Broker: “I have something embarrassing to tell you. I bought a new comforter for my bed last weekend and for the last three nights I’ve been pissed off thinking I got the wrong size because this thing barely reached my toes. And then this morning I realized I just needed to rotate it 90 degrees…”
Client: “I didn’t always have this kind of money. I used to be so poor I had to steal toilet paper from the church. You know, they say that Jesus is always with you… but I don’t think he’s with you in the toilet. I mean, Jesus don’t want to see me spreading my lips so I don’t pee on the seat. That’s nasty. Jesus ain’t like that. He’s a gentleman.”
Me: “Where do you do your investing currently?”
Client: “The stock market.”
Me: “Oh… great… I uhh… I know a lot of people at… the stock market.”
Female Broker: “White boys don’t even have to like country music to like country bars, because anyone can dance at them. Right. Right. Left left right. Two step. Two step. Aaaaaand twirl. It’s cake. White boys love country.”
Me: “The deal is dead.”
The Boss: “Why?”
Me: “They zoned it as agriculture. We can’t lend against it.”
Him: “Agro? Why?”
Me: “Appraiser said there’s like 100 goats on the property. And by definition, that makes it a farm. Apparently they’re all his pets and he’s flipping out. He said he’s got names for each of them.”
Him: “Oh, Jesus. So not only has our battleship been sunk by livestock, but we’ve got the crazy captain at the wheel arguing that every man in America has a gaggle of ornery goats milling about in their yard? Shit.”
The Boss Man: “What are you giggling about?”
Me: “You keep pronouncing it wrong. Irrevocable. It’s rev - like the sound an engine makes. Not rev - like the first syllable of revoke.”
Him: “Oh, so now you’re some kind of English scholar?”
Me: “Is that a trick question? I mean… you know I do have a degree in English so… I mean… by that definition? Yes?”
Broker: Are we good to go?
Me: No. This power of attorney is invalid.
Me: Because you fucked up. You didn’t get her to list her address, and the witness signing off on it can’t be a blood relative.
Him: Well how was I suppose to know all of that?
Me: Because ‘WITNESS CANNOT BE A BLOOD RELATIVE’ is typed on the document in boldface and I highlighted that boldface verse in orange. Oh, and see this note which says “ADDRESS” with an arrow pointing to the left? Yeah? See it? Still attached to the document in my hand writing? I put that there for a reason, and that reason isn’t an insatiable love of post-its.
Him: Well I’ll be damned…
"I know you young kids think algorithmic trading is the cat’s pajamas but really, it is the scariest part of the science fiction books you grew up reading. Sentient computers? We’re there, bucko. The Dow dropped 150 points because of something a computer read on Twitter. Pretty soon that same computer will be asking for an allowance and marriage rights, threatening to do it again if we don’t oblige."
-Older client, referring to this.
The Boss: “Gloria never had issues with these reports…”
Me: “So her promotion is official?”
::Boss man narrows his eyes::
Me: “You just referred to her in third person. She got the promotion?”
The Boss: “You know, you might be very good at picking up on subtle cues… but you’re terrible at investigating them further without blowing your own cover…”
Female Broker: “Should I take a loan out of my 401(k)?”
Her: “How come.”
Me: “Because it’s a terrible idea.”
Her: “But it’s a better interest rate than a credit card for things I need.”
Me: “Like what?”
Her: “A new sofa… maybe a wedding dress…”
Me: “Absolutely not.”
Her: “Why don’t you ever let me have any fun?!”
Me: “You say that like I actually have any authority to stop you from doing this.”
Her: “Well… I’d ask my fiance but then if he tells me it’s a bad idea I HAVE to do it because I can’t let him win… so I ask you instead.”
Me: “Does that make me your work fiance?”
Her: “No. You’ve been around way longer than him… you’re like… my full on work husband… and you’re in the dog house, mister. I really want that new couch…”
Me: “Where are your vault keys?”
Broker (who notoriously loses her keys): “I don’t know, why?”
Me: “There’s a set of keys sitting on the toilet paper holder in the unisex bathroom.”
Broker: “Those aren’t mine.”
Me: “Really? So if I go tell operations that I found a set of keys, and they look up the serial number on them they won’t be yours?”
Broker: “…but that’s such an embarrassing place to have left them!”
"An Apple bond? Holy shit. Why would anybody buy that stale garbage? Jesus - if I wanted to be a creditor
to a corporation built on the worn out dreams of a dead and buried visionary, then I’d lend money to my cowbaguna grandson who thinks he’s going to harness cold-fusion by smoking hashish in my daughter’s garage.”
Me: Alright… are mornings or afternoons typically better for you?
Client: “So I moved this weekend and the cable company delayed getting my internet set up. Have you lived without internet for more than a couple of days ever? It’s like fucking camping without any porn.”
FINRA Auditor: “Any reason your company is remodeling your office?”
Me: “No. I mean - other than that it’s old. I don’t think it’s had a makeover since the 1970s.”
FINRA Auditor: “What did it look like before?”
Me: “Well, to start - we had to paint over the Mikhail Gorbachev mural in the lobby…”