There's been a lot of confusion. I'm going to clear it up. You may have read in a newspaper (or on a newspaper's website) that Carsten Kengeter, investment banking chief at UBS, top financial shaman, and all-round good egg, has been laying into his bankers, accusing them of being 'spoiled children'. Like it's derogatory or something. No, no, no. Let me explain. The people who work for him are his children, his mystical children. It's a term of endearment. And of course he's going to spoil them. Why wouldn't he? It's only natural.
The Wall Street Journal has got it completely wrong. Why don't these amateurs speak to me first? Is it too much trouble to pick up a phone? I'm actually very approachable. Yes, I lose my temper every now and then. Normally with journalists who don't treat me with the proper respect. I am the world's foremost financial shaman. A lot of people forget, you know. And I'm very close to becoming a living god. However, that is something I will have to discuss with The God, the big man ('thing' is better) upstairs. Well, not upstairs. In the spare bedroom? That would be ridiculous. I mean, in the sky. Not exactly in the sky. Everywhere, and all around. Within and without - as the mystics like to say.
Carsten and I go back years. We were in the desert before it was fashionable. We were burning money and dancing naked and conversing with dead financiers before anyone normal had even heard of mystical capitalism. But those burning and dancing days are gone. Oh, it's nothing to be sad about. To every thing there is a season. And there's a time to every purpose under the heaven. King Solomon will tell you that, if you ever bump into him. (I can't say I've seen him about. Maybe you should read Ecclesiastes.) I'm sure Carsten isn't sad. I haven't spoken to him recently. Our lives went in different directions. He became a big noise in investment banking. And I became whatever this is, a trainee god and literary blogger. I don't have any regrets. I know I did the right thing.
The Wall Street Journal has got it completely wrong. Why don't these amateurs speak to me first? Is it too much trouble to pick up a phone? I'm actually very approachable. Yes, I lose my temper every now and then. Normally with journalists who don't treat me with the proper respect. I am the world's foremost financial shaman. A lot of people forget, you know. And I'm very close to becoming a living god. However, that is something I will have to discuss with The God, the big man ('thing' is better) upstairs. Well, not upstairs. In the spare bedroom? That would be ridiculous. I mean, in the sky. Not exactly in the sky. Everywhere, and all around. Within and without - as the mystics like to say.
Carsten and I go back years. We were in the desert before it was fashionable. We were burning money and dancing naked and conversing with dead financiers before anyone normal had even heard of mystical capitalism. But those burning and dancing days are gone. Oh, it's nothing to be sad about. To every thing there is a season. And there's a time to every purpose under the heaven. King Solomon will tell you that, if you ever bump into him. (I can't say I've seen him about. Maybe you should read Ecclesiastes.) I'm sure Carsten isn't sad. I haven't spoken to him recently. Our lives went in different directions. He became a big noise in investment banking. And I became whatever this is, a trainee god and literary blogger. I don't have any regrets. I know I did the right thing.
