Sub Rosa Capital: M Returns

1 Jun
Dear All Good People:

I suppose I owe a formal explanation of why I did what I did.  And it would be nice to say that it is a story that could be subject to any possible interpretation, misunderstanding, and a multitude of ethical questions.  This is not the case.  Basically, what is boils down to is that I’m probably going to have to get a hose shoved up my colon and I can’t have any orgasms.  Perhaps, I should explain the interesting series of events that led to this and it best begins with a simple observation that led to a bet I shouldn’t have lost, which caused me to double down and make another bet that I will lose.

 
I don’t gamble…that is, I don’t play for money (there are simple reasons behind this: I think it’s boring and I understand math).  Sometimes some mistakes are too tempting not to make and regardless of how much I’ve learned and observed I just can’t get it through my thick skull that most decisions aren’t rational, especially when a lot of money is at stake.  

I guess the story begins several weeks ago when I was talking with one of my industry contacts, M..  She works for a very large internet investment fund (“Sub Rosa Capital”) that has recently gotten a rich cash in-flow and is looking to make a deal.  M. has been an employee of Sub Rosa for years and is blessed with having a good job with a nice boss.  She is cursed with a lousy husband, a drinking and drug problem, children that have been described by multiple people, including M., as the “little assholes.”  She’s fun to talk to because she doesn’t like going home and frequently makes up work so she can sit in her office sipping whiskey until 10 to 11 at night.  And, like an addict, she has multiple addictions.  I know this because I was visiting Sub Rosa last year and, when I looked in her desk, she had MULTIPLE vibrators and a variety of oils with functions that I could only guess at.  M. then told me that pretty much everyday, she would come in early, use the husband replacements before anybody would show up, and then, when everybody left, she’d use it again.

I try to avoid quoting numbers because it is a detail that is irrelevant and people find it rather obnoxious.  But, to understand why I made the bet you first have to get an idea of the cash payments involved.

Sub Rosa Capital last year contracted to purchase a very successful website for $25 million in cash and the owner of the website will receive 10% of the gross revenues for 3 years.   The website is run and owned by a guy who I would characterize as the lucky rich.  He was at the right place at the right time and despite not really understanding the industry, how it works, supply chain management, and pricing he fell backwards into a very successful company.  I hate the lucky rich because you just look at them and realize I’m smarter than them, I work harder, I’m more honest, and yet this jerk has managed to pull this off.  What makes the lucky rich even more obnoxious is that most of them think that they got their because they are smart and have ability.

One day I was gossiping with M. about what’s going in the industry, the delinquent habits of most of our collegues, and, of course, the deals Sub Rosa had on the plate.  M. then informed me that the $25M deal might fall apart.  Bear in mind, the contract was already signed, money was sitting in escrow, and all that was needed was final approval from both boards, which is essentially a rubber stamp since both members have a controlling in their respective companies.  I told M. that I couldn’t see anyway this deal could fall apart for the simple reasons that Sub Rosa was over-paying and they had inserted a poisen pill into the contract where, if the lucky rich idiot backed out of the deal, he would have to pay $500,000 in cash within two weeks.  

At this point, I made an incredible stupid assumption: I cannot picture anyway anyone would pay $500,000 to back out of sweat deal.  M. then told me that the Lucky Rich Idiot was having some personal problems with the deal.  I’m convinced she lied to me on this next part: she said she didn’t know what the problem was.  We then made a bet: M. said she has the feeling the deal wouldn’t go through and I thought it would.  I thought it was time to make this interesting.

In every bet I’ve made with M. we have a tacit agreement that it’s never about money, it’s going to be about humiliation.  Years of living with an alcoholic husband and little monsters  means M. really understands how to be truly humiliated in front of large groups of people and, like an artists studying a craft, she has graduated from slowly coming up with embarrassing situations from a hobby to a student and finally master at devising bets.  It is her true calling as a master.

She proposed the following: the losing party has to get a colonic irrigation, which is euphamism for essentially getting an enema on crack.  It gets worse.  The losing party has to have a picture taken while the irrigation is going on.  The face must be seen and the person must hold a liter of the preferred alcohol.  Now, the reason why I made this bet is because I can’t understand why anybody would want to pay $500,000 due to personal problems.  With that amount of cash, I think you could buy a solution to any problem.

But, I made some bad judgement calls: first off, I forget the deal centered around somebody who is a lucky idiot.  And, second, M. had a superior knowledge of a miserable home life.

I’m still in shock what happens next.  

Within a day of the bet, the Lucky Rich Idiot calls off the deal because he decided he couldn’t retire and spend that much time with his wife.  I’m not kidding.  He passed up $25M and had to pay $500,000 just so he could avoid a wife he loves but doesn’t like.  My initial reaction was for that amount of money, I could find ways to avoid going home.  I could join clubs, take trips, buy new friends, and rent a family that I could pay to like and listen to me.  The Lucky Idiot didn’t consider this and M. could hardly contain her glee when the entire staff of Sub Rosa joined her on the phone call telling me that I had lost the bet.  

At this point, I may have really blown it.  

I told her we should up the stakes and this time I should make the bet.  She agreed and then I proceeded to over-think the situation.  I thought I could play an addiction against her and make her give up the best part of her day.  Yes, the bet is who could go the longest without an orgasm.  No masterbation, no orgasms during love-making, and no physical pleasure what-so-ever.  Whoever broke first would have to go through and correct the other persons websites that were basically built in an ad hoc manner with thousands of lines of undocumented spaghetti logic.  Oh, and the loser will still have to get a colonic irrigation with a picture.

Right now M. are currently engaged in a battle of wills and a game of chicken to see whoever breaks first.  She is sending me pornography and I’m on the phone with the managing partner of Sub Rosa begging him to give her more high stress projects.  He responded by letting her go work out during the day to help her with her stress level.

So, basically there is an outstanding possibility I may never have an orgasm again and to top it all off there is probably going to be a picture of me bare-butted on the internet getting a colonic.  I’ve grown used to the idea and I’m getting very comfortable with the idea.  Besides, I think in the future everybody will pictures of them either naked or humiliated on the web.  This is the curse of phones that have cameras and video.  But, I really don’t want to go through Sub Rosa’s websites or really mine either.  

M. and I are bickering like an old married couple, I’m in this stupid bet, and I think something has to give.  

I’ll let you know when I brake.

Further Bulletins as Events Warrant

C

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