had to play it out.
“To be honest,” I said, “I’m quite disappointed.” This was the script everyone knew to use when you were contemplating making a move. Jay was silent. Jack repeated his line, that the increase was much better than the department average and that it was a reflection of the great work I was doing.
Although I was leaving, I couldn’t say anything to anyone until my bonus check cleared at the end of February. As soon as it did, I told Ed the whole story except for the amount Merrill was offering, which I didn’t want to leak out. Ed told me my decision made a lot of sense, but asked for a day or so to see if there was anything he could do. I was going to miss Ed, but I knew that this was the right move and that we’d stay friends for years to come.
A day later, Jay came into my office and closed the door. “We’ve talked with the bankers,” he said, “and the bankers really pay the bills. We want you to stay, and we’re thinking that next year we can pay you $750,000.” Clearly, this was a gangbusters offer in his eyes.
But then came the catch: “Of course, Dan, it’s dependent on the telecom bankers making their budget for 1993….”
That was all I needed to hear: I had no idea what the bankers’ budget was, or what their chances of reaching it were, and I certainly didn’t want mypay tied to how much money the firm received from the companies that I was assigning stock ratings to!
That evening, I flew to Kansas City and St. Louis for meetings with analysts and portfolio managers at American Century, Waddell & Reed, and Boatman’s Bancshares Inc. I called Andy Melnick at Merrill the next morning to tell him it was a go. After my meetings, I went to the airport and then spent much of the rest of the day grounded by a snowstorm, having Andy fax a contract to the airport’s business center so I could review it and then forward it to my lawyer.
On March 1, I told Jay I had decided to take the Merrill offer. I’d already taken all my important reports home with me, because when you leave, you’re outta there the second you give notice. Any files and professional material belong to Morgan, not you. There aren’t any good-bye parties on the Street. It’s just one big see-ya…and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
Hold on, Jay said. “Bob Greenhill [Morgan Stanley’s president] wants to see you. Go to his office at 2:30 PM today.” Well, okay then. So at 2:30 on the nose, I went upstairs to the president’s office on the 32nd floor. I waited in his office for quite a while, until finally someone walked in. It wasn’t Bob Greenhill at all.
“Hi, I’m John Mack,” he said, shaking my hand. Mack headed Morgan Stanley’s fixed income department. He was a North Carolinian of Lebanese descent whose father had been a wholesale grocer. Unlike most of the big shots on the Street, Mack was deadly serious and not one for shooting the breeze. He got right to the point.
“Bob resigned today,” he said. He apologized for being late and for the crazy circumstances of him standing in for Greenhill. Mack was very charged up, having just found out a few hours ago that he was being promoted to president of the firm. He had a bunch of crises on his hands already, such as how to hold on to all those Greenie loyalists who might be offered lucrative deals by Smith Barney, where Greenhill had gone. He did focus on me, though, for about 10 minutes.
“I don’t know you, Dan,” he drawled, “but I’ve been told that you’re a very valued employee of the research department and telecom is very, very important to this firm. We would like you to stay. Have we mistreated you?”
“I really appreciate that, John,” I said. “I have been treated very well here. I don’t have specific complaints. Morgan Stanley is a great firm, the research department is tops, and I am making far more money than I ever dreamed.”
“So why do you want to leave?” he asked.
“I’m
“To be honest,” I said, “I’m quite disappointed.” This was the script everyone knew to use when you were contemplating making a move. Jay was silent. Jack repeated his line, that the increase was much better than the department average and that it was a reflection of the great work I was doing.
Although I was leaving, I couldn’t say anything to anyone until my bonus check cleared at the end of February. As soon as it did, I told Ed the whole story except for the amount Merrill was offering, which I didn’t want to leak out. Ed told me my decision made a lot of sense, but asked for a day or so to see if there was anything he could do. I was going to miss Ed, but I knew that this was the right move and that we’d stay friends for years to come.
A day later, Jay came into my office and closed the door. “We’ve talked with the bankers,” he said, “and the bankers really pay the bills. We want you to stay, and we’re thinking that next year we can pay you $750,000.” Clearly, this was a gangbusters offer in his eyes.
But then came the catch: “Of course, Dan, it’s dependent on the telecom bankers making their budget for 1993….”
That was all I needed to hear: I had no idea what the bankers’ budget was, or what their chances of reaching it were, and I certainly didn’t want mypay tied to how much money the firm received from the companies that I was assigning stock ratings to!
That evening, I flew to Kansas City and St. Louis for meetings with analysts and portfolio managers at American Century, Waddell & Reed, and Boatman’s Bancshares Inc. I called Andy Melnick at Merrill the next morning to tell him it was a go. After my meetings, I went to the airport and then spent much of the rest of the day grounded by a snowstorm, having Andy fax a contract to the airport’s business center so I could review it and then forward it to my lawyer.
On March 1, I told Jay I had decided to take the Merrill offer. I’d already taken all my important reports home with me, because when you leave, you’re outta there the second you give notice. Any files and professional material belong to Morgan, not you. There aren’t any good-bye parties on the Street. It’s just one big see-ya…and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
Hold on, Jay said. “Bob Greenhill [Morgan Stanley’s president] wants to see you. Go to his office at 2:30 PM today.” Well, okay then. So at 2:30 on the nose, I went upstairs to the president’s office on the 32nd floor. I waited in his office for quite a while, until finally someone walked in. It wasn’t Bob Greenhill at all.
“Hi, I’m John Mack,” he said, shaking my hand. Mack headed Morgan Stanley’s fixed income department. He was a North Carolinian of Lebanese descent whose father had been a wholesale grocer. Unlike most of the big shots on the Street, Mack was deadly serious and not one for shooting the breeze. He got right to the point.
“Bob resigned today,” he said. He apologized for being late and for the crazy circumstances of him standing in for Greenhill. Mack was very charged up, having just found out a few hours ago that he was being promoted to president of the firm. He had a bunch of crises on his hands already, such as how to hold on to all those Greenie loyalists who might be offered lucrative deals by Smith Barney, where Greenhill had gone. He did focus on me, though, for about 10 minutes.
“I don’t know you, Dan,” he drawled, “but I’ve been told that you’re a very valued employee of the research department and telecom is very, very important to this firm. We would like you to stay. Have we mistreated you?”
“I really appreciate that, John,” I said. “I have been treated very well here. I don’t have specific complaints. Morgan Stanley is a great firm, the research department is tops, and I am making far more money than I ever dreamed.”
“So why do you want to leave?” he asked.
“I’m
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