irritation. “We have to figure out where to put you. In the meantime, just pull up the folding chair behind people and watch what they do. Rotate through the whole group.”
My mind was racing. How could there be nowhere for me to sit? I didn’t just show up unannounced. I got this job offer last October. It was July. In ten months’ time they couldn’t even find me a desk? A man in his late thirties walked over and grabbed Chicky’s shoulder, staring at me like Sylvester the cat used to look at Tweety Bird. He was tall, well over six feet, with a platinum blond crew cut, broad shoulders, and huge biceps. He never took his eyes off me as he talked to Chick. It made me so uncomfortable I had to stare at the floor.
“Yo, Chicky, this is the new girl?” he asked in a thick southern drawl.
“Alex. Our new analyst.”
“She’s cute. Would I do her?”
“I get the feeling she’s feisty, so yeah, probably. I doubt she’d do you, though.”
“Give her time, Chick. Give her time.” He then grabbed one of the last two sandwiches out of the box and offered it to me. “Hey, Alex. Welcome to Cromwell. Have a sandwich.” His hands, like Chick’s, were perfectly clean and smooth.
I answered him politely, “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
“You don’t like the swine?”
“Excuse me?”
“The swine. Bacon. You aren’t Jewish, are you? If you aren’t Jewish, then why don’t you fancy the swine?”
“What? Umm, no, I ate already, thank you. But I don’t have a problem with the swine, no.”
“Suit yourself, newbie. It’s probably better. If you start eating bacon every day, you’ll lose that tight ass of yours, and nobody here wants to be stuck looking at a pretty girl with a fat ass. Remember, for girls, eating is cheating.” With that he threw the sandwich back in the box and winked at me as he walked away.
I looked for Chick to say something, anything, to defend me, but he didn’t. Instead, he removed his wallet and his BlackBerry from his drawer.
He smacked me on the back as he stood. “I have a golf outing, but I’ll be in tomorrow,” he said as he struggled with the sleeves on his blazer. I watched him leave, feeling as if I was watching my lifeboat turn around while I was still treading shark-infested waters. One hour as a full-time employee at Cromwell and, so far, it was nothing like I had imagined.
I STOOD HELPLESSLY CLUTCHING my chair like a security blanket, staring at my fellow team members, none of whom made a move to introduce themselves. I walked down the first row, feeling as if I was walking the plank, until a man who looked an awful lot like Andy Garcia intercepted me. He had the same tan skin, the same black hair, the same brooding eyes, and thankfully, a smile.
“Hey,” he said as he shook my hand. “I’m Drew. Why don’t you hang out with me today?”
“Oh really?” I was relieved, like a kid just saved from being picked last for dodgeball. “That would be great, thanks.”
“Pull up a seat … well, a folding chair. Whatever.”
He slid his chair to the left, to make room for me. I stared wide-eyed at all the numbers, the scrolling headlines, the modeling systems, the Excel sheets, the various colors flashing spastically on his monitors. Drew smiled and said, “Until you get your own desk—and, knowing this place, that could take a year—you’ll just have to shadow people during the day. Here’s what you need to know.” I flipped open my spiral notebook and waited anxiously for my first sales lesson. “First, don’t put the chair in the aisle, that’s the fastest way to piss people off. Make sure your chair is pulled as close to the desk as possible.”
“Okay, easy enough.” Not exactly the kind of lesson I was hoping for, but it was better than nothing.
“Second, don’t annoy people. When guys are busy, don’t ask them questions. Don’t try and make small talk with anyone. Until people get to know you, no one has any interest in talking to you. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”
“Don’t talk to anyone. Got it.”
“And whatever you do, avoid Kate Katz—a.k.a. Cruella—like the plague.”
“Why?” I glanced at the woman on the phone at the end of the row. He had to be referring to her; she was the only other female on the government bond desk. She didn’t look scary. She reminded me of my third-grade teacher, sort of. Only with more expensive clothes and a better haircut. Her short brown bob was tucked behind her ears, and her crisp white shirt was tucked into dark navy pants. She wore small diamond earrings, little makeup, and loafers. She wasn’t exactly what I would classify as intimidating. She looked friendly enough, I thought.
“Just trust me on this one. Lastly, I assume you noticed the coffee stand in the hallway?”
“Yeah, I saw it when I got off the elevator.”
“Good. We call it Papa’s. I have no idea why. Make the guys who work there your friends. You will be spending a lot of time getting coffees there for the group, and the quicker you get there and back the better. If they like you, they will take care of you faster. Other than that, you’ll figure things out as you go. You can hang with me today. I’ll show you the screens we use, and get you used to following the markets. Cool?”
Very cool. If I could, I’d canonize Drew. “Thanks so much.”
“No problem. Now, where’s your calculator?”
I quickly produced the shiny new HR-issued calculator. “Right here. What can I do?”
He handed me a printout of a grid, filled with numbers in type so small they looked like newspaper print. “Give me the weighted average of these prices. Don’t forget that these are in thirty-seconds, so you’ll have to convert them to decimals before you average. Also check to see if any of the handles look bad. They should all be around par. If not, let me know and I’ll double-check. There are probably a few errors in there.”
“Sure, I can do that.” And I could have, assuming someone had told me what a handle was, how to weighted average something, and how to turn something called thirty-seconds into decimals. As soon as I had those down, I could definitely do this.
He gave me a knowing smile. “You have no idea what I just said, do you?”
“I, ummm …” Shit, I thought. My business classes suddenly seemed like a complete waste of time. I might as well have majored in underwater basket weaving.
“Be honest, Alex. Pretending to know things you don’t will only make it harder. Do yourself a favor and admit what you don’t know.”
“You might as well have been speaking Mandarin.”
Drew laughed. “Here.” He pointed to the first figure on the grid: 99–28. “The 99 part of the price is called the handle. If you booked this trade at 98–28, the trader will tell you that you have a ‘bad handle.’ It’s clear at all times which handle bonds trade at, so a lot of times people won’t refer to them. There’s just no need and the less time you take relaying prices, the better. So if a trader gave me a price on this bond, he’d just say, twenty-eight.
