The Story So Far: Facing the potential for heavy investment losses, and the possible dissolution of his funds, Morty Kai mobilizes his fellow fund managers, and asks Queen Esther to appeal to the king. She invites the king and Haman to play golf on consecutive days.
That night, the king couldn’t sleep, no matter what he tried. He had taken three Ambiens, the last one more than an hour ago, but to no avail. Resorting to a desperate measure, he asked for the head of the Compliance Department to come to his room, and read all of the entries in the Compliance Log. If that didn’t put him to sleep, nothing would.
The Head of Compliance began to read, until he came upon the entry about Morty Kai the fund manager, who had broken the XM and Sirius insider trading scandal, and reported it to compliance, also saving the king millions of dollars in the process. “Stop right there,” the king ordered. “Have we done anything to reward him for blowing the whistle on these guys?” When told that Morty Kai had not been rewarded for his good deeds, owing to a significant amount of backlog and recent budget cuts in that particular department, the king made a note of the need to recognize Morty Kai for his actions.
At that very moment, Haman appeared at the king’s door. He had decided that rather than wait for the mark-to-market regulations to take effect, he would attempt to put Morty Kai out of business immediately. His plan was to ask the king to order that Morty Kai’s credit lines with his clearing house be canceled, and that the king order that any bank which agreed to give Morty Kai a new credit line would not be given any of the government’s substantial bond underwriting business.
Before Haman could make this suggestion, however, the king asked him. “Haman, if I were to institute a ‘Fund manager of the Year’ award, what would we do to honor the person upon whom we bestowed that title? Hearing this, Haman figured, “’Fund Manager of the Year?’ To whom else could the king be referring but me? No one has generated the returns that I have.”
Haman described the ceremony. “The person who receives this designation shall receive a new wardrobe, consisting of three Oxxford suits, six Brioni ties, two pairs of Ferragamo shoes, and a dozen custom-made shirts from Ascot Chang. For the next year, he shall be able to borrow and wear the watch of his choice from the king’s collection of luxury timepieces (Haman had his eye on a certain diamond-encrusted Franck Muller watch the king owned). He shall be given a ticker-tape parade through the financial district in the king’s Aston Martin convertible, with a well-known fund manager behind the wheel, calling out as he drives, ‘congratulations to the Fund Manager of the Year.’”
The king smiled and said, “Excellent idea. Do exactly as you describe for Morty Kai, the inaugural recipient of the ‘Fund Manager of the Year’ award, for his excellent investment returns and his unshakable ethics. And you’d better not scratch my Aston Martin while you’re driving it, Haman.”
Haman was shocked, and more than a little displeased, but he did what he was told. What choice did he have?
The parade was a disaster for Haman. He was covered with ticker tape, as he watched all the annoying, conservative value investors rejoicing in Morty Kai’s recognition, dancing around with their dog-eared copies of Benjamin Graham’s “Security Analysis” and “The Intelligent Investor.” To make matters worse, he got an urgent call on his Blackberry from the office that one of his traders had entered the wrong ticker symbol on a trade, and the firm had lost several thousand dollars unwinding the trade. Then, a policeman on horseback gave him a ticket for using his cell phone while driving.
When he got back home, his miserable wife, Zeresh, who seemed to live for kicking him whenever he was down, started to give him a hard time. “You think you’re better than Morty Kai? You’ll never generate better long-run investment returns than him. And shorting galbanum futures? Any idiot knows that’s a sucker’s play. You’re about to get squeezed big time, buddy.”
Haman blocked out her shrill rantings, and went to his home office, closing the door behind him. He had another appointment to play golf with the king and queen that afternoon, and if he didn’t get his head straight, there was no way he’s shoot a decent round.
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