Read Online The Groaning Board by Annette Meyers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Annette Meyers
Ads: Link
firm’s
payout—that is, the percentage of the gross commissions paid to the broker. The
percentage varied slightly from firm to firm, with Merrill Lynch near the
lowest and boutique firms like Bear Stearns and DLJ near the top. A broker
doing a million dollars annual gross would carry home about thirty-nine percent
at Merrill and fifty percent at Bear Stearns. Because of this disparity, the
Bear offered few enticing incentives, other than payout, to come on board.
“What is his gross, Max?” Wetzon
asked, scanning the suspect sheet. “You haven’t written anything down.”
“He said he’d tell me after I
find out who he is.”
“Oh, pu-leeze,” Smith said.
“I’ll call him. Thanks, Max. This is
good work.” Wetzon frowned at Smith.
Smith tossed her head. “You’re just
wonderful, dearest Max. Now go on out there and dial for dollars.”
“Darlene had another start today,”
Wetzon told Smith after Max closed the door behind him. “The big producer in Allentown.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Our little gold
mine is going to take care of us in our dotage.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Nor would I
count on her.” Wetzon picked out Carl Grant’s phone number. “It’s a good thing
we have her on contract.”
“Mr. Grant’s office,” a cheery female
voice said.
“Hi, is he there?”
“He’s on his other line. Who’s
calling, please?”
“Mrs. Wallingford.”
“Can you hold, Mrs. Wallingford?”
“Where is she today, anyway?” Smith
demanded.
“Yes, I’ll hold. She had to take
Pinky to the vet.“
“Wouldn’t you just know she’d be a
cat person,” Smith said.
“She’s not. She’s a Vietnamese
potbellied pig person.”
Smith let out a shriek.
“Carl Grant here.”
Wetzon shook her head at Smith. “Hi,
Carl. Leslie Wetzon, your friendly neighborhood headhunter. I understand you
spoke to Max in our office and I must tell you, I’m really impressed. I want to
hear all about your TV show. I’m amazed that Loeb Dawkins lets you do it.”
“Well, I don’t really have my own
show. I’ve been a guest on several shows.”
“Oh, I see. You’ve been a guest on
several shows,” she repeated for Smith’s benefit.
“Humpf,” Smith said, throwing up her
hands.
Carl Grant continued: “I was asked to
be on Oprah when she did that show about investment clubs, but the firm was
afraid I’d get asked questions about the legal problems here.“
“Oh, yes, legal problems.” Loeb
Dawkins had been hit with class-action lawsuits regarding the risky limited
partnerships the firm pushed brokers to sell in the eighties to inappropriate
investors, like the elderly, the widowed, and the orphaned. “I would think the
firm’s bad publicity makes it difficult to hold on to clients,” she said.
“You know it’s that guy in the Times who keeps picking away at us just because he wants a book deal.”
“So, tell me, Carl, what are your
numbers?”
“I’m annualizing at $800,000.”
“And you’re looking for a mil
upfront?”
“That’s my asking price.”
“Forget it. If you were doing two
mil, we could talk, but these days most of the upfront deals have dried up. On
$800,000, you might be able to get $250,000 or $300,000.“
“No way. They pay me a mil and get a
TV personality too. Otherwise, I stay put.”
“You’re absolutely right to stay put,
Carl. You’re probably locked in with proprietary products that are not
portable. You’d leave half your book on the table.”
“But-—”
“It was nice talking with you. I’ll
watch for your TV appearances.” Wetzon hung up.
“See what scum they are,” Smith said.
“This is a perfect example of how they lie all the time.”
“Not all of them.”
“Oh, I know you always have your
favorites, but you’re so gullible, sweetie pie. What am I going to do with you?
You believe whatever anyone tells you.” She took her Tarot cards from her
handbag and began to shuffle them.
“Smith—”
“And it’s such an
payout—that is, the percentage of the gross commissions paid to the broker. The
percentage varied slightly from firm to firm, with Merrill Lynch near the
lowest and boutique firms like Bear Stearns and DLJ near the top. A broker
doing a million dollars annual gross would carry home about thirty-nine percent
at Merrill and fifty percent at Bear Stearns. Because of this disparity, the
Bear offered few enticing incentives, other than payout, to come on board.
“What is his gross, Max?” Wetzon
asked, scanning the suspect sheet. “You haven’t written anything down.”
“He said he’d tell me after I
find out who he is.”
“Oh, pu-leeze,” Smith said.
“I’ll call him. Thanks, Max. This is
good work.” Wetzon frowned at Smith.
Smith tossed her head. “You’re just
wonderful, dearest Max. Now go on out there and dial for dollars.”
“Darlene had another start today,”
Wetzon told Smith after Max closed the door behind him. “The big producer in Allentown.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Our little gold
mine is going to take care of us in our dotage.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Nor would I
count on her.” Wetzon picked out Carl Grant’s phone number. “It’s a good thing
we have her on contract.”
“Mr. Grant’s office,” a cheery female
voice said.
“Hi, is he there?”
“He’s on his other line. Who’s
calling, please?”
“Mrs. Wallingford.”
“Can you hold, Mrs. Wallingford?”
“Where is she today, anyway?” Smith
demanded.
“Yes, I’ll hold. She had to take
Pinky to the vet.“
“Wouldn’t you just know she’d be a
cat person,” Smith said.
“She’s not. She’s a Vietnamese
potbellied pig person.”
Smith let out a shriek.
“Carl Grant here.”
Wetzon shook her head at Smith. “Hi,
Carl. Leslie Wetzon, your friendly neighborhood headhunter. I understand you
spoke to Max in our office and I must tell you, I’m really impressed. I want to
hear all about your TV show. I’m amazed that Loeb Dawkins lets you do it.”
“Well, I don’t really have my own
show. I’ve been a guest on several shows.”
“Oh, I see. You’ve been a guest on
several shows,” she repeated for Smith’s benefit.
“Humpf,” Smith said, throwing up her
hands.
Carl Grant continued: “I was asked to
be on Oprah when she did that show about investment clubs, but the firm was
afraid I’d get asked questions about the legal problems here.“
“Oh, yes, legal problems.” Loeb
Dawkins had been hit with class-action lawsuits regarding the risky limited
partnerships the firm pushed brokers to sell in the eighties to inappropriate
investors, like the elderly, the widowed, and the orphaned. “I would think the
firm’s bad publicity makes it difficult to hold on to clients,” she said.
“You know it’s that guy in the Times who keeps picking away at us just because he wants a book deal.”
“So, tell me, Carl, what are your
numbers?”
“I’m annualizing at $800,000.”
“And you’re looking for a mil
upfront?”
“That’s my asking price.”
“Forget it. If you were doing two
mil, we could talk, but these days most of the upfront deals have dried up. On
$800,000, you might be able to get $250,000 or $300,000.“
“No way. They pay me a mil and get a
TV personality too. Otherwise, I stay put.”
“You’re absolutely right to stay put,
Carl. You’re probably locked in with proprietary products that are not
portable. You’d leave half your book on the table.”
“But-—”
“It was nice talking with you. I’ll
watch for your TV appearances.” Wetzon hung up.
“See what scum they are,” Smith said.
“This is a perfect example of how they lie all the time.”
“Not all of them.”
“Oh, I know you always have your
favorites, but you’re so gullible, sweetie pie. What am I going to do with you?
You believe whatever anyone tells you.” She took her Tarot cards from her
handbag and began to shuffle them.
“Smith—”
“And it’s such an
Similar Books
