Jon Chevreau recently wrote a blog post on The Atlantic columnist Jeffrey Goldberg’s quest for sensible financial advice after finding that his broker had simply stopped calling him. The column, titled Why I Fired My Broker, takes a witty look at Wall Street and filled with great lines such as this:
I took a random walk down Wall Street and got hit by a bus.
Or this conversation that will remind you of shoeshine boys handing out stock tips:
Several years ago, I went to a party at a hedge-fund manager’s loft in Lower Manhattan. The elevator opened directly into the loft, which was as big as Mussolini’s office. An Austin Powers bed was parked to one side.
I left the party with a friend of mine, David Segal, who is now a business reporter at The New York Times. As we walked to the subway, he said, “You know, we should get one of those hedge funds.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Where do we get one?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we can find one on the street. But we need one.”
“Yes, we do.”
When I think back on that conversation, I realize that it represents for me the apex of hedge-fund mania. Which is to say, when two reporters realize they should get into the hedge-fund business, it might be somewhat late to get into the hedge-fund business.
The column reminded me of that great satirical look at Wall Street that was first published in 1940 but still rings true today: Where are the Customers’ Yachts?. You should read it and check out the accompanying five-minute video.