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the same douche bags. If they’re not trying to outsnob each other, they’re stabbing each other in the back. Bear might be a level down in reputation but we’re one of the best names on the Street and we have a good time. Plus, at Bear, traders are kings. Most of the money at this firm comes from sales and trading, not banking. And believe me, we make a hell of a lot of money.”
    I don’t know enough about any of this even to ask a smart question. “I liked everyone I met. I even warmed up a little to that last guy, who dumped bourbon on me.” This is a white lie.
    â€œHa. You might have to put up with a little of that in the beginning, but it’s all fun. It’s all worth it too.”
    â€œThat’s right.” To this point I hadn’t thought about a salarynumber or getting rich quick. I was just feeling the stress that comes with not having any plan in my last year of college. Stress is always about not having a plan. All I want is something respectable, but I don’t know enough to want anything in particular or even to rule out anything in particular. Bear seems to answer all this plus makes me rich.
    More people have come in and are filling the bar area. Dave and Sam are so obviously trying to pick girls up that it’s freaking girls out. A lot of invitations to their Hamptons house are made, which buys more conversation but ultimately doesn’t seem to be working. Dave turns to the bartender and tells her to do an hour of open bar for everyone on his credit card. Everyone in the bar shouts thank you and downs their drinks.
    Someone turns the music way up and it gets hard to hear anyone more than an arm’s length away. We have to lean toward people to launch our words.
    Sam flags over the bartender and plants his elbow on the bar top to pole-vault his head over the drink well. “I’ll give you two hundred dollars to turn down that music.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI said I’ll give you two hundred dollars to turn down that music.”
    She straightens up and smiles, then drops her well-used bar rag by his elbow. “You jerk-offs come in here with your comma comma bonuses and think you run the place. The music stays. You can stay or go.” She turns to the next person waving for her.
    Sam turns to us and sees Dave laughing. I’m trying to be expressionless. Sam says, “Comma comma bonus. Never heard that before. I like it.” He laughs. At first I think he’s trying to seem unfazed. Then I think he is unfazed. He flags her back over and orders more shots and she pours them. I think she’s unfazed too.
    The night with Dave and Sam is easy. They seem like they want to like me and I don’t try too hard. I just sit and drink with them. It doesn’t occur to me, at twenty-one, that it’s odd to be pounding shots at 5 p.m. on a weekday with a forty-five- and fifty-year-old. It seems great. It also doesn’t occur to me even to ask if they have a family, and they don’t bring it up.
    â€œHotchkiss have a good lacrosse team?” All we had to cover in the interviews was high school and college.
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œHow’d you get recruited out of there?”
    â€œI didn’t. I walked on at Cornell and made the team.”
    â€œGood for you. You ever been with a hooker?”
    When I’m sure I’ve heard the question right, I try to imagine what connection there is that I haven’t made. I miss only one beat. “No.”
    â€œWe’re going to arrange a little surprise for you tonight.”
    I notice Sam is on a pay phone by the end of the bar. “Hookers?”
    â€œDon’t worry. They’re gorgeous.”
    I order a shot and drink it. Jesus. Hookers. In a short while I’m going to meet a hooker for the first time. It’s like waking up on graduation day or Christmas morning, things that always seem far off but then there are no more nights’