Tuesday, 7 February 2012

'UBS isn't paying any bonuses to anybody.'

That's straight from the horse's mouth, that is: my dear friend and fellow financial shaman and UBS investment banking boss, ladies and gentlemen, Mr Carsten Kengeter.

Yes, indeed. [Oh no, not "indeed"! I'm just hoping it's not the word du jour. That would fucking finish me!] Er, Carsten phoned me a couple of hours ago, angry, totally upset. Why? 'Oh, why?!' Well, dear reader(s), read what he said to me and then you'll find out why, won't you? 'Mikey, what more do they want? I've made the ultimate sacrifice. I've given up my bonus. Now I'm telling everyone at UBS: "Give it up! Do it for love." (Give up their bonuses for love, Carsten?! Are you sure? In an ideal world, yes, but -) Understand this: UBS isn't paying any bonuses to anybody. They can whistle for their money. (Can I quote you on that?) Of course you can. (Great! Thanks. Straight from the horse's mouth. An exclusive! This'll bring the traffic -) Mikey, I ain't a fucking horse! (Well, it's an expression, Carsten.) I know how you like to twist things. I don't want you making me look ridiculous. (It's not as if you're the horse, anyway, is it? Sergio Ermotti is.) Sergio isn't a horse. You see, this is what I'm talking about. If he reads your blog, I'll get the blame. He'll say I was egging you on. You were like this in the desert, Mikey. When are you going to grow up? (Let's focus on the bonuses. Your people aren't charity workers, man. They need money. How are they going to live?) They have money! These are some of the richest people in the world. So how much is enough? How many cars can you drive? How many houses do you need to live in? (Well, me, I haven't got a pot to piss in, so -) No, not you, them! (I don't know. You're confusing me, Carsten. This isn't a part of my teaching.) Bullshit! I remember you saying we'll have to transcend money one day. (Yeah, once we have enough.) We have enough, Mikey! (You do, maybe. I never went into banking.) No, you've always been aloof, detached, pure, so spiritual, the true mystic. I'm the grubby, filthy, dirty one. I turned my back on the desert, and for what? A career, money, fine wines. I'm ashamed to call myself a shaman. I don't know how you can bear talking to me, Michael. I must disgust you.'

Jesus Christ! Such self-loathing! I had no idea Carsten was suffering like this. And doing it for love? The love of what, exactly, UBS? Or - mankind?! Surely not! Oh, I hope Carsten hasn't become a socialist.