What I am doing is thinking about a hedge fund holiday party that I was invited to this past week, and while I may be staying in solo tonight, there is some hedge fund guy out there with a special black book entitled "Snow Days" and he certainly is not watching She's Just Not That Into You this evening because that would be pathetic. Let me tell you, all is well in the hedge fund industry, you know aside from all that insider trading stuff. As for said party, unbelievable location, top shelf open bar, hiring of an internationally acclaimed music group. You know, a usual Wednesday night for the average New Yorker. I was hearing that some firms were sending out letters to employees to not gather in groups of 12 or more as that might constitute a, dare I say it, party, and we all know that if there is one thing Main Street cares about, it's gatherings of 12 or more people. I'm just waiting for AIG to be blamed for this party somehow.
Soon after I arrived at the party I thought to myself, this must be blogged about. While the employees were downstairs at their employee and dates-only dinner, the invited folks were upstairs milling around, dropping $20 tips on singular Miller Lites. Good for them. That's one less delicious bowl of ramen soup they're going to be able to afford this week, suckers. But alas, the evening's most interesting tales did not involve the $20 tips, but the 20-some year old women flanking these hedge fund "ordinaires". There was a gentleman, a nerdy looking gentleman by most standards, with this one young lady. She wore a black outfit that might've been a one-piece. She was either coming from a Beyonce video, a yoga class, a biker rally or a Rydell High Class Reunion.
I don't know exactly, but the outfit was perhaps something that CatWoman once owned, and any CatWoman will do here (Eartha Kitt, Michele Pfeiffer, or Halle Berry). Anyway, the back of this outfit simply did not exist, and several law of physics were surely broken just to keep the top part from coming off. So here is this guy, who is with this girl, and this girl is shaking it, and showing off her God given/Doctorally enhanced? talents for everyone to see. The fellow...he looked like he no idea what to do with her. Like none. I half expected him to escort her out so nobody else could witness her gyrating herself into his midsection while he stood there flummoxed, and I half expected him to put a big ol' tag in her ear stating that this piece of meat belonged to his farm. While several of us were witnessing this spectacle, some guy behind me probably summed it up best how ridiculous it was when he remarked, "I think I'm going to go home and kill myself". These hedge funders just live in a different world I suspect. A world where they can descend the stairs of their plane in Cabo with their gaggle of girls and say, "eh, too cold. Let's head to Curacao" and then run back up the stairs while slapping the barren backsides of his travel companions as the girls playfully spray champagne all over the tarmac. What? That's how it happens.
I am a big fan of the HBO show Eastbound & Down so let me share with you what kind of sums up how these guys operate, or at least how I'd like to imagine they operate, because as we all know not everyone is like this, but enough are to where I can write a blog like this and at least a few people will shake their heads in affirmation...
These guys can make it rain every, single, night, dollar dollar bills ya'll.
There were wives and girlfriends there, and as the night wore on it was clear that there were a lot of women still milling around who were unattached, and how did I know they were unattached...because of their (beat) "huuuungry eyes". I can understand the appeal for both sides. The mantra of my most interesting class at Michigan was "the market knows best", and as the night dragged on, and more alcohol was consumed and as the married and coupled folks went home to their million dollar apartments, the market knew best, with guys undoubtedly doing the requisite financial models in their heads, and the girls scoping out which guys had the most hair on their heads. I'd like to think that perhaps a few marriages will come out of that evening. I'd like to think that two people, one with love of finance and one with love of finances, one with a penchant for creating complex models and one with penchant for surrounding themselves with models, one who used to look up to the great corporate raiders and one who used to date the Oakland Raiders...I'd like to think that these two seemingly different types of people can come together and make a real honest to goodness love connection in this crazy crazy world. If not, I guess a trip to Curacao works too.
3 comments:
It was extremely interesting for me to read that blog. Thanks for it. I like such themes and anything connected to this matter. I definitely want to read a bit more on that blog soon.
Your answer is matchless... :)
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