I have also decided to leave Goldman Sachs, as of midnight Sunday.  I waited long enough.  It was painful watching those guys rake in hundreds of thousands of dollars, while I sat in the back reading The Wall Street Journal for Dummies.  They didn’t care about clients,  and they didn’t care about me.  To them, I was Johnny the Bagel Boy.  Johnny get me this.  Johnny get me that.  Johnny-Boy, I’ll take a pumpernickel with a low-fat schmear.

It was never about clients.  It was always about food.  They always had to have something to eat.  It was disgusting, the crumbs on the keyboards, the half-filled coffee cups lined up along the window sills, so that if anyone did jump, he would get drenched on his way down.  But any jumper would probably land on me, coming back from the deli with my arms full.  It would serve them right, their coffee would be cold.

They can all starve, those people at Goldman Sachs, for all I care.  I never told anyone this, but one day I spit in everyone’s coffee cup as I was going up the elevator back to the office.  That was a good one, watching all those pinheads making a million dollars an hour drinking my special blend.

I hope that all the clients that got screwed by Goldman Sachs can take a little pleasure knowing that Johnny the Bagel Boy was watching out for them.  I got ’em good, probably better than the SEC will.  Maybe I can get a job at the SEC now.

Well, thanks for listening to my story, and I hope it goes viral.  Yours truly, Johnny.