I Fought ACME9 and ACME9 Won: Part 19 I Surrender!

“Whiz” calls a firm meeting. He is introducing the firm’s new brokerage business. It is a very animated speech. You can tell that Whiz was in the air force.

Jules had told me about this new business initiative. He had said that “one needs to either be the first one into an industry or better, in order to succeed and that our new business was neither.”

Meanwhile, Whiz is building himself into a lather. He tells us that if we don’t do everything in our power as a team to make the new brokerage a success that we are nothing but a lousy bunch of “traitors.” At this point, I really want to play havoc with the homophone and point out that we are supposed to be a firm of “traders,” but I wisely think better of it.

Team? What team? Didn’t they just put us all on our own, dog eat dog? If the new business goes well, they aren’t going to give us a penny more, why should we care? Marsellus could have been opening a lemonade stand for all I or any of the other traders cared. My attitude isn’t the best at this point, but still I’m forced to listen to about 30 minutes more of Whiz impugning my loyalty.

After about two and a half months of sheer agony as a field trader, I was about to go insane. I had made about $40,000, which was significantly better than the guy who lost $700,000, but I knew that my boat was filling up with more daily water than I could bail.

My grandmother had just died, and while I was at her funeral, I decided that I couldn’t go on like this for much longer. I was completely burned out with stress and anger. The day I returned I told Orange that I had really bad sleep apnea, and that I wanted to take a few months of sabbatical time to try to deal with it.

This wasn’t really the reason that I wanted the time off, but it was true. The only cure they have for this disease is that you sleep with a mask on and I was unable to fall asleep, while wearing it. I explained this to Orange, and he assured me that it sounded like a health issue and it was no big deal. Sure, the last guy who took a sabbatical got fired a month after he came back, but I didn’t really care at this point. I needed some time off before I really did shoot somebody.

Everyone wished me good health and I was gone for three months. I had no idea if I was ever going to come back or not. I figured that the three months would get me to bonus time (if I was even going to get one for the first half of the year). I met with the HR director. She wished me well and told me that I might be eligible for disability and that my job was waiting securely for when I came back.

I’d like to say that I spent the next three months fiendishly looking for another job, but I didn’t. I had no connections in Chicago, and even if I found a person like Blonde, who was sympathetic and knew some people, I was sure that my search would get back to ACME9 and I’d truly be doomed.

I actually spent most of the next three months working out and watching the first four seasons of 24. Every once in a while I’d converse with a fellow employee over AOL’s instant messenger. Morale continued to be low among the field er arena hands. The guy who lost the 700K was eventually let go, and a couple of guys who had never made any money were also fired. Before Spivey, a trader hadn’t been let go in years, but there was suddenly a huge excess of fry cooks around for the Wendy’s of options. I assured my friends that if I ever came back that I’d be let go the second I did something even remotely wrong. I believed it too. Sadly, I didn’t have any other real options.

I Fought ACME9 and ACME9 Won: Part 20 Finally Put out of my Misery