Myka F.
Yelp
When I was growing up I only had one goal in life: to become insanely rich so I could trample my enemies. Every day I did my homework to go to a good school but unfortunately, I wasn't smart enough. When I graduated I was in debt and the country was in a recession and I ended up taking a low-paying job working as an assistant at a hedge, making my money-lust grow ever deeper. For years I struggled under the boot of capitalism, working long hours in an office and committing petty crimes to afford appropriate work attire.
One night, I got the opportunity to turn it all around. I was introduced to a one-legged bartender named Scotty who used to pour shots out of his prosthesis, they were called stump shooters. You could put any kind of booze in his fake leg but they all came out tasting like stump. I was about four stump shooters in when I got the idea: nobody is completely whole.
I took this notion with me back to the hedge fund and really started to pay attention. What were these men and women missing? On the surface, they had everything. Money, power, personal trainers who would come right to the office and stretch their hip flexors while they screamed at each other. And then it hit me, they never left work. What they didn't have was time, love, personal connection, or even the need for personal connection. They had prosthetic lives.
I realized I had two options: continue to work for them diligently so that I wouldn't perish under the yolk of poverty, or risk it all and take advantage of my unique position. I think you can guess where this is going, but if not ill continue.
I decided to introduce a hungry hedgy to this "wealthy man I met in a hotel lobby." He was introduced as Harold Hermann, but we already know him as Scotty the one-legged bartender. Scotty, aka Herr Hermann, was brought into the lobby dressed in a suit his father wore in a reproduction of "Guys and Dolls," and set about impressing the hedgy. Numbers were never directly stated, but upwards of a billion in war profits were at stake and needed to be funneled creatively to avoid the prying eyes of prosecutors. As the hedgy greedily took down this information, promising not just sanctuary but profits to boot, a recording device hidden within the cavity of Scotty's fake leg captured every illegal sentence. A blackmail plan was afoot!
One would think we would confront the hungry hedgy with the tapes directly, but no, we sent it around to the fund's competitors, offering to let them know who they could takedown for a paltry $10k. That money is nothing to a hedge fund, a trivial gamble, in comparison with derailing a rival, and the funds came pouring in. Of course, no one was ever able to take anyone down as Herr Hermann didn't exist and no real crimes were committed, but there are no refunds in blackmail, and I was able to quit my position as an assistant with enough money to find a small cottage upstate in the Catskills, where I have spent my time quietly watching the rest of the world fill their lives with petty wins.
The bagels at Goodies are amazing, great coffee, great service!