It was the mid-90s in Washington, D.C., and I was a rookie stockbroker at Merrill Lynch. I was your typical rookie -- making hundreds of dials a day from copied pages out of the phone book.
I did a good job of setting appointments with prospective clients. There was just one problem: I kept setting them up at the prospect’s house. I figured if they trusted me to come into their home, they would trust me with their money.
Because I was young and had no money, I was driving an old, beat-up Datsun with questionable AC. In the summer.
While I may have gotten some pity for being a soaking wet, ... Read More