by Gene Goldfarb
sloe gin fizz
I used to have a washing machine which I
inherited from the guy who my wife and I bought my house from. Nothing special.
It was an old side-load machine which did a decent job. He wasn’t going to hire
people to lug it out of his basement. He had it for 14 free-from-repair years.
And now I had it for another four breakdown-free years.
So things had gone pretty smoothly, but all
those years were beginning to take their full toll. Old Bessie, which is what I
called her, had started groaning just before the rinse cycle of her washing,
and I knew it was a matter of short time that I’d have to send her off to the
town dump.
That’s about when these groans got a bit
scary. I went down to the basement one evening, and noticed that these groans
which sometimes worked into a loud cyclical banging, were really a cry for
attention. As I approached Old Bessie, there was a hissing mixed into the loud
rhythmic banging. I could swear it was whispering, ‘Listen, listen, listen.’
I obliged and drew close while still
listening. What happened next was more unsettling. I could swear it moaned
something a mechanical device such as a washing machine was incapable of doing.
She said, in an unmistakable whisper, ‘Buy
BWWP.’ It repeated this in something of a plea.
‘Okay, okay,’ I replied.
Immediately, Old Bessie shut up and smoothed
her big rocking banging, and I heard the first woosh of the rinse cycle as it
began the end of her work.
When I got back upstairs, I went on the
computer so see if I could find out anything about BWWP. After a brief search,
I found nothing.
I was still too stunned to do anything but
sit down and start watching TV. But I couldn’t watch or keep my mind on what
was playing on the TV set. Bessie had intrigued me with what she seemed to have
said. I went back downstairs to the basement and asked Old Bessie to repeat
what she said. But all was silent.
This was foolish. Again, I looked through
the directory of stocks and could not find anything. Finally, with fresh eyes I
realized that I wasn’t looking in the two areas that might prove crucial, new
listings and initial public offerings. There was nothing under new listings.
But then under initial public offerings, I found it.
BWWP was the ticker symbol for Before Women
Wore Pants. What a ridiculous name for a stock about to be offered to the
public! I checked into it further. It was a startup of a manufacturer of
dresses and skirts, based in some small town in Ohio. I wasn’t a gambler. But I
always had a yen for stocks and this was investing, not gambling. My hands were
a bit sweaty when I got out of the directory. After all, it was basically an
IPO.
The next morning, I called the brokerage
that was handling the offering and found out that it was only allowing its
customers with very large accounts and an associated brokerage house to
subscribe for this initial public offering. This meant I’d have to buy at the
secondary offering on the market itself. Fine. I was resigned to do so. I had
no mind to discuss this with my wife. She was staying with her parents for a while
to help them on account of their health having taken a bad turn lately.
A few days later the public offering took
place. I was able to pay for several hundred shares at a little higher than the
initial offering price. The price then rose a bit more, but settled down below
the offering price on the day’s close.
Doubt began seeping into my feelings. This
had been too good to be true. I started feeling like a really tremendous fool.
But I decided, to hold on. Aside from a brief announcement about the initial
public offering, and a few laughs by the business news commentators, nothing
more came of it.
But on the day after the opening of Before
Women Wore Pants, the commentators had another good laugh when they related how
their wives had asked them what was so funny about the name.
For the next week nothing happened, except
BWWP had regained its opening price and then some, but not too much. I didn’t
mention any of this to my wife. Then one day one of the business
prognosticators came on like the Grand Poobah of Wall Street. When questioned
about the stock, he smirked and described it as something that would end up a
“fleeting curiosity inconsistent with the preservation of investment capital.”
Still more chuckles by the commentators. I was annoyed by this arrogant remark
and its reception.
The following day, the TV station apologized
for having possibly offended “a certain demographic” of its investment
audience. Within the next half hour, the stock began its take-off.
By
the end of the day, the stock had gone up over 3 percent, a pretty nice gain.
On the
day after, BWWP gained another 2 percent. I felt good, the machine had been
right all along. Now, how high would it go? And how soon? What would my exit
strategy be?
I didn’t have to wonder long. My next load
of washing answered that, at about the same time my wife seemed to have grown
uncommonly interested in my attachment to doing the laundry. I kept my response
boring and credible about lately feeling I should pitch in as to the laundry.
‘But why do you have to sit down there for
the whole wash?” she insinuated.
“I don’t want to run up and down to the
basement. I can sit there and read.’
I didn’t hear anything more from her about
it, but I made sure to bring a book every time I did a load. Finally after ten
days, Old Bessie hissed a sell signal. There was a hiss. I edged up close and
detected it near the end of her load, repeating, ‘Ss..sell…sell.’
‘But when?’ I implored.
She began banging, thirty times it seemed.
‘Is that it? Thirty days?’ I asked.
‘Yesh…yesh,’ she hissed and moved on to her
rinse cycle.
Now I knew that I should get out of BWWP by
the end of the next thirty days.
But before the thirty days were up, BWWP
went down for two days in a row, not too big, but I lost a night’s sleep before
it continued up, more than making up for the brief downward swing.
I
remembered someone saying, ‘No one ever got hurt taking a profit.’
So I sat tight and waited out the thirty
days, making sure my count wasn’t off. Then I sold my entire holding at a very
satisfying price, sure this was the top.
The following morning, BWWP continued going
up, but only for the first hour of trading. Then an announcement came out about
trading irregularities that a government agency was looking into. Within the
following half-hour BWWP began its historic slide. I had my money and didn’t
look back.
About a week later BWWP began making even
more worrisome banging and groaning sounds. They lasted longer, and now I was
sure Old Bessie was going to be Dead Bessie very soon. She emitted another
strange noise that unmistakably sounded like ‘IBUB’. I jumped to the new
offerings section of the stock directory. And there it was, ‘IBUB – Investigate
Before You Buy.’
Meanwhile, I called a washing machine
repairman. He came to our house and fixed Old Bessie, saying he couldn’t
promise how long the repair would last due to the age of the machine. But he
assured me it would run more quietly, a few gears that were the main cause he’d
replaced. I had him come over when my wife was gone for the day, visiting our
children. So there wasn’t anything to explain about fixing a dying machine.
He found a strange black module in the
washing machine that he had no idea about, except that he could not figure out
any use for it. He showed me precisely where he in the machine he detached it
and claimed it wouldn’t cause any problem and was, in any case, unnecessary for
the machine to work. He also said if there was any future problem to call him,
but that he didn’t think there would be.
As for IBUB, it was a financial advice
company that Old Bessie had recommended. This time I bought a thousand shares.
The price increase didn’t raise any eyebrows on TV. It was a steady, boring
riser. Then it caught the attention of another financial prognosticator on TV,
who merely commended it as a decent conservative pick, but that it was not
going to rise very swiftly.
He
seemed to be right for a couple of weeks.
In the interim all I heard from my wife, was
her surprise about how the washing machine was working so much more quietly. I
told her that I got in a retired repairman for a bargain price and he did a
good job. She appeared satisfied, and that was the end of it.
IBUB was a real tortoise, moving up slowly
on some days, then sleeping on the others. I couldn’t complain, after a couple
of months it had made an impressive gain for myself. I was tempted to boast
about it, but knew it was best to shut up and say nothing, even to my wife. If
she noticed anything it was best to play dumb, as she often thought me
uninformed but conservative at a minimum in my stock transactions, the full
extent of which she was usually ignorant.
With the module removed from Old Bessie, I
received no messages at all. The module
which
had a small red glow light didn’t go on. And I had no idea what was happening.
A news item had come on the business news of late that indicated a new form of
inside trading had begun. It was all electronic and quite sophisticated. I
could feel my stomach squirming, so I simply sold IBUB for a safe profit and
left it at that.
After about two months, the temptation had
grown to where it captivated me. I decided to deliberately take small positions
in a few companies, and to be ready to sell at modest losses that could mask
the winners. Just in case. Beyond that I went down to the basement and opened
up Old Bessie to her inner parts. There I saw where I could re-install the
module and see what would happen.
It was actually quite easy. And the red
light on the module went on. The following day I found a small load of laundry
needing to be done. I loaded it and waited to see what would happen.
Old Bessie did the load like a champ. As
usual near the end she began banging. So I decided to set up a yes-no query
based on one bang for yes and two for no. Easier on my ears and Bessie’s sides.
She first indicated that I should now sell my IBUB. I responded that I had already
done so.
For a new business, she seemed to sound out
that I should buy TBOT. Okay! Again I went to the directory and didn’t find it
at first. Fearing I had lost a great chance to buy a winner I repeated the
search. Then I found it there—That Baby’s On Time. A manufacturer and
wholesaler of baby products at very low prices for poor single mothers with
newborns. The buy signal was solid.
I bought a couple thousand shares on opening
day. Thanks to my successful recent trades I had the money to gamble with. This
stock was hot from its birth. Several days later an ominous news item announced
that a government agency was launching an investigation into suspected insider
trading on certain new issues. I felt my stomach squirm again on this news. I
went down to the basement and removed the module, and watched the small red
glow disappear from its face.
A few nights later, a pickup truck came
through the neighborhood. A young fit man got out and knocked on my door. This
really was strange and frightening. He identified himself as an assistant
deputy director of an enforcement section of his agency. The truck’s driver
remained
seated
at the wheel of his vehicle. I asked if I could help him. He responded that the
reason for the pickup truck was that on the off chance they found the appliance
they were looking for they’d need to remove it from its location immediately if
there were no objection.
I allowed him in as he explained that
household appliances, such as TVs, washing machines, dryers, and boilers were
being used to escape detection of hacking into information systems.
I responded, ‘I don’t understand. How does
an appliance like a boiler hack into some sophisticated communication system?’
He looked at me as if he were lecturing a
child, ‘You see, I can’t say too much. But I’ll tell you this since you’ve
allowed us in. These appliances are used to house certain types of equipment
where radio signals from lower Manhattan, I can’t be too specific, are beamed
out to eastern Long Island with certain information that appears to be valuable
to those who know how that information can be used.’ The appliances can make
sounds.
‘So how does that involve me?’
“Well, it’s pretty cool. Through an updated
triangulation tracker, we can send a split signal over the ambit of the
original informational radio signal is sent, and then scan backward till there
is a cross contact at the hacker’s interruption point.’
I then I just made a face and replied,
‘Look, it’s all beyond me, but you can look around.’
He went down to the basement. I didn’t
notice at first but he had a few tools with him.
I just said as nicely as possible, ‘Just
please be careful not to damage anything.’
He opened the rear compartment of the
washing machine, as I held my breath. He checked inside for a minute or so.
He then grunted, ‘No, nothing there.’ I let
out a sigh as quietly as possible.
‘I hope the machine’s all right.’
‘Well, we had to check. You see the signal
seems to be coming from this neighborhood.’
Then he a received a mobile call on his
phone as he excused himself. ‘No, nothing. All right, I’m coming in.’
That’s all I heard him say. Then he turned
and was about to leave. He gave me a business card and simply said, ‘Sorry to have bothered you,
and thanks for your cooperation.’ He left at that point.
I felt some relief. But it there was still
too much uncertainty. Still, I thought I would continue to suffer some
uncertainty. My wife seemed to notice it when she got home a few hours later.
But I was able to credibly dismiss her concern.
On the following day there was a news
announcement that a powerful southern senator had called for an investigation
of the agency, not the suspected fraudsters, on the issue of excessively
zealous enforcement against the ‘hardworking families’ who worked for BWWP,
TBOT and, believe it or not, IBUB, and the investing public that believed in
these companies.
At first there was no reply from the agency.
But a couple of days later, a spokesman from the agency made a statement, that
heretofore, there was no further action planned against these companies or
investors involved in these allegedly dubious trades. I was overjoyed. The
module was going back into Old Bessie for good.
A week later, I saw my neighbor’s cleaning
lady, Willisa, leaving their house. I gave her a ride to the train station, as
I was going there too. A short conversation ensued.
‘So Willisa, you hear that business on the
news about these little companies and their investors, all being investigated?’
‘Oh sure,’ she laughed. ‘These businesses
are needed by our people.’
‘Oh?’
‘Even that little financial firm,
Investigate Before You Buy?’
‘Yep, yep, yep.’
‘Wow, Willisa.’
‘Yep, it’s a thing that’s been knowed by my
people for years. Like my auntie from Ohio used to say, ‘since…before women
wore pants.’’
Then a girlish smile skirted across her face
as she looked at me.
About the author
Gene Goldfarb now lives in New York City, writes short fiction, essays
and poetry, loves reading, international cuisine, and movies of all
kind, and travel. His work has appeared in Adelaide, Black Fox, Bull
& Cross, CafeLit, Green Briar, Inwood Indiana and elsewhere.
