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From Dealbreaker With Love: Hot Sammies For Wall Street, Death To All Ingrates

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Ian Roncoroni—what the hell? Not so much as a thank you email for the Delmonico’s cheese steak we sent you yesterday afternoon? Where’d ya think it came from, the Cheese Steak Fairy? Even though we specifically told the girl on the phone to note that it was “from”? Not to put to fine a point on it, but do you know who you're fucking with? DB did something NICE for you. That doesn't happen too often. We are currently taking under advisement whether or not we should destroy your life (see Vayner, Alexey; Cayne, Jimmy; Blarney, Ron; Varney, Lon; Klarney, Don).
Despite the simmering anger we feel toward you, we must acknowledge that tingly good feeling derived from sending roasted animal carcass slathered with processed cheesestuff to a random financial services hack we have never met. To recapture that feeling while we debate the relative merits of fucking you up quick two times, we at DB have decided to send a delicious sandwich to randomly selected analysts/associates/traders/ceos/fund managers of our choosing several times a week starting in May. This serves multiple functions: First, despite our unrelenting mockery, we loves us some fucking Wall Street idiots and want to show how much. Second, we want to measure just how egregious your utter lack of response is, Ronco, relative to your brethren. I bet Carney's annual take home (two large) we get a nice response from everyone who receives the DB largesse, from the mightiest (Stevie) to the meekest (the entire team at Citi). It's on; your fate hangs in the balance, Oyster Boy.