Free Fooled by Randomness by Nassim Nicholas Taleb

successful scientists had the judgment (and social graces) of a doorknob—but by no means all of them. Many people were capable of the most complex calculations with utmost rigor when it came to equations, but were totally incapable of solving a problem with the smallest connection to reality; it was as if they understood the letter but not the spirit of the math (we will see more on such dual thinking with the two systems of reasoning problem in Chapter 11 ). I am convinced that X, a likeable Russian man of my acquaintance, has two brains: one for math and another, considerably inferior one, for everything else (which included solving problems related to the mathematics of finance). But on occasion a fast-thinking scientific-minded person with street smarts would emerge. Whatever the benefits of such population shift, it improved our chess skills and provided us with quality conversation during lunchtime—it extended the lunch hour considerably. Consider that I had in the 1980s to chat with colleagues who had an MBA or tax accounting background and were capable of the heroic feat of discussing FASB standards. I have to say that their interests were not too contagious. The interesting thing about these physicists did not lie in their ability to discuss fluid dynamics; it is that they were naturally interested in a variety of intellectual subjects and provided pleasant conversation.
    Solon Visits Regine’s Nightclub
    As the reader may already suspect, my opinions about randomness have not earned me the smoothest of relations with some of my peers during my Wall Street career (many of whom the reader can see indirectly—but only indirectly—portrayed in these chapters). But where I had uneven relations was with some of those who had the misfortune of being my bosses. For I had two bosses in my life of contrasting characteristics in about every trait.
    The first, whom I will call Kenny, was the epitome of the suburban family man. He would be of the type to coach soccer on Saturday morning, and invite his brother-in-law for a Sunday afternoon barbecue. He gave the appearance of someone I would trust with my savings—indeed he rose quite rapidly in the institution in spite of his lack of technical competence in financial derivatives (his firm’s claim to fame). But he was too much a no-nonsense person to make out my logic. He once blamed me for not being impressed with the successes of some of his traders who did well during the bull market for European bonds of 1993, whom I openly considered nothing better than random gunslingers. I tried presenting him with the notion of survivorship bias (Part II of this book) in vain. His traders have all exited the business since then “to pursue other interests” (including him). But he gave the appearance of being a calm, measured man, who spoke his mind and knew how to put the other person at ease during a conversation. He was articulate, extremely presentable thanks to his athletic looks, well measured in his speech, and endowed with the extremely rare quality of being an excellent listener. His personal charm allowed him to win the confidence of the chairman—but I could not conceal my disrespect, particularly as he could not make out the nature of my conversation. In spite of his conservative looks he was a perfect time bomb, ticking away.
    The second, whom I will call Jean-Patrice, in contrast, was a moody Frenchman with an explosive temper and a hyperaggressive personality. Except for those he truly liked (not that many), he was expert at making his subordinates uncomfortable, putting them in a state of constant anxiety. He greatly contributed to my formation as a risk taker; he is one of the very rare people who have the guts to care only about the generator, entirely oblivious of the results. He presented the wisdom of Solon, but, while one would expect someone with such personal wisdom and such understanding of randomness to lead a dull life, he lived a colorful one. In