I read reports for the next two hours. Each one had financial models done my
overenthusiastic MBAs who were more keen to solve equations than to question
what they were doing. One table compared value of Internet companies with the
number of visitors to the site. The recommended company had the lowest value
to eyeball ratio, a trendy term invented by the analyst. Hence, BUY! screamed the
report. Of course, the analyst never questioned that none of the site visitors ever
paid any money to the Internet company. ‘It is trading cheap on every multiple
conceivable!’ the report said, complete with the exclamation mark.
‘Sir, my customer is here. Can I bring them to you?’ Sri requested well after
her return from the toilet.
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘Sir, this is Ms Sreenivas,’ Sri said. A fifty-year-old lady with gold bangles
thicker than handcuffs came to my cubicle. We moved to the sofa area, to give a
more personal, living room feel as we robbed the customer.
‘You are from IIT?’ she peered at me.
‘Yes,’ I said even as I readied my pitch about which loss-making company to
buy.
‘Even my grandson is preparing for it,’ she said. She had dark hair, with oil
that made it shine more.
‘You don’t look old enough to have a grandson preparing for IIT,’ I said.
Ms Sreenivas smiled. Sri smiled back at her. Yes, we had laid the mousetrap
and the cheese. Walk in, baby.
‘Oh no, I am an old lady. He is only in class six though.’
‘How much is madam’s balance?’ I asked.
‘One crore and twenty lakh, sir,’ Sri supplied.
I imagined the number in my head; I’d need to work in this job for thirty years
to get there. It almost felt right to part her from her money. ‘Madam, have you
invested in any stocks? Internet stocks are cheap these days,’ I said.
Ms Sreenivas gave me a worried look. ‘Stocks? Never. And my son works in
an Internet company abroad. He said they might close down.’
nora
(Nora)
#1