JJ Ingersoll, our head of global focus, is telling me about a dinner he was at last week, at Keith Wu's Noodle Palace. At the end of meal, our esteemed chairman, Ace Iceberg handed JJ and everyone else a fortune cookie. Inside was one of his world famous memos.
To: all general partners and limited people
Time: just after the duck course
Subject: why chow-mien will save the firm
JJ throws it across the desk to me.
"I decided this morning that cost control at head office has reached unprecedented standards in the history of any financial firm. The recent initiative to limit club-class travel to leap years looks sure to hit the firm's bottom line soon. But since my golf swing can no longer be improved on America's water-obsessed fairways, I am convinced that the only solution is to generate revenue in the world's biggest area of growth, Asia. It will be recalled that the firm's commitment to this region has been undinted, saving strategic withdrawals in 1902, 1954, 1982, 1988, 1990, 1993, and 1996.
Not surprisingly we have a name that people trust in the region. I intend to bolster this with an "integrity offensive" codename Chow-mien. As part of this process, my wife will live in Manila, and very senior staff will be relocated. I am looking to recruit a regional head of Meaningful On the Ground Presence in Asia, based out of Hong Kong.
As an incentive to taking this position, membership will be given to the Royal Hong Kong Club, the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club, and Club Hot Lips. Only people in it for the long haul should call me up and say "Ace, I want to be part of the Asian century".
If in doubt, remember the little guy Halmchinkel Maladroit Analretentive's maxim 'A Venetian bull-whip in the hand is worth two dress-down Fridays in the bush', and if that doesn't make any sense to you then you shouldn't be working at this firm."
So here we are flying into Kai-tak, scouting the opportunities. The firm has temporarily taken eight floors in the Mandarin Oriental, and is offering a client service out of the Mandarin Grill. Meanwhile our feng-shui expert is in action by a drawing board. He tells us that the head of Meaningful On the Ground Presence in Asia, will have a desk that is will be sharply pointed in an easterly direction and will be like a defiant dagger through a tiger's heart.
We will need all the defiant daggers we can get. It turns out that JJ's nemesis, John McDriven, recently cruised into town to head up Bulwark Finch, and has already been flexing his integrity in some of Asia's best known offices. JJ looks like someone has said Macbeth in the Old Vic Australia's finest export since Paul Hogan, is cruising across the Mandarin's lobby.
He sees us. "Ah, Ingersoll, I thought you were running custodial services out of Cheapside, what are ya doing here? Got time for a coffee?"
JJ squares his shoulders.
"Beautiful town this. Been here four months. Lead managed 18 deals. Totalled Honkie dollars 95 million, clients loved it. Professional execution, unbeatable aftermarket performance, signing dinners that left them smiling for a week. Lots of competition. But between you and me none can match our cross-border placing power or our US franchise.
He looks at his watch. "Listen probably be seeing you. Sorry, I've got a 10 o'clock." With that he's gone, and JJ is fingering his suspenders, and I can tell he's wondering just how far east his desk needs to point. His pores seem awash with respect for the client. He's on the mobile, shouting at his secretary, "get me a meeting with a player now."
This town sures moves fast. Within an hour we're in the office of Vincent Shanghai. JJ is quivering with pitches. This is one of the movers and shakers, big in ships, owns a series of concessions to do whatever he feels like in China, and has just been made president of the mahjong club, which means he is a bit like the George Soreass of Chinese finance, and we're told he's about to do a leveraged buyout of Struans, the British trading hong, some time near the end of June.
JJ is never one to buy market share, but nor is he one to waste the time of a man like Vincent Shanghai who has more bankers sucking at his ankles than concubines. "How much do you need, Vinnie?" A hush comes over the room. Vincent Shanghai's 18 underlings anxiously begin sinking their Chinese teas, and Shanghai averts his eyes. One of his minions informs us that it is customary in any business negotiation to begin by asking how many ships his zen-ship will use to re-unite the motherland with Taiwan. The answer turns out be 24, along with a special purpose vehicle launched from the Spratly isles. The nicieties over, he speaks.
"You give me money. Lots. Take or leave. Sign here." JJ is breaking out in a sweat, this all being a bit rich even for his UN-style negotiating skills. He asks how the takeover financing will work.
"Simple. Lots money. I have horse, Chirpy Tiananmen. Struan's have horse, Opium Alan. They race, Happy Valley. Winner wins. Big bets so sorry educated guesses. Then duck feast." JJ goes slightly cross-eyed, as he remembers the last time he got involved in a takeover of such complexity - for RJR Nabisco. He asks for time to consult with his taipan.
This is granted. We head for the China Jump Club. Half an hour in the dentist's chair, and JJ is muttering phrases about "bullish investment environments" and "unique rare beasts" down the line to New York. He adds that such a decisions are "worthy of a hundred years of integrity". New York don't seem so sure. "So what is this? A ship financing?" they ask after JJ explains the 24 vessels the zen-lord traditionally uses to takeover enemy lands. By the end we've got a conditional yes.