Dear Mr. Merrill Lynch
Adele R. McDowell, Ph.D.
December 14, 2008
Ahhh
the news gets wilder and weirder. Truly, I sometimes think everything is all part and parcel of a "Saturday Night Live" show.
One of my recent, favorite, outrageous, youīve-got-to-be-kidding-me news item was that of Merrill Lynch CEO, John Thain, who suggested to the powers-that-be that he was desirous and deserving -- of a bonus in the $10 million range.
You see, Mr. Thain felt he had worked very hard on captaining the deal with Bank of America, who was coming in to take over the foundering financials of Merrill Lynch. Thain felt he should also be credited for keeping Merrill Lynchīs debt at $11 billion.
Shucks, a mere $11 billion, well, geez, letīs take that out of petty cash. And while we are at, letīs give Thain a pat on the back and throw him a party along with all of his fellow financial cronies who mastered the art of the deal and manipulated so beautifully that they created a house of cards that has come down with a shudder and a thud.
No doubt, brokering the deal with your hat in your hand and your pants around your ankles is no fun. It hurts to be in the vulnerable position negotiation-wise; itīs hard to be making a deal when your whole company is at stake, but where does the arrogance and entitlement come from to think that you are deserving of a bonus period, much less a bonus in the double-digit millions?
Perhaps in Wall St. terms, this was chump change bonus-wise for a CEO. In 2007, $33 billion, yes, thatīs billion, was distributed in Wall Street bonuses. Top executives were regularly rewarded enormous bonuses well above and beyond the aforementioned $10 million.
I learned many years ago, in those pre bail-out days, that if you had $10 million and invested wisely, you and your family would have money in perpetuity. Think of that, you and your family for generations to come would always always - have wealth. $10 million, however you slice it, is big money.
I do wonder how Thain and, undoubtedly, other corporate compatriots come to these self-serving conclusions. How does someone think like that? In a world that has been rocked by the fast-rolling, risk-denying, over-leveraged, false-bottomed derivatives market, this thinking seems out of step and out of place with both the economic times we now live in as well as the financial realties facing every family and worker today.
You see, Mr. Thain, you have become my poster boy for all of Wall Streetsī greed, avarice and arrogance. You are my symbol of what has gone wrong.
You say you worked hard, and I am sure you did in your very own rarified world of mahogany desks, five star hotels, fine dining, homogenous mindsets and corporate boardrooms. You had amenities and layers of support. You had the big meetings, the big deals and satisfying the big friends. I am sure at the level you work, the decisions you make and the ramifications of those self-same decisions can be mind-boggling and unnerving. High stakes poker is what comes to my mind.
But when I think of hard work, I think of the single mom who is working two shifts at her local Wal-mart and then going home to nurture, feed, clean and clothe her family; or the Emergency Room docs and nurses whose shifts are blurs of gunshot wounds, car accidents, home disasters, unscheduled surgeries, elderly fears with lack of primary health care; or the dad who takes the only job he can find and commutes 2.5 hours each way to work. I think of the utility worker working in sub-zero temps and repairing downed power lines; or the dishwasher standing for hours and dealing unendingly with boiling water, detritus and grease.
Those jobs sound hard to me. I know that I work hard, and my work, like yours, Mr. Thain, does not involve the literal heavy lifting, but can, on occasion, involve the metaphoric tough stuff.
So, I take your word, Mr. Thain, and accept that you have worked hard. Further, I donīt begrudge you the niceties of life, and I have no problem with people making a living, and, even, making a profit.
Where I take aim is that you have forgotten the client, the one you have promised to aid and assist, guide and counsel.
I understand that your business is predicated on sales. You sell financial instruments. You also sell the services of your financial advisors who, if memory serves me, are there to guide their clients and help them plan for their retirements, their childrenīs educations and invest their pensions among other things.
However, over the years, you (and your bullish cohorts) sent the word to your legions of minions to push certain mutual funds, limited partnerships, collateralized mortgaged obligations (CMOīs) and other derivatives. You pushed the product with the biggest bang for your buck "your" being the operative word. You professed due diligence, but when one instrument folded; you simply redirected everyoneīs attention and cash to the next shiny object. You knew it was a ponzi scheme and therein lies the rub.
Isnīt there fiduciary responsibility? Arenīt their codes of ethics? What about an honest business transaction? You have forgotten the families who depend on your services to help them build their future. You havenīt considered the hospitals or universities who have asked you to shepherd their endowments and pensions funds. And all the workers in the local unions whose monies have been invested, where do they and their families stand?
Over three decades ago, I worked as a stock broker, todayīs financial advisor. I still remember making a call one evening to a woman who was wheel chair-bound. We discussed her holdings, her situation and her goals for her finances. At the end of the evening, the woman excused herself and rolled down a darkened hallway to what I assumed was a bedroom; she returned with all of her stock certificates in hand. She handed them over to me, and so we began our relationship.
It was a relationship based on trust. This woman understood I earned my living by what was bought and sold. She also understood that I would research her interests, monitor her holdings and work for her best interests.
I could barely sleep that night knowing what was entrusted to me. There was a face on those certificates.
Thatīs what I think you have forgotten, Mr. Thain. You have forgotten the faces of your neighbors, the deli guy who makes your favorite sandwich, the dry cleaner, your dentist of 20 years, the teachers of your children and your local mechanic who has done right by you. You donīt see the regular person who as worked 20, 30 years in a job, dutifully putting money away for retirement to have it all nuked by your big-headed schemes, or the parent making choice after to choice to set aside money for their kidīs college fund to have it all evaporate.
You teach us, Mr. Thain. You teach us all to question more thoroughly; you teach us if it is too good to be true, itīs not good, and itīs not true. You teach us that we are all connected; the green energy of money is another kind of web that holds us. And, what you and yours do on Wall Street impacts Main Street.
I would ask you, Mr. Thain, to consider another model. Instead of asking how much you can receive, how about asking how much can you give? Thereīs a whole new world out there, and for that world to work, Mr. Thain, it requires the new model. Are you up for the risk?
P.S. Mr. Thainīs bonus request reached the press and, needless to say, this caused a wee bit of consternation and embarrassment; it has been reported that he has withdrawn any further mention of said bonus.
Copyright 2008 by Adele Ryan McDowell.
One of my recent, favorite, outrageous, youīve-got-to-be-kidding-me news item was that of Merrill Lynch CEO, John Thain, who suggested to the powers-that-be that he was desirous and deserving -- of a bonus in the $10 million range.
You see, Mr. Thain felt he had worked very hard on captaining the deal with Bank of America, who was coming in to take over the foundering financials of Merrill Lynch. Thain felt he should also be credited for keeping Merrill Lynchīs debt at $11 billion.
Shucks, a mere $11 billion, well, geez, letīs take that out of petty cash. And while we are at, letīs give Thain a pat on the back and throw him a party along with all of his fellow financial cronies who mastered the art of the deal and manipulated so beautifully that they created a house of cards that has come down with a shudder and a thud.
No doubt, brokering the deal with your hat in your hand and your pants around your ankles is no fun. It hurts to be in the vulnerable position negotiation-wise; itīs hard to be making a deal when your whole company is at stake, but where does the arrogance and entitlement come from to think that you are deserving of a bonus period, much less a bonus in the double-digit millions?
Perhaps in Wall St. terms, this was chump change bonus-wise for a CEO. In 2007, $33 billion, yes, thatīs billion, was distributed in Wall Street bonuses. Top executives were regularly rewarded enormous bonuses well above and beyond the aforementioned $10 million.
I learned many years ago, in those pre bail-out days, that if you had $10 million and invested wisely, you and your family would have money in perpetuity. Think of that, you and your family for generations to come would always always - have wealth. $10 million, however you slice it, is big money.
I do wonder how Thain and, undoubtedly, other corporate compatriots come to these self-serving conclusions. How does someone think like that? In a world that has been rocked by the fast-rolling, risk-denying, over-leveraged, false-bottomed derivatives market, this thinking seems out of step and out of place with both the economic times we now live in as well as the financial realties facing every family and worker today.
You see, Mr. Thain, you have become my poster boy for all of Wall Streetsī greed, avarice and arrogance. You are my symbol of what has gone wrong.
You say you worked hard, and I am sure you did in your very own rarified world of mahogany desks, five star hotels, fine dining, homogenous mindsets and corporate boardrooms. You had amenities and layers of support. You had the big meetings, the big deals and satisfying the big friends. I am sure at the level you work, the decisions you make and the ramifications of those self-same decisions can be mind-boggling and unnerving. High stakes poker is what comes to my mind.
But when I think of hard work, I think of the single mom who is working two shifts at her local Wal-mart and then going home to nurture, feed, clean and clothe her family; or the Emergency Room docs and nurses whose shifts are blurs of gunshot wounds, car accidents, home disasters, unscheduled surgeries, elderly fears with lack of primary health care; or the dad who takes the only job he can find and commutes 2.5 hours each way to work. I think of the utility worker working in sub-zero temps and repairing downed power lines; or the dishwasher standing for hours and dealing unendingly with boiling water, detritus and grease.
Those jobs sound hard to me. I know that I work hard, and my work, like yours, Mr. Thain, does not involve the literal heavy lifting, but can, on occasion, involve the metaphoric tough stuff.
So, I take your word, Mr. Thain, and accept that you have worked hard. Further, I donīt begrudge you the niceties of life, and I have no problem with people making a living, and, even, making a profit.
Where I take aim is that you have forgotten the client, the one you have promised to aid and assist, guide and counsel.
I understand that your business is predicated on sales. You sell financial instruments. You also sell the services of your financial advisors who, if memory serves me, are there to guide their clients and help them plan for their retirements, their childrenīs educations and invest their pensions among other things.
However, over the years, you (and your bullish cohorts) sent the word to your legions of minions to push certain mutual funds, limited partnerships, collateralized mortgaged obligations (CMOīs) and other derivatives. You pushed the product with the biggest bang for your buck "your" being the operative word. You professed due diligence, but when one instrument folded; you simply redirected everyoneīs attention and cash to the next shiny object. You knew it was a ponzi scheme and therein lies the rub.
Isnīt there fiduciary responsibility? Arenīt their codes of ethics? What about an honest business transaction? You have forgotten the families who depend on your services to help them build their future. You havenīt considered the hospitals or universities who have asked you to shepherd their endowments and pensions funds. And all the workers in the local unions whose monies have been invested, where do they and their families stand?
Over three decades ago, I worked as a stock broker, todayīs financial advisor. I still remember making a call one evening to a woman who was wheel chair-bound. We discussed her holdings, her situation and her goals for her finances. At the end of the evening, the woman excused herself and rolled down a darkened hallway to what I assumed was a bedroom; she returned with all of her stock certificates in hand. She handed them over to me, and so we began our relationship.
It was a relationship based on trust. This woman understood I earned my living by what was bought and sold. She also understood that I would research her interests, monitor her holdings and work for her best interests.
I could barely sleep that night knowing what was entrusted to me. There was a face on those certificates.
Thatīs what I think you have forgotten, Mr. Thain. You have forgotten the faces of your neighbors, the deli guy who makes your favorite sandwich, the dry cleaner, your dentist of 20 years, the teachers of your children and your local mechanic who has done right by you. You donīt see the regular person who as worked 20, 30 years in a job, dutifully putting money away for retirement to have it all nuked by your big-headed schemes, or the parent making choice after to choice to set aside money for their kidīs college fund to have it all evaporate.
You teach us, Mr. Thain. You teach us all to question more thoroughly; you teach us if it is too good to be true, itīs not good, and itīs not true. You teach us that we are all connected; the green energy of money is another kind of web that holds us. And, what you and yours do on Wall Street impacts Main Street.
I would ask you, Mr. Thain, to consider another model. Instead of asking how much you can receive, how about asking how much can you give? Thereīs a whole new world out there, and for that world to work, Mr. Thain, it requires the new model. Are you up for the risk?
P.S. Mr. Thainīs bonus request reached the press and, needless to say, this caused a wee bit of consternation and embarrassment; it has been reported that he has withdrawn any further mention of said bonus.
Copyright 2008 by Adele Ryan McDowell.