Liar's Poker by Michael Lewis5/28/2023 The only trace I found of him on two of these occasions was a turd-like ash on the floor beside my chair, left, I suppose, as a calling card. Often as not, our chairman just hovered quietly for a bit, then left. An alarm shrieked in your head: Gutfreund! Gutfreund! Gutfreund! You felt a chill in your bones that I imagine belongs to the same class of intelligence as the nervous twitch of a small furry animal at the silent approach of a grizzly bear. People were pretending to be frantically busy and at the same time staring intently at a spot directly above your head. The area around you began to convulse like an epileptic ward. Busy on two phones at once trying to stem disaster, you had no time to turn and look. Gutfreund (pronounced Good friend) liked to sneak up from behind and surprise you. He was the last person a nerve-racked trader wanted to see. Gutfreund seemed able to smell money being lost. An eerie sixth sense guided him to wherever a crisis was unfolding. Gutfreund took the pulse of the place by simply wandering around it and asking questions of the traders. At any given moment on the trading floor billions of dollars were being risked by bond traders. Our chairman, John Gutfreund, left his desk at the head of the trading floor and went for a walk. IT WAS sometime early in 1986, the first year of the decline of my firm, Salomon Brothers. Liar’s Poker By Michael Lewis Introduction Excerpt.
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