As many of you know, some harsh words have been uttered in the direction of RBS around these parts, all of them deserved. The bank more or less blamed this innocent website for all its problems, be it billions in losses, failed food eating attempts, terrible holiday parties, the inability to pay bonuses for several years and a clogged toilet that resulted in the trading floor losing power for ten minutes and never once said thanks for giving its employees a momentary respite from the daily grind of fantasizing about a life that doesn’t so closely resemble hell. Having decided they’d gotten their last kick out of seeing their follies and foibles chronicled, in May management decided to block all access to Dealbreaker from inside the Pleasuredome. And it went both ways. We were finished. Done. Finito. Our final reflections on the Royalest Bank of Stamford were written down here and although we consider ourselves loving, generous people, some unkind things were said, none of which I’ve ever felt the need to take back. Until now.
Guys. I was wrong about RBS. That became stunningly clear this afternoon. They are not humorless fucksticks and in fact know a thing or two about having some fun.
“I wish you had been here yesterday to witness the person in a chicken suit leading half the trading floor in the chicken dance for someone’s birthday sometime in the afternoon. I shit you not.
It was some dude dressed in an old dirty yellow chicken suit. The kind you’d see someone outside a restaurant wearing, or something you’d don right before being greeted by Chris Hansen in an empty house. He had balloons for the birthday boy and performed the chicken dance. Right there. On the floor. I only caught the tail end (pun intended) of it but a good chunk of the surrounding desks were clapping along in unison. It looked like mostly legacy ABN-Amro people. The RBSGC people are too prestigious to participate.”
The incredible, and most illuminating, thing here is not just that RBS would have someone dress up in a chicken suit for a team member’s birthday but the fact that more than a handful of people were ready and willing to get up and dance. Most firms probably can’t even get drunk employees to dance at Christmas parties, let alone on a Tuesday, let alone during market hours, let alone the chicken dance, let alone led by a guy in a chicken suit. RBS, you’re alright.
If this Padres thing doesn’t work out, I’m heading for Stamford! BWAAAAK!!
Funny, at Goldman they do the “no pants dance”
That’s the most productive thing the legacy ABN Amro guys have done since the acquisition.
It appears as if the entertainer in the chicken suit in the above picture has partaken in illicit marijuana smoking
4 comments and no one’s said it yet? Pics or it didn’t happen. Boom.
come to think of it dealbreaker is the cause of all my problems to!!bess levin is a trouble maker!!
oh that chicken danced like a mofo alright…
Nah, that’s just one of those new hipster fags (talking bout the cig) designed to make it look like you are partaking in the illicit burning of the herb when in reality you are just desperately trying to look cool…. maybe the chicken suit wasn’t enough for him…
RBS doesn’t sound as bad as kissing Mario Gabelli’s ass when he’s not greasing the world on squawk.
I was raised in the country. It was on a small farm in rural East Texas. We had all kinds of animals. Daddy made us kids call the animals by their “true” country names. We couldn’t say chicken; we had to say “pullet”. We couldn’t say “donkey”; we had to say “ass”. A rooster was a “cock”. Any other terminology was “city-fied” according to Daddy when he was sober. I did well in East Texas schools and got a scholarship to Harvard. Graduated with honors and got a job with RBS’s energy desk. Didn’t last long though. While some co-workers were helping me move into some rural property, I was managing some newly purchased livestock. I wanted to replicate the old homestead. One lady from the natural gas basis desk approached and asked me if I needed any help with getting the animals into the barn area. My donkey wouldn’t budge and I was carrying a rooster and a hen at the time. So, using my old country upbringing from East Texas, I replied, “Thanks! Will you hold my cock and pullet while I push on my ass?” For some reason she was offended and I am now looking for work. Any help would be appreciated.
RBS “energy” desk – shurley shum mishtake?
East Texas Gas Trader try this link to update your outfit and r-apply to RBS remember it’s a Scottish bank , or was originally.
http://road.cc/content/news/16078-limited-edition-clothing-and-accessories-tweed-run-launched
Please wear those in Leith to a pub.
Weemac, weren’t you once a milkman in those partsh?
Rarely Been Scottish bank… , mostly bunch of 50 something legacy( pun?) ABN folks making it more like a Sco’tch’ bank. Those compelled to live behind also magically been AMRO’ed .
Rarely Been Scottish bank… , mostly bunch of 50 something legacy( pun?) ABN folks making it more like a Sco’tch’ bank. Those compelled to live behind also magically been AMRO’ed .