Do you have plans on August 11? Do you fancy yourself a poker player? A really good poker player? Do you think you could beat David Einhorn, even if he’s wearing his lucky sweatshirt? Do you think it would not be so awkward that the two of you could then enjoy a meal together and talk shop after which he picks up the tab? (Go with me on this as I think I might have something you’ll be interested in.) Continue reading »
lunch
Goldman Employees Scared Into Eating Lunch At Their Desks, Not Making A Spectacle Of Selves While Partying
By Bess LevinThanks, Mary Schapiro. Because of you the men and women of Goldman Sachs can’t even leave the building for a sando out of fear someone will be listening in on their conversation re: the next client they’re going to give the old “GS surprise.” And don’t give me that crap about how they could find other topics to discuss. What else is there to talk about when there are nefarious plots to be hatched?
According to employees, Goldman managers have urged them to keep a low profile, think carefully about the restaurants and parties they attend and watch how they behave in public. Some employees are even reluctant even to go out to lunch with co-workers for fear of being overheard talking about Goldman, said one person familiar with the matter.
As many of you are aware, when Bill Ackman was just a young pup of a money manager, before he was coming up with genius one-stock funds, he placed a bet against MBIA, based on Ackman’s belief that the company’s AAA rating was the stuff of bull shit. No one had ever dared question the bond insurer, so when its CEO, Jay Brown, got wind of the news, he demanded Ackman show up to his office to discuss the matter, probably referring to the meddlesome manager as “the little pissant” under his breath. Or something. Doesn’t matter. What does matter is what Bill was noshing on before the meeting. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for years as have many of you, as conversations with you leading lights would indicate. Today, finally– finally!– we have an answer.
Before his meeting with MBIA’s CEO, Ackman had lunch with Michael Ovitz, the founder of Hollywood’s Creative Artists Agency and a longtime investor in his fund. As they worked their way through six different versions of toro, the Japanese fatty tuna delicacy, Ackman asked Ovitz’s advice about the upcoming meeting with Brown. “It sounds like a very Japanese meeting,” Ovitz said. In other words, he said, “Just shut up and listen.”
Oh, and here’s how the meeting went (spoiler alert: not great-ish. Because Ackman’s hands smelled like fish. I’m kidding, it’s because Jay Brown was raised in a barn). Continue reading »
Eliot Spitzer recently had lunch with a reporter from the Financial Times to discuss, among things, his writing gig with Slate, how he rarely eats pasta for lunch, and why he’s gone soft on Hank Greenberg (“maybe it’s maturity or distance from the case”). Towards the end of the meal, the topic turns to paying someone to do stuff for you, and the noted hooker-fucker had this to say:
At one point we are comparing notes on skiing, and I make a pitch for how nice it was to have a catered chalet with what I refer to as a “houseboy or housegirl” to cook all the meals.
“Housegirls I can’t do,” he says bluntly.
He doesn’t elaborate on that point, and because he was being vague, forces us to interpret what he actually meant. Was Spitzer saying:
* That he prefers to have his meals prepared by a man?
* That when he was made to promise he’d never fuck a hooker again, he had to throw in the help, too?
* ED
* He was just making a joke, a little reference to that sitch he got himself into in li’l while back with the prostie. He wasn’t being serious– of course he “does” housegirls.
* Your call
Lunch With The FT: Eliot Spitzer [FT via Daily Intel]
Warren Buffett’s sixth annual charity lunch saw its largest ever winning bid when Zhao Danyang of the Hong Kong-based Pureheart China Growth Investment Fund proffered $2,110,100 to break bread with the Oracle of Omaha. Last year, the proceeds of the auction, all of which go to the Glide Foundation, fetched $650,100. For those of you completely justifiably envious of Danyang’s 3-hour sit down with Buffett, consider us your official peephole on the meal, where the conversation is likely to go something like this:
Some of you may recall that several weeks ago, after hearing about a stunning feat accomplished by Ian Roncoroni, an energy OTC options broker with Power Merchants Group (Oyster Boy ate 244 Oysters in 1 hour at Ulysses), we rewarded the boy with a very special delivery: a Delmonico’s cheesesteak, on us. Despite some minor bumps in the road early on (Ronco took nearly twelve hours to thank us for the treat), overall, we enjoyed the tingly good feeling derived from sending roasted animal carcass slathered with processed cheesestuff to a random financial services hack we’d never met. It conveniently assuaged the guilt we sometimes feel for our unrelenting mockery of you people.
To recapture that feeling and to demonstrate that, despite anecdotal evidence to the contrary, we love you idiots, we decided to send a delicious sandwich to randomly selected analysts/associates/traders/CEOs/fund managers of our choosing each week, starting in mid-May. We called it The Sandwich Fairy (TSF). So far, it’s gone quite well, and the lucky recipients seem to enjoy the free food. That is not to say the initiative has gone off hitch-free. Some of you, it seems, are unfamiliar with the concept of how one receives food that has been sent to them. Just so that we don’t have another unfortunate incident like the one that took place earlier this week at Sredit Cuisse, here are some helpful tips to keep in mind moving forward.
– If you get a call that there’s a cheesesteak delivery for you in the lobby from a place called Shorty’s, it’s not a bomb
– Or a practical joke
– It’s, how to put this, a cheesesteak. A CHEESESTEAK. And not a synthetic, half-assed NYC simulacrum of a cheesesteak. But a real, honest-to-Rocky Philly cheesesteak. Wiz/wit. So good it’s worth JO’ing while crying over because you miss it when it’s gone. (The proprietor of said establishment, a Philly guy and former Wall Streeter named Evan, is awesome enough to foot the bill for DB’s TSF needs, as the cost of three months’ worth of sammie deliveries runs higher than you-know-who’s annual take-home.)
– Now, here’s the thing with cheesesteaks: though they are magically delicious, they don’t yet have the ability to walk themselves up to your desk. You will have to go downstairs and pick them (yes, them: we have been sending several, so you can share with your friends) up
– Another thing about cheesesteaks: they don’t have the best shelf life. GO GET THEM NOW.
– Nominating a friend for one and want it to be a surprise? Maybe hint that at some point in the week they’ll be getting a delivery around lunchtime, so that we don’t have then get in touch with another DealBreakerette who happens to work in the same building to pick up the delivery, and your friend is left cheesesteak-less.
Consequences for failing to follow the above will result in the following: the next time you go down to get your Seamless order, there’ll be enough food to feed all of the Bear Stearns employees who can no longer afford to feed themselves, and it’ll be on you.
- Use the Bloomberg command
NH BLG_DEALBREAKER <GO>
to access Dealbreaker
