In the lobby the lift man wishes me good morning and reminds me that the new rent will become effective today. I ask him to remind me how much it is. He says $1500 a week. I whistle acting as if surprised. And then I tell him that someone from Bore Atlantic must have already made arrangements. At the entrance to the building I pause for a second.

Should I take one of the cars to work or just walk it? The Mustang is in good condition. But the Dodge Viper hasn’t seen sunshine in weeks. But then I look outside and see the glorious autumn sunshine. This is weather for walking surely!

I reach office in twenty minutes. As usual I am the first on the US housing market trading floor. I switch on both my Bloomberg Terminals. I trade so many millions of dollars each day that I keep one always ready as backup in case the first one crashed because of overload. This is also why I have two BlackBerrys.

All work related emails I delegate to Andre, my subordinate. The rest gets dealt with by my secretary. Once again I notice that Sugandh has sent a desperate job application. He has been fired by Lederman for gross incompetence, blackmailing and arrogance. His only hope for rescue from the stupid serviced apartments IT department is a job in the US. I send my secretary a note to do the usual: she will send Sugandh a reassuring note promising to help him. And then she will delete his email and do nothing. It is cruel. But I enjoy this tremendously.

I notice that the markets are beginning to open. Two hours later, when I get up to go for a cigar break with the Bore Atlantic CEO, I’ve already 17 million dollars in profits by trading in Credit Differentiated Somethings. I’ve done enough to go home immediately. But trading is not a job for me. It is my passion, it is my obsession, it is my art form, it is my life.

Lunch is at my desk as usual: protein shake, tuna salad and diet Coke. Stepping out is just a waste of trading time. Why would I do that?

Shortly after the markets close I add up my earnings for the day. 54 million dollars. Not bad. An average day in the office. After the markets close I like to spend a few hours practising trading on my Bloomberg Terminal. Andre has nothing to do. But he can’t leave before me. I don’t care. But I don’t tell him that.

Half way into my practise session Rahul Gupta comes over. He looks upset. He wants to know why I gave him an average rating in his last appraisal. For ten minutes I act as if I don’t recognize him. Rahul who? What Gupta? You report to me? Really? Show me some ID please.