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Silver bullet: Difference between revisions
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The [[silver bullet]] is a certain type of fellow employee. Hard to describe in the abstract, but you know him when you see him: the [[weak gazelle]]. | The [[silver bullet]] is a certain type of fellow employee. Hard to describe in the abstract, but you know him when you see him: the [[weak gazelle]]. | ||
He is (frail) flesh and blood; he is the [[survivor]], the bullshit artist, the fellow who, in twenty-five years managing securities financing operations, has never quite got to grips with the idea that a [[stock loan]] is [[title transfer]] — the [[credit officer]] who doesn’t quite apprehend that a bank account involves credit risk, because your [[money]] isn’t just kept in a special jar with your name on it somewhere at the back of a huge vault — he who somehow, doggedly, hangs on to his job, like lichen, anchoring his mortal coil to cold inhospitable rock as Hurrican Right- | He is (frail) flesh and blood; he is the [[survivor]], the bullshit artist, the fellow who, in twenty-five years managing securities financing operations, has never quite got to grips with the idea that a [[stock loan]] is [[title transfer]] — the [[credit officer]] who doesn’t quite apprehend that a bank account involves credit risk, because your [[money]] isn’t just kept in a special jar with your name on it somewhere at the back of a huge vault — he who somehow, doggedly, hangs on to his job, like lichen, anchoring his mortal coil to cold inhospitable rock as Hurrican Right-Size rages about him. | ||
This chap — who shall remain nameless, because I really don’t want to hex him: he is in his own way an unknown warrior, inexplicably not yet in his tomb — is my succour and my prayer for relief: as long as ''he'' survives, may my own days yet be without number, for my grim comfort is that there remains at least one warm body between me and the wall I will eventually be lined up and shot against. | This chap — who shall remain nameless, because I really don’t want to hex him: he is in his own way an unknown warrior, inexplicably not yet in his tomb — is my succour and my prayer for relief: as long as ''he'' survives, may my own days yet be without number, for my grim comfort is that there remains at least one warm body between me and the wall I will eventually be lined up and shot against. | ||