Gekko Grundgesetz or Weiß Erlaubniselite
A play for Entrepreneurial Children
PROVISIONAL FIRST DRAFT
Child1#
Dear Taxidriver,
In the shallow base of the shower I can feel my scalded skin rip away in translucent strips…I’m dead now, I guess.
I’ve turned into white gunk near a plug hole. I’m sorry for having you waiting around. Another intern & one of the bank's vice presidents will find me in 2 hours. My skin would have likely scalded off my shoulders, neck, face and arms.
My scalp has sort of..well…flapped open into a reddish edge.
I’ll have flooded the entire flat by which point in Claredale House,
a student dormitory 25 minutes by bus from the bank.
There was a massive camera crew recording
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy just last week.
I was speaking to one of the runners,
I asked them if they still did Day for Night,
I said it would come in use for my seven-week internship with
the Bank of America Merrill Lynch’s investment bank division.
I had become highly competitive and ambitious from early on. Sometimes, I had a tendency to be overambitious, which resulted in severe injuries.
In concrete terms, my primary goal consisted of the pursuit of continuous improvement and the desire to strive for excellence. I guess that is over now.
We shared a laugh together, it was warming.
He said he met Benedict Cumberbatch,
which just made his week.
Before I left, I remember saying:
Tinker, Tailor,
Solider, Sailor,
rich man, poor man,
beggar, thief.
He ran off before I could finish.
I remember when I was in Christian Democratic Union's youth organization,
one of the group had blocked the toilet with some of the CDU’s leaflets flooded
our living quarters with shit and piss. I saw him recently in his Otto Beisheim School of Management hoodie, rimless glasses, jeans and sneakers.
He said: ‘We're not a homogeneous mass of people. We are all individuals here. It's always about limits. About playing out the relationship between the finite and the infinite.'
A lecture on capital market law at 8 a.m.,
11am on FinTech, 2pm with the "Quietschies".
Back at the desk at 8pm. Work never sleeps.
At the counter in the Korova Bar, not far from a square
called Burgplatz in Vallendar, we sat making up our rassoodocks
what to do with our lives.
Organising dinners with people from Credit Suisse,
wearing suits & ties during internships
now thats what "Quietschies" are really about.
A brotherhood, a spirituality even.
I really mean it when I say that the Quietschies was my life.
We held "networking dinner"
events in a vaulted cellar where bankers
and management consultants just talk shop.
Alcohol is served.
The finest Mezcal buried in goat shit.
Supposedly that refines the taste.
It’s a blend of espadín and wild bicuixe.
It’s also aged for six months in a pile of shit.
Michoacan tradition. I don’t know anything about this,
I’m 19 years old.
Anyway...much of an analyst's work at an investment bank
consists in writing PowerPoint presentations,
which the boss may or may not show to clients.
The analyst, who is at the bottom of the hierarchy
of the open space office,
compiles company profiles,
researches numbers and gathers data on competitors.
The starting salary for a first-year analyst at Merrill Lynch is £45,000
(about €54,000), plus a variable bonus,
which is about £20,000 this year.
My death is making its way from one BlackBerry to the next,
Slowly clogging. Like wet tissue.
I remember my parents phoned, three nights in a row before this concerned.
"Moritz, you look pale. Are you getting enough sleep?"
Yes, Mama, Yes, Mama, Yes, Mama.
Bloomberg newswire reported that everyone already
knew in all the offices
from Canary Wharf to King Edward Street.
I guess, I'm somewhat famous now.
