Escrow: My American Greed: The Toys

 

MY AMERICAN GREED : THE TOYS

My American greed began on a Saturday afternoon, as I was hanging out in the Amish country off SR 79, just outside of the Licking County Line, with the Order of the Arrow, Honor Scouting Troup. I was enjoying peace and solitude of the forest when I was startled back into my real world by a text from home, New York City. My partner in crime was a big Wall Street guru and Stock Market Maker, Bill. An Army brat and former petroleum jockey for the Army Logistics brass at the Pentagon, Bill had made it big, after attending Harvard in Business Administration, earning his MBA at a very early age. Bill was my Account Manager, working for Laidlaw Securities, a member of the Royal family of Wall Street and owned by the Royal family of Brunei, son of King Bulkia, the Sultan of Brunei.
That particular Saturday, Bill had an Administrative emergency that he needed me to structure up for the client, outside of the banking environment and absent oversight and restrictions. The client was sponsored by Newt, out of Marietta, Georgia, and needed a guiding hand to set the profile and the Home Office of this Non-Profit Trust for Indigenous people, Indians, not just American but global indigenous tribes from former European and Asiatic colonies also. They were cash rich and talent poor, this Tribal Alliance had Trust funds from: Casinos, Tax-free gas stations, and Hotel-Resort Operations all over the United States, the European Union, and Asia.
Naturally, I had been entombed in Ohio for nearly three years solid and I needed a little excitement. A triumphant return home, a good cash assignment with television, newspaper, and International news wire coverage could have brought me a leg up in career and in my personal finances too. I had immediately packed up our tent city. I had gathered up my Honor Scouts and completed the packing of my Black 8.4 L Turbo charged Cummins Diesel Ford Excursion Ltd. and my Black Wells Cargo motorcycle trailer, loaded my Black Yamaha Quad and my Jet Black Yamaha dirt bike, and all of the camp gear that remained in our Amish Country Tent City. I had contacted the parents to let them know that we would be returning early as I had received an emergency call to return to the city immediately.
When the Black Sheep, our Order of the Arrow dance team, had come in from their hike through the forest, I had already broken camp. I did not want to waste any time or energy milling around. There had been cash on the table in New York, and I was out in the woods of Ohio ??? My sense of commitment to my country to lead this international effort to sweep the indigenous peoples assets. The United States of America was in the lead, and my loyalty to Bill had taken precedence over my civic duties to the Simon Kenton Council of the Boy Scouts of America, and their subsidiary Order of the Arrow. I had however enjoyed my free time with my Scouting brothers and sisters out in the Amish Country. God Bless the land of fame and fortune New York and Washington had needed me! My son and his closest buddies were not very happy about it but I agreed to pump the Limp Bizkit and koRn all the way back to New Albany as payment for my egregious sin of breaking 31 hours camp early.
The flight out was late night and therefore eerily quiet and I felt so isolated and alone, it was like I was on a flight to nowhere rather than on my way home, to the largest megalopolis on the planet, 24 Million transient inhabitants within 45 minutes of the nuclear city, I had no idea that the real ride began when I hit the ground. The black bulletproof stretch navigator sat at the curb, armed bodyguard-driver at the ready with my name blazon across his chest on a whiteboard. He quickly approached me as if he knew me. I had dressed the part, Midnight Arrival, Black Conservative three-piece suit and Black tie with Silver Metallic Highlights complete with my designer prescription Black Glasses Tinted black, not something I would have worn as the Premium Director for H & R Block’s Business Center. The porter followed with my luggage rapidly to be sure he earned a twenty spot for his trouble, after all it was a slow Sunday morning at 0115 hrs., at La Guardia International US Air Terminal. We quickly loaded up the boot and a paid the porter 25 USD as he was a Hispanic, as am I also part Hispanic, we always take care of our paisons.
As the cavernous stretch took her leave of La Guardia, I noticed that Carl kept looking at the interior mirror like he was sizing me up, like someone had given him a dossier on my purpose and my intent for the project at hand. I admittedly had no earthly idea what I had signed up for, I only knew that with my conservative administration in place and a conservative in office on Pennsylvania Avenue there was a lot of money on the table and I clearly had the luggage to hall every bit and morsel to Geneva for safe keeping. The ride was a mixture of anxiety and fear. I was nervous, I hadn’t received many calls for action from Pennsylvania Avenue but their message was loud and clear, Newt had signed their Charter on Friday, they need covert funding and a complete corporate profile by the time the article hit the Post and the Journal on Monday morning. They would pull out all the stops to be sure that my team had full access to any and all available resources to establish, operate, and maintain “the United Tribal Alliance and subsidiary Central Banking Operations”, whatever in the fuck that was.
We arrived at “the Mark” located on Lexington Avenue in the midtown banking district, a tony but very private five-star hotel rated in the $ 1k per night plus range, at the butt-crack of dawn, my six shiny German stainless-steel luggage in tow, even at 0315 hrs. the staff was in tip top shape with doorman, luggage porter, desk porter, and desk manager in attendance to get me set up in the FDR Suite right away. I flashed my ID at Heinrich, the Desk Manager and before he read it he said, “Mr. Robinson, we have been expecting you your Suites have been prepared, Two Bedrooms, a Conference Room with video-conferencing and four-scrambled Broadband connections, Rooftop Garden with four benches, and fully equipped kitchen are ready for your inspection, your assistant Michelle Rae [whoever the hell that is] is en-suite and awaiting your orders. The bill has been taken care of for the duration of your stay and future stays as well. Thank You for this opportunity to serve you!” “Thank You!” I said. “Do all of your guest at the Mark receive this level of attention?” I asked. He responded, “No sir but we are aware that your work is important and we will be at your disposal 24 hours a day to handle your needs.
Ben and Jerry the luggage porter and his able assistant carried up my new German stainless steel luggage set and had a trolley to transport my computers and printer up to the FDR suite where my new 19 year old assistant, Michelle Rae, was ready, willing, and able to do anything she was instructed to do to make me happy, 24 hours a day on the three continents we were booked to travel to, without my prior knowledge or consent. Through all of the madness over the last twelve hours, I had forgotten to call into Mitch the Bitch, my drunken Regional Manager at the Block, to let him know that I fuckin’ hated his guts and I quit effective immediately, if not sooner. I knew when I took that temporary project assignment with “the United Tribal Alliance and subsidiary Central Banking that it was not temporary at all, but life altering as in for fucking ever and ever Amen.
Michelle Rae was a thermo-nuclear Blond Haired Green Eyed German chick, an intern and honor student from Columbia University uptown, who had specialized in International Relations in their pre-law program. I knew the minute I saw her I fully intended to triple-click her young mouse before sunlight. As I approached the living room I saw that Michelle Rae was already moved in to the bedroom on the left. Michelle Rae had the computers booted up and a series of newspaper articles on the white board, also had a crate of financial document on the conference table in very neat, apparently segregated stacks along with two brand new digital cell phones one labeled New York and one labeled London, a pair of Red U.S. Passports with Gold Leaf writing on the covers.
I had been locked and loaded before I got the first phone call. Bill, the Private Investment Banker had worked for Army Logistics as a ‘Global Petroleum Asset Manager’ in the beltway, before he began his career at “DLJ”, on Wall Street. He still operated like I was one of his lieutenants going into the battle zone. I could not have refused this assignment, if I wanted to. They had new phones New York and London, not in my name, and a shiny new Red Passport with my name and picture in it. They had even transferred a ten thousand dollar expense retainer to Ohio in advance of my arrival so that my automatic payments would be covered for the next six months. They had the receipt on the top of the briefing report that I was about to digest.
Michelle Rae broke out a fresh bottle of Courvoisier VVSOP, a very limited version of the famous Spirit, and stood to my left, perky Dolly Parton breast at the ready and right at mouth height. I took the beverage that she offered, although at the moment I really was not a drinker, which changed rapidly from that night forward. I weighed in on my impression of her setup and she explained her family and educational background as I caught a buzz and stared at her voluptuous love-triangle, I could taste the sweet Peach as she spoke on her business and political experiences at the tender young age of 19 years. She talked about her participation in the Young Republicans Club, which we had in common, her mother’s role on the RNC and her father’s partnership in a Sports Team franchise in Texas. Her accent had me wanted to mount and stuff her on the conference room table like a good Buck should. To my full and utter amazement, she took the papers out of my hand and showed me her bedroom suite off to the left of the conference room.
This was an experience that I had absolutely no intention of sharing with my family, most especially my lovely hillbilly of a wife back in the flatlands of Gahanna, Ohio. Michelle Rae pushed me back on her bed, coverlet and all pealed my suit off and mounted my chest, pinning my arms to the bed with her lower leg while she rode my face with her upper thighs. She was a collegiate athlete of that I was certain her body-fat percentage was less than 8%. She had me signed and closed from the moment I got off the elevator and now she sat on my face in her bed, as I prepared to eat, finger, and fill her voluptuous love-triangle, repeatedly and often.
As the daylight rose off to the east side of her bedroom, she said we were due down on the second floor at 0815 hrs. I moved slowly at first to hit the shower and change suits, she told me that, ‘I was to join her in her bathroom now!’ I was a soldier and so I followed her orders directly and without delay. Her expert but firm hands lathered me up with a liquid sports soap that she rubbed all over my back and buns as the steaming hot water shot out of the front and back nozzles of the granite covered triple shower simultaneously. She mounted me from the rear and grabbed my Jonathan Henry Higginbotham as it was her own personal, private, property. She acted surprised to feel that he was at full attention as she jacked-him-off took playful bites out of my ears and my neck and rubbed soap on my chest simultaneously, all from my rear. Wow, I thought at the time, I am never going back to H & R Block again, ever. They never even gave me a gold watch let alone a travelling nymphomaniac for my own personal concubine, “Executive Assistant”. My assistant at Block was an old Italian Chick with a bad attitude and a substantially worn out body after having six puppies. Not quite my speed for a Travel Companion, Executive Personal Assistant, or Fuck Buddy.
As Michelle Rae and I arrived on the second floor I saw a distinguished looking group of a mixture of National Origins speaking English in very different dialects. There were representatives of various Indigenous Trusts from Australia, England, Asian Peninsula, Canadian Indian Tribes, American Indian Tribes and a manager from their resort and gambling operations. Raj, was a British accent Indian dude, very hip middle aged and blinging to high heaven like a rolling Jet Black Porsche 911 Gemballa wide-body, I later found out he was a tribal prince who was instrumental in closing the Australian Trust Fund deal with the United Kingdom who owed them treaty payments on mercantile shipping for the past 200 years due and payable in full. I could smell the money before I ever sat down. This little tribe of Indians represented well over $ 8 Billion in revenue per annum. I had found my Aradia, the goddess-daughter of Diana and Lucifer.
As we concluded making arrangements with the Indigenous group assembled before us to commit to depository asset management inside the sub-accounts of the United Tribal Alliance, we began with the Investment Bank of the Presidents: Donaldson, Lufkin, and Jenrette [now Credit Suisse-Union Bank of Switzerland]. I called Bill from the table with the new clients and he said that he knew I would close them. I told him not quite yet, we are on the way across the street to see him @ the Park Avenue HeadQuarters with the new clients for the United Tribal Alliance sub-accounts, and their initial opening deposits of 18,000,000 USD.
As we entered the Lobby the security was like Fort Knox. Blue suit dudes with Gloves and Security Badges all over the building. We were stopped at the login counter when Bill and his very able bodied Executive Assistant Katie came to rescue us from the Gestapo. It was not every day that they had non-whites coming into their building, absent an apron and broom they seemed affronted when the team took us up to the rooftop dining room of the President of the Bank.
The International group of Indigenous clients were quite impressed with their view of all of Park Avenue in both directions. The Vanderbilt, the Trump, J.P. Morgan-Chase, Bear-Stearns, Bank of New York, Kuwaiti National Bank, Citibank and many more just outside the window. It was painfully obvious that they had not previous eaten in a $ 1k a plate for lunch establishment before. We were served eight courses for lunch and that did not include the post lunch dessert, or the lunch hour cocktails. When we finished, I noticed that there were no other non-whites or women in the room. Very interesting on the top floor of one of the oldest government sponsored safe-houses on earth and they only allow White Anglo Saxton Protestants to dine. C’est la vie, I didn’t give a shit as long as I got my 8% of the deposit for my real client, The United Tribal Alliance et. al. That is Commission of 1,440,000.USD for taking these dudes to breakfast and lunch, four hours work total. They each ponied up their deposits [18M with a commitment for 80M more within 90 days], I dropped the deposits on Bill’s desk. Bill had Katie prepare some official receipt shit and I took the documents to the clients in the conference room.
When I returned to the DLJ conference room I introduced them to Gail the illustriously nominated Chairwoman of the United Tribal Alliance. A very interesting tidbit, since she was an Albino with no Indian Blood at all and from the Backwoods of Georgia with no political background at all, she was a former Agent for ‘the Company’, with no other work history or references, okay she had one letter of recommendation from Ronnie Ray-gun from his office at Century City Plaza in Los Angeles. She looked like a ghost and she acted like a ghost too. This wench had no substance of any kind she was transparent and empty like a bag of groceries from Pathmark before you buy anything. Too much make up, dramatic clothing with way too much ethnicity for any self-respecting old albino white woman. But, she had an ace in the whole, she was riding old Bill like a pogo stick on a daily basis. People with money are real gullible when the chick is sitting on their laps. Gail was very good at sitting on all the clients laps, repeatedly and often. That’s what they seemed to want more than any return on their investment with her little organization, UTA.
As the Cashier’s Checks hit Bill’s desk, he had Katie send me a wire transfer in-house of course for $ 35,000.00, for our weekly expense account, which he and I shared 50/50. The first of a long series of payments designed to buy my loyalty, buy my silence, and reserve my soul for Lucifer.
The clients were happy, Gail was aloof as usual (nee Clueless), and Bill was extremely ready for me to hit the airport for round two. Mel was an Indiana Private Banker who had pissed off a number of people all over the securities industry. He was quite loaded and needed some mechanical assistance to handle a large number of receivables from God knew who, for God knew what, to do God’s will on the homeless and starving citizens of the former USSR. Housing, Jobs, Food, Clothing and Shelter he spouted as he handed me eight Cashier’s Checks for $ 1,000,000.00 each. Another day, another commission check for $ 640,000 for receiving this deposit and transporting it back to Billy the Kid on Park Avenue. Not a bad Monday-Tuesday, Gross Commissions of 2,080,000 in less than forty-eight hours time. We just may have hit the Rock and Roll mode I kind of liked that job. I had to get back to NYC and Michelle Rae so she could prepare me for Wednesday’s adventure. New York La Guardia please !
When I got back to ‘the Mark’, Michelle Rae had my briefing for Wednesday, Mel had called and had some clients with Russian Red and Raw Diamonds ready for deposit in Antwerp. I had to make time to call my dude Shimon in Israel, a government dude but very cool and laid back. Shimon sets up a meet in London and we reacquaint ourselves. We got the Russian military dudes to zip over to Geneva Suisse Grand and put our dudes at the table then make for the deposit in Antwerp. Naturally, I had arranged some Executive Assistants from the Saudi Arabian club on Lake Geneva, it is always much better to close them once they have tasted a few of your Executive Assistance. I assembled the entourage including Hebrew lawyers, have Billy open up a long distance off shore Diamond Depository Account up in Antwerp but administered in London. I Dropped in the quick $ 40,000,000.00 into the CEIB and back to London to thank Shimon. Now we were cooking with gas. Oh the pressure I must had to get back to Michelle Rae at ‘the Mark’ and hit the Malls at Roosevelt Fields.
Okay it had past the point of needing to move on from ‘the Mark’. Traffic was too consistent and we needed to split up the functions of the group. 1.) Operations with Gail and her pair of personal book ends Lars and Hans from the U.N. peacekeeping force moved down to General Motors at 42nd and Lexington and 42nd Street. 2.) Trust Services, Marc and Michelle Rae moved into the Kuwaiti Bank Building Law Offices on Park Avenue @ 56th Street, a law suite with three lawyers two paralegals and two reception areas. Residential-Corporate presence was established at the Sliver building on 40th and Madison Avenue. 3.) Bill remained at DLJ on Park Ave. Michelle Rae and I went shopping all over the 3 square miles of stores at Roosevelt Fields.
We bought furniture, fixtures, fine arts, antiques, and all the electronic gadgets we could need. 15 k for a glass 15 feet x 8 feet conference table for my living room, it had 12 High Back Leather Executive chairs. 10k for an antique desk for the foyer. 8k for a Leather Pit to seat 12, she found an entertainment center that was 12’ high and 15 feet long and filled that baby with all the digital gadgets that could be found, purchased, and fit in the center. We had days of deliverymen bringing gear on carts and on their backs down Madison Avenue. Manhattan was kinda tough on parking but is even worse on delivery vehicles, so many block between the parking and the delivery of the goods was frequently an issue. Michelle Rae and I had the basic set up all together. The deliveries began just as the cash deposits picked up $ 8m here 20 m there, money begets money.
It had never occurred to me at the time, but not one client made a penny in the years of buying selling and shopping, the house was the real benefactor and beneficiary too. They didn’t feel the need to share the profits from all the trades and investments with the clients who owned the assets or deposited their money with the house. Come to think of it the Indigenous masses did not receive any benefit from their deposits either. Very strange roll that I played, I just brought it in whatever it was. The whole operation was spear headed by Bill, he is the only one who knew what was going to happen from one end to the other. He did not care to share that knowledge with Michelle Rae nor myself and frankly I prefer to operate on a needs to know basis anyway. I clearly did not want or need to know any more than I had known at the time, the less I knew overall the better I felt.
As I reflect on the culture of the time, I see how greedy and corrupt the system was and I became . Gobbling up the larger private banks, new issue nameplates being directed to those that “play the game” leaving the shareholders and account holders with pennies on the dollar were common place transactions in which we directly participated and benefitted financially. I was greedy, and I was corrupt. Just because it was the norm doesn’t make it okay for me to screw people as a daily function of my internship. I will never sully myself that way ever again! I will not take advantage of the system or my clients in a dishonest way to benefit the house. I realize that I have taken a vow of poverty and normalcy. I realize that there are no 80 story condos in Columbus, nor are there a fleet of Stretch Navigators at my disposal anymore. I lost it all, my immediate family disintegrated, my health collapsed, I was smoking, I was drinking, I was drugging my way into an early grave. I watched a lot of people die around me all of us with a common denominator=>other people’s money!
However, when it was all over, I was truly happy, I was happy not to be stressed out from doing the wrong thing all day, all the time, to all the clients. I was happy to not have to change my clothes three times in one afternoon to quell the stench and odor of decay from the inside out. Most importantly I was happy because I knew at the end of each and every day that I had done the best that I can do for the people around me that trust me and depend on me for my truthful and honest support. I had loved each and every friend, acquaintance and client served unselfishly in Agape. I am happy to be a part of a team and a member of my community, playing an integral part of making a difference for my peer group at each and every function that I attend and that I write up and submit.
Most of all, my friends and family don’t have to worry about my safety and well being all the time. In Manhattan, life expectancy is about 40 years for the average player, after that they either burn out, get burnt, or simply fade away. It is a great feeling to live again, to love again, to cry again, to sort of live almost like a human. It is most interesting to be a part of something bigger than the next S.W.I.F.T. wire transfer protocol. I am proud to be a member of my campus community, I am proud to have a caring and supportive peer group.
He who dies with the most toys does not win the game, he dies alone. He who gets out of the game, is the winner-takes-all victor in this game called life. This is not the end but a new beginning, my Phoenix! Shalom Aleichem!