Wall Street Tale of Sex, Suicides, and Skullduggery

I fled the Islamic Republic of Iran with a suitcase, a thousand dollars, and no regrets. But it wasn’t easy; I had to rebuild my life from scratch. Less than ten years later, I faced a decision that threatened to erase most of what I had accomplished, and I hesitated as I weighed the consequences.

In our area of the vast trading floor, the curved continuous rows of desks with multi-line switchboards, Bloomberg terminals, computers, and squawk boxes rose in amphitheater-like tiers.

It was a late September morning. Everyone had a clear view of the stripper who removed her top to entertain the soon-to-be-married head options trader. The stripper finished her routine, and I shrugged it off and went back to work. My past objections to my boss had gone nowhere.

Continue reading the excerpt from Decisions: Life and Death on Wall Street.