GOOG, No Means Yes Baby Part 3

by Julia Mezzanine Tranche

(Read GOOG, No Means Yes Baby Part 1 and GOOG, No Means Yes Baby Part 2 )

Intrigued by the reaction of Mr. Moncrief, in Part 1 and the general inability of these analysts to take “No” for an answer, this analyst arranged for an interview at Mr. Moncrief’s midtown offices. We were particularly interested in the impact personalities might have on sell-side professionals. What was the model for their attitude about these stocks that seemed to defy all caution? Ignore all negative news? The transcript is attached below.

Prescott R. Moncrief III (on phone): “…c’mon Bateman. We’ll kamikaze over to Nell’s, chase some cotton underwear. Charlie Cushing knows this 18-year-old bimbette that’s gor-geous. Hold on. WOAH! This skirt who looks just like Ailcia Witt back when she was still hot, like in that Sopranos ep, just walked in, let me call you back, Patrick. Hello. What have we here? I’m Prescott R. Moncrief III, the administrator of this facility. And who might you be?”

Julia Mezzanine Tranche: “Julia Tranche, from Long or Short Capital. We had an appointment to discuss your comments on Google’s recent…”

PM: “Woah, woah. She meant nothing to me. Really. Please, have a seat. Buy me a drink?”

JT: “A drink?”

PM: “Why, yes. I’d love one. Thank you. Vodka Martini. Up. Olives. Dirty. No shitty vodka either. Use the Grey Goose or the Chopin. Chopin, you know, isn’t grain vodka. It’s potato. Much smoother. And much more expensive. Put the money in that tip jar over there.”

JT: “Uh, it’s 10:30 in the morning.”

PM: “It’s 7:30 p.m. somewhere in the world.”

JT: “Er, I really don’t think…”

PM: “Hey, look, honey, I don’t buy drinks for women. Haven’t you read Neil Strauss?”

JT: “Really, just a water is fine for me.”

PM: “Alright, alright, here. I’ll make an exception. You will be having a Smirnoff Ice. That’s it though. I don’t buy women drinks. Here. Ok. You will have a Jagermeister shot too. Two of them. Ignore that blue powdery residue floating in it.”

JT: “You have a bar in your office?”

PM: “Don’t you? Wait, where do you work again? You’re not one of the bridge and tunnel girls are you?”

JT: “Long or Short Capital, the independent analyst group.”

PM: “Where are your offices?”

JT: “Uh, Midtown?”

PM: “WHERE in Midtown?”

JT: “Fifth and…”

PM: “Hmmm, ok, where do you live?”

JT: “Gramecy.”

PM (getting up): “Get your coat. We’ll go back to my place. I live at the American Gardens Building.”

JT: “Uh, no really, I think it best if we just stick to the interview.”

PM: “I said, I live at the American… Gardens… Building. You know, where Tom Cruise lives? Ok, ok, I hear you. We can take it slow. Let’s just sit for awhile and talk, right? We can just lay together for a while and cuddle. Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to happen.”

JT: “Uh, Mr. Moncrief, there’s not enough room in this chair for both of us.”

PM: “Well, you’ll just have to sit on my lap then, baby.”

JT: “Look, maybe if there was more room?”

PM: “You want to move over to the couch there eh? Good idea, it’s much more comfortable. It’s a little squeaky though.”

JT: “Maybe we should just keep this meeting professional? Isn’t your assistant in the next room?”

PM: “You want her to join us? She’s cool with that. You think I wouldn’t have fired her already if she wasn’t a good sport? She knows where her bread is buttered. If you know what I mean. Wait, you’re not a working girl are you? I knew it! I knew you were too hot to be true! Damnit.”

JT: “Look, I’m not…”

PM (opening wallet, several $100 bills fall out): “Look, I’ll pay $500, but I expect some serious action. None of this ‘one hour only’ stuff either.”

JT: “Maybe we can just talk about Google?”

PM: “What do you want to talk about that old tramp for? Yeah, yeah, she’s been bucking quite a ride, so what? Lots of last minute resistance. Always with the ‘not so fast, I’m not ready for that’ and ‘that growth is a bit quick for me,’ ‘all you want is a hot piece of dividend,’ or ‘you expect too much too fast.’ She plays hard to get, sure. Lots of people have an interest in her, but those milky thighs always loosen up quick for the right price. Of course, her taste is getting expensive now. All the big bankers are working her. I had her first though, you know, back before the CSFB guys passed her around. Before she got a big head and started throwing big parties and stuff. Her day in the sun is over soon. Trust me. I just talk her up in public. Around the other guys, you know? But don’t quote me or anything. I have a reputation to keep, after all. As long as she puts out for me I’ll talk her up. Why not? She looks better on my arm that way. That’s not going to last forever, of course. But that’s just conversation. How about we get real? You and me, sweating between satin sheets?”

JT: “Uh, Mr. Moncrief, could you please take your hand off my leg?”

PM: “Awww, c’mon baby. What’s the matter? Don’t you know I’m a Vice President at Goldman Sachs?”

Assistant on the Intercom: “Mr. Moncrief, your 11 o’clock is here.”

PM: “Ok, gotta hop honey. You don’t gotta go home but you got to get the hell up outta here. Yahoo is here. Whoo! That issue can draw capital through 50 feet of garden hose. Oh, I don’t give my number to women so, give me your card. Maybe I’ll call. Maybe not.”


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