Chapter 18: Stress, Part II

October 15, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Saturday morning, Bianca and I did the grocery shopping and stopped at the dry cleaner. We returned home, and after lunch, I waited with Keiko until Nancy Jane Moore arrived. Keiko had arranged her day so that she’d nap in our bed while I met with the counselor.

“It’s good to see you again, Jonathan,” she said. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

“You and me both,” I said. “What should I call you?”

“Nancy, please. Why don’t we start with you telling me about the incident or incidents that caused your friends to suggest you were showing signs of stress?”

I explained what had happened at Chicago Title, as well as my series of conversations with Violet and Bianca, and covered everything that was going on at work.

“Is it OK to go far afield?”

“As far as you think necessary,” I replied. “The people who are the closest to me, including my female companions and a trusted male confidant, believe that I am experiencing extreme stress. However, I tend to conceal most of these symptoms, at least as best as I can.”

“You have what is called a Type A personality. People with that personality type tend to be outgoing, ambitious, rigidly organized, highly status-conscious, impatient, anxious, proactive, and concerned with time management. More importantly, perhaps, they are very often high-achieving workaholics who push themselves and set high expectations for themselves.”

“I’d counter that I don’t care about status,” I said.

Nancy smiled, “Tend to, and let me ask you a few questions — do you wear tailored suits and fitted shirts?”

“That is the uniform,” I replied.

“And do you tell people about your securities licenses? And the amount of money you manage?”

“Yes,” I said with a smile.

“And those things give you status at work, and with potential clients, and with your wife and friends?”

“Yes,” I chuckled. “Never mind.”

“It’s not about being egotistical, which is how I think you might have understood it.”

“Yes. I’d also say that my concern for status is a means to an end and doesn’t define me as a person.”

“What does?”

“I think I’d have to say my relationships with my wife, my mom, and my friends.”

“A reasonable answer. You’re very successful, according to Violet. How does that matter to you?”

“My goal was to have a comfortable life, to marry, have kids, and to be able to do those things I couldn’t do growing up.”

“Tell me about that, please.”

“May I ask how that matters?”

“The more I know about you, the better advice I can give you. It also helps me to understand your underlying motivations.”

“I was born on November 3, 1962, to a seventeen-year-old single mom. I never knew my dad, and according to my mom, my dad died before she could tell him she was pregnant. My grandparents kicked my mom out of the house, and a friend took her in, which allowed my mom to finish High School. She worked two jobs for my entire childhood, and I started working odd jobs as a young teen — mowing lawns and shoveling snow, and then held one or two jobs once I turned fifteen until I moved to Chicago to work in the mailroom at Spurgeon Capital.”

“How did your father die?”

“He was about ten years older than my mom and was a salesman for Hallmark. He died when Continental Airlines Flight 11 crashed on May 22, 1962, after a passenger set off a bomb in a lavatory in an insurance scheme.”

“Was he from Cincinnati?”

“No. They met when he was there on a business trip, and at some point later, Mom snuck out to meet him. I was the result of that meeting. He was in Chicago on business a few months later and was flying home to Kansas City, Missouri.”

“Did your mom ever reconcile with her parents?”

“No. They actually moved to Naperville. I’ve been in touch and invited them to my engagement celebration and wedding, but they refused to attend for religious reasons.”

“Are they evangelical Christians?”

“Yes. My grandfather objected to what he called our pagan rituals. I think my grandmother is a bit more tolerant, but my grandfather is intransigent. What’s especially galling is that my mom’s sister also got pregnant out of wedlock but was accepted because she married the man. My mom never had that chance, though I don’t know much about my dad, so who knows if he would, or even could, have married my mom.”

“You think he might have been married?”

“Evidence suggests he wasn’t, but I have no proof either way, and I’m not really interested enough to find out.”

“How is your relationship with your mom’s sister and her husband?”

“Her husband is the one whom I asked for help, and he got me the mailroom job at Spurgeon. They were at both ceremonies, and my uncle stood in for my dad at the wedding.”

“Your dad?”

“It was a Shinto ceremony, and both fathers have a role in solemnizing the marriage.”

“Ah, OK. Does Keiko practice Shinto? This room seems to indicate she does.”

“She keeps many of the traditions, but neither she nor I believe in any gods, or spirits, or anything like that. We did a few things to honor her family, including picking so-called lucky days for our engagement and wedding. Neither of us put any stock in it, but her mom, who is Issei, does.”

“Born in Japan?”

“Yes. Keiko’s paternal grandparents are Nisei, born in Hawai´i to Japanese immigrants. They moved to California, then to Chicago to avoid internment.”

“Going back to growing up, from the sound of it, you had struggles making ends meet.”

“We did. Mom kept a garden, and I occasionally hunted to supplement our food, but we always had a place to stay, clothes, and a used car. Mom made absolutely sure I attended school and taught me to save as soon as I received my first pay for mowing a lawn. I had to save from each paycheck and kept a small amount for myself, but gave the rest to my mom to help cover our living expenses.”

“Did you ever go hungry?”

“No. We always had enough food, though things like fresh fruit and vegetables were limited, as was anything but the cheapest cuts of beef. I had a subsidized school lunch, which helped as well.”

“Did that bother you?”

“It depends on what you mean. It was fairly common in our rural county, so there was no stigma. On the other hand, everything I just described is what drove me to find a way to live a comfortable life where I didn’t have to pinch pennies or worry about where my next meal would come from or what would happen if the car broke down.”

“When did you start worrying about those things?”

“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t. Mom never hid things from me, and it was a team effort, if you will.”

“Do you hold any resentment?”

“No. I never once resented anyone or anything, though now, as an adult, I do point a finger squarely at my grandparents, who could easily have helped my mom and me.”

“Did you ever attend church?”

“No. The local church kicked my mom out at the same time her parents effectively disowned her. Mom read Bible stories to me when I was little but stopped doing so by the time I started kindergarten. That was basically the last time I had anything you could remotely call religious instruction. I’ve been to a funeral and several weddings, but otherwise, I’ve never been in a church and have no desire to be in one.”

“Tell me more about how you ended up in Chicago.”

“I knew college wasn’t a real possibility, mainly because of finances. And I don’t just mean affording it; I mean the hours I had to work to help Mom, which led to only average grades. As several teachers pointed out after I graduated, I didn’t apply myself, but it was more out of necessity than anything. I did consider going to vocational school, but I would have had to make that decision as a Sophomore, and I decided to get a traditional High School diploma rather than a vocational certificate because I felt that gave me more options, and I could always try for an apprentice job in a trade with the diploma.

“Late in my Junior year, I decided I wanted to get out of Goshen because it felt, at least to me, that I would end up struggling similar to how my mom had. That’s probably not accurate, but it’s much easier to see that now than at sixteen or seventeen. That led me, early in my Senior year, to call my uncle and ask for his help. He spoke to his friend, Noel Spurgeon, and arranged for me to start in the mailroom as a clerk.

“But even in that, I messed up badly. I didn’t tell Bev, my best friend from the time I was a toddler, about it. We had become lovers when I was seventeen, and she was sixteen, and I foolishly made my plans and simply told her about them once everything was arranged. I didn’t ask her to come with me, or suggest she move when she graduated from High School, or anything like that. It sundered the relationship and precipitated a series of negative events, though, ultimately, some good came out of it.”

“This is the friend who briefly stayed with Violet, right?”

“Yes. In a weird twist, her mental breakdown led to me gaining a very important client.”

“That came later, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go back to you coming to Chicago. Tell me about that, please.”

I described moving to Chicago, starting with living with my uncle through buying my house and marrying Keiko. That, unfortunately, used up the allotted time.

“I am sorry,” Nancy said. “Our time is almost up. We’re at a good stopping point, and next Saturday, we’ll pick it up. For this week, I want you to spend at least fifteen minutes each day simply sitting or lying down, with soft instrumental music playing, and trying to relax by regulating your breathing. Just take deep breaths, let them out slowly, and try to relax your muscles.”

“OK. My trainer suggested aerobic exercises.”

“Those would be good, for sure, but you also need quiet time, too. Do your best to clear your mind, though I understand the challenge of doing so. I’ll see you next Saturday.”

“Thank you.”

I walked her to the door, then, as Keiko was still sleeping, I returned to the Japanese room, put on soft, instrumental Japanese music, sat in one of the Papasan chairs, and did my best to follow Nancy’s advice. I actually spent twenty minutes trying to relax but had difficulty not thinking about Keiko, so I wasn’t sure if I was as relaxed as Nancy had hoped I would be.

“How did it go, Jonathan?” Keiko asked when she came downstairs just after I finished my first attempt at relaxation.

“It was mostly Nancy listening to my story and discussing my life growing up. She suggested something similar to what my trainer, Tim, suggested. I spent about twenty minutes trying to relax and clear my mind using breathing and soft music.”

“Did it help?”

“A bit, I suppose, but I’m not sure how I can clear my mind.”

“Meditation usually involves some kind of mantra or some other thing to help you do that. You might ask Koichi about it or the Buddhist monk Kaito. Both of them can give you strategies that don’t invoke any deity.”

“I’ll discuss it with Nancy first, OK?”

“Yes, of course,” Keiko replied. “It was just a suggestion.”

“How was your nap?”

“OK. I need to check my vitals.”

She turned on the machine and put the sensor on her finger, then sat quietly for a minute.

“My temperature is up half a degree,” she said. “And my pulse is up a bit. Jennifer said not to worry about it too much if it varies day to day unless it’s a big swing.”

“What were the numbers this morning when Maria checked them?”

“About the same as now,” she said, writing the numbers onto the chart.

“And how do you feel?”

“About the same as I did a week after the other times I had a transfusion. Tired and weak, but not terribly so.”

“It’s 70°F outside; do you feel up to a walk?”

“Yes. Just a few blocks, though. I don’t want to become overtired, but fresh air and sunshine will be nice. We won’t have too many more days like this before Winter sets in.”

We left the house and walked hand-in-hand about a mile total before returning to the house.

October 19, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

“How are things going?” Jeri asked when I arrived at her house on Wednesday for our monthly dinner.

“Work is busy, and I’ve brought in more funds in the last month. On the personal side, they haven’t found a marrow donor for Keiko, and she’s running a low-grade fever.”

“So what’s next?”

“The marrow transplant is the last option,” I said. “She’s feeling OK, other than the usual fatigue.”

“How long can this go on?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I replied.

“OK to ask about the new money?”

“I was contacted by a trustee who manages a number of trusts and brought him on board. I pitched a pair of unions, and I think I’ll get them. I’ve had other inquiries but no presentations as yet. What I could use are some high net-worth individuals. Any referrals would help.”

“Most of the people in my mom’s circles are with Spurgeon or don’t use investment managers.”

“What about friends with trust funds?”

“There are a few, though most of them don’t have any say in who manages their money. I can give you their names, and you can try.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

Allyson arrived just then, followed almost immediately by Marcia and Nelson. Gary and Pete were shown in a few minutes later, and after Karl served drinks, he announced dinner was ready.

“Jonathan,” Pete said. “Have you considered applying for a CFA charter?”

“I don’t have a Bachelor’s degree, and that appears to be a non-negotiable requirement.”

“Actually,” Pete said, “they will allow you to substitute relevant work experience, and based on what I’ve seen at the bank, I think you’d qualify in another year or two, especially if you focus on finance and accounting classes, and continue your advancement at work. You should start studying for the Level I CFA Exam as soon as possible.”

“That’ll be after the Series 30 licensure exam,” I replied. “That’s the one for Branch Managers, which would allow me to supervise other licensed professionals and run my own desk. And I do plan to continue working on a degree, but it’s slow going with one course per semester.”

“Every relevant course will help,” Pete said. “Just work on the requirements for a degree in finance and keep your electives for last.”

“That makes sense. How are things at the bank?”

“Having to write off $300 million in bad loans by Penn Square hurt us pretty badly, obviously. The biggest problem at the moment is that dealers are demanding much higher rates on CDs from us, which exacerbates the situation. We’re trying to consolidate all the bad loans in our Special Industries Department.”

“Can you share the problem loan risk?” I asked.

“Nearly $2 billion,” he said. “That’s public, by the way, as it was in a report released this morning.”

“What’s your opinion on the S&L industry in general?”

“Penn Square is the tip of the iceberg,” Pete said.

“Are you at any risk?” Marcia asked.

“There is significant cost-cutting going on, so you know how it is.”

“Pete, if it comes to that,” I said, “call me. I have an open spot for an analyst. You’re an underwriter, so you have the correct basic skill set. And the more I think about it, a banking specialist would make a lot of sense.”

“I think I’m OK so far,” Pete said. “But if things change, you’ll be my first call. Hang on a sec! You can hire?”

“I was promoted to the new position of Chief Analyst, and I’m Head of Research. I have eleven staff positions, of which nine are filled, and we’re recruiting for one — a computer programmer who’ll work with Bianca on data analysis. We aren’t actively recruiting for the other position, but I could do so at any point.”

“Congrats!” Pete said.

The others added their congratulations as well.

“When did that happen?” Allyson asked.

“It was effective September 30th. I knew before, but I couldn’t say anything, and then I was busy with Keiko. Nelson knows because he’s my attorney.”

“Pretty amazing progress for two years,” Gary observed. “And the statement I received last week showed impressive returns.”

“This month will show excellent returns as well; we did really well on the Philippine peso devaluation.”

“How did you know?” Allyson asked.

“It’s all about comprehensive research and understanding how exchange rates work. It doesn’t work with currencies which float, that is, where the market determines the exchange rate; it only works with currencies with fixed exchange rates or ‘pegs’. To maintain a peg, a country has to have good economic policies, a good balance of trade, and good foreign currency reserves. It also needs a strong central bank able to use those reserves along with interest rates to defend the exchange rate.”

“And Jonathan appears to have figured out how to discern that is going to happen before it does,” Pete observed. “But, in the long run, he’s going to run out of targets.”

“There will always be countries that have pegs,” I said. “Mainly ones the IMF has bailed out. If they mismanage their economies, they provide the opportunity to speculate against their currency. But there are plenty of other areas where we can achieve similar gains — commodities, undervalued stocks, and so on. I’m on the FX desk, so I mostly deal with currencies and precious metals, but we also trade international bonds and stocks on foreign exchanges. In addition, we manage funds for international businesses that regularly need to convert currencies as part of their international sales. In the long run, I’ll also look into IPOs, venture capital, and other strategies to gain maximum returns.”

“I just wish I could get in on this now,” Allyson said. “Six more years, and then I’ll have student loans to pay off!”

“How bad?” Marcia asked.

“I figure around $40,000 for medical school,” Allyson said. “And with interest rates being what they are, it’s going to suck. Fortunately, college is covered.”

“Maybe Jonathan needs a personal doctor!” Marcia teased.

Allyson laughed, “He’s already had the full exam! But that was before he was married. Speaking of which, how is Keiko, Jonathan?”

“About the same,” I replied. “We really need to find a marrow donor, and we’ve pulled out all the stops, including getting help from someone at Goldman Sachs in Tokyo. We’re much more likely to find a match in Japan than in the US.”

“So she’s doing OK? I mean, given the circumstances?”

“A low-grade fever, but she’s on antibiotics for that, and she’s fatigued. We’ll know more after the next set of blood tests at the end of the month.”

We had a good conversation, dessert was wonderful, and after dinner, we adjourned to the great room to have coffee and drinks. The gathering broke up just before 10:00pm, and as usual, I gave Allyson a lift to Loyola. After I dropped her off, I headed home.

October 21, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

“Jonathan, this is Kendall Roy; can you come to my office, please?”

It was just before lunch, so I let Bianca know I might be late, then headed upstairs to Compliance.

“Have a seat,” Kendall Roy said when I walked into his office.

I sat down in a chair across from his desk and waited to see what he would say.

“First, Legal and Compliance have signed off on your new trust client, and everything was sent to the onboarding team.”

“That’s great! Thanks.”

“Murray let you know about the allegations leveled by Enderlee as his parting gift, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. First, the front running allegation is literally impossible and laughable. Well, unless you’ve set up an unmonitored account of which we’re not aware.”

“Not a chance,” I replied. “I only trade my fund, and all of my investments are either in that fund or the Spurgeon Select Fund. Every trade I make is for the clients and myself simultaneously.”

“Oh, I agree. I just needed to mention the scheme some people try to use. Just for completeness, does your wife have any individual accounts? Even checking?”

“No. We combined our assets. We have checking, savings, and CDs, and some real estate.”

“What about your parents?”

“My dad died before I was born, and my mom does not have any investments at all beyond a passbook savings account, and she has a checking account. We basically lived hand-to-mouth until I came to work here.”