Financial services executives are livid over legislation that would impose pay limits of a mere $500,000 annually for companies accepting federal bailout money.
“This idea is an absolute outrage,” fumed Thurston Winslowe III, a New York banking executive. “Not to overstate the case, but this is definitely the most egregious, cruel and inhumane assault ever against any sector of humanity. I’m supposed to bust my butt for a lousy 500-K a year?! I may as well get myself a paper route!”
When explained that compensation could also include stock options once the federal bailout money was paid back, Winslowe was unimpressed. “Look, five years ago our stock was worth $56 a share. Last year we lost $98 billion. Now our share price is under $5. What do I look like, a chump? Only an idiot would place a bet on an organization with the horrible track record we’ve got. Taxpayers need to fork over the money, let us save the economy and keep their big noses out of how we run our businesses and reward our top performers. Hey, we’re professionals here, people–– we know what we’re doing!”
Winslowe bemoaned the tough economic times. “Last year my total compensation was over $52 million, which is decent enough change, I guess. But still, I had to watch my spending and keep an eye out for coupons and stores offering BOGOs. Now I’m supposed to do the same job for $500,000?! I can’t live on that pittance. I’d need to get a loan just to get by, but no one’s making loans these days. No thank you. I’ll take my incredible financial management skills and work where I can get handsomely rewarded for the significant contributions I bring to a company. Check out my necktie’s double Windsor knot, that professional grade all the way, baby. You got to pay for this guy to play.”
With that, Winslowe blew his nose into an old $100 bill, tossed it on the floor and called for his driver to pull the car around.
My banker friends to whom I sent this pithy little article remarked, “That pinko commie little friend o’ yours is a pretty funny writer.”
Then, their bill counter got stuck and they spent the next few minutes trying to remove the offending wrinkled 100 dollar bill carefully enough to use as a kerchief.
Pinkos unite and do the math – from the NYTimes this past Sunday, “You Try to Live on 500K in This Town” — the sob story gets added up:
Mortgage: $96,000 a year.
Co-op maintenance fee: $96,000 a year.
Nanny: $45,000 a year.
PRIVATE school: $32,000 a year per student.
$269,000, and we haven’t even gotten to taxes yet. Cry, c’mon, cry a tear.
Married with two children, the weekly deductions on a $500,000 salary are: federal taxes, $2,645; Social Security, $596; Medicare, $139; state taxes, $682; and city, $372, bringing the weekly take-home to $5,180, or about $269,000 a year
Most banker families take at least two vacations a year, a winter trip to the sun and a spring trip to the ski slopes.
Total minimum cost: $16,000.
Many top executives have cars and drivers. A chauffeur’s pay is between $75,000 and $125,000 a year, the higher end for former police officers who can double as bodyguards, To garage that car is about $700 a month.
A woman or wife can spend $10,000 or $15,000 on a dress for big events and galas. If she goes to three or four of those a year, she’s not going to wear the same dress.
Total cost for three gowns: about $35,000.
A personal trainer at $80 an hour three times a week comes to about $12,000 a year.
$425 every 10 days on groceries for her family. Annual cost: about $15,000.
More? Restaurants. Dry cleaning. Each Brooks Brothers suit costs about $1,000. If you run a bank, you can’t look like a slob.
The total costs here, which do not include everything, like kennels for the dog, summer camp, spas and grooming for the human members of the family, donations to charity, and hot chocolates, are $790,750, which would require about a $1.6-million salary to compensate for taxes.
Give or take a few hundred thousand bucks.
In a culture where spending a ton o’ dough = success, it’s like high school peer pressure for these poor, poor, bankies; fitting in is so hard — and it’s really, really expensive.
Hey, I’m not a pinko… I just report the news!
Ah HA! See? A reporter pinko!
(Never believe anything until it’s officially denied).
Dear Mr. Scullin:
You’re a funny guy. Funny as in “haha” not funny as in the kinda gamoke you don’t want to find trimming his Genoa salami in the mens room. Knowhutimean?
But I have to disagree with you on a small point. There are many bankers in my neighborhood who do not need to grab their ankles to get a check from Uncle Sam. Of course’s it’s hard to go wrong when you get five points a week on a loan, plus a cut of the juice for every day it goes past due.
So what i’m saying is maybe this Winslowe spagatooli should bring his little Ralph Lauren bakkamarimo down to see us. We’ll make sure he understands banking and maybe we’ll put a Windsor know in his slagamatoni.
So keep writing because you wants us laughing, not like those low-life, bed-wetting butt bumbers on Madison Avenue and I say that with all due respect.
May God bless you and your lovely bride….
Dear Mr. Scullin:
You’re a funny guy. Funny as in “haha” not funny as in the kinda gamoke you don’t want to find trimming his Genoa salami in the mens room. Knowhutimean?
But I have to disagree with you on a small point. There are many bankers in my neighborhood who do not need to grab their ankles to get a check from Uncle Sam. Of course’s it’s hard to go wrong when you get five points a week on a loan, plus a cut of the juice for every day it goes past due.
So what i’m saying is maybe this Winslowe spagatooli should bring his little Ralph Lauren bakkamarimo down to see us. We’ll make sure he understands banking and maybe we’ll put a Windsor know in his slagamatoni.
So keep writing because you wants us laughing, not like those low-life, bed-wetting butt bumbers on Madison Avenue and I say that with all due respect.
May God bless you and your lovely bride….
Thanks, Mr. Floorumbettellini, although I suspect this is your Anglo-cized name. Your real name is probably “Smith” or “Jones” or something ethnic like that.
As for your neighborhood loan services, they sound delightful. Plus, I love the idea of getting a glass of “juice” with the loan. How terribly neighborly and nice.
Thanks for writing and reading. I think I’m going to get a suit on and come to your neighborhood and see about getting a loan.
I hope this doesn’t mean the end of golden parachutes, which I first observed in ad agencies that would pay people ridiculous sums to join, then ridiculous sums to leave. I was hoping to get one of those arrangements while telecommuting. Sonofa…
No, it’s NOT the end of golden parachutes, rather, it’s the beginning of golden showers…
Leave the showers. Take the cannolis.