During the trough of the 2002 market decline, a broker at an old firm (reputable, internationally recognized investment bank) of mine came dressed to work in basketball jerseys and slippers, whenever the fuck he felt like it. No kidding, this fucker was out of control, mainly because his dick swung low, doing massive monthly production, thanks in large part to his short only book and gangster ways.
As every other broker had his balls buckshot monthly, he’d just short 300,000 shares of some stupid internet stock and make 50%. He walked around the firm, as if he owned the place, followed by 10 peasant idiot cold callers, dressed in Chinese delivery man business shirts and money ties. They were the lowest of the low. My cold callers looked like JP Morgan and Gus Levy, compared to these losers.
A friend of mine, who was in the most unfortunate position of supervising him, would get into fierce battles with this man, solely based upon his egregious work attire, which consisted of terry cloth sweat suits, gold chains and Nike high tops. In all hilariousness, the firm was so desperate for production, with investment banking shut the fuck down and most brokers in the soup, they let this maniac run wild throughout the firm, as if it were his personal basketball court.
The prim and proper types looked at him with contempt, even DISDAIN, as he barged through the office with his entourage of goons.
At a time when the firm’s top producers were lucky to break 30k per month, this bastard was bangin’ out $300,000. It got so crazy, he even forced out a broker in the office adjacent to his, in order to make room for more cold callers.
Good times, indeed.
The secret to his success, you ponder?
Often times he’d just yell and shout at his clients, in a very belligerent manner, as if they were adolescents who got caught playing hooky from school. One time he was overheard saying “YOU KNOW WHY I CAN DO THIS? BECAUSE I AM GHETTO FABULOUS, THAT’S WHY!” To everyone’s astonishment, that phone call resulted in a new account.
Obviously, he was a man with great honour [sic] and respect— for the streets. To this day, people who were there are still amazed by how much money he raised, using that sort of tone and unprofessional manner. After all, who the fuck relates to a guy who claims to be “ghetto fabulous”?
My take: it didn’t really matter what he said, since he was right on the markets. He could have went to his clients mansions, dressed in a fucking banana suit, and still raise $10 million dollars, providing he made them coin.
The story of Mr. Ghetto Fab ended badly, as you could imagine. However, before it did, two assistant branch managers resigned, due to Ghetto Fab’s insistence on wearing NY Knicks jerseys and sandals to work— on a Wednesday or Thursday—no matter. When the assistant branch managers asked Mr. Ghetto Fab to dress in a suit with tie, polished shoes, he’d reply: “go fuck yourself. I don’t take orders from you”—naturally.
How did the story end, you ponder?
He was caught smoking a fucking blunt, filled with marijuana, with his staff, in the front of the office building (very prestigious NYC landmark), at around 1pm. When confronted by the CEO, he replied “yeah I did it, now get the fuck out of my office.”
Shortly thereafter, kindly, he was asked to leave.
So goes the story of Mr. Ghetto Fabulous.[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=blYBENeikYU 550 400] If you enjoy the content at iBankCoin, please follow us on Twitter