My Number One Client

By Julian Marshall
01 Nov 2013

It’s not much of an accolade. It’s like winning the tallest dwarf competition, or being the most endowed eunuch, but it’s the biggest tribute I can pay to the bloke who is almost single-handedly keeping Subsistence Broking in booze, I mean, in business. It is said — often by me — that every customer gets the salesman he deserves but in this instance it may not be true because heaven knows “Rude” deserves so much better. I know this may sound a bit rich but he is the grumpiest, most curmudgeonly, old croak out there on the buyside and I love him for it because, well, people say the same about me on the sellside. Rude: I salute you.

The relationship began at dinner some 15 years ago. We were on a crowded, raucous table of celebrated hedge funders and lairy, bull-market brokers and there was one mouthy dealer slagging off sales-traders as phone jockeys/glorified receptionists/order monkeys to all and sundry and complaining that none was worthy ...

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