You Can't Make Me Angry

No matter how hard you try, you can’t make me angry. I’m not joking. I haven’t raised my voice in years. The people I worked with at Lehman Brothers might find that hard to believe, but it is true. This is something I’ve had to work very hard at. Anger was a big character defect of mine. I used to be a borderline rageoholic. Part of that was a function of the job—a bunch of scummy hedge funds trying to pick you off every day tends to put you in a foul mood. When I was trading ETFs, I would get downright homicidal about 2-3 times a day. So angry that my whole body was shaking. I broke phones, tape dispensers, mice—anything I could get my hands on. I would pound the desk so hard with my fists that everyone on the trading floor would look up in astonishment. I once had such a spectacular phone smash, with pieces of plastic tinkling on the desk, that I got a standing ovation. This was Wall Street at its ugliest and most exciting time, when that sort of behavior was actually encouraged.

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