They called me in to the conference room on Friday morning, ahead of Father’s Day weekend. “Have a seat, Dave…”
The whole thing happens in fifteen minutes. I have til the end of the day to say my goodbyes. I have none that I want to say. They tell me to get my stuff together – two framed pictures, one of my kids and one of the four of us at my son’s high school graduation, I don’t want any of the rest of it. I don’t have a new desk at a new office at a new job to put any of it in. I can’t imagine carrying it on the train back to Scarsdale.
I call home from the cell. Voicemail. Thank god, what would I even say?
Trying to imagine my opening line. “I did everything right.”
I’m turning fifty and spent my entire adult life doing what they said. Doing what I saw the others doing. Get good grades, get into a good school. Finish college, make connections, get an internship. Caddy at the club all summer. Talk to people.
Apply for jobs on Wall Street, they told me. It’s where the money is. Learn the stock market. It’s a gold mine. Go back to school and get an MBA. Get my CFA. Make more connections. Go to conferences. Build relationships with the CEOs of the coverage universe. Build relationships with the CFOs of the coverage universe. Focus on TMT – tech, media and telecom. They didn’t call it that back then. Now there