into battle for your lord and master. Let's go.'
We walked back to the office in much better spirits. It was difficult for Debbie to be depressed for long.
I stopped at the coffee machine to replenish my caffeine level. As the gritty brown liquid flowed into my plastic cup, Rob came up beside me. 'Did you see Reuters?'
'No,' I said, my curiosity aroused.
'Have a look.' He grinned at me. Bad news I thought.
I returned to my desk and looked. There was a message on the screen that Congress was considering a change in the United States's double-taxation treaty with the Netherlands Antilles, a favourite tax haven and domicile for entities which issued bonds. IBM, General Electric and AT&T had all issued bonds through their Netherlands Antilles subsidiaries, as had a lot of less well-known borrowers.
I sighed. We would have to analyse these tax changes. Someone would have to go through the prospectus of every Netherlands Antilles issuer in our portfolio. It was a pig of a job.
'Debbie? A very interesting situation has just arisen...'
Debbie interrupted. With her legal background, and the time she had spent in De Jong's administration department, she was uniquely qualified, and she knew it. 'I know what you want me to do. You want me to read every Netherlands Antilles prospectus ever printed.'
'Well, er...'
'Don't deny it. The things I do for this firm. Morons like you blow bucketfuls of money on silly trades, and I get left to do the really glamorous stuff.'
But she seemed in good humour as she set off to collect the prospectuses.
Rob had followed me to my desk and perched himself on it, cup of coffee in hand. He grinned at Debbie's retreating figure, and began idly leafing through some of the research which had accumulated on my desk. Boring stuff. He had his own pile to go through, should he be so inclined.
'Can I help you?' I asked.
'No. Oh no. Just looking.' Rob said.
After a minute or so, he said, 'Up to anything?'
'Not really. This and that. And you?'
'Nothing much.'
'Are you doing anything interesting today?' he asked.
'Just the usual.' I wasn't going to help him.
Silence. More leafing through pages. Rob coughed slightly. 'Did I hear you say Cash Callaghan was coming in with his sidekick today?' he asked.
So that was it. 'Yes,' I answered.
'By "his sidekick", do you mean Cathy Lasenby?'
'I think that was her name. Why do you ask?' I smiled. I could guess very well why Rob asked. He had an intense passion for women. It was not the sort of passion that lies inside most young single men. It was not at all physical. Rob was always in love. The more unattainable the object of his love, the better. In fact, whenever he got too near to consummating his desire, his ardour would cool, and he would find someone new. He had only just recovered from Claire Duhamel. Having finally persuaded her to have dinner with him, he had been driven wild with jealousy by her constant references to a boyfriend in Paris. She had told him that Gaston was the only man for her. He had been inconsolable for two weeks.
He carried his energy and enthusiasm into areas other than his love life. He was a very emotional trader. He had a 'feel' for a market. He would claim his views were based on logic, but that was just rationalisation on his part. He either loved the market or he hated it. He was by no means always right, and when he got it wrong the world was a very dark place. However, like Gordon our chartist, he got it right more often than he got it wrong, which was the important thing.
Looking at him, you would never have guessed that he was tormented by such strong emotions. He looked very ordinary; light brown to fair hair, a chubby face, a little under medium height. But the frankness with which he displayed his passions had a certain charm. Women found him 'sweet' and seemed to be drawn to him, at least at first. I must admit that over the last few months I had found myself developing quite an affection for him. He was fun
We walked back to the office in much better spirits. It was difficult for Debbie to be depressed for long.
I stopped at the coffee machine to replenish my caffeine level. As the gritty brown liquid flowed into my plastic cup, Rob came up beside me. 'Did you see Reuters?'
'No,' I said, my curiosity aroused.
'Have a look.' He grinned at me. Bad news I thought.
I returned to my desk and looked. There was a message on the screen that Congress was considering a change in the United States's double-taxation treaty with the Netherlands Antilles, a favourite tax haven and domicile for entities which issued bonds. IBM, General Electric and AT&T had all issued bonds through their Netherlands Antilles subsidiaries, as had a lot of less well-known borrowers.
I sighed. We would have to analyse these tax changes. Someone would have to go through the prospectus of every Netherlands Antilles issuer in our portfolio. It was a pig of a job.
'Debbie? A very interesting situation has just arisen...'
Debbie interrupted. With her legal background, and the time she had spent in De Jong's administration department, she was uniquely qualified, and she knew it. 'I know what you want me to do. You want me to read every Netherlands Antilles prospectus ever printed.'
'Well, er...'
'Don't deny it. The things I do for this firm. Morons like you blow bucketfuls of money on silly trades, and I get left to do the really glamorous stuff.'
But she seemed in good humour as she set off to collect the prospectuses.
Rob had followed me to my desk and perched himself on it, cup of coffee in hand. He grinned at Debbie's retreating figure, and began idly leafing through some of the research which had accumulated on my desk. Boring stuff. He had his own pile to go through, should he be so inclined.
'Can I help you?' I asked.
'No. Oh no. Just looking.' Rob said.
After a minute or so, he said, 'Up to anything?'
'Not really. This and that. And you?'
'Nothing much.'
'Are you doing anything interesting today?' he asked.
'Just the usual.' I wasn't going to help him.
Silence. More leafing through pages. Rob coughed slightly. 'Did I hear you say Cash Callaghan was coming in with his sidekick today?' he asked.
So that was it. 'Yes,' I answered.
'By "his sidekick", do you mean Cathy Lasenby?'
'I think that was her name. Why do you ask?' I smiled. I could guess very well why Rob asked. He had an intense passion for women. It was not the sort of passion that lies inside most young single men. It was not at all physical. Rob was always in love. The more unattainable the object of his love, the better. In fact, whenever he got too near to consummating his desire, his ardour would cool, and he would find someone new. He had only just recovered from Claire Duhamel. Having finally persuaded her to have dinner with him, he had been driven wild with jealousy by her constant references to a boyfriend in Paris. She had told him that Gaston was the only man for her. He had been inconsolable for two weeks.
He carried his energy and enthusiasm into areas other than his love life. He was a very emotional trader. He had a 'feel' for a market. He would claim his views were based on logic, but that was just rationalisation on his part. He either loved the market or he hated it. He was by no means always right, and when he got it wrong the world was a very dark place. However, like Gordon our chartist, he got it right more often than he got it wrong, which was the important thing.
Looking at him, you would never have guessed that he was tormented by such strong emotions. He looked very ordinary; light brown to fair hair, a chubby face, a little under medium height. But the frankness with which he displayed his passions had a certain charm. Women found him 'sweet' and seemed to be drawn to him, at least at first. I must admit that over the last few months I had found myself developing quite an affection for him. He was fun
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