Train at the end of the tunnel

Dear Mom,

Sitting here in Alastair’s waiting room crammed in with 224 other bankers, all whistling for their money back or preparing to wave it goodbye, I get overwhelmed by this wave of nostalgia or maybe it is nausea, it carries me back to a day when I am fresh out of banking college and have my first posting at head office, licking stamps.

I can see the customer comes in to talk to the V/P who looks after his account, they shoot the breeze a while and pour some Bourbon, and then the customer asks the V/P how much he knows about the hog-rearing business, and the V/P says: Not much, so the customer tells him: Well, learn some more, you’re in it on Monday.