Once upon a time, before she was sleeping with married men and having people eat raw fish off her raw fish, all in the name of journalism, Melanie Berliet supposedly worked as a bond trader at “an elite investment bank.” She was one of just a handful of women and sushi girl liked it.
…my token status gave me an extra thrill. There was something doubly funny when I drilled a Nerf football into some guy’s head. Something gratifyingly titillating about my accidental flubs, like the time I announced, too loudly, “I love nuts.” I enjoyed being called a “fucking dullard” or being instructed, patronizingly, to “remove head from ass,” because my reaction–to grin rather than cry–impressed the guys. I loved their attention and the daily opportunities to prove that I fit in.
To that end, Mel B was up to get down when her boss, “Carl Pratt” (whose name was changed for this article, more on that later), texted her shit like, “Just woke up from a dream. I had you on your belly and took you from behind. You came multiple times.” At first she was like, silly Carl you sound like such a tool using the word ‘belly’ but as for the doing me from behind? I’ve been thinking about it too. She hadn’t actually been thinking about it, but Carl was her boss and they’d been doing the sexual banter thing for some time now. Also, Melanie felt “blessed to be able to play the sex card rather than cursed to have the game foisted upon me” and the bottom line was her “overwhelming preoccupation was procuring a fat bonus check.” There was only one thing left to do. Text back: “Wow. And I thought I was the only one still having wet dreams.” She figured, later that night, there’d be a few more drunk exchanges with CP but she didn’t think that even after telling him she had her period and that she’d “pulled her groin” that he’d persist but surprise! He did. So she told him to put on some “hard core porn” and got in a cab.
Too briskly, the elevator transported me to the twelfth floor of his hotel. I stood, ears popped, on the hallway’s plush carpet, pondering again. I imagined Carl’s arms around me. Then I saw him at work, rounding the corner to my desk, vigorously shaking the back of my chair, upsetting my balance before locking me in his devious grin. I was Carl’s underling, but I refused to consider myself a victim. Our audacious, perpetual flirtation was not one-sided. I could have ignored him. I could’ve avoided the girlish smiles and spurned the extra attention. Foreseen that it might not end well. I looked from the indiscernible smudges of the abstract painting on the wall to the small numbers on the door to my left: 1201. Neither told me what to do. I glanced behind me. In an inspired moment of clarity, or out of acute fear, I made a promise to myself: If I could lunge back toward the elevator doors in time to thrust my hand between them, I would go. A few impossibly large steps brought me to the elevator bank, and I sprang toward the narrowing gap. A soft beep sounded. A brightly lit empty box opened before me. I was gone.
So, she didn’t fuck him, but then he fucked her, hard, for not doing him, by giving her a $65,000 bonus, which Mel says was “at least $35,000 too low” and “mocked her.” But you know what comforted young Melanie? The realization that everyone on Wall Street is a whore. Is there really a difference between coming two shakes from having your boss fuck you from behind at the W and not coming two shakes from having your boss fuck you from behind at the W? Mel doesn’t think so.
Without a word, I walked back onto the trading floor, past the plantation of computer stations manned by employees like me. Recognizing our commonality, my rage receded. I had been ruthless, as they were, because I wanted the rewards of success–to assert control and live an independent, enviably cushy life. I felt absurdly unoriginal.
So…anyway. Let’s put your collective intel to work figure out the real identity of Carl the Bonus Buster. He’s probably got some good stories to share.
Playing The Sex Card At Work [Elle via Daily Intel]
slutttttttttt
Enormous amount of raw material here… Still processing.
I would not let my personal stable of whores wear those awful blue shoes in the picture.
-guy who likes his whores in black heels.
pussy. I would’ve gone through with it.
– ex-PMB
Did she work for Madoff?
@5 ew
She wasn’t here at Fig Muncher Capital Management, LLC.
~Yowanna Lickit
Managing Partner
she’s french though and everyone knows the froggies stick to type.
T-minus 30 minutes until the good details hit the comment boards, 29…28…
MS?
@anal: 26, 25… where are they?
Intristing. Shay appiz to hiff imple brists. Sounds like shay az a brine, too. Woy in the wirld would she want tew fintisyze about six with eh co-wirkuh?
~A. Drury
New South Wales
Austrailiar
First, is that the dress or does she have a belly to match those hideous rube shoes?
Second, he description of events sounds like the bitter recollections of a runner who couldn’t land and fuck the big man on the trading floor.
She got the job thinking a summer on her knees and all fours would get her marriage/retirement. Instead SHE didn’t make the cut from the rest of the gold diggers and is now acting like the independent woman of virtue.
Asian men prefer it if the sushi model farts, its a delicacy.
Merissa Ree
Bess, try EMF Financial and fire your research department. Took about 40 seconds to find that one.
Investment bank my arse….
Some days I think, wow, Bess has got a really tough job, slinging her tits across a hot keyboard to dish up tasty bits for consumption to a bunch of goombas screaming “where’s my fucking steak!” And then some days seems like shooting fish in a barrel. Even then I guess it’s “which fish?”
Hmmm… smells like dabagirls.
http://www.dabagirls.com/
smells like dabagirls….
http://www.dabagirls.com/
She looks like the evil one in “Running in Heels”
@15 my research department would be my fingers and my Google. Good work finding EMF. Now be a good boy and find out who Carl is.
Sounds like she’s cribbing from the Jordan amd Mark story.
I don’t understand … so she DIDN’T have sex with the boss? Then what’s the point? I don’t know what all the rest is for, anyway!
For $35k she wouldn’t do him? Boy, blondes are dumb.
@23 Mark?
slore
Bess,
Stop talking dirty and describing your fingers searching for things. Its just not fair.
@24, uhhhhh, no. Mark would say, for £21,000, she wouldn’t shag him? Oi, the bird is daft.
Nothing is sexier than a chick with a pulled groin who is menstruating.
Dennis Kneale
meh…she’s a 6.
i would still do her
The sushi moved
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/david-c-gottlieb/13/1AB/15
@ Perkins, I’d say I was pretty close on that 30 minutes eh?
Summit NJ is NOT wall street
@32 is that a confirmation or a postulation?
@34 – Its not?
forehead slapper
@35 I’d say guilty, until someone finds another.
@ A Drury: no chest here: http://mtblog.vanityfair.com/online/style/SushiModel2.jpg
girl would look far better with a boob job. Usually not a fan, but in this case, can’t think of much else to help.
@38, can’t agree more….she looks like a dude.
Nov 13, 2009 … The CFTC order requires EMF to pay a $4 million civil monetary penalty for making false statements and failing to disclose material information concerning its market positions and financing to the Chicago Board of Trade (CBOT). The CFTC also charged that EMF failed to diligently supervise the handling of its commodity interest business.
@28 +1
While not legally obligated, she was certainly morally obligated to do him after she told him to fire up some hard core porn. I mean come on now, she told him to lock and load and then wouldn’t pull his trigger? A disgrace.
Clarence Thomas
@29
6? 6?
2. 3 tops.
@37 – agreed. Wharton makes it a rebuttable presumption, in fact.
@42…awesome post!
@32 – I wonder if that is the same Dave Gottlieb that used to trade 5yrs at DLJ? Must be pre-CSFB.
Come on, honey — much more questionable pole has been embraced by those lips, for much less money.
You cost me 3 appletinis at the Summit Olive Garden, if I remember.
And unless you ease up on the teeth, I’ll be asking for that money back the next time.
I’d definitely crack her, but only if Rick Springfield shoved butter up her ass first.
Hank Moody
Jonas, she’s one ugly Slore! I wouldn’t eat Sushi off that f it was still alive and flaffin’ around.
SLORE!
http://guestofaguest.com/wp-content/uploads/wppa/Melanie_Berliet_Graham_Jonas.jpg
From the sushi story, she sounds like a total narcissist. The female version of Tucker Max, only without the self-aware restraint.
she worked at Credit Suisse as an analyst/associate in fixed income
She worked at CS and reported to the co-heads of NY IRP. Not hard to guess which one is the fearless racoon pirate. Will let them fight it out, but we all know…
@49: she looks a bit…wideclops?
maybe its just me
@19, 29, 39, 43, 49, 54 you know they all look the same upside down in the dark after a few drinks.
From the VF story:
“…or, at least, that are common to me, with my middle-child tendency to seek attention at any cost.”
indeed.
she worked at credit suisse, where she almost banged her boss, and then emf.
@28 FTW. @49 – who is that toolbag she’s standing next to with the ‘Karma Yoga” t-shirt? Also, is she pregnant?
Don’t get me wrong, I love the ladies. I mean they rev my engines, but ugly quai-sluts like her don’t belong in finance.
David Gottlieb’s middle name is….Carl.
bberg–Prior to joining EMF Financial Products, Mr. Gottlied was employed by Credit Suisse First Boston.
Copy name…click GOOGLE
It’s Carl Spackler and it wasn’t a trading floor it was a shack full of Northern California Sensemilla grass.
@59/AB she’d be a homess cuter if she actually put out, though. the outputters can stay. agree?
You’re killing me? Really? Dave Gottlieb? That’s your best guess? Does he look like a racoon? Did she report to him? Come on, folks…
maybe she was a lame fuck, her looks are nothing special (and she really can’t think she was hired for her smarts!)
This bitch has a face like a foot
I, for one, am impressed. For a guy so notoriously dim to get to where he has is quite the achievement. And now? We find that aside from his lack of trading ability he is the proverbial guy who can’t get laid in a whore house with a stack of hundred dollar bills. If Wall Street has a special olympics, you’d have to root for him.
definitely wideclops http://guestofaguest.com/directory/melanie-berliet/29196/1/
Her business model is weak: A cut-rate Carrie Bradshaw looking to get laid by D List dudes looking for their names in print.
I would NOT hit it…damn, sho nuf is wideclops (or her doppleganger)! who let the wideclops out, who, who…
c’mon…she definitely tagged him. Its 2009, she has chicken legs, a huge beak, and was a fahkin bond geek. Boss man probably gave her the flying camel for Christ sake.
@69
Guest of a Guest is considered “print?”
Def at CS
I happen to know that it is a guy with the initials J.T. at Credit Suisse. Figure it out.
What’s astounding is the lack of focus on how awesome this article is. So well-written and honest!! Count me on Team Melanie. Kudos to the girl for having the balls to tell her story.
She is the hotness. Faaaaact.
Um, this article’s good. Girl can write. And she’s not vengeful. She just told her story. Takes guts.
She’s adorable: http://bit.ly/7a0w2X. Guaranteed anyone who hates on her is one thousand times less attractive.
W – I – D – E – C – L – O – P – S
@74 jim toya (everyone knew that, stop congratulating yourself.)
@75-78 (clearly all the same friend of the author.) yes it took guts to write a shitty article about being an almost ho. (and she’s not attractive.)
Isn’t a similar story floating around about an MD from Shitty who has moved to GermanBank1…
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