Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Halloween

Happy Halloween readers!

We got to dress up for work today, and I came as a "Person Who is Really Excited to Come to Work on a Tuesday." Sucks though--can you believe EVERYONE ELSE got the same costume?

Halloween munchkins, "Night of the Living Dead" rather than CNBC...it might be a pretty good day.

Monday, October 30, 2006

Sarah, Kevin and Stapler-Induced Concussions

I may not have acquired a tremendous amount of career-advancing knowledge during my employ (so far) with XXX, so I may as well add these two facts to my "useless, but true...at least at XXX" list:

1. Sarah hates Kevin.

2. Kevin hates Sarah.

The two of them get along about as well as bleach and ammonia. In the event you are unaware (or haven't yet made the mistake), if you mix bleach and ammonia, you will either 1) evacuate the premises or 2) pass out cold. I've heard that you can sustain severe brain damage if you inhale too much chloramine gas, but regardless, BOTH alternatives are preferable to spending more than five minutes with the two of them.

Sarah, to some effect, is "Little Miss Can't be Wrong." I'm not educated enough about the energy markets to attempt to have any sort of meaningful discussion with her, but from what I've observed, if you are bearish energy, you are wrong. Period. The process is similar to telling a kid that Santa Claus isn't real. First, there's the denial. "You're wrong! He's real." If pushed for an explanation as to why, denial is followed by reasoning (typically pointing at some sort of data supporting her position): "Of COURSE he's REAL! Otherwise people wouldn't have written all of those SONGS about him. Why else would people leave cookies out on Christmas Eve?" If she is proven to be wrong, she will acknowledge this, but then blame it on people's failure to recognize the OBVIOUS truth: "Fine, maybe Santa Claus isn't 'real' so to speak, but there are tons of fat men dressed like him which is pretty much the same exact thing. Just ask all of the kids." I won't criticize her behavior; at least she doesn't waver, but I can also understand how frustrating it must be to try to reason with an unreasonable person.

This is probably why Kevin doesn't bother. He has taken a more unprofessional approach, taking as many digs (both relevant and irrelevant) at her as possible. This hostile relationship materialized weeks into her employ with XXX. Again, I believe that her addition to the energy team was a tough one for the boys' club to swallow as she is an intimidating, outspoken alpha woman. I think Kevin and Rich were used to mulling ideas over and agreeing 9 times out of 10, and Sean threw a large wrench--a wrench with boobs, nonetheless!--into their dynamic. I'm sure his original intent was to add new/different ideas into the mix. Sarah is very bright and has many useful contacts, but from a spectator's perspective, this experiment appears to be backfiring. She won't agree to disagree, Kevin won't agree to treat her with respect and Rich has essentially thrown in the towel and avoids confrontation with her directly at all costs.

The traders at XXX meet on a weekly basis to discuss trading ideas, risk metrics, etc. and at one of the first congregations of said meeting, Sarah warned Kevin to back off or to face the wrath of a heavy stapler. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that* as, to this day, I still don't know what Kevin said to have sparked such an inflammatory response. Their mutual dislike has caused a great deal of frustration determining a position, and today a meeting was held on the desk to discuss everyone's sentiment regarding the energy sector. Sarah began her speech, and someone picked up a ball which sparked a game of catch amongst those listening. She made mention that it was somewhat annoying and/or distracting, and I watched annoyed as well. I may not have many important things to say, but if you ask me for my opinion, you'd best be listening. There was a misthrow (probably Greg's fault; he's practically sweating Crisco at this point) that came in my direction, and I confiscated the ball so that Sarah could finish delivering her part in peace.

I thought this would be the end of it.

The group dispersed and went back to their various terminals. Once the trading day came to a close, Greg and Kevin engaged in another game of catch. This is not uncommon around our office: We're preparing ourselves for a career in the minors in the event this whole hedge fund thing doesn't pan out. Back and forth they went. Kevin got up, walked over to Sarah's area, and motioned the whole "I'm ready to catch" thing. Greg wound up, launched it, and the instant the ball left Greg's hands, Kevin walked away from the scene as if he had never been involved with the clear intent of hitting Sarah with the ball "accidentally." By the will of God alone, it didn't hit herand this is a good thing as I'm 99% sure she could (and might) kick the shit out of Kevin. It hit the wall, she gave the stone stare (please refer to Medusa entry back in July) and thankfully, that was the end of it.

Something has got to give. I'm thinking 2 egos, one ring and unlimited blunt-force trauma inducing office supplies: Trader Cage Match. Someone call HBO, and may the best (wo)man win.

At least tomorrow is Tuesday.


* A fly well out of the way of her stapler.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Columbus who?

My feelings toward Columbus Day are most accurately portrayed by Adam Sandler's rendition of "Holiday" in "The Wedding Singer."

The following business cannot spell "Columbus" and has confused the Italian voyager with a brand of yogurt, therefore eliminating the need to celebrate (as said business does not support yogurt or anything else with a fat content of less than 50%):

XXX

The following businesses consider Columbus Day a holiday, and celebrate it by closing their offices:

EVERYONE ELSE

I'd like to waste more time whining about this great injustice but have to rest up seeing as I have work tomorrow. Since most of you have the day off, I'd appreciate it if one of you could make a reservation for Bitter...table for one...and please make sure it's after 6 o'clock.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

I definitely have better legs than him...

My friend Jessica has filed a formal complaint regarding my infrequent blogging. During conversation, she demanded reasons as to why I hadn't been posting.

"Nothing's really happened."

"I'm sure SOMETHING happened this week that you haven't written about."

::pause:: "Maybe. Sean wore a skirt to work on Monday."

"A skirt???"

"Yeah, it looked like an athletic skirt. It was black, and reminded me of tear-away pants."

"No, he didn't."

"He sure did."

"All I can think of is Fat Bastard in a kilt. I feel sick."

"That's pretty much what he looked like."


Yes folks, I'd hate to ruin a perfectly good Friday, but Sean wore a skirt to work on Monday. I tried to find a picture to illustrate what, exactly, this thing is but 1) I don't know what the hell it is and 2) when I typed in "athletic kilt" and "sports skirt for men" Google returned no hits and a smartass "surely, you're kidding me" message. Think of the fabric tear-away pants are made out of, except cruelly forced into skirt form. This article was pleatless and solid navy blue rather than plaid. It is probably sold exclusively in sizes XXXL and Good Lord. He sauntered into the office, paused briefly by Beth and mentioned something to her about needing to get as much use out of his summer attire as possible since the weather is changing, and walked over to his desk. She mumbled something in response, but didn't take a good look at him until he walked away. I passed her desk on my way out for a coffee.

"A!" she whispered forcefully. "What the hell IS that thing???"

Nothing surprises me anymore--the skirt had made several appearances in the office, and while it's still an eyesore, it's a less shocking one. As long as the wind doesn't pick up, it's all good. Those 3 monitors might be ruining my eyesight, but even the severest degree of blindness won't spare me from any emotional scars resulting from Sean's "Seven Year Itch" interpretation.

"It's his skirt. You haven't seen it before?"

"His, his WHAT? What did you say?" she stammered, completely horrified.

"His skirt," I replied as I headed toward the door. I heard her mutter, "It's going to be a long fucking Monday," as I exited.

And it was. This isn't to say, however, that there weren't any highlights. The most entertaining moment of the week (unless something phenomenal happens today) occurred when the skirted Sean realized that he had a potential investor meeting and had to make an emergency stop home to grab some pants. Whoops.

I wonder if I'll miss this kind of stuff when I leave.

P.S. The trees en route to work are now wearing polka-dotted beanies. Yes, I doublechecked on the way home to make sure I wasn't mistaken in my morning haze. I feel bad for those evergreens in the same way I feel bad for dogs whose owners insist on parading them around in booties and sweaters. It's hard to be a noble fir when a propeller is whizzing in the breeze.