surfers and their role in the decline of wealth and loss of western influence.
Surfing as we all know, and because so many of us do it, has infiltrated into the very cold capital heart of western civilisation – into its very core$ and value$. Why, only the other day we had a corporate surfing event in Sydney where one large bank was successful in beating a large legal corporation. This is wonderful news.
Imagine; the banker who is negotiating the $500,000 mortgage on your new $400,000 home is a surfer … !
Eddie is the sub-manager of the Croydon Westbank branch and was responsible for lending over $15,000,000 in mortgage loans last year. How excellent is Eddie. Yet three months before the bank declared that there would be a $8,500,00 impairment on its assets courtesy of < – this fellow and a few of his more dodgier deals, he collected a $380,00 bonus and departed for Bali and points north from where he has yet to return to acknowledge and lay to rest the nagging doubts on the veracity of a few signatures on various binding loan documents that are at present the subject of both internal audit examinations and an exemplary array of private lawsuites from former clients now living frugally in caravan parks south of Merimbula.
Being a banker does not require that a man has to have a degree in rocket science, or economics.
Economics. Oikus/ house – nomos/ custom. Rules of the household. Yes it’s Greek, and yes we should read the financial newspapers more often and that sharp pain we are feeling in the buttocks is the money-dog come back to bite us on the bum. Good old George Papandreou and his father and grandfather and their fiscal legacy, good old Sil Berlusconi and his happyhookerholidays. Bunga bunga indeed.
Back to Eddie:
How hard is it to lend somebody else’s money to someone you don’t know so they can buy something you haven’t seen. Win times three. Ask the Americans. They certainly didn’t invent credit but they were the first to give it away. Good old Alan Greenspan. What a ferocious intellect!
The executive training methods used by Westbank are sharp and non-intrusive (yes, we like that too). Every year there is an intake of about 60 potential sub-managers and on the final day of qualification they are shown into a large room where they are asked to sit around a table – all sixty of them. Only one will qualify as a branch sub-manager when the lights go back on.
When the lights go off a sack of cash is thrown onto the table – thirty seconds later the man with the most money in his pockets and the least blood on his hands gets the job for six months and then they all get to do it all over again.
Eddie P. has won the last five comps. He’s Greek. They have long figured out how to throw money away and collect it at the same time, read the newspapers. (Did I say that already ?)
Eddie though is way cool. Eddie surfs you see, and he’s in Bali, and he has rp 3,662,386,66 buried under the chook house. This is the surfer’s way.
No rules, no regrets.
‘ I’m vicious. We’re all pushing and shoving, jockeying for the money, and if I get the bundle first – if I’m in the best position – then I feel I deserve it.’
Mickey Dora – ^ – slightly amended.
Thank you for your time and attention, we’ll get out of your way now.