Ethics? My Selling Price is 600 Million Dollars!

McCabe’s reasoning behind his mandate to investigate President Trump were startling. The President’s disappointment in Paul Ryan/McConnell to not fund the border wall, after President Trump signed the original Omnibus Bill, leads us to be suspicious of the motives of the GOPe. When we learned McCain sent the Exec Director of The McCain Institute, to London, to pick up a copy of the dirty dossier, our hearts sank. We realize the power of the forces arrayed against our President and we support him, but he is fighting everyone in DC.
The lying, dirty-dealing, false promises of politicians, lobbyists who write legislation, perks and pork slipped in at the last minute, vacations for politicians, rubber stamp of nepotism, exponential increase in wealth for politicians, and groups like the US Chamber of Commerce, are the enemies of the people……, and that’s before we get to our problems with the press. Everyone wants a ticket to Easy Street. Everyone is in search of fame. As #MeToo has confirmed, in Hollywood, young men and women disregard their personal ethics for a mere opportunity in a movie. At what price?
At what point are we tempted? At what point do we cross a line? How much would it take for YOU to go bad?
Today, the ‘price’ is pretty cheap. We have a bigger problem in our DOJ and no consequences for half of America. Most of us are disgruntled with the double standard in our justice system. Wealthy people can ‘get away with murder’, or go to a country club jail if they don’t dodge the charge, or make a deal with a prosecutor. Those in the middle, and increasingly, those who are Republican, suffer brutally at the hands of Mueller or the DOJ. Unless we return fairness to our judiciary, the unscrupulous will continue to cheat, lie, steal, and cross the line. The reliability of our legal system is in danger. Our trust has been shattered.
We’re also concerned about the sensational headlines of politicians, CEO’s, cutting corners, selling out, but we don’t often see the reports of their downfall, indictments, and subsequent jail time. The Golden Rule, “Do unto others…” is but a distant memory in the workplace. Corporate loyalty is at an all time low as H1B visas for foreign nationals are on the rise. Some of us are tempted to ‘take’ a ‘fair share’ and somehow, justify the unethical behavior.
We need a return to the ethics of our parents and a clear set of penalties for bad behavior. Sure, we understand. It is tempting to rationalize illegal behavior when it seems like everyone around us is doing the same thing. We all have a price, right? Well, my price was 600 million dollars.
Here’s my story, grab a cup of coffee, and let’s put politics aside for a moment.
I was 24 years old, working for a brokerage firm in Miami. It was the year before I made partner and I was working 12-16 hours a day. That year, I made more money than my father and grandfather put together. I moved into a penthouse, drove a sweet little Alpha convertible, dated a guy in NYC, and we bought a ski house in Vermont. I was single, tall, auburn-haired/green eyed. A woman like me, in Miami, could ALMOST get away with murder. I spent most of my time in little planes scattered about the Caribbean and South America. I was very good at what I did, but far too arrogant and impatient. Life was good and I was winning.
Miami’s underbelly was wild, but drugs never appealed to me – too expensive, and let’s just say, the police didn’t come to my parent’s house. Nonetheless, consistently, I found myself in odd situations, bordering on illegal. Meet a client for dinner at a cock fight? That was a surprise. Meet for drinks, get up to use the restroom, pile of cocaine was available. I had one sales manager who tried to sell me into white slavery to a Panamanian Diplomat. That was interesting (but another story). We did a lot of work in embassies, and the diplomats stretched the rules. After all, it was Miami in the mid-80’s. The best part? From time to time, people would come into our office, to sell things, which just fell off a truck – Italian shoes, VCRs, binoculars, and Colombian emeralds. I was a long way from the suburbs and innocence.
I preferred the right side of the law and had many friends in the legal community. There were so many guys in Miami, from Alphabet agencies, who hit on me, my friends teased me, “someone put your number on a bathroom wall”. Bottom line, I was still my father’s daughter. He was the good guy, the Presbyterian and the Marine. For me, the money had to balance and it had to be legal. I was never tempted… until one day…..
Four guys walked into the office and asked to see me. I had done work for prominent car dealers in the area, after hiring a former F&I manager who knew everyone in the car biz in Miami. One of them recommended me. The front receptionist showed them to my office. These guys were straight out of central casting for the movie, “Scarface”, but they weren’t that unusual for Miami. Two were carrying stainless steel briefcases (stereotype much?) and one had a duffle bag. Two remained by my office door, like they were guarding my door. I wonder to this day if they brought weapons. The other two sat down opposite me, in the club chairs. As they crossed the room, I recall my dad’s voice ringing in my ear, “Never do business with a guy who wears more jewelry than your wife.” They were dripping in gold, but again, not uncommon for Miami.
They had interrupted my day and I was miffed. They had no appointment. No one like surprises and clients make appointments. Guy A was in charge. I asked why they did not make an appointment and it rattled him a little bit. He halfway apologized, but he quickly referred to the car dealer. He mentioned financial details of the plan I put together for the car dealer, which made it clear the two were close enough to share intimate details of their personal finances. I calmed down and settled into my chair to listen.
Now, please understand, many of the people in Miami previously lived in dictatorships, where the banking and legal systems are not stable. They hid their assets and never trusted anyone. My “sales pitch”, if we can call it that, was that I could do things for them, LEGALLY, and find a way to give them the same benefit. In this way, they would not run afoul of US authorities, and their children would grow up to be upstanding American citizens.
My “Scarface” friends had a similar problem, Guy A explained. They wanted to be legal but had a problem with cash and property. I started to giggle, “cash”? How stupid did they think I was? “Oh, no”, they said, “the cash is already in a US institution.” Which means, it had been ‘laundered’. I was physically backing away from the men and my desk. “Which bank?”, I asked, and they replied it was a bank well known for sleaze. He explained the problems he was having with the bank, bank officers, and his desire to move his business. He wanted to “be in the stock market” and “be an investor”. Oh, he talked a big game but then, his voice changed and his story was compelling. He told me stories of the bank managers denying movement of his funds and he felt like a prisoner at that bank. He was convincing and sincere – hard to fake. I was curious and smelled a double-cross by the bank. Why would the bank need to keep roughly 20 million on deposit? Theoretically, Guy A was correct. Once deposited, the funds are his and should be clear to move or do whatever he wants. OBVIOUSLY, there was some other reason the bank officers were not allowing the transfers. Legally, I COULD help them.
Guy A wanted to move about $20 million dollars. Again, not that unusual for a client in Miami, but it smelled skeevy. I was trying to trip him up in a lie but couldn’t. Guy A explained he had recently sold his parents Dominican sugar holdings and THAT was the reason for his windfall inheritance. My demeanor changed completely. I knew Dominican Sugar owners. Here was my chance to talk about competing wealthy families in the Dominican.  “OH! Well then, do you know Mr. ABC”, I asked, expecting him to instantly know the whole family. It’s a small circle of friends. Yet, Guy A didn’t know them and wanted to change the subject. Suspicious.
It would have been almost impossible for Guy A to NOT know the family. It indicated he was lying. Guy A was quick to imply he had other ‘friends’ who would like to do similar business with me…. on a regular basis…….. probably quarterly. Gee, 20 million, quarterly. Now, we were back to drug money again, total set-up, but I wanted more info about the bank. Guy A provided me with a large amount of info about the bank.
“What’s in the briefcase?”, I said. A briefcase similar in size could carry about $220K in $100 bills. Like Olympic synchronized swimmers, both men raised their briefcases and simultaneously opened them to reveal a pile full of $100 bills — just like a movie script. I was not impressed. Drama? Really? I did touch one of the bills to feel the paper. My fee, if I could solve his problems, would be $750K in cash, for the 20 million (never mind that I had a regular commission schedule). I pointed at the briefcases and said, “But that’s not even a half million”, and Guy A pointed to another man at the door with a duffle. He approached my desk, unzipped the duffle, to reveal more cash. At that point, age 24, I had never seen that much cash in one place. It was all too surreal and I wasn’t falling for it. Not tempted. Nope. Not me. Not one damn bit tempted.
I was thinking, “What the hell?” and “Why did I come into the office today?” or “Things like this don’t happen”, “is this a dream/nightmare”, “Am I on Candid Camera” or “maybe an FBI camera?”. The whole thing was ridiculous. Absurd. No one ever offered to pay my fees in cash. Who would do such a thing if they were legal? Guy A sensed my apprehension and nervousness. He insisted he wanted to be legal, all the funds would come from a US Institution, and wanted to do business. Then why all the CASH! Why not just write me a pretty, sweet, legal, check? We went back and forth. He was emphatic. Guy B, who had been quiet until then, gave me a disapproving look and said, “We insist.”, which I took as a direct threat. The room changed. He mentioned the building where I lived…… The two guys at the door nodded — which meant they were not FBI — which meant they were crooks. I don’t like to be threatened.
I was more mad than threatened. I was indignant, bothered, but trapped in a room with a bunch of criminals who seemed rather amateur. I got up and walked over to the window, my mind was running. They wanted ‘me’, so, I had to make them NOT want me, and NOT view me as a threat. I needed them to go away and leave me alone. Forever. I had an idea.
“You can’t afford me.”, I blurted out as I swung around. They almost laughed. I walked over to Guy A, stood over him and repeated, “You simply cannot afford me. It’s not enough money.” I slid into my chair and whipped my hair back. I was time to be the $itch. He was confused, “Why not? Do you want 1/20?” and “Do you insist on 5%? (which would be a million/20)”, he countered. I shook my head, “You don’t understand.” I patted his hand like he was a child, but I was mom, and there would be cookies if he kept still.
I reached into my desk for paper and a pencil, which made the guys at the door jumpy. I started to explain and talked numbers while I wrote on a legal pad. I concocted a formula on paper. If I was 24yrs old, and made ‘x’ dollars, and was expected to make ‘x’ dollars per year, for several years, I could make as much as 60 million dollars in my career (which was a BS number but sounded fairly legit). “After all”, I said, “I was so good at what I did, our car dealer friend referred you to me, right?” He nodded. Guy B was looking and listening intently. I was slow and convincing. My formula was intentionally over-complicated, and I added time value of money, etc. Then, I added, if I were to go ‘bad’, and join with them, to HELP them, quarterly, as they implied, I would have to exponentially add to the 60 million. They didn’t know what that meant, so I kept going.
Of course, there would be a risk to whomever I would marry, and the danger to my children- who were not born, YET, and I ‘wanted many bambinos’. Plus, I had to worry about the potential to ruin my family name and shame my father – which they very much understood. “Yes, I would have to have 60 million x 10 or 600 million dollars.”, I drew a circle around the number and finished. Their eyes went wide; their jaws fell. Here’s the weird part, they were OKAY with the 60 million, but not 600 million. GOOD.
Thus, my price, to go bad, was 600 million dollars.
“You’re crazy!”, said Guy A, in Spanish, with a lot of other curse words, as he looked to Guy B for help. “No”, I said, “You’re the one who came to me.” Things had changed. Now, instead of pulling away from him, I was leaning in. He was moving back (which was good). I piled on with specific terms, “My price of 600 million should be payable in terms of 60 million/yr, deposited offshore, for a period of 10 years, and then, I would quit – having trained someone they trusted to replace me”, so I could have a life. They were dumbfounded. I was serious and straight-faced. “It’s too much!”, they said. Both Guy A and Guy B were objecting and I swear — trying to negotiate with me.
100 million would have been fine with them, for 10 years. I opened my arms, palms up, and shrugged, “I was afraid you might not be able to afford me. I’m so very sorry. What would you like to do?” Silence hung in the room. I bit my tongue, knowing the first person who spoke would lose. Guy B, who was apparently the real person in charge said, “We will think about your offer and make an appointment to come back. Thank you for your time.” He called me a ‘gentle lady’, which I thought was odd but genteel for a drug lord. Was I wrong about them and had I just missed the sale of my career?
I never saw them again. They never called back. I gave the details of the bank to a buddy who worked for the FBI and forgot it. About 3 years later, the bank went through a scandal. No surprise.
Moral of the story:
When you’re propositioned, think about your selling price in terms of selling out your entire family. If you go bad, they will fall with you. What’s your price? One million? Two million? Ten million? It’s not nearly enough. Oh, no. Remember, your kids would grow up to be like Chelsea Clinton….
Make your price far too high to appeal to a criminal and you will never have to look over your shoulder. AND, pray the criminals don’t take you up on your outlandish offer.