Life, on the Line by Grant Achatz (leveled readers .TXT) 📗

hiring what we called “corporate refugees,” teaching them how to think like a trader, and then backing them with our money when they were ready. We had former lawyers, accountants, and guys from advertising working for us. What they had in common is that they were willing to work for next to nothing for a year, devote themselves completely to retooling their psychology and discipline, and then work like hell in the pits—all because they had tasted corporate life and hated it. A few years in we had fifteen employees and Jim moved back to his native San Francisco to start an office at the Pacific Coast Exchange. I also invested in a Web company—Funbrain.com—in 1997 that was being built by Mike Cirks and Paul Hudson, the programming team that had developed our risk analysis software. The Web was poised to explode, and these two were trustworthy and brilliant. We did the deal on a handshake.

I had gone in a few years from making literally minimum wage to earning nearly a million dollars a year. I had also experienced the beginnings of what could be called “trader personality disorder.” The pace of the regular world seemed wildly slow, and my temper and patience grew shorter and shorter.

Then, in 1998, I reconnected with Keith Goggin, a classmate from Colgate who was now trading at the American Stock Exchange. Over the course of a year I lobbied the Merc to allow us to utilize a dedicated connection between traders at the Amex and the Merc to exchange traded funds in New York against their futures in Chicago. When we were finally given the go-ahead to do so, we were the first to have the technology and the connection, and our business exploded. In short order we merged our firms, began trading huge numbers of shares and contracts each day, and couldn’t hire people fast enough. We began to make a great deal of money very quickly.

In April 1999 Dagmara and I had a son and we named him James Talis after my father and hers. Life was fantastic.

While I spent all of my time trading, Dagmara spent her early motherhood cooking. She had always loved food, and now that she spent more time at home with our son, she spent tons of time reading Food & Wine and Gourmet during his naps. I would catch the 5:35 A.M. train into the city every day and be home by 4:30. By 6:00 P.M. a gourmet meal was on the table more nights than not. Multiple courses, handmade pastas, cakes, and even homemade gelato and sorbets were on the menu every night. When I did take a vacation we would often head to Napa. James’s first birthday was spent with friends in Sonoma.

By 2001 I had largely attained my goals financially and professionally. I was tired, burned-out, and increasingly unable to enjoy anything. In February my father died of cancer. It was the hardest day of my life to watch him go.Then, on September 11th—his birthday and my parents’ wedding anniversary—the terrorist attacks occurred and thirty-five of our employees were scattered around lower Manhattan fleeing the scene. My priorities changed quickly after that. Trading didn’t seem terribly serious or important. In early 2002, after Dagmara pointed out that I was not happy, something that I myself had failed to realize, I rather abruptly retired from my firm.

At thirty-five years old, I was in some respects back to square one. I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

We traveled for a bit and hit many of the great restaurants in Paris—Taillevent, La Tour D’Argent, L’Arpège, and L’Ami Louis among them. We also enjoyed a fantastic meal at Don Alfonso 1890 on the Amalfi Coast. Dagmara continued to cook, and now that I had more time, I started to expand from my basic love of grilling on my Big Green Egg to learn more complex techniques. But the withdrawal from work and the adrenaline rush of trading was hard to replace.

For a while I spent time looking at other Internet companies to invest in and small private-equity deals. These were satisfying to analyze because they were small, nimble companies built by passionate people. And while I invested in a few, I wasted a great deal of time going down blind alleys. I wanted to trade again, and a friend in the hedge-fund business provided an opportunity.

Then, on a Friday afternoon, Mike from Funbrain called Dagmara and invited us to a lunch at Trio.

I had been to Trio with my in-laws for a few brunches and one dinner, both under Rick Tramanto and Shawn McClain. I had enjoyed it, but wasn’t anxious to go back, especially not for a lunch on a Friday. But the Cirks had the reservation and we loved to travel and dine with them, so off we went.

At the last moment, Mary and Mike had to cancel, so Dagmara and I indulged in a guilty pleasure all by ourselves. We were practically the only people there other than the staff.

We sat down and an elegant, thin gentleman approached the table. “Can I offer you a glass of champagne, perhaps, while you look over the menu?” Dagmara and I looked at each other and giggled. It was such an odd spur-of-the-moment lunch that we decided to go all in. “Sure. Please.”

“The chef does have a tasting menu the appropriate length for a lunch if you are so inclined.”

“Why not?” Dagmara said.

By the time our first substantial course came we were slack-jawed. After one bite of the lamb, which was woven together almost like a rope, I motioned for the waiter. “Is everything okay?” he asked with a smile on his face. He could tell we were pleased.

“Yeah. Everything is beyond okay. Uh, who is in the kitchen?” I knew from my previous visits that something had changed significantly, and for the better.

“We got this new kid from The French Laundry, and he’s