Sometimes no matter how difficult it is, you need to give credit where credit is due. Ricky who could be the biggest d-bag on Wall Street is having one the most successful years of his career and it’s fucking killing me.
Only in the ethically challenged world of institutional trading is production an acceptable substitute for morality and character. Don’t get me wrong – I’m no angel. I’ve done some shit that would keep some men awake staring at the ceiling for weeks – and manage to sleep like a baby. But this guy is such a bad dude. Rotten to the core and management loves him because he’s been kicking ass.
The guy is an absolute farm animal who recently found himself a hedge fund soul mate. He is truly disgusting. He is the grown man who still needs to be told when he has food on his face. Part of me wants to see just how long he will go with that pizza sauce or little piece of low mein stuck to his unshaven chin… But the truth is, it’s just hard to look at. “Hey bro – you got a little something… right there.”… You jerk off.
A one armed blindfolded chimpanzee could tie a better knot in his tie (not that it’s ever been closer then four inches from his fat double chin) and I am 200% certain this animal doesn’t own an undershirt, never gotten a shoe shine and has heard the term collar-stays but has no idea what they are. Deodorant is hit or miss.
Now let’s travel to the opposite side of the spectrum and meet Kevin. Kevin is one of the young guys who works long hours in our back office settling trades and fixing our mistakes. Kevin’s got a thankless job. He’s already here when I get in and still working hard when I leave. One day Kevin said he wanted to talk to me about some things and asked if I would be interested in grabbing a beer. It was the least I could do. So that Thursday I went down to the usual watering hole with a couple of local broker buddies and proceeded to get my drink on. By six o’clock my friends had trickled out to attend their own meetings and dinners. Finally just before 6:30 after finishing up his work Kevin came down.
It was the exact talk I expected and had numerous times before from guys in similar positions. It was the ‘I want to get onto the trading desk’ conversation. Now Kevin is a good dude who gets it and works his ass off. He’s the kind of guy you want to help. Honestly, he’s the go-to operations guy. There’s not one trader in the entire room who doesn’t go to this kid first when they have a problem. I gave him some advice, blocking and tackling tips, who to stay in front of and who to avoid.
Speaking of who to avoid and after two beers, in walks Ricky with one of his clients. Wonderful. With his chest puffed out and client in tow, he beelines to our corner of the bar and saddles up. He introduced me to his obnoxious client (who didn’t feel the need to look away from his blackberry) and ordered drinks. These two are a match made in heaven. The drinks come, the bartender says, “That’ll be sixteen dollars”. Ricky looks at me and says, “Do you have a tab open?”… I turn to the bartender, “Sure I got these clowns.” That’s the only time his client actually looked me in the eye – I don’t think he liked being referred to as a clown. Whatever – Fuck you Bozo.
Since Ricky hadn’t done it yet, I was getting ready to introduce Bozo to Kevin but before I could Rick finally points to Kevin and says, “This is one my back office guys… Sorry bro what’s your name again?”… Are you kidding me? I just spent the last half hour telling this kid how everybody knows who he is and respects his work ethic and this china shop bull just barges in and introduces him as “the back office guy”. And since Kevin has confused a good run with success, looks up to Ricky and just brushed it off.
Kevin not knowing what he was about to unleash, brought the prior discussion back to life and started asking Ricky the same questions he was asking me… “What would you do if you were me?”, “How did you get your start?”. Don’t do it, I thought. Since Ricky is basically retarded, nobody older than 4 years old had ever asked his advice about anything. His ego was gobbling this up like Oprah Winfrey feeding on deep fried Oreos. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Kevin doesn’t know any better and sees Ricky as one of the most successful guys on the desk. He doesn’t realize that Bozo is probably two months away from blowing himself up and Ricky will be back to rubbing sticks together and hanging out in front of the junior high playground.
After another 20 minutes Rick actually had his arm around Kevin’s shoulder, “Stick with me kid – I’ll show you the way.” I was watching a slow motion train wreck and there was nothing I could do about it. I knew I was losing him to the dark side when Bozo the customer put down his Blackberry and tells this kid how lucky to have a chance to learn from one of the “greats”. One of the greats? This guy? The guy scoffing down his third refill of bar peanuts? The guy who doesn’t believe in deodorant? This Guy? I couldn’t watch anymore. I closed out my tab (after Ricky insisted they all get one more drink on it) and left them alone.
I’ll never know what went down once I left but starting the very next morning Ricky the farm animal had a slave. I noticed Kevin bring him coffee that morning and thought… hmmm that’s weird – maybe that was his way of saying thanks for the talk… but if that’s the case… where’s my coffee?. Then later that day Kevin brought him his lunch… and then afternoon coffee. It’s four months later and this poor bastard is still catering to this prick. It’s ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong – breakfast and lunch deals like that are made all over Wall Street, but such an arrangements are usually carried out under the unwritten ‘I Buy You Fly’ trader bylaw. But this bum just takes, takes, takes and has never done so much as to buy the kid of coffee. Dirt bag.
Last week after the close the boss was talking about reshuffling some things around and possibly hiring some younger guys to build up our bench. With Kevin’s talk fresh in my mind I suggested that he take a closer look and consider promoting him to the desk before looking externally. Since he had little interaction with Kevin personally he was a little hesitant. I then steered him to Ricky and since Ricky is the flavor of the month, I knew (even thought it makes me sick) the boss man would respect his judgment. So my boss waives Ricky over into our conversation. Ricky walks over (with four hour old mustard crusted to his cheek) and the boss tells Ricky that he was considering bringing Kevin into the trading desk and asked what his thoughts were. Without exaggeration do you know what this ungrateful slapdash son-of-a-bitch said? He said, “Kevin? No not Kevin. You could definitely do better than that. The guy is a ZERO.” I couldn’t believe my ears but wasn’t surprised.
I had a follow up conversation with Kevin the next morning and without being a rat I suggested that he seriously reconsider being Ricky’s lunch lackey because it’s beginning to eat into his credibility and promise. Kevin wanted nothing to do with my advice and was convinced that Ricky is looking out for his better interest. You know what? Fuck you both – you’re perfect for each other.
Stupid is what stupid does,
Dopey
