Free The Buy Side by Turney Duff

one says a word to me the rest of the day, but I don’t have to stand in the corner, either.
    My days at Galleon are difficult. I have no confidence. I’m always looking over my shoulder waiting for a kick to the face for not booking a trade right or not picking up the phones fast enough. When I scope out the room I see brash, overconfident traders who push around anyone on the other end of the phone. Outside the office they appear like everyone else in Midtown, but in the office they have swagger. This seems to be a prerequisite for all buy side traders. I don’t think you have to be a bully to succeed in trading, but it sure helps. And on a trading desk filled mostly with bad cops, it’s only natural for me toassume the role of good cop. I bend over backwards to help the salesmen who cover us. They’re ecstatic when I pick up the phone. It means they aren’t going to get a tongue-lashing for whatever trading sin they might have violated, or for merely being born. They always want to take me out to dinner or meet for a drink. Sometimes they even offer to take me to a game or a concert. I get asked at least three to four times a day. I never want to say yes. I’m afraid they’ll ask me questions about the market. Questions I can’t intelligently answer. They’ll realize I’m a fraud and don’t belong.
    One day Gary tells Keryn, Todd-o, and me to meet him in the conference room after the closing bell. Todd-o appears bored, Keryn is texting someone, and I feel like I might puke. I’m not sure why he wants to talk to us. We wait. Gary saunters in and pulls out the seat at the head of the table. Todd-o is now alert, Keryn’s phone is put away, and I can’t stand not knowing what the meeting is for. I focus on Gary’s lips. I want to anticipate what he might say. “Who’ve you been out with this month?” Gary asks, primarily looking at Todd-o and Keryn. They respond with a couple of business dinners they’ve been to. It sounds to me like Keryn is exaggerating, but I know Todd-o goes on some dinners. Then Gary looks at me. The only people I’ve been out with are Ethan, Jason, and Jayme, and we crushed it at Red Rock West on Saturday. I almost lost an eyebrow from the bartender’s fire-breathing stunt, but I know that’s not what he’s talking about.
    “No one,” I respond.
    He mimics “No one” like a five-year-old. “Play the game,” he barks. “Get information.” He knocks his hand on the desk a few times as if we were sleeping. “If you guys want to continue working here,” he says while wiping the scuffs from his dress shoes, “then you need to start getting some calls.” Keryn and Todd-o nod. “I don’t mean thegreat calls we’re already getting—I mean new ones.” He stands up and adjusts his shirt into his pants and turns for the door. “We have a new requirement here: you have to go on at least two business dinners a week. I want you to write up who you went out with, what you discussed, and how you improved the relationship,” he says. Then he leaves. Todd-o follows Gary out of the room; Keryn reaches for her phone to finish texting. I don’t want to go out with the sell side.
    I guess the reason I agree to grab dinner with John first is because he rarely discusses business. Skinny with a beer belly and goofy, he’s not your typical Goldman Sachs employee. He’s more like a cartoon character. Whenever he picks up the phone he’s usually giggling about a prank he pulled on his desk-mates or telling a fart joke. He cares more about trying to make us laugh than being a sales trader. John is a few years older than I am, but it seems like he’s been in the business forever. He’s at the bar of the Upper West Side location I picked when I enter. He told me I could pick any restaurant in the city. I want to be close to my apartment. If things go bad I can just run out of the place and go home. Halfway through the first cocktail, I realize he just wants to get to know me. He likes