one of the six thousand bloombergs and IM’s I sent you.
- “I’m real busy today, just not in your space…” WTF – then whose space? I can see your order screen Grandpa and its fucking blank. The only order you placed all day was with Duane Read when you refilled your Viagra prescription. Try making an outgoing call.
- “I remember back in the day I traded 20 million shares a day with this account.” WTF – I wish your father remembered birth control 9 months before you were born.
- “I’m ordering General Tso’s chicken from Tse Yang for Lunch- I do it right.” – WTF – I’m shocked you dont have the gout and shouldn’t you be eating tapioca pudding and prunes anyway?
Please do us all a favor and die already or retire before somebody breaks your hip. I really don’t care which comes first.
-Deputy Dog
