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The tour was the perfect remedy to get over my humiliation. It was amazing. I loved every aspect of this company.
The hustle.
The bustle.
On most of the floors, the large open workspaces held a sea of computer screens. Half of them with market data flashing across them. Others displayed articles from Seeking Alpha and many had Excel spreadsheets.
Employees analyzed trends, assessed potential risk, and my personal favorite, performed back-testing. I loved recreating trades using historical data from the past few years to find a pattern for profitable trades.
It was all so thrilling. I couldn’t wait to get started with the number crunching. The tour ended in the cafeteria, just in time for lunch. I sat with Andrew and a bunch of other suits whose names I didn’t bother remembering. I’d been doing well for the first twenty-five co-workers, but after that, my brain quit memorizing names.
“So, intern, how do you like the big city life?” a guy in a gray suit asked me.
I peeled the saran wrap off my sandwich. “I’m not sure I love it yet, but I’ll do anything to follow my dream.”
Andrew’s phone buzzed. He took the call and walked out of the noisy lunchroom.
“Finally, he’s gone,” said a man with a goatee. “So, Laura, how did it go with Mr. Cox this morning?”
A redhead leaned in. “Yeah, are you totally traumatized yet?”
“Tell us, we’re dying to know,” said another lunch companion.
Traumatized? That was an odd way to describe someone’s first day. All eyes were fixed on me, eager for gossip. “You’re joking, right?” I asked.
“Come on, it’s ok. You can tell us,” said the guy in the gray suit. “Did he dumpThe Essays of Warren Buffetton your desk and tell you to memorize it by the end of the day, like he did to Ritchie two years ago? Poor guy didn’t last a month before he had a nervous breakdown. He was muttering equations fromThe Intelligent Investorto himself when the paramedics wheeled him away.”
My smile faded as I searched their faces, each one as serious as a market crash.
“Or did he make you do a system trade back-testing for the last thirty years? Not ten. Not twenty. But thirty freakin’ years.” The redhead threw her arms up in the air in frustration. “Who does that? Those things take forever, but Hellhound expects it done in a day. It’s impossible.”
They all nodded their heads in agreement.
“Oh man, I remember he did that to Amy.” Mr. Goatee said. “She was the intern before you. We had high hopes for her. She lasted three months before she quit. She held the record.”
The guy in the gray suit waved his fork at everyone. “She didn’t quit. She threw one of her computer screens across the room at Mr. Cox, and he fired her.”
“Oh yeah, she went totally bonkers. Rumor has it he managed to dodge the screen seconds before it would have hit him. Then he called her a crazy bitch and told her to—”
“GET OUT!” Everyone at my table shouted at once. Each one mimicking an angry, disgruntled man, presumably my new boss.
“He hasn’t toldyouto get out yet, has he? He’s famous for that,” said the redhead as she looked at me expectantly.
My stomach sank, and I lost my appetite. “Um, no.” This didn’t sound at all like the man I’d met this morning. I tried to ignore their stories and chalked it up to them trying to scare the newbie. Some sort of initiation. “If he’s so terrible, then why are you all still working here?”
My question was met by a chorus of snarky laughs. The guy in the gray suit answered for them all. “Cause most of us don’t have to deal with him. We don’t work directly under him. Only a handful of directors have to report to him and his assistant. And now, you. The work is insanely hard, the hours torturously long, but the pay is amazing. Especially the bonuses. As long as we keep getting results, we don’t even have to see the Hellhound.”
“We’re safe. You’re not,” said the redhead.
Smug faces stared at me.
“You probably thought you hit the jackpot getting this internship, didn’t you?” Mr. Goatee asked, trying to look smug, but he didn’t know he had a grain of rice stuck in his chin hairs. “If I were you, I’d start looking for another job. Your sanity depends on it.”
I bolted out of my chair. “I have to get back to work.”
They had to be lying. Or joking. I hoped. My new job buzz was dying fast. Damn co-workers. I marched out of the cafeteria. No, I wouldn’t let them get to me. I would base my judgment on facts and on my personal interactions with him, not on rumors and other people’s far-fetched history with him.
The next day, I arrived early in my beat-up red Miata. Traffic was horrendous, and I sure as hell wasn’t used to big city driving. An SUV cut me off, nearly forcing me onto the sidewalk. A cab driver gave me the finger, and I didn’t even know why. A cyclist yelled at me, and I yelled back.
