The fund managers, as is their want, turned up fashionably late. They sauntered through the door in a blur of cashmere and Italian leather and settled at the top of the table, unpacking their super trim laptops with the smugness of orchestra conductors. When it was their turn to speak, Alex, who was clearly the senior of the two by virtue of having yawned most during the previous discussions, rose languidly to speak. He carried the bored expression of a man who was being forced to tell everyone how brilliant he was when he expected that they already knew.
‘If I can refer you to slide one in your pack’, he droned while simultaneously pointing to a garish PowerPoint presentation he had just brought up on screen. ‘You'll see that the fund grew by 27% in the year under review, which was entirely in line with our predictions. Any questions?’ As none were forthcoming, he proceeded through slides two to nine which contained a colourful array of graphs and formulas.
Frank considered himself an intelligent chap but he didn't understand a word of it. But he was mindful of Eimear's earlier warning and kept quiet.
Geoffrey on the other hand hadn't spoken for while and was clearly worried that he might forget how. ‘Maybe you chaps could give us a brief oversight into your investment strategy. Lay man's terms, that sort of thing’.
Alex smiled at his colleague like the smart guy in class who was being asked to explain Einstein's Theory of Relativity. ‘Well our strategy is quite unique, we think. We buy stocks when they are going up in value and sell them when they are coming down’.
Eimear sat between Frank and Alex and Frank noticed that she seemed captivated by everything the flash fund manager was saying. She leaned forward and Alex’s gaze was drawn to her ample cleavage. Frank felt like a young buck deer being challenged by a multi-horned interloper and momentarily forgot his vow of silence.
‘Isn't that what everybody tries to do?’ Frank asked before catching a dark glare from Eimear. Alex hesitated, wondering if he would lower himself to answering a mere bean counter. ‘The science is in knowing when stocks are going to go up in value and when they are going to come down’.
Frank could feel the heat coming from Eimear but he didn't care. The non invitation to lunch and the patronising response of the smug git in the cashmere jacket was too much for him.
‘But you just borrow money from your parent company and lend it out to poor people at a higher interest rate. That's not a science. Credit Unions have been doing that for years but without charging the millions that you guys do’.
Geoffrey coughed, ‘In the interest of time, gentlemen, maybe we should move on’. He was concerned about making his lunch appointment but not nearly as much as he was about the fund from which they all made extortionate amounts being simplified in this manner.
‘The next item on the agenda is directors' fees. We agreed at our last meeting that Rupert here would be best suited to come up with a quote for next year. Rupert sits on the most boards and would have the broadest knowledge of the fees paid in the hedge fund industry’.
Rupert shuffled his papers and cleared his public school educated throat. ‘Well I can only speak for the boards I sit on. The fees range from ten grand to one hundred and twenty, depending on the complexity of the fund’.
‘And how would you see this fund in that range?’ Geoffrey asked, although his smile betrayed the fact that he already knew the answer.
Rupert played along with the charade for a moment before answering ‘Oh, somewhere in the middle. So I'd suggest that the fee should be about, hmm, seventy grand’.
Frank looked at Eimear and thought about how he'd be looking for a pay increase as soon as he got back. Seventy grand was more than he earned in a year and even by the extravagant standards of the business he worked in, it seemed a lot for turning up to four meetings.
The directors on the other hand were as pleased as punch with Rupert's suggestion. ‘That seems like a capital idea’. Geoffrey said. ‘I'll let the promoters know about our decision and we can implement from January 1. Now that seems as good a point as any to break for lunch’.
In the end, the discussion on the accounts was uneventful. The expensive wine at La Rochelle had clearly had a soporific effect and the board were happy to coast for the afternoon. As Frank finished his presentation, he looked at Eimear and caught her smiling at him. He knew his morning indiscretion had been forgiven and that his evening flirting prospects had improved.
The meeting was coming to an end. Expensive pens were carefully placed back in inside pockets, laptop power cables were folded and packed and Frank's stomach muscles relaxed for the first time in two days.
Geoffrey had just one more item to cover on the agenda. ‘The next board meeting is due in March. We had a chat over lunch and we think it would be a capital idea to have the meeting in Dublin. Rupert sits on a couple of boards that do that. Apparently it’s OK as long as you don't hold meetings on the mainland. We were thinking about Friday 24th if that fits into your diaries. Eimear, I presume we can hold the meeting in your office? And maybe afterwards you could take us to one of those wild Irish pubs?’
Eimear was just happy that the day was nearly over. ‘Of course Geoffrey, and if there is anything else we can do for you, then let us know’.
Geoffrey threw a conspiratorial look at Rupert and his tongue danced devilishly around his mouth. ‘Well there is the small matter of a rugger match at your Croke Park the next day. England are playing your lot and Rupert is able to swindle a couple of tickets out of his old school. But if you could get three more tickets for the directors then the board would be happy to put in a positive word for you with the promoter’.
Frank could only smile and wonder how they would explain this to their boss back in Dublin. The meeting broke up with hand shakes and lingering cheek kisses for Eimear. The fund managers departed as rudely as they had arrived. The directors were more polite but their golf game was imminent and soon Eimear and Frank found themselves alone with only shuffled board papers for company.
Eimear stood up and ran her hands slowly along the creases of her ruby red skirt. ‘Well that was a roller-coaster’. She said. ‘I could really do with a drink and to get out of these clothes’.
Frank didn't say anything. But he was enthusiastic about both suggestions.
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