Apocryphal Goldman story
The apocryphal Goldman story
There is a story[1] that a titan at Goldman sufficiently important to the firmament that he was known to all by only his familiar Christian name (let’s call him “Bob”[2]) once had occasion to call a Goldman trading desk, at the time equipped with only a multi-line dealer board.
A voice — youthful, lacking the tell-tale timbre of age and experience — picked up and, as on a trading desk one does, said:
- Trader: Goldman. (This is a statement. there is no inquiry, no rising inflection of curiousness. It's a statement.)
- Bob: Yeah, can I get Jerry? (Now, when you are known to all by your Christian name you don’t bother with formalities. But nor, for that matter, do traders.)
- Trader: He’s off the desk.
- ~click~
Now Bob might not bother with formalities, but he rather thinks he’s entitled to them. No message, even? Perhaps this young man didn’t realise to whom he was speaking. Bob calls back.
- Trader: Goldman.
- Bob: Look, it’s Bob here. Can I get Jerry?
- Trader: I just told you he’s off the desk.
- ~click~
This will not do. Bob, having dispensed with any doubt he may have been benefiting this young fellow with, calls back a final time.
- Trader: Goldman.
- Bob: Now, listen to me, son. I just called to ask for Jerry
- Trader: I listened. And I told you: he’s off the desk.
- Bob (exploding): DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!
- Trader: Yes. You’re Bob. You’re the executive chairman of the firm.
- Bob: Right.
- Trader: Bob, do you know who I am?
- Bob: Ahh, ... no?
- Trader: Right.
- ~click~