3. Working For Other People and it Not Working Out
When I worked at Delta, we were buying hedging contracts from the most well-known banks in the world, and since the type of contracts we were buying were rather expensive, I had access to some of the more important commodity people in the industry. I was on a first name basis with the VP of commodities for banks like Merrill Lynch, Goldman Sachs, JP Morgan, Morgan Stanley, Credit Suisse, etc. I had personal meetings with several of these bankers and was under the impression that I was going to have no trouble continuing my career in finance in NYC. Time went on, and phone calls slowed down. Friends became acquaintances. And acquaintances became non-existent.
I looked for job after job, and got no where. So eventually I apply for this Wall Street job at this Wolf of Wall Street type of firm right next to the NYSE. It was the most ridiculously over-the-top Wall Street firm you could imagine. Hell, Wall Street 2 featured the owner of the firm and consulted with him on how to behave/act over the top.
So you get hired into this firm and they hire a bunch of hungry kids who are sold on these ideas of making it big by a bunch of polished sharks. They have you cold call for two weeks to weed out the guys who aren't going to cut it, and the senior broker comes in like it's the slave market to choose a couple of victims to be his underlings and help him build his business for six months before you can work for yourself. The senior broker who picked me up was a true piece of work. He chose a blond guy from San Diego from UCLA, a black kid fresh off the street from Atlanta, and myself as his team. These two guys became my best friends in my struggle as we tried to survive living in New York City fueled on dreams of making it big, while not making any money, cold-calling, and studying for your Series 7 and 63 licensing exams. I could see through this bullshit all along, and really was never into it. I was still kinda shell shocked from my life events that had transpired with losing the job, girl, apartment and such. While my buddy from Atlanta was plugging away and absolutely DOMINATING everyone in the class studying for the Series 7, I was taking my sweet time trying to come up with a plan to get the fuck out of that testosterone riddled boiler room.
On lunch breaks, I would propose the idea of moving back to Tennessee with some of my buddies and working at a restaurant to learn how to cook fried chicken, and then moving back to NYC to try to start a restaurant. I began polling people on Wall Street....what sounded better....Yankee's Chicken...Yankee Doodle Dandy's.....