Last Thursday night, in Manhattan, I did something I have not done in my 35 years of affiliation with Wall Street: I went to a retirement party for someone I have long considered a real friend.
You have to understand, there is a difference on Wall Street between an “investment-banking friend” and a real friend. An “investment-banking friend” is, at best, more like an acquaintance you are forced to see nearly every day and who probably wants to rip your throat out, or elbow you off the corporate ladder as quickly as possible (all without any fingerprints, of course). And then, soon enough, one or the other of you is gone, to another desk, another office, another firm or another career.
