We do. That’s because a. We spent the last four hours with our ear pressed up against a juice glass pressed up against the door of said office (acting natural every time someone walked by) and they stuck with us since we were escorted out of the building circa 2:30 and b. we are quite good at sensing human suffering (picking up on some right now, actually). There’s no point in dancing around the fact that the cries are Lloyd Blankfein’s and the inconsolable disappointment behind them has to do with today’s report that the Little Fella is set to receive $70 million in compensation this year, up 30 percent from last year’s $54. But down, by some percentage too painful to calculate, from last month’s $75 million as predicted by the New York Post. Sources close to the matter say that even the thought of seeing Stan O’Neal in the elevator of their Park and 81st apartment building, clutching an unemployment check for dear life failed to make LB feel any better because “he’ll look at me and I’ll know what he’ll be thinking: ’70 mill? Ouch.’ No, I can’t face it. I’ll take the stairs.” During this time of unmitigated sadness, I think you all know the question you need to ask yourselves:
How much was that unemployment check for?
Blankfein pay set to hit $70m [FT]