“There is no way in hell that I am going to Greece,” Robert Fairchild laughed dismissively to himself as fell into his $2,400 Aeron chair. He grabbed the sixteen-inch high stack of mail that had accumulated during his three-day sojourn to Hamburg, leaned back and placed his Gucci loafers next to the Bloomberg keyboard on his desk. So what if the physically fit German shipping banker in the fashionably tight suit had told him Greeks were the only ones capable of consistently generating a 20% return in the shipping industry. He was not going to Greece, he told himself again. He was just going to let go of his ridiculous fantasy about owning ships and naming them after his mother and his wife and daughter. It was time to retreat to the relative safe waters of distressed junk bonds and merger arbitrage.
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Tags: · Matt McCleery, Robert Fairchild
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