The Show Goes On

Money Talks (Asian Persuasion)

Jordan knew exactly what he was getting into when he lost his job at L.F Rothschild following Black Monday and hatched the idea to start his own firm. After reinventing the penny stock company, he had an insatiable desire for more. More wealth, more sex, more spice. So after having once tasted the life Mark Hanna had led him to, he couldn't go back to the ordinary anymore. That wasn't him. It stopped being him the moment he met Hanna. And even when he stepped out and had to find enough ambition to start over, he wouldn't go back to working 8 hour days and nights on no sleep, watching television at 3 in the afternoon on a Saturday with his wife, Teresa. Folding laundry. Getting off the subway, looking around him on his way to work and envying all those men in suits walking down Wall Street with a purpose. He'd make it big some day. He swore it to himself. So then as he slowly found success in unloading penny stocks to plumbers and men who were no longer as young and driven to succeed as Jordan was at one firm, he was ready to expand and pave a new way for himself. So naturally, he and Donnie found a place and went hunting for brokers. They didn't have to be as smart as Jordan - all they had to do was do as he told them. Jordan called up the men he knew since high school back in his old neighborhood; Robbie, Otter, Chester Ming, Rugrat and that asshole Brian. Jordan hated Brian, but he had to admit that he was an excellent salesman. And in the old neighborhood, he somehow used his powers of persuasion to sell Quaaludes to just about anyone who went to him. That was one of the perks of being "friends" with him. He was a reliable dealer. Jordan invited all of them to lunch and pitched them the idea.
"You listening?" He said. "It's easier than you think. Every person you're on the phone with, they wanna get rich quickly. They all want something for nothing."
Sea Otter piped up. "There was this one time that I was selling pot to this Amish dude. You know those guys, he's got like the beard with like no mustache or some bullshit."
"I don't understand," Robbie chewed through his burger.
Chester mind swallowed a French fry whole. "What's that got to do with anything?"
Jordan got mad. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Sea Otter looked at the men as if he couldn't stand their idiocy. "I'm not putting words in your mouth or nothing, but you just said everybody wants to get rich."
Robbie widened his eyes. "Holy fuck, you did just say that."
Chester chugged a Coca-Cola. "Yeah, you did just say that."
Jordan looked around incredulously. "What are you... What the fuck are you talking about?"
Sea Otter looked at him as though it should have been painfully obvious: "Yeah, like Buddhists. They don't give a shit about money, they're wrapped in sheets. They're not buying shit."
"I'm not... I'm not talking about Buddhists or Amish, I'm talking about normal people. Working class, everyday people. Everyone wants to get rich. Am I crazy?"
Chester Ming picked an onion ring off the table and ate it. "There is no such thing as Amish-Buddhist, I'm pretty fucking sure."
Jordan held his head. "No, I didn't-"
Robbie nodded, "Yeah, there could be. There could be."
Brad pulled over a waitress. "Can I get some ketchup please?"
Jordan slammed his fist on the table. "I didn't say Amish-Buddhist. Am I fuck... Do you guys not wanna make money? Is that what you're fucking saying?"
Robbie looked at him urgently.
"I wanna make some fucking money."
Chester pulled a handful of fries from Otter's plate.
"I wanna make some fucking money, okay? I could sell anything. Shit, I could sell lube to a convent full of nuns and get 'em so horny they'd be fucking each other, okay?"
Jordan cracked a smile. "That's the spirit. Now Ming, I want you to sell me this pen," he said, pulling out a pen from his jacket pocket.
"Can I finish eating? I haven't eaten tonight."
Jordan let out a hard breath. "Brad, show 'em how it's done."
Brad snatched the pen. "Now, uh, Jordan... Why don't you go ahead and write your name on that napkin there?"
"I don't have a pen."
"Exactly. Supply and demand, my friend." He rolled the pen across the table back to Jordan.
"See? He's creating urgency. That's what you have to do. Make them think they need to buy. Get them hooked like heroin addicts."
"That's the thing," Otter said. "All nuns are lesbians."
Jordan whipped a wet napkin at him and banged his fist on the table. "What the fuck are you talking about, Otter?!"
"What are you talking about, Otter?" Chester groaned.
"Yeah, I think that's true, I think that's right," Robbie nodded.
"Yeah, think about it," Otter continued. "They can't get dudes so they gotta start-"
"Give me four fucking times!" Brad shouted and chucked the empty ketchup bottle on the floor. The waitress hurried over with a full one.
Jordan knew these guys were complete retards. But they didn't need smarts for this job.
All he had to do, he thought, is mold then in his own image.