I try being a Capitalist

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 I try being a Capitalist

Ok we have all done things we are not particular proud of. Times when our moral compass goes a bit wonky and we wobble off course.

It was The end of the marriage fight. The ‘That’s it I’m so out of here’ moment.

“Ohh Yeh” Say he, “Where do you think your going to go?”

“I’m going to Chicago and become a stockbroker that’s what!”

((HU?? What the Fuck did I just say?”))

I was a housewife working part time in a coffee shop. I lived in Anchorage Alaska, (Yeh that’s right I could see Sarah Palins tit’s from my house.) So any way this whole me moving to Chicago and becoming a stock broker came as a complete surprise to me.

Well having said it, in that particular circumstance, clearly I had no choice. Two weeks later I was living in Chicago enrolled in a baby stockbroker program.

I moved into my apartment before my furniture. I had my suite cases and a couple of blankets I curled into on the floor. I didn’t even have a radio. If I had had a radio I might have known why people were rioting in the streets and over turning cars in the street below my apartment. Then again I may not have as the only basket ball game I have ever watched was the time the Globe trotters came to Bangor and my Grandparents took us kids to see them. They seemed to have a jolly good time and the music was good.

I have an almost complete lack of interest in the subject of sports. So much so it’s hard for me to even begin to understand what people find so entertaining about it. So the day I moved into my apartment apparently some basketball team the city was particularly fond of won a basketball game. It was the third game in a row that they had won or championship or some such thing called a threepete or something like it. In celebration of their teams win people decided that rioting was the way to go.

Peeking out my window at the burning car below all I could think was a civil war had started and I had no idea which side I should be on.

Becoming a stockbroker was easier then I had thought. Turns out all you have to do is pass a test, and it’s multiple choice.

I was hired by a woman who introduced herself with a firm hand shake .

“Hi, it’s nice to met you, I don’t like to hire women, their lazy and don’t like to work hard.”

(My Heavens, she’s not wearing any pantyhose, and with her skirt so tight I’m pretty such even a thong would leave panty lines.)

She sat down and crossed her legs. Very short skirt. She had nice shoes, I thought they must have been very uncomfortable without panty hose.

No college degree, spotty work history (at best), the fact that I was former Army seemed to impress her. I exuded confidence to her. It wasn’t confidence really but it opposite. The entire Enterprise was so mad so, yeh right the stripper really does become a prima ballerina, fairy tale, you don’t even think about failure. Failure is a forgone conclusion , it’s all about making losing as interesting a process as possible.

Getting hired, I did not expect.

There were over 100 brokers in that office. Three female brokers, (female stock brokers who were not married to another broker in that office and or sleeping with another broker in that office——0)

So there I sat in the front row of the class room for us baby brokers in training, looking all spiffy in my spanking new suit. I am handed a book that weighs 20 pounds. There is a teacher standing in front of a chalk board.

“The only test harder then this is the test for the bar.” He begins. “Most people fail the first time.”

That all sounded intimidating. After all people go to college for years preparing for the bar.

So the teacher a nice Santa if he wore a suite and went corporate sort began his talking and chalking up the board and I’m paying right close attention. After the first hour he turns to me.

“Your not taking any notes?” He asked.

“No.”

“why not?”

“I take lousy notes. Look you gave me this book that weighs 20 pounds, is there anything your going to be talking about here that isn’t in the book? “

“Umm no.”

“Well then I guess I shall just pay attention to you here and read the book at home.’

He felt it necessary to once more go over how hard the test was and how many people don’t pass the first time out.

So anyway I passed the test. The head broker of the office (who the woman who hired me was sleeping with) decided to take all his new baby brokers out for a night of celebration.

The night began with a cab ride. The cab was driven by a Pakistani, so my fello passengers filled the air with camel jokes. At a stop light a couple of Hasidic jews walk past.

(Well the Arabs and Jews now have reason to unite against a common enemy) I thought as I tried to slide down to the floor of the cab .

We went to dinner,

to,

Benihani. Making racist jokes about Asians while an Asian man is juggling extremely sharp knives three inches in front of your face seems to me to be a bad idea , in any circumstances.

Another cab ride.

To.

A Black Comedy Club in the south side of Chicago.

We had our own special section, roped off from the rest of the audience. We were the only white people in the place. We were all white, expect for this one poor fellow who was half Jewish and half African American so totally conflicted, and this other fello who was Indian but he was a Brahmin married to a Blond Hair Blue eyed German so by any objective measure, qualified ,as whiter then I.

Half way through the show the MC came on stage and said.

“OK now, you white boys better hush up now or ya all goin’ ta get lynched.”

1am South side of Chicago, I lived about a mile past wriggly field. I walked home. A white gal walking in her spiffy new business suite from the south side of Chicago at 1am praying with every step that I would get murdered before I had to show up to work on Monday.

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One response »

  1. I really enjoyed taking that intercultural cab… You have a gift to write and I liked the descriptions on the post as they are clearly evocative and have the power of an undeveloped image, half hidden. Also critically focused…

    All my best wishes, Aquileana 😛

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