clients informed and happy. Clients can pick up the phone and call any shop on the street to do trades; we need to make sure that they call us . How do we do that? By being good fucking salespeople, thatâs how. Thatâs what we are going to teach you. How to be a good fucking salesperson. Capiche?â My head was spinning, and I could swear that I just heard one of the traderâs computers cluck like a chicken for no apparent reason. What the hell was going on here?
âWhatâs that noise?â I asked, afraid if I hadnât really just heard a clucking chicken I was about two minutes away from a stroke.
âWhat, the chicken?â he asked.
I was relieved he heard it, too, and yet startled that he didnât seem to think random barnyard animal noises needed explanation. I nodded. âYes, the chicken.â
âSome of the traders programmed their systems to make farm animal noises when they do a trade. They canât possibly keep their eyes on everything all the time so the sound effects help let them know where their positions are. So donât be surprised when you hear something moo, or bark, or oink. The junior guyâs system rings a cowbell, but itâs annoying so I might make him change it. I hear that fucking thing in my sleep.â
Unless you saw it for yourself, you couldnât accurately imagine this scene if you took three tabs of acid and locked yourself in closet. I gulped.
âSo are you ready to start?â Chick asked as he walked toward his chair on the desk, where he apparently spent most of his time, despite having a private office.
Ready to start? I couldnât remember anything he just said. I needed a map. And a finance-to-English dictionary. Pronto.
Before I could ask him to clarify a few things, he called everyone to attention.
âListen up, team; this is Alex. Sheâs our new analyst. Introduce yourselves and make her feel at home.â A few people nodded; some of them raised their hands and waved. One guy actually got up and shook my hand, though he was on the phone when he did it so he didnât actually speak to me. I looked around and noticed that there were no empty workstations. I sure as hell wasnât going to sit on someoneâs lap, so I was sincerely hoping that Chick was going to tell me where Iâd be sitting. When he sat down and started typing into a massive Excel sheet, I realized he wasnât.
I had no choice but to ask him, or else stand in the aisle all day like the team mascot.
âExcuse me, Chick. Where should I sit?â I asked, nervously.
âHere you go.â Without taking his eyes off his spreadsheet, he reached behind him and grabbed a tiny metal folding chair that was leaning against the wall. It was kindergarten size. I took the chair from him and held it in front of me without unfolding it, clearly confused.
âYou donât have a desk yet,â he said, without trying to hide his irritation. âWe 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.â
My mind was racing. How could there be nowhere for me to sit? I didnât just show up unannounced. I got this job offer last October. It was July. In ten monthsâ time they couldnât even find me a desk? A man in his late thirties walked over and grabbed Chickyâs 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.
âYo, Chicky, this is the new girl?â he asked in a thick southern drawl.
âAlex. Our new analyst.â
âSheâs cute. Would I do her?â
âI get the feeling sheâs feisty, so yeah, probably. I doubt sheâd do you,
âWhatâs that noise?â I asked, afraid if I hadnât really just heard a clucking chicken I was about two minutes away from a stroke.
âWhat, the chicken?â he asked.
I was relieved he heard it, too, and yet startled that he didnât seem to think random barnyard animal noises needed explanation. I nodded. âYes, the chicken.â
âSome of the traders programmed their systems to make farm animal noises when they do a trade. They canât possibly keep their eyes on everything all the time so the sound effects help let them know where their positions are. So donât be surprised when you hear something moo, or bark, or oink. The junior guyâs system rings a cowbell, but itâs annoying so I might make him change it. I hear that fucking thing in my sleep.â
Unless you saw it for yourself, you couldnât accurately imagine this scene if you took three tabs of acid and locked yourself in closet. I gulped.
âSo are you ready to start?â Chick asked as he walked toward his chair on the desk, where he apparently spent most of his time, despite having a private office.
Ready to start? I couldnât remember anything he just said. I needed a map. And a finance-to-English dictionary. Pronto.
Before I could ask him to clarify a few things, he called everyone to attention.
âListen up, team; this is Alex. Sheâs our new analyst. Introduce yourselves and make her feel at home.â A few people nodded; some of them raised their hands and waved. One guy actually got up and shook my hand, though he was on the phone when he did it so he didnât actually speak to me. I looked around and noticed that there were no empty workstations. I sure as hell wasnât going to sit on someoneâs lap, so I was sincerely hoping that Chick was going to tell me where Iâd be sitting. When he sat down and started typing into a massive Excel sheet, I realized he wasnât.
I had no choice but to ask him, or else stand in the aisle all day like the team mascot.
âExcuse me, Chick. Where should I sit?â I asked, nervously.
âHere you go.â Without taking his eyes off his spreadsheet, he reached behind him and grabbed a tiny metal folding chair that was leaning against the wall. It was kindergarten size. I took the chair from him and held it in front of me without unfolding it, clearly confused.
âYou donât have a desk yet,â he said, without trying to hide his irritation. âWe 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.â
My mind was racing. How could there be nowhere for me to sit? I didnât just show up unannounced. I got this job offer last October. It was July. In ten monthsâ time they couldnât even find me a desk? A man in his late thirties walked over and grabbed Chickyâs 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.
âYo, Chicky, this is the new girl?â he asked in a thick southern drawl.
âAlex. Our new analyst.â
âSheâs cute. Would I do her?â
âI get the feeling sheâs feisty, so yeah, probably. I doubt sheâd do you,
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