Thursday, October 23, 2008

... All Is Well

Somebody over at Bloomberg seems to have hired an excitable monkey to enter their real-time market alerts this afternoon.

There I was, peaceably trying to talk yet another client CEO out of machine-gunning his entire staff, painting his private parts blue, and sprinting down Broadway screaming "The End is Near!" when I began to notice an annoying flashing red bar at the top of my Bloomberg news feed screen. In rapid succession, I learned from sequential break-in alerts that the Dow Jones Industrial average, which had spent most of the day flopping up and down like an epileptic fish, was at that very moment flopping up and down ... like an epileptic fish.

Without exaggerating too much, I swear I saw the following messages blaring intermittently across my screen during the final ninety minutes of trading:

DOW RECOVERING FROM 200 POINT DEFICIT AT 2:30 PM

DOW SHAVES LOSS TO 70 POINTS AT 2:40 PM

DOW HEADFAKES, BLOWS RASPBERRY, AND PLUNGES 240 POINTS AT 3:00 PM

DANCING AND SINGING AS DOW ERASES 200 POINT PLUNGE AT 3:10 PM

PISSING AND MOANING AS DOW DIPS 125 POINTS AT 3:30 PM

DOW FLAT AT 3:40 PM; MARKET YAWNS

DOW UP 120 POINTS AT 3:50 PM: JOY IN MUDVILLE

DOW CLOSES UP 172 POINTS: PAULSON KISSES BERNANKE IN OVAL OFFICE; BUSH OFFICIATES AT WEDDING


What the hell was that? A test of the Bloomberg Emergency Broadcast System?

I mean, sheesh, we have seen bigger intraday swings in the market for, oh, about 32 of the last 24 trading days, fer chrissakes. Why did we get a seizure-inducing blow-by-blow account this afternoon?

Now a meaner and more paranoid person than me might describe the panicky news bulletins as suspiciously timed to coincide with the New York City Council vote on extending Mayor Bloomberg's term limit to three terms from the current two. He has asked for this extension because he wants to run again and grace our fair city with his calming presence during what he is calling an unprecedented financial and metropolitan crisis.

But I am a trusting and magnanimous soul, so I will resist a similar urge to see tiny, devious, politically ambitious billionaires lurking behind every false alarm. Instead, I expect it was just some poor young intern, newly appointed to the market desk after getting fired one week into his Lehman Brothers' analyst training program, who got a little carried away with his newfound power to enthrall and terrify the markets.

But really, Bloomberg, cut it the hell out.

Leaving aside the possibility that you may have triggered grand mal seizures in about ten thousand traders, investors, and bankers with your damnable flashing red panic alerts this afternoon, the minute-by-minute updates you delivered were the opposite of responsible, informative market reporting. The market is jumpy and panicky enough without some knucklehead in the press screaming fire at every 100-point swing in the Dow. Wait for the real catastrophes to occur, then you can gibber and over-emote all you want.

I am sure you will not have to wait long.

* * *

UPDATE (24 October 2008, 9:26 am) — I take it all back. Given that Asian and European markets are pretty much crapping the bed and US market futures have plunged the daily limit this morning, I am damn glad Bloomberg tested their EBS yesterday. I am sure we will need it today.

Fair warning to epileptics, though: put on your sunglasses, or whatever, because there is going to be a shitload of flashing red alerts splattered all over your market terminals this morning.

Perhaps it was a prescient excitable monkey.

© 2008 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

The Credit Ratings Process, Illustrated

Notwithstanding my previous comments on the talent and work ethic of the current crop of twenty-somethings, I do have to admit that there are few things in life as amusing as a snarky youngster live-blogging the current C-SPAN broadcast of Congressional hearings on credit ratings agencies, chaired by Rep. Henry Waxman.

Not to mention, you occasionally get some timely and revealing reportage thrown into the bargain, as well:
Some Congressman, not sure who 'cause I missed his name, just brought up the following IM conversation between two S&P employees, to former residential mortgage ratings managing director, Frank Raiter, from several months back (no name check on the deal but surely the DB brain trust can hazard a guess):

S&P employee #1: By the way that deal is ridiculous
S&P employee #2: I know, right. That model definitely does not capture half the risk
S&P employee #1: We should not be rating it.
S&P employee #2: We rate every deal. It could be structured by cows and we would rate it.

Congressman: What do you think this means, Mr. Raiter?
Raiter: Um...I don't know...I guess a casual acceptance of these things.
Sean Egan (of Egan-Jones) chimes in: Perhaps that cow was particularly talented?

Which leads me to speculate on the true nature of the credit rating process in general:


The Innocent Eye Test, indeed.

© 2008 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Everyone Can Be Super!

Helen: “I can’t believe you don’t want to go to your own son’s graduation.”
Bob: “It’s not a graduation. He is moving from the 4th grade to the 5th grade.”
Helen: “It’s a ceremony!”
Bob: “It’s psychotic!! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity, but if someone is genuinely exceptional...”

The Incredibles


Of all the stupid shit the Baby Boomers ever foisted upon an unwilling and unappreciative world—and mind you there has been a hell of a lot of it—I have to say that siring and raising the so-called “Millennials” (or Echo Boomers or Generation Y) to ersatz maturity is turning out to be one of their biggest doozies.

While these erstwhile Deciders-in-Chief sail happily off to Boca to enjoy their swollen retirement packages, golden parachutes, and depreciated vacation homes, the rest of us are expected to clean up the messes they have left behind: an economy spiraling into deep recession, a financial system shorn of all credibility and held together with paper clips and baling wire, and a country that no-one else in the world even fears anymore, much less respects.

Now we learn that on top of everything else, employers and business owners in the US are going to have to wipe the noses and change the diapers of the Boomers’ darling progeny, the twenty-something Millennials who have already begun to infiltrate the workforce.

If there is one overriding perception of the millennial generation, it’s that these young people have great—and sometimes outlandish—expectations. Employers realize the millennials are their future work force, but they are concerned about this generation’s desire to shape their jobs to fit their lives rather than adapt their lives to the workplace.

Although members of other generations were considered somewhat spoiled in their youth, millennials feel an unusually strong sense of entitlement. Older adults criticize the high-maintenance rookies for demanding too much too soon. “They want to be CEO tomorrow,” is a common refrain from corporate recruiters.

More than 85% of hiring managers and human-resource executives said they feel that millennials have a stronger sense of entitlement than older workers, according to a survey by CareerBuilder.com. The generation’s greatest expectations: higher pay (74% of respondents); flexible work schedules (61%); a promotion within a year (56%); and more vacation or personal time (50%).

“They really do seem to want everything, and I can’t decide if it’s an inability or an unwillingness to make trade-offs,” says Derrick Bolton, assistant dean and M.B.A. admissions director at Stanford University’s Graduate School of Business. “They want to be CEO, for example, but they say they don’t want to give up time with their families.”

In the parlance of our time: What the fuck?

* * *

Let me be clear. I am not faulting these youngsters for being ambitious. Ambition to become a CEO, or whatever, is an admirable—and usually a pretty good—thing. Ambition, energy, and starry-eyed self-confidence, after all, are the defining traits of youth. We should not complain when a passel of youngsters exhibit the few characteristic advantages that young-uns are prone to possess, especially when we consider that beyond those traits they pretty much know and can do fuck-all until they have been properly trained.

Furthermore, we older geezers owe a great deal to the ambition, energy, and cheerful naïveté of our juniors. Without the young to use as cannon fodder, none of the great and not-so-great companies and civilizations in history could have been built or maintained. I shudder to think what would happen to New York City, for instance, if the tens of thousands of youth streaming here to make their mark suddenly developed a realistic perspective of what their actual chances for success were. (Inner city Detroit would look like a boom town by comparison.) The gleaming monuments of every society are built high upon the bones and broken dreams of millions and millions of nobodies who hoped for something better.

No, what gets my goat is that these whippersnappers apparently believe they can reach the top of the greasy pole without breaking a sweat, and, in fact, that their employers owe it to them. Why is that? Well, apparently these chuckleheads have been told all their lives that they deserve it.

It’s as if the Boomers’ beloved Lake Wobegon effect, where “all children are above average,” has horribly mutated in their children’s minds into a belief that each and every one of them actually ranks in the 99.9th percentile. (For those of you shy of math skills, this is impossible. Take my word for it.) This is a bizarre psychological outcome of the Boomers’ famously hypercompetitive “helicopter” parenting, which emphasized nurturing, coddling, and esteem boosting for their kids while simultaneously scratching and clawing to get every socioeconomic and educational advantage available for Little Billy and Suzy.

Didn’t any of these kids notice how many classmates they had at Collegiate, Harvard, and Wharton? I guess not, based upon the types of responses the Millennials give on self-assessment polls:

Some research studies indicate that the millennial generation’s great expectations stem from feelings of superiority. Michigan State University’s Collegiate Employment Research Institute and MonsterTrak, an online careers site, conducted a research study of 18- to 28-year-olds and found that nearly half had moderate to high superiority beliefs about themselves. The superiority factor was measured by responses to such statements as “I deserve favors from others” and “I know that I have more natural talents than most.”

I can just imagine some of the other survey statements these wunderkinder might have agreed to:

“Mommy and Daddy say I can walk on water.”

“I am the smartest, most accomplished, and best-looking individual in my [pick a cohort].”

“I have been reliably told my shit doesn’t stink.”

“I am qualified to be CEO of General Motors because I ran a lemonade stand when I was four.”

(Okay, maybe I’ll give ’em that last one.)

Overall, this leads me to characterize the Millennials not with an “E” for entitled, but rather with a “D.” For delusional.

* * *

Of course, most of this is not the Millennials’ fault. It’s the fault of their dastardly parents, many of whom saddled these kids with this baggage largely in pursuit of their own social status and entitlement. But the kids are the ones who will have to adjust, and learn to deal with what will soon seem a much colder and less friendly world than Sesame Street and Barney led them to believe it would be.

Interestingly enough, investment banking has traditionally been an industry which has been particularly good at taking in lots of talented but jejune youngsters and hammering them into more or less useful corporate citizens. Up until the recent dislocations, investment banking could dangle the three carrots of supersized pay, undeserved social prestige, and premature involvement in the headline-making events of our time, so it tended to attract ambitious, intelligent, and driven college and business school grads who burned to become the next Lloyd Blankfein before the age of 30.

Once they entered the door, however, they found that glamour, prestige, and responsibility were not just lying on the floor waiting to be picked up. They had to be earned with grinding, unrelenting, and mostly unpleasant hard work. No-one coddled the junior investment banker or cocooned him or her in a warm, fuzzy blanket of uncritical esteem and praise. Instead, they beat the shit out of you, and they were nasty about it, too.

Many wannabe Masters of the Universe found they could not carry the freight. Eighty- to 100-hour work weeks, all-night and all-weekend fire drills, and senior bankers who would as soon spit on you as thank you for a job well done convinced many that they did not have either the aptitude or the desire for a life in investment banking. But for those who survived and even thrived under these conditions, the winnowing took the form of—dare I say it in these inhospitable times?—a defining test of character. They went through the crucible, and they were changed.

Now I will not claim that all those who passed this test and became full-fledged investment bankers were or became good or even pleasant people. Far from it. (How many Green Berets or Navy Seals would you welcome to your cocktail party or nominate for your local PTA? None, I posit.) Instead, they became competent and self-reliant, which at least in ages past signified a level of social maturity devoutly to be wished for.

This, as I see it, is exactly the sort of trial by fire that so many of today’s Millennials desperately need, if only to help them cut the parental apron strings and learn to achieve something admirable which is wholly their own. Unfortunately, investment banking is no longer the sort of industry with the draw and demand to deliver this to more than a select few of them.

* * *

So I guess we can expect a lot of twenty-somethings to slosh over into the entrepreneurial bucket, while they’re waiting for the economy to turn and Goldman Sachs to come begging at their doorstep again. We’ll see how well that works out for them. I, for one, am less than sanguine that 70 million of them can earn a living from marketing Web 2.0 freeware, but what do I know? Maybe there is an Incrediboy in the bunch who can invent a way to make everyone rank in the 99th percentile. Let’s just hope he doesn’t have to cut us all off at the knees to make us giants.

My guess is that most of these Millennials will have to sponge off Mom and Dad for several years until the recession ends and they can find a real job. This will have the simultaneously salutary effect of reminding Junior that Mom and Dad do not have all the answers and forcing Mom and Dad to burn through more of their ill-gotten wealth transfer gains to support their indigent progeny. One can hang a tenuous hope that there is justice in this world on much flimsier nails.

In the meantime, let me offer a piece of advice to any Millennials who might be looking to interview at Dealmaker LLC. If you “want to be treated like colleagues rather than subordinates and expect ready access to senior executives,” take a job at the local Starbucks. We do command and control here, buddy, and you’re at the bottom of the food chain.

Here’s the straight dope: you ain’t that great, and you sure as hell ain’t that unique. Get in line with the other millions in your age group and suck it up.


© 2008, 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Hysteria

Civilization, in fact, grows more and more maudlin and hysterical; especially under democracy it tends to degenerate into a mere combat of crazes; the whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by an endless series of hobgoblins, most of them imaginary.

— H.L. Mencken, In Defense of Women


It amuses me to think that the financial markets have taken on some of the aspects of late-stage democracy, as Mencken described it 90 years ago. Supposedly seasoned, sophisticated hedge fund investors are clambering all over each other like rats scurrying out of the bilges of a sinking ship.

It must be reassuring to their limited partners to discover that so many of them have been running portfolios so little correlated with US equity market performance:

“We continue to see a vortex of selling, led by a levered, scared hedge fund community stepping on each other trying to get in front of the other guy to liquidate, based upon the real investment losses that they’ve experienced, coupled with the threat of year-end redemptions,” says Doug Kass, president of Seabreeze Partners.

I guess a lot of these Big Swinging Dicks really are just little girls, after all.

© 2008 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Candide, or Optimism

Il est démontré, disait-il, que les choses ne peuvent être autrement: car, tout étant fait pour une fin, tout est nécessairement pour la meilleure fin. Remarquez bien que les nez ont été faits pour porter des lunettes, aussi avons-nous des lunettes. Les jambes sont visiblement instituées pour être chaussées, et nous avons des chausses. Les pierres ont été formées pour être taillées, et pour en faire des châteaux, aussi monseigneur a un très beau château; le plus grand baron de la province doit être le mieux logé; et, les cochons étant faits pour être mangés, nous mangeons du porc toute l’année: par conséquent, ceux qui ont avancé que tout est bien ont dit une sottise; il fallait dire que tout est au mieux.

"It is demonstrated," said he, "that things cannot be otherwise: because, everything having been made for some end, everything is necessarily for the best end. Note well that noses were made for wearing spectacles, consequently we have spectacles. Legs are clearly created to be shod, and we have stockings. Stones were formed to be carved, and to build castles of, consequently My Lord has a very beautiful castle—the greatest baron of the province ought to be the best lodged—also, pigs were made to be eaten, and we eat pork all year long: therefore, those who suggest that everything is good have said a foolishness; they should say that everything is for the best."


— Voltaire, Candide, ou l'Optimisme


Evan Newmark continues to surprise me with hidden talents. Today, he is a philosopher, out-Panglossing Pangloss by putting forth the modest proposal that we anoint Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson a national hero for his role in the current credit crisis. Yes, you read that correctly.

Never mind the public waffling, the rapid reversals of direction and tactics, the confidence-destroying uncertainty and confusion the Treasury and Fed have been spoon-feeding into global financial markets for months. Never mind also the ham-handed arrogance of the initial three page draft of the TARP proposal, or the mawkish and callow play-acting of dropping to his knee in front of Nancy Pelosi (and a few hundred cameras). No,

... today, we have the U.S. government taking preferred equity stakes in our nine largest banks on terms that are acceptable to both Wall Street and Washington.

Come again?

This is admirable. It's almost as if Mr. Newmark surveyed the Lisbon earthquake, tsunami, and fire of 1755 and said that not only was the city's fate for the best in this best of all possible worlds, but also we should give the Mayor of Lisbon a baronetcy and a public commendation for saving three chickens and an outhouse from the destruction.

The Treasury's and Fed's efforts to fix the credit crisis long ago left the realm of rationality, economy, and forethought to wallow in the cesspool of panicked overreaction and political expediency. It is not really worth getting your knickers in a twist, however, because the current plan is what it is, and we are all going to have to live with its (currently imperfectly understood) consequences for many years to come.

That being said, I share the feelings of many who express puzzlement or underwhelmed disappointment over the Plan in its current form.

It looks like Hank Paulson has been dragged kicking and screaming by the global marketplace into reluctantly embracing the concept that you cannot begin to encourage banks to start lending again until you have stabilized their balance sheets, and, furthermore, that the government is the only entity remaining with the standing and wherewithal to pull it off. He certainly fought such a solution tooth and nail almost from the beginning.

Now we have what appears to be a half-measure: forced, non-voting preferred equity injections into leading lending institutions with virtually no formal oversight or controls over these banks' behavior other than moral suasion. For proof of how acceptable the current plan's terms may be to Wall Street, I give you the photograph above, taken at the conclusion of the all-hands meeting Mr. Paulson convened to stuff the plan down the throats of nine of the largest US financial intermediaries. It doesn't look like Messrs. Mack and Pandit are suffering from too much indigestion there.

I think Felix Salmon put it best: Treasury's plan "looks very much like Warren Buffett's investment in Goldman Sachs, or MUFG's investment in Morgan Stanley, only without the profit motive." And, lest we forget, it is our potential profit, as US taxpayers and lenders/investors of last resort, which Mr. Paulson has so handsomely foregone. At what price ideological purity?

Now what? The stock price charts for both Morgan Stanley and Goldman Sachs still look like they're on the glide path to dissolution. The markets are waking up from their pleasant wet dream on Monday to survey a weakening global economy with deteriorating fundamentals which Mr. Paulson's vaunted plan will do nothing to ameliorate. And we American taxpayers are saddled with non-voting preferred shares in a bunch of institutions which have proven conclusively that they would have trouble finding their own assholes in a thunderstorm. I, for one, do not feel reassured.

So pardon me, Mr. Newmark, if I decline to second your nomination of Henry Paulson to the pantheon of national heroes.

Frankly, it's a little fucking early to be handing out medals.

Hat tip for the photo and caption to Dealbreaker.

© 2008 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.