Meat Street Wall: I Survived the Stock Market Slaughterhouse

Author: (USA) Keller
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-11-01
Features: I dialed the phone number listed in the advertisement. "Hello, this is the Research Department," a woman answered on the other end. "Ah? The Research Department?" I hesitated for a moment but quickly said politely, "Could you please transfer me to Robert Cornell?" "He's not in the office today. Would you like me to leave a message for you?" "Please have him call back Andy Keller, at this phone number. Sorry, may I ask which company's research department this is?" "Paine Weber," the other person replied. I had seen an advertisement for Paine Weber earlier but knew nothing about the company. It was 1985, and I was 26 years old, not in a great hurry to get this job. Cornell called me back the next morning. His voice on the phone was peculiar and deep. He inquired about my background and asked when we could meet in person. I was about to leave my residence in New Jersey to go to a headhunting firm in Manhattan, New York, which specialized in short-term job opportunities for programmers and tech industry professionals, so I told Cornell we could meet during lunchtime. I decided to wear my best clothes: a burgundy-red shirt, a navy blue wool tie, loose double-knit pants by Haggar, and no jacket—this was the earliest "tech geek fashion," which started to become popular around 1985. I ran into a former colleague at the intersection of 51st Street and Sixth Avenue, and he asked where I was going. "Dressed like this for an interview at Paine Weber?" he eyed me up and down with the expression of someone thinking, "How could you possibly dress like such a ridiculous fool." Well, I was a ridiculous fool. I started to feel a bit uncomfortable about how poorly I was dressed. I walked into 1285 Avenue America, took the elevator to the 9th floor, and headed to the receptionist. Behind me, a slightly ajar door caught my eye quickly. Inside, people were shouting at each other or shouting into the phone—it was a strange place. The reception area was furnished with the worst art I had ever seen in my life. Ugly modern paintings looked like they were done by a three-year-old. "Hi, I'm Robert Cornell," he said. He was surprisingly short, and his voice was just as deep as it sounded on the phone. As he shook my hand, he slowly scanned me from head to toe and back again (I didn't mention that I was wearing dirty brown "Ferragamo" loafers?). He gave me a strange smile, which I later learned implied: Take a look at this person's clothes and appearance. I thought, This must be the person I'm looking for! "Come in, let me introduce a few people who will be joining us for lunch to you. Smith, Gruberman, let's go!" The first guy to appear was a bit chubby, dressed neatly, with thinning hair, and greeted us in a British accent. Cornell introduced him: "This is Steve Smith, he's the top Wall Street computer industry analyst." The second guy who came over was wearing a three-piece suit, his shiny black hair slicked back, and he had a very noticeable, menacing-looking mustache. He greeted us with a thick Philadelphia accent: "Hey!" He sounded almost...