The Perfect Chess Game

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November 7, 2005
Speculative Essay
The Perfect Chess Game
"Good morning New York City! We have a great show on today for ya, but first…" I have already phased the alarm clock out of my life for the time being. I am up; a smile covers my face before my eyes even open. Every morning since I received my job on Wall Street has been sublime. The alarm clock that I dreaded for years even seems to play a symphony every morning. I am usually so anxious to get up in the morning that I am wide-awake before the alarm sounds. Working for Goldman and Sachs is not an easy task. Monitoring the stock market, watching C-SPAN, and reading the newspaper is only part of my job.

The difficult part is to find a person that has millions of dollars, and convince them that they should trust my employer and me with the majority of their money. I enjoy my job because everyday is different—same office, but different work hours, different prices in the market, and different people to gain a relationship with. This perfect job allows me to work under people, yet run my own business. Given a yearly pay for only two years, every bit of money after that comes from commission. It's funny; my girlfriend tells me that my religion has changed. The Wall Street Journal is my Bible, and Alan Greenspan is my God. However, every morning I thank my real heavenly father and God for my blessings. I start this morning with the Wall Street Journal in my left hand, and a cup of White Chocolate Mousse hot chocolate in my right hand. Wearing my black, two thousand dollar suit, I almost float down the street with a confident swagger. My over coat is snug, tight to my body as to keep me warm, and my suit immaculate. The smell of fresh pretzels and old vagabonds somehow give me an at-home feeling. As I come into view of my building, a confident smirk crosses my face as I review statistics in my mind.

Entering into my office, I always stop and think to myself: "Ah, my battlefield and my sanctuary." It...
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