Terror on Wall Street, a Financial Metafiction Novel by Kenneth Eade, Gordon L. Eade Page B

   “So, what is the Financial Digest and how come I’ve never heard of it?”
         “It’s brand new.  I founded the digest only a few months ago.  I distribute it by email and  only accept advertisers who are Certified Financial Planners or Registered Investment Advisors.”
         “It sounds interesting, but what’s it got to do with me?”
          “I just thought that perhaps you might want to make some comments on our current financial crisis.  It’s interesting to hear everyone say that we’re in a recovery while you say that we’re in a depression.”
       “That’s not an original idea, June.  John Meynard Keynes defined a depression as a prolonged period of below-trend growth which neither collapses nor goes back to trend.  The government’s just afraid to call it what it is because they don’t want to cause a panic.”
         “Can I quote you on that?”
         “If you like.  Say, I’ve got a bunch of students working on a solution to the current economic crisis.  You may want to talk to them as soon as they’re ready with their findings.”
         “I would love to, thanks.”
         “Now I have a question for you, June.  Have you gathered any stories of people who have been hurt by the financial meltdown?
         “Yes -yes, I have.  I’ve had a couple of clients who were really hurt.  I’m a registered investment advisor and the y came to me for counseling.”
         “Cramer says sell!”
         “Tell me about them.”
         “It was a cowboy-type and his wife.  They were potential clients who had been taken for a ride by their broker.  Since I’m a Registered Investment Advisor, I have a fiduciary duty to my clients to provide them with a stock portfolio that meets their needs and ability to take risk as compared to a stock broker, who is just a salesman and who mostly acts for his own interests.  Like Woody Allen said, “Your broker invests your money until it is all gone.”
         “Brokers!”  Harry puffed out the word in frustration.
         “Brokers are thieves!”
         June looked at Jackpot, then back at Harry, and smiled.  “Can I quote Jackpot on that one?”
         “If you like.”
         “Anyway, the client’s name was Tex.  He and his wife came to my office with such trepidation that I thought he might get up and leave at any time. She looked as if she wanted to get the meeting over with as soon as possible.
         The look on Tex’s  face was that of complete defeat, and Glenda, his wife, sat in her chair as if she were sitting on top of a dozen eggs. 
         “We brought our historical account statements like you asked, June.”
         Tex tossed the papers on the conference table as if, by this action, all their problems would disappear, and Glenda started to cry while June looked through the papers.
         “I see that your broker’s opened a margin account for you.”
         June flipped through the statements.
         “Looks like he churned the securities in the account weekly, which made a lot of profits for himself and his company when the market was going up; but when the market collapsed, the margin calls wiped you out.”
         “Damn right they did!”
         “Looks like the market value of your portfolio  barely covered what you owed.”
         “Isn’t there anything I can do?”  Tex looked like a lost little boy.
         “When you opened the margin account, you gave your broker the authority to trade your account as he saw fit, and you also agreed to arbitration by an arbitrator appointed by the industry.”
         “So there’s no way I can sue this mother-“
         “Dear…”
         “…This guy for wasting all our money?”
         “Not in my opinion.  But I’m not a lawyer.”
         “We’ve already been to lawyers.  They say the same thing as you.”
         “I’d been hearing stories